[A/N: Okay, people, PLEASE go read my other Harry Potter fic! It's short, but it's (hopefully) good and I'd really appreaciate it if you'd R/R it! Okay, that's all I had to say, so enjoy this one!]





It felt so wonderful...to just lay there in his arms...not speaking, not moving, barely even breathing. How had this happened? It was supposed to be forbidden. Did she care? Did either of them care? She didn't know, and at the moment, it didn't really matter because she had everything she needed in his embrace.

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"Harry, why don't you try studying instead of playing those childish games?" Hermione sternly looked down the bridge of her nose at Harry and Ron, who were playing a game of Wizard's Chess instead of studying for the Transifguration and Divination exams.



"Now, now, Hermione, we can't all be brilliant like you. So we figure--why bother?" Harry looked up at her, winking behind his glasses. She couldn't help but crack a smile. Even at 16, his boyish face still held that mischiveous look. No wonder she had been in love with him for three years. She was over that though...she never confessed to him how she felt, so it didn't end because he didn't return her feelings...it just ended. She didn't have an explination for it, which was a surprise, as she had an explination for everything.

"Yeah, and besides, we've got better things to do than study for some stupid exam, Minny." Ron ducked the book she heaved at him, then grinned. "I thought you got over the fact that you hate your nickname." He went on, ignoring the glares that shot his way from Hermione's eyes. "It's lunch time, lets go, I'm starved!"



As they made their way down the Grand Staircase, Hermione felt eyes on her back. She turned around, looking to see if anybody was watching her, but the flight of stairs behind her was deserted. She shrugged it off as exam jitters--even though she never got those--and continued to the Great Hall. After they sat down, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, strolled in like they owned the place. Hermione watched them as they manuevered their way around the crowd to take their seats at the Slytherin table. Having grown into a 6 foot and ideally built 16 year old, Malfoy was drop dead gorgeous...and he knew it. He walked past the many girls who had their heads turned, paying no attention to any of them. Out of nowhere, his head turned to where Hermione was sitting, his icy blue eyes fixed on her cinnamon brown ones. She felt her cheeks flush, and lowered her eyes into her goblet of pumpkin juice. Even though he had been so horrible to her in their early years, something about Malfoy had always intrigued her.



"Uh, Hermione? Have you been listening to a word that I've been telling you?" She snapped out of her little daze to realize that she'd totally missed everything Ron and Harry had been saying to her.



"Oh, sorry, you guys. I kinda had my mind on other things, I guess..." Ron shrugged and went on talking, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.



"Anyway, then Parvati says to me..." Hermione tried to pay attention, but her mind kept floating off. During their fifth year, Draco cornered her in the potion dungeons. He apologized for saying everything he said, telling Hermione that he never meant any of it. He was practically brainwashed by his father. He played along for two years, then realized what a jerk he was being. He wanted to be her friend, but he didn't know how to come out to her face and tell her everything until then. His father still thought he was a pure-blood fanatic, but at heart he was a regular guy. They had been close friends for the rest of that year, and the beginning of this one. They could never let anybody know, however, because it would mean rejection from both houses. Besides, it was a little bit exciting, having to pretend like they hated each other, and then having a secret friendship. It added an extra spark...not that Hermione needed one, what with being best friends with Harry and Ron.

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"Well, well, well, if it isn't Saint Potter." The slow drawl of Malfoy's voice had somehow slipped up behind them, as they made their way towards the Transfiguration classroom. "And I see he's got his usual companions, Weasel and the Muggle." Hermione was awed--the way he sneered at her was almost believeable. She snapped out of it and regained her composure, sending the same dagger-like glares at him that Harry and Ron were.



"Go to hell, you snake!" Ron, the more agressive of the three, had fire in his eyes. Ever since Malfoy's father slipped Tom Riddle's old diary into his sister's cauldron, Ron had it out for him.



"Temper, temper. You'd better watch your mouth, Weasley, or we'll have to wash it out with soap." Malfoy chuckled.



"You might want to use some of that soap you speak of on your greasy hair," Hermione spat out. She was getting pretty good at acting like she hated Malfoy, but she was rather tired of it. Even though it added a small amount of excitement, she wanted it put to an end. It was the same routine, over and over again. One insult after another, and then in privacy, nothing exchanged but sincere compliments and friendly conversations. When would it change? Maybe that wasn't the question she should be asking herself. Maybe, the real question was not when, but was it even possible...