He hated her. The bloody chit, always thinking she was superior and right. The irony wasn't lost on Draco, for he himself knew he held his family and blood as being the most superior, but he wasn't about to let that ruin his current path of destruction through the halls of Hogwarts. He'd managed along the way to place several jinxes that would unquestionably cause blame to fall on Peeves. Some portraits had run crying into the nonexistent horizon due to his 'kind' words he decided to share and he was pretty certain the elf he had kicked on his way at least gained a head wound. Afterall, if he was miserable on this Friday afternoon, then so would everyone else be. All thanks to the stupid, know-it-all mudblood.

Draco wanted nothing more than to stab his wand to his arm calling on the Dark Lord and his father to eradicate her and every other person believing her to be worthy of magic. Just thinking of the mark had a pleasant shiver running up his spine. He knew the Dark Lord was a half-blood, but it didn't mean Draco misunderstood a means to an end. Which meant, as soon as magical society was pure again, Draco would be sure to not make the same mistakes his father did.

His mental tirade ended as he rounded into the Slytherin common room. On the far end, seated primly was Parkinson and he quickly forgot the entire reason for his argument with the mudblood. The view of the Black Lake was casting an ethereal glow on her figure. She almost looks pretty in the glow. Smirking, Draco angled himself against the wall next to her, hands in pocket.

"Parkinson." The girl in question remained staring out the window. "You look nice caster under the lake's light." She laughed.

"Really, Draco. If you want sex you know where to find it, and it's not here."

"Come on, Parkinson. You've been playing this game since 3rd year. I just need some relief." Draco crossed his arms, a crease between his brows as he pursed his lips.

"Go to Teresa. I'm sure her being a fifth year makes the allure of the 6th year Slytherin Sex God irresistible." Pansy smirked, her red lips plump, and stood up, nearly matching his height. Up close he could see how her nose was scrunched just a bit too much for his taste, eyes further apart than he'd like, plus beady little things. She was pretty, just not Malfoy-worthy pretty. It didn't stop the chase from being fun.

"One day," he tucked a loose strand behind her ear, her bob cut asymmetrically. "One day, I'm going to make you beg for me to let you reach heights of passion with your legs wrapped around my waist."

He chuckled as Pansy huffed and pranced away into the girls dorms, her Hogwarts skirt leaving little to the imagination. Satisfied, he turned to the rest of the common room, grey eyes landing on a certain little fifth year. He needed the stress relief if he expected to complete his mission as the Dark Lord requested.

Meanwhile…

She hated him. The foul, loathsome, little cockroach always thinking himself superior and right. The irony wasn't lost on her, she knew he had what many considered purer blood than her, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from being top of their class in spite of the current war raging on. Several had stepped out of her path avoiding the sparks of gold energy emitting from her wild mane of curls. She was heading to the library so she could find the material she needed to prove him wrong. Then she'd shove under his tipped-up, aristocratic nose so he could inhale the truth for once.

Rounding the corner, Hermione quickly shuffled her feet to stop before running into the locked couple before her. Ron's red hair was currently trapped in Lavender's tight fists. She groaned, in an even worse mood before side-stepping the oblivious couple. With a quick wave of her hand, a tapestry fell over them, hiding them from view. A few staircases and turns later, she finally reached the library.

The Gryffindor paused to embrace it. The light shining through the windows, small particles of dust dancing around, wooden tables illuminated. Inhaling, she found peace in the smell of parchment and ink. After a moment, brilliant brown eyes opened, ready to scour for the book that would prove her completely right.

She found it just under half an hour later, and with the information in hand, practically wrote a book. Upon finishing she shoved it into her bag and began on her other homework so her weekend would be free. Then she could relax curled up on the couch in the common room with a nice, hot cup—

"Hey 'Mione!" Harry swooped down, pressing a kiss to her cheek before settling at the table with her. Behind him, Ron was trying to fix his red tie and mussing his hair.

"Hullo 'Mione."

"Hello, boys. What's going on?" She peered at them suspiciously, her quill poised still above her Defense Against the Dark Arts paper on werewolves, as assigned by one Severus Snape. Harry grinned boyishly, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, we need help with homework, but we were also wondering if you wanted to come to the game on Saturday?"

"It's against Hufflepuff!" Ron piped in. "They've actually gotten pretty decent this year."

"Sure, so long as I can bring my book." While Harry nodded in agreement, Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes before looking at Harry.

"She's crazy that one." Shoving him in her defense, Harry declared him a wanker before pulling out his work. Hermione grinned, feeling at home with her two boys around her. Some things would never change.