"If there was some kind of reality show for putting together outfits for different bizarre occasions, I could win hands down," Hermione told Crookshanks, who only purred by way of response. "I mean, it's not like they don't have a reality show for every other banal activity, why not picking out clothes?" She kicked a stack of laundry over, jeans and skirts flopping onto the ground.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Hermione found herself standing in the middle of her room, searching for the proper outfit to wear. This has become a bloody habit, she told herself, throwing tank tops and shirts around. I will only allow this madness to continue because it's summer, and you have nothing else to concentrate on except looking gorgeous every day, you understand that?

Oh, and that Potions essay.

Speaking of that Potions essay, you need to get dressed so you can meet with… him and start working on it.

Speaking of one Draco Malfoy, it seemed all her clothing issues stemmed from him, and this did nothing to appease her fears of turning into a shallow, platform wearing, makeup obsessed, fashion diva who only drank bottled water and whose sentences ended in octaves that weren't even covered on the piano. What is happening to me? She pondered as she settled on a pair of jeans she bought while in America. "Speaking of America, I need to get those clothes back from him before Harry and Ron get here," she said to Crookshanks, who just blinked and rolled over onto his stomach in a 'Pet me' sort of way.

Hair still damp from her shower (but looking quite perfect, so said her mirror), she searched for the right shirt to complete her ensemble. Finding the right shirt was harder than you'd think, since it involved debating her current mood and the image she wanted to project. A baggy t-shirt declared she was frumpy; a low-cut top purred she was ready for him to come on to her. "Why do I even care?" she finally asked herself after looking through shirt after shirt. "It's just Malfoy and a Potions essay. We're not even going to be seen in public." With this thought fortifying her spirit, she grabbed the first shirt her hands landed on (a nice red shirt—who ever said she had no House pride?) and with her school bag in tow, headed back downstairs to set up shop.

To say her mood had lightened in the ten minutes it took her to gather her textbooks, fresh parchments, quills and ink, and walk down the stairs into the lobby was an understatement. It was nothing short of a brain transplant, the way all thoughts of suicide, homicide, and any other terms ending in –ide and relating to death had floated away, replaced by the reverent thought of doing school. Learning, absorbing, enhancing her mind—what could be better? And even if she was going to be sitting next to the most annoying person to ever degrade the planet, who cared? Malfoy obviously didn't know about her tendency to shut off all communication with the outside world when doing schoolwork. He wouldn't be getting any amusement off of her, no sirree. He wanted to do the Potions essay, well, she'd do it, get it done, and leave. What a good plan!

Matter of fact, by the time he had returned to the Cat's Paw with his supplies (She got a small amount of satisfaction that he wasn't 100 he could actually get her to agree to work with him, as shown by his not already having the school supplies there), she had already laid out her two textbooks, dictionary, extra quill, bottle of ink, had unrolled an extra-long sheet of lightly cinnamon-scented parchment for the actual essay, and was busy scratching out a rough outline to answer the question, "When attempting to confuse a person, discuss the procedure of brewing a Confusing Concoction as opposed to a Confusing and Befuddlement Draught. Explain each one's strengths and weaknesses, and compare and contrast the benefits and faults of each potion. Also point out elements that would render your potion useless and/or harm the drinker."

Malfoy blinked at her array of supplies spread out over the table. "And where am I supposed to sit?" he asked with a pointed look at the covered table.

"Oh, there are plenty of other tables," Hermione muttered, busy writing out ingredients for a Confusing Concoction so she could compare it to the Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, and then dissect that list and figure out what each ingredient contributed to the potion, thus being able to find another ingredient that would neutralize the original ingredients effect on the user. A foolproof plan, and one that was bound to impress Snape.

"Granger, have you never actually studied with anyone at Hogwarts? What are you, the one woman homework machine? Surely the Golden Trio actually works together and Potty and Weasel don't just take advantage of you and make you do their assignments while they go off and save the world."

The degree and intensity of bitterness in his voice actually shook her from her happy bubble of homework, and she looked up, blinking at him. "Draco, what in the world are you going on about? It's just homework."

It was his turn to stare at her, stunned by what he just heard. "Just homework?" he finally repeated, looking like Potter himself had just arrived and handed him the Golden Snitch on a silver platter. "Granger, it has never been 'just homework' to you."

"Well, yes, this is true-" she paused to take the thin, wire-frame glasses off her face so she could study him, "but what was all that about Harry and Ron?"

"Don't you care that they use you?" he seemed to almost spit at her. Goodness, he seemed quite fired up about this whole thing. With a sigh, she set her glasses down and separated her hand from her quill to answer him.

"Malfoy, they're not using me because I'm perfectly fine with what's going on. Besides, it's not like I do every single assignment for them," she explained, wondering why in the world he was so upset.

"Oh, so if a wife is fine with her abusive husband's beating her, that's alright, too?"

"Merlin, Malfoy, what is your problem?" Hermione shook his arm. "Get a grip!"

Malfoy muttered something.

"Didn't quite catch that," she raised a brow.

After a moment, he lifted his head, "All I said was, if I was as smart as you, I wouldn't be giving away my success to anyone."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was more shocked by his admission of her intelligence or his incredibly bleak and cynical outlook on life.

Now how do I respond to something like that?

Giving him her full attention, she studied him again. "Well," she started, "I suppose it's my way of showing them that I love them. The only people it's really harming, if any, is them, because they aren't getting the experience of discovering the information themselves. But since I enjoy learning, it's not a huge sacrifice for me, but it means a lot to them. It's not really giving away anything… more like sharing." Hermione hoped that hadn't sounded too sunshine-y and rainbows and waiting for the appropriate gagging sounds from the blonde boy.

"Whatever," he said, turning on his heel and dumping his books on a table far away from Hermione. She sighed. "Come on Malfoy, I thought we were doing this thing together?" she asked, stressing the last word.

"That would require you to share your table with me," his back retorted.

"Or perhaps you could exert just a little effort and pull a second table next to mine?" she said, exasperated. Honestly, why did the girl always have to come up with the bright ideas?

"That would mean you'd actually have to converse and share your findings with me," Malfoy said, still sounding petty and sullen, "and we all know the Golden Girl works alone."

"Do you want to work on this essay together or not?" Hermione opened one of her tomes of potions and let it slam open on the table, making an impressive sound that caused Malfoy to jump. "Because I'm already ahead of you, and this arguing thing is getting us no where."

Silence, while Hermione bent back over her notes and her hand and quill got reacquainted after their absence. Then: scrape, scratch, squeak, screeeetch.

Hermione looked up with a small smile on her face. "Glad you could join us, Malfoy."

"Now, my problem is that adding lovage is what cements the ingredients of a Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, but it's not necessary in a Confusing Concoction, and yet they're almost identical potions," he said, opening one of his notebooks and browsing a page of handwritten notes.

"But the Confusing Concoction has fluxweed and chopped daisy roots. The lovage is only needed in the Befuddlement Draught to keep the monkshood from taking over the potion," Hermione objected.

"So what would you add to neutralize the Confusing Concoction?"

"The Confusing Concoction, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I know for the Befuddlement Draught, armadillo bile would ruin it…"

"But you can't use the armadillo bile because it would react with the lionfish spine in the Confusing Concoction and possibly cause the drinker to become transparent."

"Exactly."

"Now, what if you were to add bezoar to the Befuddlement Draught? It should work with the sneezewort and enhance the strength and time of the potion's effects, right?"

"As long as you were careful not to put in too much, in which case the drinker might sprout some horns."

"Good point."

"I would still go with the Befuddlement Draught," Hermione said, digging in her pocket for the key to her room, as Malfoy trailed her upstairs, their discussion about the potions still raging. "The twenty-eight times stirring clockwise gives that potion a bit more oomph than the Confusing Concoction, because it draws in old Celtic magic concerning the moon and the female body."

Oh Merlin, please tell me I didn't just all but mention getting a period.

"Blood magic has its advantages," Malfoy conceded (Sure does in Harry's case, Hermione smiled), "but overall, the Confusing Concoction has a longer endurance time and doxy eggs give it an almost sweet taste, so it's easier to slip into someone's drink."

"I suppose then the deciding factor is whether the brewer wants subtly or power," she said dryly, finally finding her key and sliding it into the lock.

"Hermione…" the word nearly slipped off his lips and hung between them.

Did he just call me by my first name? The witch who's first name had just been spoken by the least likely person ever to speak it turned around and looked curiously at the tall wizard behind her. "Is there a reason we're suddenly on a first name basis?" Hermione shook her head in mock disappointment. "Malfoy, are we breaking up?"

"Mistake, I assure you," he said, eyes focused on her face. "And we were never anything that would allow us to break up. Unless we were breaking up being enemies, which would mean we'd now be friends."

'Friends' was a word Hermione never would've dreamed she could use in connection with Draco Pureblood Malfoy. Arch-Enemy, sure. Rival, yes. Acquaintance, even, maybe. But friend? That brought up memories of Harry and Ron and her running into the common room, rolling on the floor, laughing so hard their sides ached. 'Friends' was connected with hours with Ginny, helping her figure out how to confess to Harry her real feelings. 'Friends' even covered the relationship between her planner and school books and her! But… Draco Malfoy? Friends? Was this a sign of the Apocalypse?

"And even though you're still totally and completely wrong about the Befuddlement Draught being the better choice," he said, putting up one arm to lean on her door and look down at her in that intense sort of way, "I think we can over look that if you're in the mood to do a little… compromising…"

It was bizarre to think of Draco Malfoy as friends. But in this situation, with him leaning in bit by bit and Hermione just feeling his other hand wanting to touch hers, somehow thinking of Draco Malfoy as more than friends was just… natural.

Compromise: noun; a combination of qualities or elements of different things flashed through her mind just as she felt his breath brush over her forehead.

"Argh, these stairs!" she heard someone bellow below.

"Hermione warned us about them…"

"Warned you, mate, but I didn't see the bloody letter that could've saved me this black eye," Ron's unmistakable voice floated up.

Code Red, Code Red!

Footsteps were heard thudding their way.

"Draco," she hissed, "that would be two boys coming your way that would like nothing more than to pummel you into the ground, step on you, and have their last memory of Draco Malfoy as the scum on the bottom of their boots. I highly suggest you do some fast Apparating, now."

But he didn't move, except in the direction of her, which was definitely the wrong way to move.

"Tell me, Granger, that this hasn't been a fun few days with me."

"The 'fun parts' and 'you' were not together, I assure you," Hermione hissed, panic giving her a nervous tic. "Will you please get out of here?" Now, the thoughts of what Ron and Harry would say if they saw the two of them together filled her mind.

"What, so concerned for my well-being?"

"No, I'm concerned for mine," she said bluntly, listening to the footsteps and two best friends' banter growing louder, "get out of here!"

"Not until you admit it's been fun having me here."

One final image popped up in relation to the word 'friends': A dinner at McDonalds, where a boy and a girl had spent an hour picking apart everything about each other, and yet somehow remaining on speaking terms, where the Oreo McFlurry had been a hit, and the girl had fabulous hair.

Footsteps, coming closer.

Harry's voice: "I hope she doesn't mind us showing up early."

Ron's voice: "Well, it's not like she's got anything else going on."

Depends on your definition of 'going on', Hermione thought faintly. Out of the corner of her eye (or maybe just the corner of her imagination) she thought she saw him moving in even closer, his lips getting dangerously close to uncharted territory before she blurted out, "Yes, it's been fun; now get out of here!"

With a smirk and a wink, Malfoy withdrew from her personal bubble, twisted the key in her door's lock and slipped past her to enter her room, shutting the door silently behind him.

Huge sigh of relief. Wait, relief? Something was wrong when she felt relief at her enemy entering her bedroom. Now how will I get him out of there? And what if he sees something he's not supposed to? I'll never live it down. But I suppose that could've been worse, but what about those last few seconds? Could he possibly been about to ki--

"Hermione!"

"Guys!" A huge mess of three people hugging and screaming congealed outside her door.

"Hope you don't mind the early arrival," Harry smiled at her.

"Not at all," she returned the grin, the sentiment in her answer valid for more than one reason. Her emotions were torn between feeling exhilarated, confused, and ready to go postal.

"So, how was America?" Ron interrupted, pulling back from the hug-fest to look at her. "'Mione… you look different!"

"I do?" she reached up and patted her head self-consciously. Whoever said Ron didn't pay attention to details was obviously a liar.

He scrunched up his face, as if trying to pull the answer to a question in Transfiguration out of thin air. "I don't even know what it is," he confessed. "But you seem more… confident. Or, happy. Something like that?"

She blinked, not expecting that answer. "I… guess?"

"Now that we're here, she has every reason to be happy," Harry grinned down at her, elbowing her side. "Now what'd you bring us from the good old US of A?"

"Ahhh… I got you some… stuff…" she stalled, mind whirling at how she would get her stuff back from Malfoy, not to mention sort out what their new relationship status was. "But I want to wait to give it to you, for a more special time. Dinner tomorrow?"

"Works for me. Now let's go do something!"

"Let me just get my money, and we're off," she beamed at them, then stopped short.

"Anything wrong?" Ron asked, noticing her frozen stance before the door.

"I… er…" don't want you to see the blonde boy standing behind the door, "it's kind of a mess in there."

"Hermione, you're talking to two boys," Harry rolled his eyes at her, "we live in pigsties on a good day, a dump on a bad one."

"And there's supposed to be a difference?" she teased, smiling at him, but her mind kicking it up a notch, trying to figure out how to get in there without them following. "Just wait out here, okay?"

"'Mione, it's not like we care," Ron interjected.

"I don't have my key!" she said suddenly (Anything for more time!), searching through her pockets. Obediently, the boys followed suit, looking on the floor and checking in her bag until Ron spoke up, "Uh, Hermione? I think it's in the lock."

Two points for Ron.

"…Whoops," She laughed carelessly, stooping to pick her books up, "silly me, I must've just gotten so excited to see you guys I totally forgot." She gave them both what appeared to be a fond smile, amazed at her skill of obscuring the truth (she really didn't want to call it 'lying'). Taking a deep breath, praying to every saint floating around up there, and thinking here goes nothing; she twisted the knob and opened the door.

"Wow, you're right, it is a mess," Harry snickered.

"Thanks, that means a lot," she said, nearly sagging against the door in relief. No blonde boy anywhere. Somehow he had managed to get himself out or hide himself well enough that not even she could detect his hiding place. Thank you, God, she thought, then grabbed her money and turned to her two best friends.

"Who's in the mood for some ice cream?"

AN: Wow, I'm on a roll! Check out this chapter- definitely one of my longest, ever: four pages in Word. Hopefully this makes up for last chapter's disappointing length, as several people commented on the lack of verbosity. I do apologize for that. But here I am, back and more wordy than ever! Two or three chapters left before this fic is finally done. Then of course, comes the second part of the story, but… well, we're not going to even think about that yet. And before I get to the thank you's, let me just say… a few recent reviews have been somewhat disappointing (though I enjoy and appreciate them), basically saying things that have nothing to do with the story or telling me I've got a 6 out of 10, yet giving no actual criticism or feedback… honestly, though I enjoy reviews as much as any author, I'd almost rather do without those. Though this is only fanfic :ducks fanfic writer's missiles, I do try to write this story as well as I can. Actual feedback, or specific things you liked or thought worked, are very much appreciated!

:steps off soapbox: and onto the thank you's!

Hazelocean, ant-on-a-moose, kandygurl4, Rachel, mysticpam- thanks for reviewing! Hope you're still enjoying the story. I appreciate your kind words!

Xx kyani- yeah, the chapters were shorter in the beginning (mostly because I was just typing whatever came to mind), but once I actually got a plot (plot? What?) the chapters were easier to give a bit more length and meat. Hope the fic isn't frustrating still J and glad you liked the china bit! No clue where that came from…

Nutmeg- this isn't your name? you're not sure if you even have a name? then perhaps isn't the best place for you… I recommend the room with the white padded walls… heheh. Just kidding.

White Crow- wow, haven't heard from you in ages! How are things going?

Sienna- I rock? Aw, thanks!

ILUVRONWEASLEY- HI! Aww so happy it makes me to see my old reviewers returning… uhh, so happy it makes me talk like Yoda…::looks around: don't ask me. I definitely wasn't shooting for Draco acting gay… but… er, well, my new car I have deemed gay, so perhaps that was influencing my writing style… not that my car reminds me of Draco (its name is Tim) but… oh, bugger, I give up. Thank you for reviewing!

Bookworm1214- thank you so much! I really appreciate the feedback you gave me. I hope the voice of the story is still enjoyable—I find half the time I'm fighting to remember what it sounds like.

Eee- the funny thing is, it took me about a week. Hope I didn't disappoint you :smiles:

Eowyn89- thank you so much for helping my pathetic French! Yo hablo Espanol, no Frances. Uh. So yeah, I appreciate the help, and I'm going back to edit that part any day now.

Bondariana- I'm not sure what that has to do with my story…?

Kole17- YES! Another reviewer strikes back! Please keep with me, no matter how much you have to dig to find my story. I'm glad Draco's comments are funny to someone other than myself, and I really enjoy your long reviews—don't feel bad, and do them as much as you like! Thanks so much for brightening my day!