A/N: Hi all! Sorry it's been a while; things have been quite stressful recently due to the virus and lockdown etc :/. I'm hoping I'll actually have a proper chance to sit down and crank out a long chapter some time soon, but until then, please accept this short chapter instead. Lots of love to everyone - stay safe and enjoy!

Just as he starts to lean in, Hermione turns her head to look at the stereo. The song has ended, the next one beginning, and Malfoy quickly pulls back; luckily she didn't notice his attempt – she was too focused on the change of song, which drew her attention away from him. He curse himself for being so slow in making his move as she unfurls herself from his arms and clicks the CD out of the stereo and placing it back into the box. She turns to look at him, grinning, and he smiles back – hopefully masking the disappointment he truly feels.

"That's one."

"What?"

"That's one Muggle song. How did you find it?" Malfoy doesn't know how to answer as he wasn't really paying attention to the song.

"It was…" Boring? Tedious? Anything that will rile her up? "Cute, I guess." He watches her as she leans against the table the stereo is perched on, once again flicking through the CD cases. Some of her hair – not bushy for once – has fallen from her bun and is in front of her eyes as she debates which one to put in next. "It's from a-" What was the damn word? "Moe-vay?" She snorts at his pronunciation, bringing her hand to cover her mouth as she laughs.

"Sorry- Sorry, I don't mean to- It's just how you said it," she snorts again, and despite the laughter being about him he can't help but smile along with her. "It's moo-vee – like a cow, you know, moo? – moo-vee." And just like that, Malfoy sees his way to torment her (just because he likes her doesn't mean he can't torment her).

"Moo-vay."

"Moo-vee! Just like the letter 'V'. Moo-vee!"

"Moo-vee-vee." He grins at her frustration (she can't honestly think he's so stupid that he didn't understand the first time she pronounced it?), but she doesn't notice, still trying to correct him.

"No, there's just one vee!"

"Oh, I see," she lets out a sigh at him finally understanding; she would never be a good teacher if this is how she copes with students not understanding first time. "It's vee."

"No, you forgot the moo! Moo!"

He can't hold back anymore, and starts laughing – warm, bubbly laughter that comes from the bottom of his stomach, which he's clutching as he's doubled over. Tears come to his eyes and he feels his cheeks and chest burning from his guffaws (Malfoy did not guffaw – he just laughed exceptionally loud when he was amused by something). She stared at him with wide eyes, not completely aware of the joke she was unknowingly the subject of. After a moment, as Malfoy wipes tears from his eyes, his guffaws become soft, irregular chuckles, it clicks. Hermione shoves him by the shoulder, catching him off guard and making him stumble a step or two backwards before he plants his feet, his laughter bubbling up again.

"You're vile, Malfoy!" She snaps, eyes wild.

"What, for a joke about pronunciation?"

"Yes, for a joke about pronunciation! You were trying to get me worked up!"

"I didn't try anything," Malfoy corrects. "I did get you worked up." She goes for him again, but he turns to the side and grabs her wrist. "Now, now, Granger. Play nice."

"Maybe you should follow your own advice, Malfoy." She yanks her hand from his grip, glaring at him. He smirks at her – trust Granger to get this upset about a tiny joke – and, when his smirk becomes a full smile, she can't stop her own lips from tugging upwards too. She tries to force her mouth into a pout but can't, finally giving in to the smile and rolling her eyes. He extends his right hand to her with a stuck out bottom lip and wide puppy dog eyes.

"Friends?" Her eyes flicker from his hand to his face, where he blinks at her with long, thick lashes. "Please?" Of course, this isn't what he actually wants to say.

More than friends? Please?

"That's the first time I've heard you use the word 'please'."

His brow creases in offence. "I've said 'please' before this."

She regards his hand; long, pale fingers with bitten nails. A silver ring, decorated with the image of a snake, is on his right ring finger. "No, I don't believe you have," she smirks at him.

"Just shake my damn hand, Granger."

"Well, if you're going to be like that… I suppose I'll take my friendship somewhere it's actually wanted." She goes to turn away and he instantly backtracks.

"No, Granger, please, I'm sorry." He steps so he's in front of her, hand still extended.

"Now that's the second time I've heard you say it!" She grins up at him, her eyes bright and sparkling. "And the first time I've heard you say sorry."

"I've said-" He's baffled, completely and utterly, and he doesn't see that she's playing the exact same game he was playing just minutes ago. "I've said sorry before!"

"Oh, Malfoy, I don't like your tone."

"Look- I'm sorry for shouting," she goes to open her mouth (That's two 'sorry's!) but he gets his next words out quickly to stop her from being able to say it. "Friends? Even though I was horrid."

"There's no was about it; you're always horrid." Regardless, she reaches out and grabs his hand firmly – he hopes she doesn't notice how suddenly sweaty his hand has gotten now that she's touched it. She shakes it (up, down, release), and her fingers softly glide across his as she lets go. He smirks at her, running his hand through his hair, his shirt tugging where it was tucked into his trousers.

Hermione can't stop the blush that spreads across her face when she sees the shirt stretched tight across his torso. She averts her eyes, looking down at her cupped hands instead, and the silver ring hidden between them, smiling to herself. He surely won't notice, will he? It didn't seem like he took much notice in the ring anyway, so she slips it onto her right ring finger. It's miles too big for her, but it doesn't matter – she'll give it back before she leaves for the common room.

He picks up the abandoned pile of CDs. He gets bored of them and turns to the cassettes, quickly finding one he likes the look of and placing the rest on the table next to him as Hermione perches herself on the arm of a blue sofa, crossing her legs at the ankles as she watches him. He holds it up so she can see the cover, and she grins. "Oh, I love this one!" She remembers to being a child – probably from seven until she came to Hogwarts – and her dad constantly playing the soundtrack in the car.

"I just like that this person looks like me," he answers, pointing to a person on the cover with short blonde hair and a slightly less pointed face than his.

"Oh, that's Watts!" Hermione smiles to herself as he nods approvingly at the image.

"Watts is a cool name – he must be cool, just like me." He jokingly runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip in an overexaggerated attempt at seduction. Hermione laughs, standing and grabbing the album from him, moving to the stereo.

"Oh, yeah. Watts is super cool. She is the best character." Malfoy falters.

"I'm sorry – she?"

"Yes, Malfoy, can't you tell?" She waves the plastic case in front of him and he snatches it, staring at it. Of course. It's so obviously clear now that she's mentioned it.

"Well… She's cool, for a girl."

"For a girl? Really, Malfoy?"

"What's so wrong about that?"

"Girls don't need to be like boys to be cool. Girls can be cool on their own. Don't tell me you're a sexist as well as a racist." She whips round as soon as she says it: stupid girl, don't you know when to keep your mouth closed?

His face has drained of colour and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "You think I'm sexist? And racist?" He drops onto the sofa, eyes flickering away from her, an empty gaze staring into the corner of their little haven.

"No, Malfoy, I didn't mean-" She sighs, kneeling on the sofa next to him, her knees facing him, her attention focuses solely on him. Not the opening notes of Do Anything by Pete Shelley, not the crackling fire, not anything but him. "I didn't mean that. You know I didn't."

"Do I? Do I really know what you think of me?"

"I was trying to make a joke, and it wasn't funny – I should've known better. I don't think you're racist, or sexist," she pauses, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt as it lays across her legs. "Well, not anymore at least."

"Oh, that's great, isn't it? That you used to think it," his voice breaks slightly and he turns his head away from her, nose wrinkling as he tries to keep himself calm; he can't let himself get upset. Not in front of her.

She grabs his chin lightly with her right hand, turning his head so he's looking at her once more. Her fingertips linger on the soft skin of his cheek. "Yes! Because I don't think it anymore! It means you've changed, Malfoy. Even if that's just a tiny bit – I'm not really sure how much change you've made yet – but even if it's just a teeny tiny change, it's something."

"I'm not… I'm not bad. At least, I'm trying not to be. I want to be better," he swallows the next part of that sentence, the for you that was about to involuntarily leap out of his mouth. He reaches up and places his left hand over hers, pulling her hand from his cheek and taking it into his lap, running the pad of his thumb absently over her knuckles. "I don't want to go to the…to the Dark Side, I guess."

She lets out a muffled laugh, which she tries (and fails) to disguise as a cough, but he's looking at her with a confused expression. Trying to supress her smile, she deepens her voice and makes an exaggerated keee hooo sound as she breathes in and out, reaching her free hand towards him. "If only you knew the power of the Dark Side." His eyes widen and he leans away from her hand; her top two fingers and thumb making a claw-like shape while her bottom two are curled in towards her palm, her hand shaking slightly as a look of concentration overcomes her face, the keee hooo's only getting louder.

"What are you… What are you doing?" He's now basically sat on the arm of the sofa as he moves away from her, and she feels the heat in her cheeks as she drops her arm, a small smile playing on her lips.

"It's from an old movie – moo-vee," she adds when he sees him start to smile at the word. "It was one of my dad's favourites when I was little."

"Will we…watch that one at Christmas, too?" He feels awkward asking the question – willingly wanting to learn about Muggles was something foreign to him, but if it was with her then he was willing to sit down and learn everything she wanted him to.

She laughs, unfolding her legs from under her and pulling her shoes off, dropping them to the floor. "If you want to, then I don't see why not."

"Of course I do." His voice is soft as he shuffles back over towards her.

"Malfoy, I really am sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it – not one bit." He can see the sincerity in her eyes.

"I know." He pulls her towards him, his arms around her waist as he hugs her tight and close, his cheek against the side of her head. She hugs him back, and he feels himself freeze when – as he pulls away – she places a light kiss on his cheek.

She twists herself around, legs draped over the arm of the chair, and she rests her head in his lap (she can't see how Malfoy's cheeks go beet red instead of their usual pink), reaching behind her and pulling out the bobble keeping her braided bun in place. She begins undoing the braid as she gobs up to him about Merlin knows what. All he knows is Hermione Granger kissed me – on the cheek, but still.

He starts running his fingers through her hair, absently humming along to the song that had started on the stereo.

Hermione closes her eyes and sighs, the music washing over her as she finishes what she was talking about – what was she talking about? She doesn't remember, all she remembers is the soft feel of Malfoy's cheek under her lips as she had pressed that kiss against it. Although a small part of her is cursing herself for it (stupid girl, you're going to ruin everything), a bigger part is proud of herself for doing it, for taking the leap into the unknown. She knows she didn't scare him off; why would he be playing with her hair if he hated it? Why hadn't he blown up?

But she couldn't let herself go any further than that. She couldn't let her potentially sabotage herself and her friends – yes, Malfoy has changed a bit, but was that change enough? She wanted to tell herself it was, but she still wasn't certain of his true intentions. He swears there isn't any, and large chunk of her believes him, but that little voice keeps whispering but what if…?

Hermione's eyes become heavier, so she keeps them closed, and her breathing becomes softer and more regular. He's making a tiny (messy) plait out of three tiny sections of her hair, still humming along to the song. She opens her eyes for a second before they flutter closed again.

The last thing she sees before she slips under the heavy blanket of sleep is Malfoy's grey eyes – light, and full of adoration as he looks down at her – and a smile playing on his lips.

The last thing she hears before sleep overwhelms her is the song by Lick the Tins that plays in the background.

Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you.