*Disclaimer ~ I don't own Harry Potter, or anybody else for that matter.  But a girl can dream right?*

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Falling Head Over Heels

The Story of Hermione Granger and

Her relationship with Draco Malfoy

By: Befuzzled Chapter Seven ~ Unexpected Help and a Special Delivery

"How do I say hello

I just want to talk to you

How do I say you're beautiful

And I can't take my eyes off you

I don't want to say the wrong thing

I want to use the right words to impress you

My baby

How do I say"

~Usher

Hermione settled herself nicely in a back corner of the peaceful library.  She sat for a moment collecting her thoughts and forming a plan before she dove into her ever growing work load.  Classes she had the next day were put at the top of the stack while the other classes, although not less important, but less pressing were put towards the bottom. 

She grabbed the book off the top of the stack.  Arithmacy.  She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and labeled it before turning to the correct page in the thick book.  With an excited sigh she started.

She breezed through her make-up work in arithmacy, charms and herbology all in about a matter of three hours.  She reached for the next book.  Potions.  She liked the class, or would if Snape wasn't such a prick.  His homework assignments were always the same and consistent, through out her entire time in school.  Research always first; followed by a report that varied in length depending on the specific potion, lately they were becoming scrolls.  After that assignment they would go to lab and actually concoct it and then write another paper on their results. She opened up her potions work and began writing out what was supposed to be a two-foot scroll.  She got stuck after one and one half feet, not knowing where Snape would want her to take the essay: the ethical side of the potion or the practical side.  Books couldn't help her make that decision and it frustrated her that her one constant source had let her down.

She subconsciously let out a small groan in frustration.

"Having a problem Granger?" drawled the familiar voice from over her shoulder.

She didn't turn to greet him, "Yes, not that you would care though."  She was busy pruning the quill's feather in her hand.  It was being plucked rather bare.

"Oh that hurts," he mocked putting a hand to his heart and sitting down dis-heartedly.  "After all the help I've been giving you with your flying.  What's the problem, women?

"I have a name, and it's not women.  For your information, it's this potions essay.  Does Professor Snape want to explore the practical or ethical side for the use of the truth potion?"

Draco sat down next to her and glanced at her essay.  "Well, I did both but that was because I still needed nine inches looks like you're down to about twenty or so centimeters.  You might try intertwining the two, you know for every ethical thing against it, give a practical use for it."

Hermione was confused.

Why didn't I think of that?  Why is Malfoy being well, nice?  Why is he so close to me?

But Hermione didn't ponder long.  "Thanks.  I never would have thought of that."  Her eyes were beaming with excitement.

"Well.  Yeah.  You know, I try."

"Since when?" she questioned in disbelief.  Was this the same Draco Malfoy that she had met years before? Was it the same one that had conned her into the futile attempts of flying lessons?  Was Draco Malfoy beginning to be polite?

"Now, Granger."  His voice was unyielding and serious.  "But you know I was just testing it out; if this is the thanks I get I'll go back to being myself, my true self."  A smirk slipped comfortably across his face.

"Whatever.  But since you're here, is there something I can help you with?"  Hermione now knew where she wanted to go and wanted dreadfully to get back to writing her essay.

"Well, I wanted to see if you were okay for another flying lesson tomorrow but I see you've got too much work."

"All I have left after this is Care of Magical Creatures, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.  This shouldn't take me more than an hour to finish up, and the other three classes, well Transfiguration maybe but the others shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.  So I should be all caught up it about two days."  Did she just give him reason to schedule the lesson?

"Oh okay.  Then on Wednesday I'll meet you out at the Quidditch pitch at seven."

"Oh okay, I'll see you then."  Hermione turned back to the assignment in front of her but Draco didn't leave just yet.  She looked at him curiously.  "Don't take offense to this Malfoy, but you've never been this close to me on your own free will, and I really don't know how to react to it.  Have you forgotten I'm a muggle-born?"

"No, I haven't.  I was just looking at that delightfully ugly bruise on the back of your neck.  With your hair pulled up and in this light it kind of looks like a vicious jack-o-lantern. What happened?  I've heard rumors, but you know how this school is."

Hermione looked at him incredulously, "What have you heard?"

"Oh just the usual: she hit her head on a post in wild rampant sex, I beat you up cause you pissed me off, oh and something about getting hit with a bludger, but there hasn't even been a quidditch match yet."

"It most definitely isn't the first one.  You and I both know it isn't the second.  And it wasn't during a match.  Harry hosted a 'Beat Off' to determine who got the open beater spot on our house team.  I just got in the way of the wayward object I guess."

"So, PotHead did this to you?" he asked in shocked pleasure.  "Wow the truth is better than the rumors."

"No, Harry didn't do anything.  I was just talking with some people not paying attention and I happened to be the target the stupid ball chose.  Nobody realized it until it was too late to do anything."  She sounded really tired.

 "Does it hurt much?"  His finger was itching to poke at it.

Hermione self-conscientiously pulled her hair from the ponytail trying to cover the bruise, they subject was getting old fast.  "Um…er not really.  Not anymore."

Draco pushed her hair out of the way to further inspect the bruise.  He touched it tenderly and Hermione grimaced.  "Oh now is the mudblood lying to me?"

Hermione couldn't take it.  She pushed his hand away and began packing up her books in anger.  "I appreciate the help Malfoy and the concern, but I don't need to be continuously reminded of my birth right.  Yes I was born to muggle parents, the whole school knows that for Christ sake, but I do not need you reminding me of it every day."  They were receiving looks from all across the library but when Hermione looked out at all of them they quickly jerked their heads away.

Hermione was grabbing her last book and about to shove it in her bag when Draco grabbed her wrist.  "I do not need you making a scene.  I did not mean it like that, okay?  It just kind of slipped.  Habit.  You know like you always biting the inside of your cheek when you're nervous or scared…or upset."

Hermione caught herself biting her cheek.  "I do not, and how would you know anyways?" She struggle to pull her hand away.

"I'm very perceptive."  His voice carried a certain air that said it was the obvious answer.

"That's different thing anyway; I don't hurt people my chewing on the inside of my lip, you offend people."

"It's just how I was raised; I can't really apologize for that, now can I?"

"Is that rhetorical?"

"No, wait, I mean yes.  Oh shut up Granger."  He let go of her finally.

"I'll do better than that; I'm leaving."  Hermione stormed out of her have of a library and straight to the Gryffindor tower.

She sat forcefully on the couch getting a response or stare from every one around her.  She just started ranting.  "That Malfoy is so, so conceited, and rude, and self-centered, and spoiled, and irritating, and cruel, and selfish, and, and…."

" A git," Ron interjected.

 "Yes and a git.  He's a paradox in himself."

"No offense Hermione, but you have just repeated exactly what this entire house already knows.  Did something happen?"  Harry asked looking mildly concerned.

"No of course not, all he did was talk to me.  Surely that has to be enough to drive any one crazy."

Hermione's rants were interrupted by a tawny owl at the window.  It entered carrying a big brown box and landed in front of Hermione.  "Oh good they finally got my letter."

Harry and Ron gathered around her looking curious.  "Um..Hermione what have you got there?"

"Well you see I got to thinking…"

"Imagine that…"

"Shut up Ron!  Well I got to thinking that you both have Quidittch practice to keep you in shape and occasionally relieve some pent up stress, and you know as something other to do to keep you out of trouble and not always concentrated on schoolwork."

"Yeah so get to the point."

She began tugging at the tape sealing the box.  "Well I decided to get off my lazy arse and do something while you guys are at practice.  And going to the library isn't helping anything but my mind to stay in shape so I wrote to my parents" she had the box opened "and requested some athletic clothes, well muggle clothes anyway.  I'm going to run, " now pulling out a rather nice pair of orange Nike Shox running shoes,  "while you guys are at practice."

They looked at her stunned.  "But Hermione our practicing can be up to three hours long.  How are you every going to be able to run for that whole amount of time?"

"Well it won't all be running.  I'll still have to stretch and do an abs workout; that should take up a half hour or so.  And it's not like I'm going to start out running a few hours ill work up to it, gradually."

"Whatever your say."

"So when's you next practice?"

"Wednesday at five.  It's only a two-hour practice.  Malfoy went and reserved it for seven."

"Okay then that's my first day running."

Harry and Ron were both still rather confused. Why would anybody want to run?  All it was was rotating you legs an innumerable amount of time, to get your heart pumping at unhealthy levels, make you sweat, and breathe heavily.  At least in quidditch, you weren't wasting energy, well not much anyway.  You got to have the wind in your face, without making it yourself; you could look around and enjoy the scenery; and, that ever so important ability to show off, with a combination of swoops, dives, spirals, and plunges.

They knew Hermione would tell them if it was something important.  Maybe she was finally getting bored with reading after all these years.  That's it.  She was using exercise as an excuse to get out of the library, or away from and tasking duties of a prefect.

Hermione pulled a book from her bag.  Scratch that idea.

"What are you doing?"  Ron asked.

"I only got about half way through my potion's essay before I was interrupted."

"Malfoy?"

"It's always Malfoy, however indirectly.  If it's bad; it has something to do with Malfoy."  She groaned.  "I shouldn't say that."

"Why the hell not?  You're right."

"No, what about Voldemort?  Or Hitler?  They weren't Malfoys.  Plus, he actually as surprising as this sounds, helped me with my essay."

"What did he want for it?'

"Nothing?"

"Nothing.  Well, at least he didn't ask for anything.  It was really odd.  But never mind that, I really have to finish this."

They nodded and pulled out a wizard's chess board and set up the pieces, to play a quiet, relaxing game.