Hello loves! Here is a follow-up to the auction chapter. Things are getting more and more complicated and I can't wait to show you what else is in store! Thank you for reading and showing love in your feedbacks, it truly means the world. As I've said before, I would like to update as frequently as possible and will try to get the next chapter up within the week! This chapter is extremely dialogue heavy, and it was sooo fun to write!

Let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy! xx

September 1st, 1991

Draco had been sitting in a private compartment with his childhood friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle on the Hogwarts Express when he first met her. It would be their first year at the thousand-year-old school, and despite the young Malfoy's demeanour, he was quite nervous about beginning this new chapter of his life.His parents always talked about their time there and from the moment he was born, they'd both told him that he would undoubtedly join the Slytherin legacy. Every Malfoy and Black (except Sirius) had been a Slytherin, and supposedly Draco would be no different. Despite the substantial evidence to back these claims, the young boy still feared he would be sorted into a different house and disappoint his family.

"Did you hear?" murmured Crabbe, who'd spent the better part of their journey from King's Cross Station stuffing himself with sweets from the trolley.

"Hear what?" replied Goyle, who'd been doing the same thing as his companion.

"Harry Potter is on this train," Crabbe said giddily, "and he's in our year, I think!"

"He is," Draco interjected, "I've met him already."

"Really, where?"

"What was he like?" both boys demanded.

"At Madam Malkin's," Draco replied nonchalantly, "he was common, really, not what you'd expect—I believe he was even raised by muggles."

At this, both boys grimaced and looked disappointed. Draco knew they would never even dream about socializing with The Boy Who Lived if he was associated to muggles. Their families would never even allow it if they wanted to. The Sacred Twenty-Eight's values ran too deep to tie themselves to wizards who sympathized or associated with muggles. They were vermin.

As if on cue, the door to their compartment slid open and Draco was met with a pair of chocolate-coloured eyes belonging to a girl who looked about his age. She was already dressed in her uniform and seemed to be observing each boy before her chocolate eyes landed on Draco.

Upon her inspection of the blonde boy, the girl's eyes lit up and she smiled at him.

"Hello," she squeaked, "has anyone here seen a toad?"

"A toad?" Crabbe snickered, "can't say that we have, unless you meant chocolate frogs, but in that case, I've eaten all of mine."

"No," the girl replied snottily, "a toad, which is not the same animal as a frog," she paused, "it belongs to a boy named Neville and he's looking for it."

"I don't think we can help you there," Goyle simply stated.

"Well, if you do find the toad, Neville is sitting two compartments left of you, so please let him know."

"Sure," Crabbe said sarcastically, "I'll be sure to send him a cage too, with my regards, so he won't lose his pet again."

"Knock it off," Draco countered, "clearly she's just the messenger."

"Thank you," the girl smiled at him once more, "and you are?"

Draco gave her a once over, deciding she seemed decent enough to introduce himself to.

"I'm Malfoy," he said, "Draco Malfoy."

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said proudly, as she gave out her hand.

He took it and shook it. The girl noticeably blushed, but he did not notice.

"Granger?" interrupted Goyle, "that's not Sacred Twenty-Eight, is it?"

The girl looked puzzled at this, "Sacred Twenty-Eight? What does that mean?"

The boys all giggled at this, never having met someone who didn't know who the Sacred-Twenty-Eight were.

"Clearly not a pureblood, are you?" Crabbe asked rhetorically.

"Can you please explain what all this means?" the girl genuinely seemed confused.

"The Sacred-Twenty-Eight are an elite group of ancient noble families whose ancestry is made up only of wizards, never having married outside of their circles and never mingling with Muggles," Goyle replied.

"There are still Pure-blooded wizards who are not Sacred Twenty-Eight, but since you didn't know any of this, we can only assume your lineage isn't made up of just wizards," Crabbe spat.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed innocently, "well my parents aren't magical, in fact, I didn't even know about the wizarding world until I got my Hogwarts letter!"

The three boys went silent. It was then that it dawned on them that this girl was the first muggleborn they would be encountering at Hogwarts, and none of them knew what to do. They all exchanged looks of surprise, which then turned into looks of horror and disgust. The bushy haired girl was none the wiser.

Finally, Goyle broke the silence and simply said, "that means you're a mud blood."

"A what?" she replied.

"Get out," Goyle sneered, "filth."

Hermione's smile immediately flipped into a frown, and she seemed at a loss for words. The boys had all shifted their attention elsewhere and did not look at her again. The young girl took this as a sign that they did not want to be friends and turned to leave. Before leaving, however, Hermione looked back at the blonde boy who'd made her stomach knot one more time and noticed he'd already been looking at her too, with a curious expression. When their eyes met, his face quickly shifted into a scowl, but she'd already felt something profound for him click into place. One day he would be hers. Draco Malfoy would change his mind about her, it would be her mission.

That night, Hermione told two girls in her house about her train encounter, and how much she fancied the blonde boy, as a way to open up to make friends. The girl figured that perhaps she could even gain some advice. Instead, she was met with rumors that were spreading about a mud blood Gryffindor girl being in love with a pure blooded Slytherin. The aftermath of Hermione's simple mistake of trusting Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil with a secret would haunt her for the rest of her days at Hogwarts and ruin any credibility she would've had with the unrequited love of her life.

Present Day

Draco knew he was royally fucked from the moment that blasted bottle landed on him. Why did it have to be her? It was always HER.

Somehow, he'd spent the entire night avoiding her and the painful display she'd been partaking in with Blaise, but he couldn't always look away. It would seem too suspicious if he didn't glance at them every so often, especially with Pansy breathing down his neck and acting like he would crumble at any moment. When Draco would look at them, however, he would instantly regret it. Seeing them so close and watching them touch each other felt like a punch to the gut, and it confused him to no end. Thinking of Hermione as the object of Blaise's desire made his confusing feelings even more difficult to accept, because Draco could not interfere in his best friend's courtship. It would be crossing so many lines, especially since the blonde had been adamant about his hatred for the girl for the past 6 years. He would look insane…or just plain hypocritical, and he could not have that.

The lines became blurry when the bottle landed on Draco, and even blurrier when Hermione did not protest the idea of them kissing. Like a man possessed, Draco had gone to her and done the unthinkable. In all his years at Hogwarts, he would never have pictured himself voluntarily kissing Hermione Granger…but from the second he'd done it, Draco only wished that he'd done it sooner. It had been illuminating, to say the least. From the moment their lips met, the boy was hooked. The softness of her lips, mixed with the overwhelming scent of her sultry perfume and the uncertainty of her movements ignited a fire inside Draco that he hadn't known could burn for someone. He'd kissed girls before, he'd kissed Pansy probably hundreds of times, but he'd never kissed someone and felt it so deep in his core that it made him ache. Then she moaned, and if he didn't break off the kiss, he would've probably jumped her then and there. He'd felt his cock twitch immediately at the tantalizing sound and knew he was in trouble. It was one of the most difficult things Draco had ever done, and nearly worse than pulling away from the witch was seeing the beautiful blush that stained her cheeks when he'd done it.

He was royally fucked, and there was nothing to do about it. His heart had been going a mile a minute, and the look on his friends' faces told him all he needed to know. They were onto him.

When Blaise went to escort the girls out of the dungeons, Pansy turned to him and said, "My room, now." And not wanting to face his best friend, Draco had reluctantly agreed and followed her back to the girls' dormitories.

Upon their arrival, Pansy shut the door and sat on her bed. Draco stood in front of her awkwardly, truly not knowing what to say. At this point, he didn't know what he was feeling but he knew he liked kissing Granger. Nothing made sense anymore. Blaise would be taking the girl for lunch in Hogsmeade, and the two would probably go on to date. Draco suspected Blaise was no longer doing all of this for the dare, and probably never was.

"So," Pansy finally spoke, "that kiss…"

Draco sighed, "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it," she countered, "I think you should."

Draco looked at her, then began pacing, "Doesn't it bother you to discuss such things? You are my girlfr—"

"Girlfriend? Please Draco, we are hardly a couple. We used each other to keep up appearances and that was it. You know it, and so do I," the girl interjected.

"I never used—"

"Save it," she said once more, "you used me to get her off your back, and now that it's worked you seem more miserable than ever."

Draco said nothing at this, and simply thought about the current state of his life. He'd spent years trying to get Granger to bugger off, and now he was… well, he was confused. Evidently, the boy was jealous at the prospect of Hermione being with Blaise—but it felt deeper than that. Almost like she held a part of Draco, and he held a part of her. It would feel wrong to watch her give that part of herself to his best friend.

"I know it must be hard watching her go on with Zabini," Pansy pressed on, "but I saw what I saw tonight."

"And what did you see?" Draco sneered as he stopped pacing.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him, "one word: Tension."

"Tension? Pansy seriously," Draco replied, trying to keep his cool.

"Yes," she countered, "tension, of the sexual variety, might I add."

"No, you may not add," Draco cried, "because there was none of that."

"Doesn't it get tiring to continuously be in denial?" Pansy quipped, giving him a condescending smirk.

"Doesn't it get tiring to continuously meddle in other people's affairs?" the boy snapped back.

"No," she sighed, "and I don't wish to meddle, I just want you to stop the self-sabotage."

"Self-sabotage?" Draco breathed, "now you've really lost it."

"Have I though?" Pansy countered, seemingly annoyed now, "Because from what I've been seeing lately and after what I saw tonight, you're really going to look me in the face and tell me you still hate the girl and feel nothing for her?"

Silence. Draco had nothing to say to this. He knew Pansy was right, but he was not ready to admit defeat and he certainly didn't want to give her the satisfaction. He looked at her and saw the look of victory take over her expression. He'd tried to dissuade her, ignore her and deny her the truth, but there was no use. The jig was up, and he knew no matter what he told Pansy, she wouldn't believe him anyway.

"I don't know what I feel," Draco resigned, and sat beside Pansy on her bed.

The boy half-expected her to jump with excitement or laugh at him or even say 'I told you so,' but nothing came. Instead, she just smiled softly at him and breathed, "Finally."

"I don't know if it's genuine or if it's because someone else has her," Draco continued, "but it's gotten to be quite bothersome, and I don't know what to do."

"I don't know, Draco, I always thought you were a little too mean to her—"

"You don't need to remind me of how awful I was to her, Pans," Draco interjected.

"That's not what I meant," she protested, "you were too mean to her, and I always thought that deep down it was because you liked her."

Draco laughed, "always liked her?" he smirked, "I told her she would be petrified by the Heir of Slytherin during second year… I don't know how that came off as liking her, but okay Parkinson."

Pansy rolled her eyes again, "you forget that I was there at the Yule Ball."

"What does that have to do with—"

"I saw the way you looked at her when she walked into the Great Hall," she continued, "I remember, because it was the way I wanted you to look at me."

"Pansy I—"

"It's fine," she smiled, "I'm glad I never gave you a real opportunity to break my heart, otherwise I probably would be far different than who I am now, and I quite like myself now."

"I'm still sorry for making you feel that way," Draco replied softly.

"Thank you," she said, "But that doesn't change the fact that it was in that moment where I really started to question your hatred for her. Yes, she's a muggle born but honestly Draco, are we really expected to interbreed amongst pure bloods forever?"

"Pansy, be careful who you say these things to," Draco warned, "and are you suggesting mud—muggle borns are not filthy?"

"Did Granger feel or smell filthy when your tongue was down her throat?" Pansy chided.

Draco blushed. Granger definitely did not feel or smell dirty, quite the opposite. She was elegant, almost unattainable in some way. Her smell was inviting, her kisses were addicting, and her appearance was a far cry from the bushy haired girl he'd met on the Hogwarts Express six years ago. He'd suddenly realized that she was considered to be the brightest witch of their age and was at the top of every class. How could someone who was "below" him, be essentially better than him at being a wizard?

"No," he admitted, "not even close."

"Then that answers your question, doesn't it?" Pansy demanded.

"I suppose it does," Draco sighed, "but my parents would never approve—and Blaise, what about him?"

"All is fair in love and war," Pansy said with finality.

The following morning, Hermione was awoken by Ginny coming into her bed and demanding that they talk. Fortunately, the red headed girl had also come equipped with a pepper-up potion, as she knew Hermione would need it after the events of last night. The older girl finished the potion in one gulp, and instantly felt her headache resign and a hum of energy revitalize her entire body. It was a new day.

Hermione noticed that her friend was no longer lying next to her and was sitting cross-legged with a nervous expression on her face. Hermione could tell instantly that the younger girl had something on her mind and was about to tell her something important. Weasley's were never any good at lying, especially when it came to important matters.

"So," Ginny began, "about last night…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione whined.

"I was actually referring to my kiss… with Pansy Parkinson," the girl replied shyly.

Hermione straightened at this, "Oh, sorry Gin," she apologized, "did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted, "I can't stop thinking about it—truth is, I've never been kissed like that."

"Really?" Hermione replied excitedly, "I thought you'd already kissed some of the girls before, here in the tower."

"Well yes, I have," the girl continued, "but that was just for fun, and I never actually felt something afterwards."

"And now you do?" Hermione prodded.

"Yes," Ginny replied, "I don't know, maybe" she nervously rambled, "it was different."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said softly, "If you'd like, I could talk to Blaise about it," she offered, "I am seeing him today after all."

"No!" Ginny cried, "I mean, please don't say anything just yet. I don't want people gossiping about me or anything before I can even decide what I'm feeling."

"Merlin, of course," Hermione instantly realizing how sensitive of a subject this was for her friend, "I'm so sorry Gin I didn't mean to—"

"I know 'Mione," the girl smiled at her friend, "I just want to figure this one out on my own. Please keep it between us for now."

"I promise," Hermione held out her pinky, and Ginny took it.

After finishing their chat, they agreed to meet in the Great Hall for breakfast to discuss other matters—like Hermione's afternoon in Hogsmeade with a certain Slytherin boy. Upon showering, fixing her hair and applying some light makeup, Hermione decided she'd be wearing a comfortable yet cute outfit. Black jeans, with a tight V-neck black shirt and an over-sized coat would be the right apparel for today. Hermione even decided to wear a bra that gave her cleavage the little "push" it needed to really highlight the V-neck shirt. She looked like a babe, and she felt like one as she made her way into the Great Hall.

As she walked in, from her peripheral, Hermione could see someone watching her every move from the Slytherin table. The flash of blonde belonging to her observer did not go unnoticed, but she refused to glance back at him. Hermione did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much the kiss had affected her, and she knew that if she looked at him, it would be so obvious. She was already blushing at the thought. Not good.

Thankfully, as the Gryffindor girl walked towards her usual table, she noticed Ginny—accompanied by Harry and Ron.

"Hello, sexy!" Ginny whistled as Hermione approached the bench, "don't you look fabulous."

Hermione smiled, "I can always count on you to make me feel appreciated."

"Well darling," Ginny smirked, "you certainly are appreciated."

"You look like you're going to a funeral," Harry said playfully, "lunch with a Slytherin certainly fits the bill."

Hermione turned her head, "why aren't you dressed in black then? Aren't you also going to lunch with a Slytherin?"

Ron laughed at that, "she's got a point mate."

"Well, I'm not the one ditching her best mates to sit with Slytherins during class," Harry retorted.

"Blaise happens to be a formidable potions partner," Hermione was already annoyed, "at least he doesn't rely on me to do everything and reap the benefits."

At this, the boys went silent and continued chewing their food. Hermione felt triumphant and began having her breakfast as well. As she poured herself some pumpkin juice, the girl looked up out of habit and was immediately met with the stormy grey eyes that haunted her all night. He looked like a marble statue, so beautiful and so cold. Yet, under his gaze was something else—something festering, something hot. And the heat was beginning to be too much for Hermione, as she felt her own cheeks betray her and begin to warm up too. She refused to back down, and his eyes continued to swallow her up. He'd never looked at her this way, it was almost like lust—but it couldn't be. He hated her.

"'Mione," Ginny demanded, "hello?"

Hermione reluctantly tore her eyes away, annoyed that she'd had to surrender the staring match.

"Yes?" the girl replied innocently, "sorry I was in a daze."

"Sure," her friend said knowingly, "I asked where you'd be going to eat today with Zabini."

Hermione had completely forgotten about her date with the Italian boy. She'd been so wrapped up in Malfoy that the thought of Blaise had not even crossed her mind. The guilt crept back in, and the girl was starting to think that it would be unfair of her to give him the wrong idea. Clearly, she was not over her past, regardless of his distaste towards her. Hermione refused to lead someone on, she knew how shitty an unrequited love was.

"Right," she said, "he never told me."

"Well, I'll be going to The Three Broomsticks," Harry stated.

"Classy," Ginny scoffed, "real nice place to bring the Slytherin princess."

"She's hardly a princess," Ron snorted, "the witch has seen more cocks than a chicken coop."

"No," Hermione countered, "she's been dating Malfoy for a very long time."

"Just because there's a goalie, doesn't mean you can't score," Ron chucked, and Harry joined.

"You're both disgusting," Ginny spat, "where'd you get that pathetic excuse for a joke Ronald? The douche handbook?"

"Let's just go Gin," Hermione said as she grabbed a brioche, "they're not worth it."

The two girls stood and left the boys as they seethed at Ginny's words. Tossers, Hermione thought as she directed Ginny to the tables in the courtyard.

"I didn't know there were tables here," Ginny remarked as she sat down.

"Isn't it lovely?" Hermione asked as she took a bite of her food.

"Quite," Ginny agreed.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and spun to see who the intruder was. To her horror, it was none other than Draco Malfoy. As he stood over her, she took a moment to observe how handsome he was from close, as the boy never really allowed for such proximity.

"Granger," he demanded, "I need to speak with you."

Completely stunned at the lack of insults or rude tone, she could not get any words to come out, so she simply nodded and stood. Hermione looked over at Ginny, who looked just as surprised as her. Draco then motioned for her to follow him and led her to a private alcove just outside the courtyard. A million thoughts were coursing through the Gryffindor's mind, and none of them were giving her anything conclusive. The boy had never wanted to speak to her before, especially in private. What the bloody hell was going on?

"You must be wondering why I've asked you to come here," he stated dryly.

Hermione simply nodded her agreement, still being unable to say anything without sounding like a babbling bag of nerves.

"I wanted to," he began, "uhm, I wanted to—" he stuttered uncharacteristically, "I wanted to apologize."

At this, Hermione could not contain her reply, "Apologize?"

"Yes."

"No," she spat, now angry.

"What?" he furrowed his eyebrows, "what do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no," she said once more, "I don't want your apology."

He looked at her then, with the same heat and intensity as before.

"You may not want it, but I still want to give it to you."

"Why?" Hermione demanded, meeting his gaze with the same intensity, "why now?"

"Because I believe you deserve—"

"You believe I deserve an apology?" Hermione seethed, "I deserved one six years ago," she went off, "I deserved one when you made everyone think I was some lovestruck fool, and when you threatened my life, and when you made fun of everything about me—"

"That was—"

"I'm not finished," she stated, "I deserved one each and every single time you used a slur against me, made me feel like I didn't belong or that I was beneath you."

He didn't reply.

"I deserved one when you told me I was disgusting and a know it all that could never be desired by others," she continued.

"I'm—"

"Above all, I deserved one when you called me a psychopath to Pansy and you knew I heard," she said with finality and rage.

"You're right I should have—" Draco let out a shaky breath.

"But you didn't," Hermione cut him off, "and that tells me how wrong I was for ever liking you."

"Granger I—"

"Save it," she put her hand up for emphasis, "you don't get to decide whether or not I deserve an apology—I always did. So, keep your apology to yourself and just leave me be."

Hermione reluctantly turned away from him, but not before noticing the look of defeat on his face. It served him right, after everything he'd done and said to her. How dare he?

For so long, all she'd ever wanted was to hear him apologize, tell her it was all an act to keep his pureblood friends at bay—tell her something, to justify all the atrocities he'd committed towards her. Today, Hermione could have maybe gotten this form of closure from Draco, but as quickly as he'd said it, she'd decided she no longer needed, nor wanted it. He was an arse, and she needed to truly move on with her life, regardless of lingering feelings. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. Malfoy had hurt her without remorse for years—screw his entitlement and his apology. It was her turn to be ruthless.

As she made her way back to Ginny though, Hermione couldn't stop the tears that had been waiting to flow during the entire encounter. Despite her anger, it still hurt…and maybe it always would.

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