Okay, so I got this request of putting the playlist before the chapter instead of after, and seeing that I can't list all the songs – as that would take up way too much of space – I'm gonna give you the album names: Out of Ashes (Linkin Park); It Won't Be Soon Before Long (Maroon 5); Loose (Nelly Furtado); Animal (Ke$ha). And that's it. Some of the songs just help my thoughts flow easier.

-------------------------------------------------------PRINCE CHARMING-----------------------------------------------------

He wiped the sweat off his forehead as he continued to dash down the corridors. At one stage he bumped into a group of first-years. He almost stopped to apologize, but realized that any time wasted inflicted Hermione's life. He heard behind him the cries of outrage from the group but ignored them. He went down the staircases so fast he almost tripped, but thankfully he didn't. Just as he was passing the Great Hall, he knocked into a petite woman. Shit, he thought as the both of them fell from the impact. Draco had fallen hard on his bottom, but he ignored the dull throbbing. He got up, but before he could hurry off again, he heard the unfortunately familiar voice behind him say, "Mr Malfoy, a hand please?"

Draco turned around, and almost ran away again. Almost. He clenched his jaw, and stuck out a hand to help Professor Pinkle up. Not even before she was completely up, did he let go. She stumbled backwards, but smiled widely at him. "Thank you so much, Mr Malfoy," she said, her words sounding like a tune. Draco nodded and turned around again to head out of the castle when she stopped him. "Oh, Mr Malfoy?" she called.

Sheer respect – and nothing else – caused him to stop and turn around again. "Yes, Professor Pinkle?" he forced out, trying to sound polite.

She beamed. "I will be seeing you just now, yes?" she asked, dusting her clothes.

"Why?" Draco asked immediately. Today was Saturday! They had no classes.

Professor Pinkle blinked. "Why, for the meeting I called for the cast, silly!" she laughed.

Draco balled his hands into fists. He couldn't stand this woman. "Sorry, Professor Pinkle, but sadly I won't be able to make it." And even though his parents had taught him proper etiquette around adults, he completely disregarded their teachings. He forced out a polite smile and turned his back on her, racing towards the castle door. He ignored her sputters of "M-Mr Malfoy!" and dashed down the stairs. His long (and thankfully muscular) legs carried him at the speed of – well, not light, certainly, but he was definitely running faster than he normally did.

Once he was at the edge of the forest, he withdrew his wand, pointing it into the air. "Accio Whip-Crack!" he gasped out. He didn't have to wait long until he heard the whoosh of his broomstick as it fought the wind on its way to him. It settled before him, suspended in the air. He wasted no time in mounting it and directing it up into the air. He hovered above the Forbidden Forest, trying to decide on a direction. He closed his eyes, thinking. The strong wind that tousled his hair proved vital to clear thinking. Where would there be a clearing in the forest? How far into the forest would it be?

He had never been into the forest, unless you counted the time he had to go in for punishment. After that day, he never wished to step another foot into the forest. So, how was he supposed to know every nook and cranny in it? Merlin, there were probably dangerous, flesh-eating creatures in there! Draco gulped, but he fought for composure as he realized that he was in the air and not on the ground.

So, back to his initial question, where would the clearing be? He swivelled his broomstick left and then right, with his eyes still closed. He gave his body over to instinct and the broomstick. He swivelled his broomstick again, and felt a gentle pull towards his left. He blinked open his eyes. With grim determination, he leaned forward, and zoomed in a north-westerly direction. Faster, he urged his broomstick, as if it could read his thoughts. Yet his speed did pick up. So much so, that he couldn't see anything clearly because it was all a blur of colour. He pulled up his broomstick to apply the brakes, and looked down. No, just trees. He looked all around him, but could still only see trees. He sat there on his broom, frustration and worry seeping through his skin. Was the clearing behind or ahead of him? This was the one time he cursed the powerful speed of his broomstick.

He pulled at his hair desperately. She could be half-dead, by now! He rotated once more, but still couldn't see anything. He was about to take off again when he spotted something out of his peripheral vision. He turned in the direction of the something and was surprised to see in the far distance, wisps of smoke as they curled and twisted into nothing as they went higher and higher into the air. The smoke seemed to be coming from a specific place, so Draco, relying on his gut feeling, leaned forward on his broomstick and zoomed forward.

Seconds later, he halted a few good feet away from the smoke. He didn't waste any time on letting out a relieved sigh when he noticed the cottage (a cottage that made Hagrid's hut look incredibly huge). He raced forward, and when he was just above ground level, he jumped off the broom, throwing it aside. He banged open the door, bent down and yelled, "Hermione!"

He walked into the house, still bent, and peered worriedly around the small lounge adjoined to the kitchen. No sign of her. He stooped around the room, holding out his wand. "Hermione!" he bellowed louder.

A door to his left creaked open slowly, and he spun in the direction of the noise, brandishing his wand. He half-expected Romilda Vane to come out, but his racing heart calmed down dramatically when he noticed a sleepy Hermione come out. He lowered his wand, breathing a sigh of relief. He couldn't believe he had been so worried! He glanced around him quickly, checking for any signs of Romilda Vane or stray apples. When he found nothing (except the crackling fire in the fireplace) he turned back to face her.

"Malfoy?" she asked, sounding completely uncertain, rubbing her eyes.

He nodded. "Hello," he said, smiling. He walked towards her, but stopped when she held up a hand.

"Wait," she said, her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth twisted.

Draco felt confused. Was that fear that twisted her lips like that? "What's wrong?" he asked, stepping forward again. He wasn't planning on getting too close to her; just a safe distance, but close enough so that he could see her clearly.

"I said wait!" she yelled shrilly, the sleep completely disappearing. She stepped backwards, withdrawing her wand at the same time. Draco was beyond confusion. "Don't step any closer," she warned, a hint of a threat underlying her voice.

"Hermione, what's the--?" he started to ask, when she cut across him.

"Prove that you're Draco Malfoy!" she commanded, still in a high-pitched voice, her wand aimed at his chest.

Draco blinked. "Sorry, what?" he asked, baffled. Was she feeling okay? He took another step forward, this time without thinking. "Hermione are you--?"

"Stay where you are!" she yelled, taking another step backwards. She took in a deep breath, and said in a much lower voice, "Prove that you are Draco Malfoy."

She sounded possessed. "I don't understand what you're saying," he said, worry etched into his voice. His wand was still in his hand and he gripped it tighter.

Hermione lifted her head. "How do I know you're not Romilda Vane?" she asked threateningly.

Comprehension dawned upon Draco and he laughed. "No, no, I can assure you that I'm Draco Malfoy," he assured her, stepping towards her.

"I don't believe you," she said, visibly tensing. Draco was about to interject when she said, "For one, Draco Malfoy never calls me by my first name—" Draco bit his tongue. Shit, Blaise had drilled it into his head the whole afternoon, and he had gotten so used to calling her by her first name. He opened his mouth to defend his case, when she continued in a low voice, "-Two, he hardly ever laughs—" Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement, but waited for her to continue, "—and three, he's hardly ever concerned about my welfare. So, state your real name before I curse you." Her voice sounded incredibly scary, yet Draco laughed again, tilting his head to analyze her.

She was wearing the same clothes she had been when she left, and it looked extremely creased. Yet...it looked right on her. Completely acceptable. Her hair was scrunched up into a high ponytail, yet tendrils of hair hung on the sides of her face. Her red lips were puckered into a frown, and her brown eyes were flashing.

He placed his wand on the floor in front of him, never taking his eyes off her. "Hermione," he said deliberately (why revert to calling her by her surname when her proper name sounded and felt so much better?). "I am Draco Malfoy."

She glared. "Don't call me that...whoever you are, and you need to prove it."

Draco rolled his eyes, but walked forwards again. "Her name is Gladys Winter," he said softly.

He could see her relax, and he almost smiled again until she threw up her walls. "If you are Romilda Vane, you could have found that out from Ginny," she stated, looking directly into his eyes and taking another step backwards. This action pushed the door behind her further open, and Draco could see a bedroom.

He thought. How to prove his identity? He looked around him for inspiration. His eyes settled on the – just how many of them were there in that room? – beds in the room she was backing into. Then, he got it. "Your father's eyes are the exact same shade as yours," he murmured. This was true. Their eyes weren't even a smudge less different.

She narrowed her eyes. "That's a lucky guess," she stated.

Draco nodded. She was right, he supposed. "Let's see," he said, thinking. She looked at him, her eyes never wavering from his. "Alright," he said, nodding again. This was sure to convince her. "In your room, you have a picture of you and Ginny Weasley licking a pink-coloured ice-cream." He smiled at the memory of the photograph; she had looked so innocent in that picture.

She faltered. Her arm lowering, but she shook her head and raised her arm again. "You could've found that out from Ginny, too," she said thinly.

Draco sighed. He knew that she was just trying to be safe, that she was trying to decipher his words that would confirm that he wasn't an impostor. He ran a hand through his hair, and he saw her follow the movement. What was something that no one else but him would know? She shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, and he followed her movement – Aha! He got it.

"You have a birthmark in the shape of a distorted star on your left inner thigh," he stated, smiling slightly. That was sure to throw her.

She lowered her wand-raised arm, her other hand reaching down automatically to her left thigh. She stopped, when she realized what she was doing. "H-how did you know that?" she whispered incredulously, staring at him.

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I just do," he said, staring right into her eyes. He took another step forward, hoping that she would interpret his body language correctly. He was trying to convey his sincerity and honesty, but her doubt in his words was making it difficult.

"But how?" she pressed.

He chose not to say anything, hoping that it would shut her up.

"Nobody else knows that," she said. "How do you know that?"

He rolled his hand around. "Look, I just do. Does that confirm my identity, now?"

Something he had said – probably his last question – seemed to remind her to point her wand at him. "No. Perhaps if you answered my question it would," she said.

Draco stared at her for a second longer before responding. He saw the anger and doubt fade from her eyes ever so slowly. "I believe that you already trust me, Hermione," he said, smirking. "I can tell you do."

"Answer the bloody question," she demanded.

He sighed. "The night you found out your father wanted to remarry, I gave you a gown, you remember?" he asked, although, quite surprisingly, his pulse picked up as he took a trip down memory lane.

She nodded slowly. "I still don't see—"

"When you removed the gown later...well, your ... nightwear—" for lack of a better word "—lifted up slightly," he said softly, and closed his eyes absent-mindedly. He needn't have said more. It was fairly obvious.

He opened his eyes, and caught the soft blush that was spreading across her cheeks. Red looks really lovely on her. He coughed, startled at what he had just thought. A second later, he shrugged it off, thinking that it was the kind of thing friends thought about each other. To cover up his own embarrassment – even though he didn't show it – he asked, smiling, "Blushing, Hermione?"

She narrowed her eyes, but the blush didn't go away. "I believe you, Malfoy," was all she said, and lowered her wand.

Draco inwardly laughed. He bent to retrieve his wand from the floor and walked towards her smoothly, and she didn't interrupt him. When he passed her, he heard her breathe in deeply – was she smelling him? He inwardly grinned as this action of hers confirmed what Greengrass had told him earlier. He ignored the heat radiating off her body. Men hardly felt cold, yet this heat ... it wasn't like normal heat – something else entirely. Something akin to...magic? He ducked his head as he walked into the bedroom. No, nothing could be equivalent to magic, surely. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

Still bent, he asked, "So this is where the seven dwarfs sleep?" Seven beds draped with white linen were lined up against one wall. He waved his wand and they all merged. He sat across two beds, facing her. He leaned his back on his hands, glad that his spine was back to its former shape. "How come there's no other furniture here?"

She walked over to him, and sat on the bed next to him. "I don't know actually," she said, shrugging and looking around. "They only eat and sleep here – everything else they do in the castle." Her gaze moved passed him, and Draco followed it. Ah, she was looking out of the window. He noticed her eyes cloud over with longing, and again he felt a surge of pity for her.

"Hm," he simply said, letting his thoughts flow effortlessly in his mind.

She looked at him then, and her lips curved into a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that, but I had to do it," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the lounge area. The blush, Draco noticed, was slowly fading. She looked around her. "I was alone...and the idea of Romilda Vane coming to pay me a visit was completely plausible."

He waved her apology away with a hand. "I understand," he replied quietly.

A comfortable silence settled upon them. Hermione suddenly asked, "Why did you come here anyway?"

Draco scratched his knee even though it wasn't itching. "Well, I gathered that you would be alone, and arrived at the conclusion that Vane would make a move," he said, looking out of the window.

"Hmm," was all she said, her voice sounding curious.

He turned to look at her. "What does that mean?"

She scratched her nose self-consciously, and Draco patiently waited. "Well, it's just so...Prince Charming," was what she finally said after a while.

"Prince Charming?" Draco repeated quickly, his hands clenching the duvet on the either side of him.

She nodded, fidgeting with the duvet. "Prince Charming coming to save the damsel in distress sort of thing..." she muttered.

Draco needed to clear up something. "Yes, but that was only my character acting," he said, his voice sounding clipped.

He saw her eyes widen and he watched with alarm as naked hurt filled them. A siren went off in his head and Draco realized what he had just said, and how she had probably interpreted it. But he couldn't excuse or correct himself. How do you correct the truth? By lying? No, Draco Malfoy didn't lie. When he looked at her again, he noticed that she had replaced the ... previous emotion with a look of blankness.

"I know," she said, finding the sight of the book-sized pillow far more interesting than him.

"Besides," Draco said in a lighter tone, trying to clear the thick tension and discomfort in the air, "are you defining yourself as a 'damsel in a distress'?"

Ah, so the pillow wasn't that interesting after all, he thought as her sharp gaze settled upon himonce more. "Hardly," she replied shortly.

He must have really offended her...but still, he wasn't going to say anything. Everything was based on the fairytale, which explains why he had left in such a hurry. She had to know that! "Well," he said, this time throwing in a smile to drain the tension from the atmosphere away – it was still as thick as it was a moment ago. "You're right; you could fight off any demon that approached you."

She nodded. "Probably," she said, looking at the pillow again.

Draco's mouth felt dry. He had no idea what else to say. He had really tried – well, not really tried, he knew that. He could have said something to make up for what he had said earlier...but he didn't. He leaned back so that his back was flat against the bed. He couldn't see an inch of her; only the white ceiling above him. He closed his eyes, but the only thing he could see was her hurt-filled eyes. Annoyed, he opened his eyes and resorted to analyzing the ceiling. Temptation was for the weak.

It was she who broke the silence after five incredibly long minutes.

"How did you know I was alone?" he heard her ask quietly.

"Oh, Greengrass came to visit, and she mentioned it," he muttered.

"Daphne Greengrass?" she asked, clarifying.

Ah, he forgot about the whole first name thing. He forced her name out, "Yes, Daphne came by this afternoon." His fingers tapped a quick beat on the duvet.

"She didn't happen to ... mention anything, did she?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco allowed himself a discreet smirk. She was worried about whether Green- Daphne had told him about Hermione's affection for him. Draco thought he would have a little bit of fun. "She mentioned a lot of things, Hermione. To which part are you referring to?" he asked, trying to sound dry.

She was quiet for a second. "Why are you calling me by my name?" she asked. She had deflected his question.

"Blaise said it was pointless calling people by their surnames," Draco said. He made an exaggerated effort to get up from his restful position. The emotion expressed on her face was concealed, once again, yet something – curiosity? – pulled up her eyebrows faintly.

"But you just referred to Daphne as 'Greengrass'," she observed.

Draco shrugged. "Yes, well, some names catch on easier than others."

"You mean 'Hermione' is easier than just 'Daphne'?" she asked sceptically, obviously thinking that her name was more complicated.

Ah, that was where she was going to. "As I said, some names catch on easier than others," he said, refusing to look away. Looking away would make him look guilty, or something.

"Aha," she simply said, this time examining her nails. Strange, Draco thought. He would have never pegged her as the 'examining-my-nails' kind of girl.

"Daphne mentioned some interesting things today," he said trying to act blasé, when he really wanted to gauge her reaction.

He noticed her shoulders tense. "Oh?" she asked, now twisting her hand this way and that.

"Yes...she mentioned you," he said.

Her hand froze. She didn't say anything. He noticed her lick her lips – was she nervous? Finally! A reaction. Neither one of them said anything for a few seconds. Draco, agitated by her non-words, was about to say something when she cleared her throat and said, "What was it that she said?"

Draco smirked, knowing that she couldn't see him. He loved knowing things others didn't ... well, technically, she did know. But she didn't know that he knew. "Nothing of consequence," he said in an offhand manner.

She looked up sharply. Maybe he hadn't hidden all of his real emotion in his voice. "What did she say, Malfoy?"

He avoided her question. "Why don't you try calling me by my first name, Hermione?" he suggested sincerely.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. "Because..." she started.

"Because...?" he urged.

"Because it would sound odd," she said, nodding to herself as if what she had just said made perfect sense.

"Odd," he repeated, amused.

"It's crossing into unfamiliar territory," she argued, and a crease spread across the bridge of her nose as it always did when she started arguing.

"Sometimes, you need to jump into the deep, Hermione," he said wisely. Well, what he thought sounded wise.

"That's being far too dramatic, Malfoy," she said, sighing.

"And here I thought that you weren't a coward," Draco said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm comfortable with calling you 'Malfoy', Malfoy," she said.

Draco held his hands up. "And who am I to interfere with your comfort zone?" he asked.

She regarded him. "I mean...don't you find it a little bizarre?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Hardly," he said, shrugging. He didn't find calling her 'Hermione' bizarre at all. Pleasure was welcome at all times. Not that he felt pleasure when he said her name. It just felt nice, that's all. A name's a name, after all.

"You're lying," she accused.

"I'm not," Draco laughed.

"You mean to tell me that after several years of calling me everything but my name, you're perfectly at ease?" she asked, disbelief colouring her voice.

"Absolutely," he grinned.

She frowned. "You smile too much," she said.

"I thought you liked me smiling," Draco said, cocking an eyebrow.

"When did I say that?" she asked.

"It's naturally assumed, of course," Draco said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, her frown disappearing. She knew he was teasing her.

"Seriously!" he said. "Smiles look good on everybody...unless they don't have teeth," he added, his tone one of seriousness, "– that would look horribly wrong." Ah, a small smile, at least. He could do with that. He sighed.

"Malfoy," she said.

"Draco," he corrected.

"Malfoy," she said again. Draco rolled his eyes. "You haven't answered my question."

Draco leaned back so that his back was resting on the bed again. The bed creaked loudly beneath him. He wasn't going to milk it out of her. He closed his eyes, now thinking of the small smile she had allowed him. It was such a good thing that the two of them were friends. He got to smile and laugh more.

"Malfoy," she said loudly.

"Draco," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

"Malfoy, are you going to tell me about what Daphne told you about me?" she asked, her voice almost sounding pleading. Almost, but Draco knew that she valued her pride too much to sound like a beggar.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked softly, images swimming before him in the darkness.

She seemed to hesitate before answering. "...Yes..."

"Are you sure? You might not like it," he said seriously.

"Malfoy, just spit it out already," she said, now irritated.

Ah, well that decided it. "I'm not telling you," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you deaf, or something, Hermione?" he asked, smiling.

"Malfoy, this is—"

He got up suddenly. So suddenly, in fact, that he didn't notice that she had been leaning forward in order to get an answer out of him. Her small face was mere inches away from his own face, and his body automatically stiffened at the close proximity. He ignored it, focusing on the image of Blaise for his strength and inspiration. In just a few seconds – seconds he couldn't undo or forestall – her scent rushed up, and he unleashed the breath he had been holding. He breathed it in – subtly. She smelled ... like something out of nature. Pure and clean, despite being in the same clothes for two days. His gaze dropped to her lips like they always did when he was close enough to her and her lips parted. He immediately looked up at her eyes, focusing on the golden flecks in them to calm himself. He realized how this ... current situation must be affecting her, given that she was temporarily infatuated with him and all, yet he didn't move.

"Hermione," he whispered, and he noticed how the wisps of hair framing her delicate face gently moved in sway to his breath.

"Y-yes," she murmured, her eyes darkening. Shit, he thought. She was taking it badly. She didn't even have enough strength to phrase it as a question.

He was indeed extremely heartless.

"Say my name," he urged softly. He desperately wanted to hear it. He had heard it once, perhaps twice, during the time when they were both at her father's...but there was no emotion in that. At least, if she said it now, his name would mean something coming from her – a promise of friendship, like how he said her name. He wanted it. He needed to hear this promise. How many friends had he pushed away in the past? How many of those same friends, in the past, couldn't bring themselves to utter his name for fear of commitment to a friendship they knew wouldn't stand on its feet for long? Yet, even though he had changed somewhat, he still had doubt in himself and the ability to keep friends – however few – near.

She closed her eyes, bowing her head only to a certain extent so as not to touch his. His will slowly crumbled as he lost sight of that pure gold in her eyes...and he let out a sigh.

"Why do you toy with me, Malfoy?" she murmured.

Was that what she thought? He clenched his fists in self-anger. He was about to answer, when they both heard a voice.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this interesting?"

--------------------------------------------------------to be continued--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: a HA-UGE thank you to all those who are reviewing! I love you =) And to those who aren't and are just reading the story – hope you're liking it. If not, sorry! Personally, I'm not a fan of cliff-hangers, so...kill me if you want ...

Thanks, anyway ... hope you liked this one.

Oh, and if you were confused, this is how the beds are arranged (two lines represent one bed):

__________

__________

__________

_____H____ --- This is where Hermione is sitting

_____D____ --- This is where Draco is sitting.

__________

__________

__________

Remember that Draco had merged all the beds...so they're (Hermione and Draco) sitting cross-legged. Sorry, just had to create this picture for you!