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He started his assault the next day, taking a little more care with his morning toilette than usual. He splashed on a little aftershave, leaving his hair slightly tousled. He took his seat at the slytherin table for breakfast as usual, flashing a grin at Nott when he arrived. Nott eyed him speculatively, "What's going on with you this morning?" he asked with a frown.

"What do you mean?" asked Draco, grabbing another slice of toast.

"You're looking rather self-satisfied, and you smell like a tarts handkerchief. Hang on; you're not shagging Parkinson again are you?"

"No!" said Draco, "definitely not."

"Good," said Nott, "I don't want to have to listen to that going on again in the dorm at all hours."

Draco felt rather sheepish, remembering how lewd he and Pansy had been. "Sorry about that, I guess I was pretty obnoxious."

"That's ok," replied Nott, "I don't think Crabbe and Goyle minded; they used to jerk off to it."

"What?!" cried Draco. "Seriously?"

"I guess you didn't know?" Nott grinned slyly.

"No." Draco shuddered, "I would have been happier never knowing I think!" That was an image Draco would be more than happy to scrub from his mind.

"So who is it then?" Pressed Nott, obviously not going to let the subject drop.

"There isn't anyone." Said Draco, almost involuntarily glancing at the Gryffindor table, where Hermione was currently reading the Daily Prophet and picking at a bowl of cereal. Nott's eyes followed Draco's gaze.

"Granger?" he said incredulously. "You're after Granger?"

"What if I am?" said Draco casually.

"Well, I don't blame you. I mean she's hot, and half the guys in the school have wondered what it would be like to pop that uptight cherry, but seriously, if she won't give it up to the Weasel, who she has dated forever, then what makes you think you have a chance?"

Draco tramped down the flicker of anger that stirred listening to Nott speaking about her like that; he would have been exactly the same a year ago.

"She's not as stuck up as you think." He said nonchalantly.

"What makes you say that?"

"We have been," doing what? Draco mused, trying to finish the sentence prudently. Studying? Went to hers for dinner and drinks? "Hanging out." He decided on.

Nott's eyebrows shot up into his rather unkempt hair that hung over his forehead. "Since when?!"

"A couple of months now."

Nott looked shocked, "Well in that case, good luck to you! I guess all that mudblood stuff before was just for show!"

"All that mudblood stuff was because I was an idiot who parroted what I was told." Draco replied with annoyance; would he ever get away from his past?

"Yeah well," said Nott wryly, "we've all done stupid stuff!" He chuckled to himself, and Draco managed to crack a smile. He looked over at Hermione again; she had pushed her bowl away and was staring glumly at the book in front of her. He was tempted to go and speak to her, but knew it would draw attention that she would probably not appreciate. Also, what would he say? "Now that you and the Weasel are finished you and I should get together? I know I bullied and threatened you for six years, but hey, never mind!" Maybe not; he would have to plan things a little better than that.

The bell rang, and the student body left the great hall en masse to go to their first lesson of the day. Malfoy had charms, which turned out to be another easy one for him as it was a Protean charm. It felt rather bittersweet when it was his turn to demonstrate, as it was his ability to do this charm that set in motion the events leading up to the death of Albus Dumbledore, and the start of the war. Only he, and of course Hermione managed to do it that lesson, everyone else was set homework. He noticed that Potter was eyeing him occasionally, and wondered what he wanted. It was no surprise when he heard his name called in the corridor after the lesson.

"Malfoy!" He turned to watch Potter approach, and then carried on towards the greenhouses, leaving it up to Potter to walk with him or not.

"Malfoy," Harry said again, falling in step beside him.

"What is it Potter?" Said Draco, although he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"It's about Hermione. You need to leave her alone."

"Do I?" replied Draco, keeping his voice neutral, although he really wanted to tell him to fuck off in no uncertain terms.

"She has got enough going on right now, without you…"

"Without me what?" Draco cut him off. "Without me studying near her in the library? Or trying to comfort her when she walks in on her boyfriend with someone else? Or telling her it doesn't matter that people are laughing about her being made a fool of? You're right, she doesn't need me to do that, she needs YOU to do that, but it seems that she is having to make do with me. Why is that Potter?"

Harry stood for a moment with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Who are you to tell me what I should be doing?" he spluttered. "It's not as simple as that! I am friends with both Ron and Hermione, so I can't be seen to be on either ones side!"

"That's a piss poor excuse Potter and you know it! It's Hermione who was shat upon, and that should mean you are automatically on her side." Said Draco, oblivious to the spectators that had gathered to watch his and Harry's altercation.

"You don't know the circumstances…" began Harry.

"That she wouldn't sleep with him? Everyone knows that Potter, or is there something else that I have missed?"

"Well when you put it like that it sounds bad, but they had been together for ages!"

"I think you have just said all you need to Potter. So my answer is no, I won't stay away from Granger until she tells me to, not you." Draco picked up his pace and left Harry behind, for the first time noticing the shocked faces of the rest of the class, and hearing the whispers of "Malfoy and Hermione…?!"

Self-righteous prick! Draco thought, although, could he blame him really? For letting down Hermione, yes he could, but for wanting to keep her away from Draco? No. Potter had no reason to trust Draco's motives, or believe that he was actually trying to help anyone; after all, it would be a first!

Draco kept his head down until he was by his bench in Herbology next to Nott. The whispers about the conversation between him and Potter were still flowing, and he hadn't dared look at Hermione to see how she was taking the situation. Would she be annoyed at being associated with him, or possibly pleased that he had stood up for her? If Potter had ruined his chances with Granger before he even started trying he would be pissed off.

Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse, putting a stop to the gossiping students. Draco found it difficult to pay attention to her instructions whilst half the class were staring at him, but for once with curiosity instead of disdain.

"Well," said Nott, leaning over the seed tray with some dragon dung, "you're either a genius, or a complete twat!"

"What do you mean?" Asked Draco.

"You may as well have just declared your feelings to Granger in front of the entire class. She is either going to throw herself at your feet, or she is going to tell you to back off and mind your own business. Plus, you just called saint Potter a selfish knob, so half the school will hate you for it, the other half will admire you for your balls."

Draco considered this for a moment. "That will be nice." He said, grinning at Nott's perplexed look. "Having only half the school hate me."

Nott shot him a look, but didn't pursue the subject any further. He obviously knew that Draco was not going to discuss it any more than that.

Draco glanced over towards where Hermione was working alongside Hannah Abbott, ringlets cascading from a hastily tied ponytail, and a smear of soil on her cheek. He felt a longing to touch her; wipe away the dirt and tilt her chin up to kiss him. He really hoped she would still want to speak to him, or all his plans would be ruined.

Draco went to the library straight after dinner that evening, trying to look nonchalant reading a textbook, but really glancing at the door every two minutes. Where was she? After what felt like an age, she appeared, giving him a brief smile before putting her books down next to his.

"Hey," said Draco, unsure what the smile meant. She was silent as she sat down, and his heart sank. She was going to tell him to get lost, he was sure of it.

"Look," she said, just as he started to say, "Sorry."

They both apologised for interrupting each other and it broke the tension somewhat.

"Look," she said again. "I'm sorry for earlier. Harry was out of line, and now everyone is gossiping about us. You have enough to worry about already; you don't need any more hassle."

Draco actually laughed with relief. "I'm sorry too. Not for what I said to Potter, but the fact it was said in public so your name is associated with mine. "

"I didn't think that you would want to be associated with me, seeing as all your friends are staunchly pure-blood and I'm…" she tailed off looking rather sheepish.

"Firstly," said Draco, "please point out these friends of mine, as I certainly haven't noticed them, and secondly, blood status is so unimportant that I'm ashamed I ever believed in it."

Hermione laughed. "Anyway, Harry shouldn't approach you again; I spoke to him and told him that who I am friends with is none of his business." She broke off with a frown, and Draco looked up to see why she had stopped.

The Weasley girl had appeared in the doorway, and was making her way over.

"Hermione," said Ginny, ignoring Draco.

"Hi Ginny, what's up?" Asked Hermione, voice almost falsely bright, like she was expecting a confrontation and wanted to head it off.

"Hermione, what's going on? Everyone is saying that you have been seeing him behind my brothers back for months. How could you? Have you forgotten what he and his family did to you? Did to all of us?" Ginny looked daggers at Draco, and it was all he could do to keep the sneer from his face.

"Ginny what are you talking about? Do you seriously believe that I was cheating on Ron?" Said Hermione, nothing bright about her voice now.

"I don't know what to believe! Here you are sitting with him bold as brass, when everyone knows what he is!"

"What he was, Ginny. And wasn't one of the things we hated about the Slytherin's their intolerance? Why is what you're doing any different?"

"We never did anything to them!" snapped Ginny, voice far too loud. If she wasn't careful she would get them thrown out of the library. "Where as he is a murderer!"

"He is not a murderer!" Hissed Hermione. "He couldn't kill Dumbledore on top of the tower that night, and if he hadn't have gone along with Voldemort's plans then he would have killed him!"

Draco sat there rather dumbfounded; they were arguing about his morals like he wasn't even there! As heartening as it was having Hermione stand up for him he felt it was time to put a stop to this nonsense.

"Granger," he said, ignoring Ginny as she had him, "thank you for what you said, but she is right. I have done a lot of reprehensible things, and it is her right to hate me for them."

"Piss off Malfoy," Ginny snarled. "Your noble self-deprecating crap is fooling no one!"

She turned back to Hermione. "Mione, you don't have to turn to scum like him! Your real friends are here for you..."

Suddenly Hermione was on her feet, startling both Draco and Ginny. "My real friends? I'm starting to wonder who my real friends are! How dare you try to tell me who I should speak to when you have hardly spoken to me in weeks!" Her voice had gone way above the acceptable volume in the library, and madam Pince was already on her way over to evict them.

Snatching up her things, Hermione stormed towards the door, muttering "sorry" to madam Pince as she passed. The librarian frowned over at Ginny and Draco, who were staring after Hermione in shock but upon seeing they were now quiet she turned back towards her desk.

"You leave her alone Malfoy, I'm warning you!" Ginny spat, before flouncing out.

Malfoy sat for a few moments before pulling his transfiguration text book towards himself, 'that went well!' he thought to himself with an ironic smirk.

Draco was standing by the fireplace in his family's ballroom, watching the struggling forms of Bellatrix and Hermione on the floor. "No, please!" Shrieked Hermione, eliciting a mad cackle from his aunt. Draco saw the flash of a knife, and Hermione's screams rose in pitch.

"What else did you take?" Demanded his aunt, and without waiting for an answer, sank her teeth into Hermione's upper arm. Just like he had in real life, Draco watched, unable to look away. As before, Bellatrix raised her head, but this time it was Draco's own face grinning maniacally at him, blood running down his chin.

Draco shot up in bed, heart racing and blood pounding in his ears. He concentrated on slowing his breathing, trying to push away the disturbing images. 'That's new' he thought darkly; he had never been the one torturing Granger before. Was it further manifestation of his guilt for standing by and doing nothing, or was it due to the current situation, and his decision to seduce her? Knowing he would get no further sleep, Draco decided to get up and head down to the prefect bathrooms for an early shower, and maybe do some studying before breakfast.

He pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt and, tucking some clean robes under his arm, crept to the door and headed out through the common room and into the dungeons. Moving as quickly and as quietly as possible, Draco crept up the fifth floor. Although it was technically morning, he knew that Filch, or any of the teachers would count being out this early as breaking curfew.

He had almost reached his destination when he heard footsteps hurrying along the corridor behind him. He quickly ducked behind a tapestry on the wall, peeking through the gap to see who else was breaking curfew; it didn't sound like Filch's heavy steps. To his amazement, he saw it was Granger. The washbag tucked under her arm indicating she was heading to the same place that he was, although why she would be here at this time he had no idea.

He expected her to hurry past, but instead she spotted the tapestry and made a beeline towards it.

'Shit!' thought Draco, and before he could do anything she had flung herself into his hiding place. Her eyes widened in surprise and Draco clamped a hand over her mouth before she could scream and get them both caught. After a couple of heartbeats he let her go, confident she was over the shock of seeing him.

"What are..." he began to ask, but she shook her head and mouthed. "Filch."

Draco nodded, and fell silent as he heard the wheezing breaths of the caretaker approaching. All of a sudden Draco was aware of how close he and Hermione were in the small dark space behind the tapestry. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and smell the scent of her shampoo. She was panting slightly, and his gaze was drawn to the rise and fall of her chest. He felt like the moment was charged with tension, and he wondered if she felt it too.

Once they heard Filch's footsteps and annoyed muttering fade into the distance, Draco asked, "What are you doing up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied.

"Me neither," he said. "Dreams." He supplied before she could ask.

"Too angry." She responded with.

He smiled. "Hang on; you're not a prefect anymore." He had just realised that goody-two-shoes Granger was breaking the rules using the prefect's bathroom.

"Well, neither are you." She retorted.

"Yeah, but I'm a Slytherin, it's what we do!" He was looking down at her smugly, when he saw a mischievous expression cross her face. Before he knew what was happening, she had reached up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then ducked out from under the tapestry and was hurrying away along the corridor.

Draco stood, astonished at the turn the events of the morning had taken. She had kissed him! Although quite what that meant he wasn't sure; no one had ever kissed him like that before. Pansy, and the other two women he had slept with had kissed him aggressively, blatantly sexual, and the kisses he had had with fellow students before that had been exploratory, juvenile affairs. This had been different; gentle, chaste and, for Draco, as arousing as hell. 'Although what did it mean to her?' he wondered. Was it just that they were friends, and she was expressing some slight affection for him, or was she saying she wanted something more?

Draco slipped out from behind the tapestry and carried on to the prefect's bathroom expecting it to be engaged but it was deserted; she had left him to have his shower. After stripping off his clothes, he stood in front of the mirror and properly looked at himself for the first time in ages. He had always been confident of his own attractiveness; he was tall and reasonably well muscled, playing quiddich for six years had given him a lithe and toned physique. He was pale, always had been, although his torso was marred with a couple of pinkish-grey scars. The longest one was from his altercation with Potter in his sixth year, although there were many others from various excursions as a death eater, and some from the dark lord himself. Although none of them bothered him really, not like the monstrosity on his forearm. That was the only part of his body he was ashamed of, a permanent reminder of what he had been and the horrifying things he had done.

He had tried everything to remove it, even taking a knife to remove the skin, but even though Voldemort was gone the enchantment on the mark held fast; there was no way to get rid of it. None of his fellow students had seen it, he was careful to keep his arms covered even though they all must know he had it. He wondered how Hermione would react upon seeing it, if it would fill her with disgust for him.

He stopped scrutinising his body turned on the shower, stepping under the spray when it was hot enough. His mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Hermione, he reached down and took hold of himself, then began to stroke gently. 'She would touch me gently,' he mused, trying to imagine what being with her would be like. Nothing like he had known before, he surmised. She would be sweet and sincere and he would have to be so very careful not to hurt her. He imagined touching her for the first time, and hearing her breathy little gasps as he brought her pleasure, and realised that he was desperate for it to become real. Desperate for someone to touch him like he mattered.