Disclaimer: (':') Kirby says that I don't own him. Nor do I own the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own the Draco Malfoy…franchise.

Chapter 4: Apollo

After that very odd "staring contest," and Professor Snape's slightly outraged disruptance, both Hermione and Malfoy quickly departed in opposite directions. Draco doubtlessly strutted to the Slytherin common room to brood, and Hermione took solace in the library.

Hermione was furiously blushing, something she hated because it so easily revealed her emotions. She was glad that Snape had not noticed that they were engaging in something that could be called a game, and that he had assumed it was simply a moment of bitter hatred on both ends. He obviously had not noticed the way Hermione was losing herself, though she did not realize, in Draco's eyes. And he had not noticed that Draco, expression constantly disdainful, constantly lofty, was indulging himself for a moment in something other than degrading whomever he happened upon. It was almost revolutionary.

Checking out, for the fourteenth time, Hogwarts, A History, Hermione buried herself in its pages, needing to think of anything but her undefined acquaintance with Draco. But, she found that for this occasion, not even her most beloved book could free her mind from racing around, always dwelling on a set of silvery orbs with constantly shifting nuances of color. Exasperated from forcing her brain to action, she drudged to dinner, hoping to stuff her face with her two friends.

She found Harry and Ron chatting away about Quidditch between mouthfuls of…what was that, anyway? Turnips and spinach. Yummy. Hermione had the fleeting hope that perhaps the house elves had finally become fed up and were rebelling accordingly through the meal plan, but then again, house elves probably had a very peculiar idea of what was tasty.

"Hey, you two," Hermione muttered, a bit forlornly. She hated being confused and uncertain. If there was one thing she found security in, it was knowing exactly what was going on, all the time.

"What's up, Herm?" Harry's eyes were sparkling with gaiety, as usual.

"Yeah Hermy, you coming to the big match tomorrow? If you haven't heard, we're playing Slytherin." Ron spat the last word with the most condescension he could muster, which was really quite a bit, considering that he was a very laid-back, good-natured sort.

"Of course. I never miss your matches," Hermione mumbled, shoving down turnips and avoiding the spinach, which tended to get stuck in her teeth.

"Except for that one time you had an Ancient Runes test the next day, and spent the entire day hissing at other humans." Ron and Hermione were still prone to teasing one another relentlessly. "Honestly, sometimes it seems you're nicer to your big fat ginger cat than you are to your friends." Ron had a big smile plastered on his freckly face.

"Yes, Ronald, and honestly, sometimes it seems that my big fat ginger cat is more entertaining than my friends." Hermione couldn't help supressing a grin. Teasing Ron was certain to liven her spirits a little.

Harry must have noticed the flush of Hermione's complexion, and her quick relapse from smiling to looking very indifferent. He had quite a knack for picking up on a person's mental state. Though the same couldn't be said for his insight when it came to romantic situations with girls.

"Anything wrong, Hermione?" The flashing green was suddenly very subdued.

"Nah, nothing!" Hermione quickly grinned, and proceeded to shove more turnips down, as happily as possible. It was actually quite a hard task. The grinning in itself was burning up quite the few calories she was ingesting from the turnips.

And the three Gryffindors ate, merrily as ever, watched by the silvery blue of the enchanted night sky, smiles flickering with the candlelight.

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Hermione dreamt that night of unicorns. They were graceful things, the white of their coats so vivid amongst the forest, which carried shades of the black and amethyst blanket of night. They were lovely and fleet, racing through the trees, covering distance without any sense of movement. They almost seemed to glide on through the growth, carried by transparent wings. As she approached one, a youth, just changed into its white coat (she knew this, somehow), she reached to touch its elegant horn, entraced by its darling eyes, which were like pieces fallen from the night sky. Suddenly, the unicorn pulled away, and the lovely thing was soon replaced with the gigantic grinning face of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione woke up screaming. It was very apparently not morning, as she realized by the complete black that surrounded her. She had the sense to cover her mouth, forcing herself to stop panicking. Why was she dreaming of Malfoy? Why, why?

After a few minutes of what she thought was surely hyperventilation, she lay exhausted, entwined somewhat inextricably in her blankets, breathing quietly and hoping she hadn't been heard through the walls. That she had been heard was very dubious, as Hogwarts had thick magically-enchanted walls that were most likely soundproof to outsiders.

Lying unmovingly for several more minutes, Hermione realized that perhaps it would be tough to sleep again after that traumatic dream. She was scared to even attempt it. A large grinning Draco was a very disturbing sight, especially when one had no idea what he was grinning about.

Wrapping herself in one of her satin nightrobes, she tiptoed very silently out of her room, and into the corridors, with little idea where she was headed. This was one of those few times in which she wished she had an invisibility cloak like Harry's. Certainly, she was very unlikely to engage in mischevious activities, and didn't think of trouble-making aids very often. This was a notable exception; she made a note to borrow his cloak sometime, in case of future horrifyingly Malfoy-esque dreams, and the unrest that would certainly follow.

After stepping gently along for a few minutes, in some arbitrary direction, down some arbitrary corridor, with no light but the few night-torches left burning for those who sought a bathroom or something of the sort, she tripped over…what, she didn't know, and fell quite flamboyantly, robes billowing and hands flailing, to land on her stomach with the air knocked completely out of her.

"Lumos," some stranger whispered, and Hermione was suddenly very, very scared. Whomever she had encountered was likely dangerous. Really, what kind of person wandered around the corridors at night, in the dark? Well, excluding Hermione, that is.

Still on her stomach, Hermione shut her eyes, hoping, with some very un-Hermione-like logic, that the stranger would go away if she couldn't see anything. Perhaps she would just…blend into the floor. Yeah. Camoflage. Like a chameleon. Or a demiguise. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, an annoyingly familiar voice snapped her right out of her frenzied thinking.

"Really, muddie, are we playing hide-and-seek now? I have no time for games. I would have expected more from the head girl. Get up, and quit with the dead fish act."

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically as soon as she recognized the drawling voice, and scrambled up off the floor as gracefully as someone could do who had to start from a face-down position, which in fact was not very gracefully at all.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Explain yourself. Not even head students have the right to go wandering the halls after hours for no good reason." Hermione tried very hard to ignore the fact that she was being an utter hypocrite.

"Same thing you're doing, Granger. Wandering the halls after hours for no good reason."

He just had to be enigmatic. What a deliberate jerk.

"For your information," Hermione stated quite matter-of-factly, tossing her head back, "I have a reason to be wandering the halls. It's special business for Dumbledore. Nothing you need to be concerned about." Hermione was finding herself a decent liar now…the recent practice must have helped.

"Oh, really? 'Special business' is walking aimlessly without any light? I believe that." Draco was smirking. Quite like the way he smirked in her…dream.

Alright, no thinking of that. The last thing Hermione needed was to freak out again.

"FINE. I was wandering around aimlessly. As were you. And if you take points from me, I'll take the same points from you," Hermione was becoming as amused as Draco seemed to be about the situation. "So. Let's just leave it at that. No points taken, nothing said." She finished her proposition with a winning grin.

"Oh, but you forget one little thing, dear girl. I have reason to believe that you could blackmail me. And we don't need that happening. So apparently, something needs to be done." At this point, Draco's smirk acquired a tinge of malice, and Hermione became scared all over again.

Hermione began backing away as inconspicuously as possible, not bothering to remove the horrified look from her face. She had her wand in her hand, ready at any point to hex, or block.

Malfoy yelled "Veritas!" whilst pointing his wand at Hermione, and looked very satisfied with himself.

Hermione, upon hearing his spell, used one of her own.

"Reverto!" The counterspell collided with Malfoy's, and knocked him backwards.

Luckily Hermione knew exactly what kind of spell Malfoy had tried. It was a truth spell, albeit a very transitory one. There was no reliable indicator of when it wore out, which is why veritaserum was preferred in serious cases. But as long as Malfoy's own spell had been used on himself, Hermione decided that she might as well reap the benefits.

"So, ferret. Decided to figure out how much I really knew about your little affair in the courtyard? Guess you'll never know. But I'll certainly know some interesting little things about you." Hermione smirked, and unbeknownst to her, her smile quite resembled what Draco's was a moment before.

"No, no, mudblood. You'll pay dearly." But Draco was quite helpless to reverse the effects of his own overconfident spell-casting now.

Hermione thought. What would be an excellent use of this opportunity?

"Tell me your most embarassing incident. Intricate details, of course, will be necessary." Hermione, if possible, grinned even more maliciously.

Draco was the one looking horrified. What a difference a spell and an intelligent muggleborn made. He gulped, unable to contain his impulse to tell the truth.

"I was completely wet out of the shower, with a towel on. Crabbe and Goyle, the asses they are, decided to pull a joke. I think I had made fun of them too many times that day or something. They really are stupid…" Draco, at this point, had the most pained expression in his eyes, though his vocal chords just kept on chugging along. "Yes, so. They grabbed me bodily and hoisted me, one on each side, out of our room, and plopped me right down outside the door. Right in full view of everyone who happened to be in the common room at that time. Those lucky bastards. To top it all off, my towel had slipped off in the skirmish, and the family jewels were just…out there. I maintained my dignity, though I still had to stand around awkwardly. I would have tried to curse them, of course, but they had locked me out of the room, and were standing on the other side having their laugh, probably looking through the peephole. Perverts, those two. Get their kicks any way they can." He finished with a shiver, as if he were reliving the moment.

Hermione was barely containing herself. She didn't think his embarassing moment could have been this entertaining. Here she was, assuming he was going to ramble on about some dull instance in which someone had fussed up his hair in front of a pretty girl. She chose this point to chuckle. Aristocratic, charming, perfectly composed Draco Malfoy, standing ass-bare in front of an entire congregation of his fellow Slytherins. How much better could it be? Well, he could have been standing in front of some very amused Gryffindors instead. Then, Hermione pictured Draco naked, and got quite red. Damn those color pigments in her skin. It would be best if she did not think about Draco's body…or eyes for now.

"You're laughing at me." Draco was livid. His eyes were flashing and he was obviously on the brink of hitting something.

"No, no," Hermione giggled, "I'm laughing at the circumstance." She wondered if the spell had worn off yet, and considered asking another question. Upon seeing the fierceness of Malfoy's murderous eyes, she decided against it.

Draco was blushing. So he had color pigments too. What a sight. Hermione smiled, genuinely appalled at what a bit of color did to his complexion. If he had chosen this moment to smile, she might have thought she was witnessing the glowing attention of a god.

"Listen Granger. You're not trying anything like this…ever…again." He emphasized each word with what seemed an even more intense concentration of his eyes. Hermione wondered if he could control the color simply by thinking it. Bluegreypurpleswirlturqoisesilver. Sure seemed like it.

"I won't, of course. We all have our fun. Just a bit of payback for all those deragatory terms you've called me these seven years."

"Ten points from Gryffindor." That Malfoy smirk was back.

"For what?!?"

"Mouthing off to the head boy. And intention to be insolent. Say anything about this to anybody, Granger, and you'll wish your most embarassing moment was as slight as mine."

"Is that a threat, dragon-boy?"

Malfoy seemed the slightest bit disarmed. It wasn't anything Granger had called him before.

"No. It's a promise."

With that, Malfoy, moving like a snake, gripped Hermione around the wrist and drew her to him, and seemed to size her up, all over again. Those devilishly seductive eyes (they really had to come in handy) travelled as achingly slow as they dared, over every facet of her nightrobes (she was all too aware of how very purple they were), to meet her eyes again.

"Ow." It didn't really hurt, but Hermione was sure what to say at the moment. His eyes were really much too penetrating for comfort.

He dropped her hand as quickly as he had seized it, and stalked off, disappearing quickly into the darkness, footsteps resonating for some solitary moments.

Hermione exhaled, dispensing the breath she didn't know she was holding. She felt her wrist where his grip had been, and thought suddenly of the blazing touch of Apollo. Damnit Hermione. Stop comparing him to Greek gods. That jasmine smell again. Poo.

Yayyy reviews! Woo. How FUN. Thank you to those who reviewed Chapter 3: Kiran, pulchra-puella, and Dreamless-Mermaid! And to my other reviewers, as well. It helps to know someone reads this thing. I hope this story goes somewhere, because honestly, I don't quite know what I'm doing. :oP