CHAPTER NINE

"Cause the lady is a vamp, she's a vixen not a tramp, she's a da-da-da-da-da-da-da! Come on fellas, place your bets, 'cause you ain't seen nothin' yet, she's the top of the tops, she's the best- yes!"

"The Lady is a Vamp", THE SPICE GIRLS

"Is this seat taken?" drawled his all-too-familiar voice.

"Just sit down and shut up, Malfoy, I want to get through a lot today," Hermione answered irritably. She wasn't in the best of moods. She had told Ron she needed more sleep, but she was pretty sure it had little to do with lack of sleep, and a lot to do with The Lie. Guilt was hardly a strong enough word to describe how she felt.

Malfoy pulled his chair closer to hers and sat down silently, depositing his books on the table as he did so. His shoulder brushed hers, and she leaned away at once. "Can we get started, please?" she said, disliking the formidable McGonagall-like tone to her voice but not caring all the same. After all, it was only Malfoy. She didn't care at all what he thought. It was Ron's opinion of her she was worried about. Oh god, when he founds out I've lied….

Malfoy's presence next to her reminded Hermione of his involvement in The Lie, and she turned to glare at him. He looked back at her blankly.

"Whatever's the matter?"

"Your existence, for a start," she snapped. Far from the reaction she had wanted to elicit, he grinned. This baffled her. No matter what she said to him lately, he just refused to react the way he should have- with anger. In fact, since recently his response was almost always the opposite of what was normal- he usually seemed delighted.

"Now that's not very nice," he grinned.

"A lot like your face," she tried, hoping a direct insult to his appearance would be enough to derive a nasty reaction. To her chagrin, he just smiled a bit more. Hermione slammed a quill down on the table, more than a little bit annoyed.

"Write down the steps for a Switching spell, please," she snapped. "Let's see if you can remember what we went over last week."

"Reichstag or Reichstrat?"

"Reichstag, of course," Hermione sneered. Malfoy shrugged, picked up the quill and began to scratch down the steps to a Reichstag switching spell- one of the most advanced Switching Spells in Germanic derived Transfiguration. Hermione rested her head in her arms while she waited for him to finish and closed her eyes. Everytime she did that, though, she saw Ron's bewildered face in front of the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. Him? You said it was a girl!

She had purposely let Ron think it was a girl rather than a boy. She would never admit it to him, but something Draco had said had gotten to her. Face it Granger, Weasley just doesn't like other boys so much as looking at you. Of course it hadn't escaped her notice that Ron was more than a little bit protective of her when it came to other boys. He wasn't averse to her hanging around with boys like Dean and Seamus and Harry because he trusted them. But if Ron knew that she was spending up to two hours a time alone in the library with Draco Malfoy, of all people, he'd blow a fuse. The relationship was too fragile at the moment for her to dare upset it. Since their argument last Friday, something had changed. Neither of them had said anything but they both knew it- unfortunately, when they wanted to, both were quite good at not saying anything. She couldn't pretend she wanted to leap into an in-depth discussion with Ron, but she thought that maybe they had to, because that was how couples usually fixed invisible problems. Which was what they were. A couple. (Weren't they?)

Anyway, the point was that she had lied, to Ron, who she trusted above everything, and who trusted her above everything. Even if they weren't a couple (?) she still shouldn't have lied. Because in the back of all the hugging and the holding hands and the "lover's tiffs" and the kisses, they were still best friends. And best friends simply did not lie to each other.

But maybe couples did.

"I'm done," Malfoy said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. Hermione's eyes flew open to find the parchment in front of her. All the steps for a Reichstag switching spell were written down in perfect order and coherency, in his slanted, elegant handwriting.

"That's right," she mumbled, shoving the offending parchment aside. "Okay, well if you remember what we did last week, is there anything you want to particularly study this week?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Whatever…floats my boat." Hermione repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Well, these sessions aren't for me, you know. I'd much rather be doing anything than sitting here with you. This was your idea, so you need to decide." She said it with more poison in her voice than she'd intended, but she didn't care. It was only Malfoy, after all, and not only had he played a part in The Lie, but he had indirectly been the cause of the argument which had made things between her and Ron so stale in the first place. Malfoy was looking at her with a grave expression.

"You really hate me that much, don't you?"

"I do," said Hermione, after a moment's hesitation. The question had taken her by surprise, but there was no reason why he shouldn't get an honest answer. "Does that surprise you?" she added incredulously, taken in by the expression on his face, which was one of quiet consternation.

"Of course not," he rejoined scornfully. "If there's one thing you are, Granger, it's obvious. You expose your feelings and your opinions to the scrutiny of the entire world."

Hermione had to swallow before answering, to stop herself snapping at him and proving him right. "Do I just?" she asked, wondering if he noticed her voice was shaky.

Apparently he had. "You're bothered again." His smirk was infuriating.

"Bothered enough, this time, I think," she said, straining, now, to keep herself from shouting. "Malfoy, I'm going to give you three seconds to get your things and leave, otherwise I'm going to get out my wand and hex you, with or without being booted from the library by Madame Pince."

"But we've only had about fifteen minutes of our session."

"I don't care, fifteen minutes of you is enough to last me the rest of my life."

"Be that as it may, Granger, if I'm going to be paying you, I do expect full service."

Hermione was stunned. "Paying me? You actually think for one moment I'm going to accept money from you? You think I want to be on your filthy payroll?"

"Well if you don't want money what do you want? Why are you here?" he snapped.

Hermione couldn't speak. Last week she had only stayed for the sake of it- she was in the depths of despair, and while Malfoy hadn't been overly sympathetic, he had been silent and complying throughout the entire two hours. She had had the tutoring session to distract her from problems with Ron, and she got a chance to go over Switching spells herself- so really, it was all beneficial. But this time, she had come at her own expense- lied to Ron, missed a second game of Quidditch. It was like she had actually put in effort for it. Not only that, she had caught herself in the middle of the Tranfigs lesson that morning, thinking I could ask Draco that question, that'd really stump him…

"I'm an idiot," she said, shaking her head, "and you, for once, are right." She started collecting her things. "What am I doing…?"

She started marching away, but she had not gone more than four yards from the table when Malfoy said something that made her freeze.

"Hermione, don't."

An astounded beat. "Wh-what did you say?"

He was suddenly by her side. "Um…" he said, running a hand through his hair. "I said…Hermione don't."

"Don't what?" she whispered.

"Don't, um…" His voice had dropped to a whisper as well. He sighed. "Don't leave."

She wanted to ask why. She wanted to laugh in his face. Se wanted to be able to turn on her heel and go. But she didn't. She just…couldn't.

Something in those iceberg eyes caught her by the throat- and it wasn;t something evil, it wasn;t something terrible and sadistic- it was something she never expected to be able to see in those eyes. It was vulnerability. It was pity itself. Hermione wondered if she had hurt his feelings, and then she reminded herself that to hurt someone's feelings they had to be in possession of a heart- which Draco Malfoy had proved he wasn't, time and again. (Or was he?)And the fact that Draco could be vulnerable, could be almost human, was possibly what prompted her to silently follow him back to the table, and unpack her things. Neither of them said anything.

"So, anyway," Malfoy said after an awkward silence in which she felt him staring at her, "I understood Reichstag perfectly, but it was the Reichstrat derivative I actually had problems with. I went over it earlier in the week…"

He handed her a piece of parchment, upon which there were many scribblings and equations and familiar diagrams. Hermione studied it for a bit. "Well, the problem here is that you're still using the basic Reichstrat equation to use up the remainder. What you need to do with the derivative is to Follow Your Heart."

He stared at her. "Follow your heart," he repeated, with a small smile.

Hermione explained. "I made it up to remember it. It stands for Fungstracht yund Hein." She smiled as recognition dawned on Malfoy's face. He nodded, the tiny smile blossoming.

"The Germanic incantation." He gave a little laugh. "Follow Your Heart."

"Right! That's the secret to the Germanic Switching Spells. You think of the basic incantations we learn back in fourth year."

"I remember. That's a good way of remembering it, though a little more romantic than I would have expected from you."

To her own surprise, Hermione didn't feel irritated at all. Instead, she asked him a valid question. "And what would you know about me?"

Malfoy paused. "I don't know. Not much, I would suppose. You just don't strike me as a particularly romantic person, that's all. I could be wrong, of course."

"It's been known to happen," Hermione said, smirking. "Well, you're right, anyway. I'm not a very romantic person, I suppose."

"Every girl who actually is a romantic says that," Malfoy said triumphantly.

"And you know this from experience, do you?" she asked.

"Chalk it up to commonsense," he shrugged. "I know where they're coming from."

"Oh, you do?" Hermione said incredulously. "Don't tell me that you're a romantic?"

Malfoy laughed, suddenly. "Oh, yes. Incurably so."

This struck Hermione as very funny, and before she could stop herself a merry peal of laughter had leapt out of her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth, which made Draco smile.

"You're not scared of me are you?"

"No," she said vehemently (although truth be told she had always been a tiny little bit scared of Lucius Malfoy, and sometimes Draco's eyes would gleam in a way that was scarily like his father's. They weren't gleaming like that then, though- they were merry in a way that Hermione had never seen before.)

"Then why won't you laugh at my joke?"

"It's not funny."

"Yes it is."

"It's not- and nor are you. You're horrible Draco Malfoy, remember?"

When she said that she wished she hadn't. And that was before his expression changed from his usual smirk to a mirthless smile. "That wasn't very nice." Draco said levelly, after a large awkward silence.

"Sorry."

"You're forgiven," was the immediate reply. "As long as you admit I'm funny."

She grinned. "You're…funny." It was kind of funny- the fact that she was sitting down having a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy, of all people…

"Now what are you laughing at?" he said, as Hermione began to giggle. His consternation struck her as even more amusing.

"You. You're funny," she chuckled.

"Funny haha or funny weird?"

"Both!"

And the fact that it was so weird was even more funny. Soon the two of them were gasping away, struggling for breath as they laughed. It was infectious. Hermione had never seen Draco laugh before- at least, not laughing like he was then. It wasn't directed at anyone or at someone else's expense. This was just laughing for the pure fun of it- and it was something Hermione hadn't done for a long time.

Suddenly a hand clapped down on Hermione's shoulder and squeezed. She actually gave a small shriek and then turned, her face flushing, to see Harry standing there, his expression middling between concern and anger. Hermione was mortified.

"What's going on here?" he snapped, gripping Hermione under the arm and dragging her up from her seat. "Leave her alone, Malfoy."

"Hail the conquering hero," was all Malfoy said in a sarcastic drawl. Harry leapt in front of Hermione and drew his wand in the same second. Malfoy just grinned, which only served to drive Harry to infuriation.

"Right that's it- if you're not out of here and the hell away from her in three seconds, I'm going to fire," he threatened. "And you'd better continue staying the hell away from her if you know what's good for you."

"Harry, wait-"

"One!" he snapped, ignoring her. Now Malfoy had drawn his own wand, and the grin was gone. He had assumed a blank expression as he got to his feet, the picture of level-headedness. "Two!" Harry said. Hermione clutched his arm.

'You don't understand…" she pleaded.

"Three! Right, you asked for it."

"No!" Hermione said, grabbing his hand and flipping his wrist upwards. So surprised was Harry that he dropped his wand to the floor. Malfoy lowered his arm. Harry turned to look at her, bewildered. "What?" he demanded.

"Can I please talk to you?" she said, dragging him behind a large shelf of fat History books. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy calmly take his seat and pick up a quill as though nothing had happened. Harry was still bewildered.

"What on earth is going on? Did he do anything to you? Are you okay-"

"Please, I'm perfectly fine," Hermione said irritably. "There's no need to rush into things like that, Harry- you had it completely wrong." If anything, she told herself, I'm the one who's being awful to Draco. Calling him horrible like that…

"Huh?" Harry said, by now, thoroughly confused. Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't keep on lying now.

"Draco's my…tute."

"You what?" Harry said, alarmed. "You've got to be pulling my tail…" Hermione shook her head, and felt her stomach constrict at the disgusted look on Harry's face. "Aw- look, leave it to me, I'll get Dumbledore to overrule McGonagall's decision. It's got to be some kind of sick joke." His fists clenched. "What the hell does he think he's doing, asking to be tutored by you like that? Bloody hell he's got nerve."

"Harry-" Hermione put a hand on his arm and gave him a little shake. He looked down at her. "Draco never asked to be tutored by me. He's just as unhappy about it as I am. It was Professor McGonagall's idea to put us both together like this."

"Then what- well, why are you still doing it?" He was looking at her like she was crazy. Hermione felt crazy.

"I don't know," she answered with a shaky laugh. "I think it's because- he wants to do it so much."

"Hermione!" Harry cried. "Don't you know who that is? Draco Malfoy, son of the most prominent Death Eater this side of the Scottish border- and the other side. You're willingly spending time with him?" he slapped himself on the forehead. "That's the stupidest thing you have ever done- and that says more than you think. I'm really surprised at you!"

Hermione felt her bad temper flaring. "What, surprised that I'm helping someone who clearly needs it?"

"Well what do you think he wants, hm?" said Harry sarcastically. "Every idiot in this school knows that you're fighting Voldemort. Plus, it's no secret that you happen to know pretty much everything that goes through Dumbledore that goes through Sirius that goes through me. You've got some of the most important information our side knows, inside your pretty little head. Then we have Draco asking for tutelage from our side…"

"He didn't ask for me specifically, Harry," Hermione cried. "He really didn't know I was going to be the one. But it just happened. And all he wants is Transfiguration tutelage."

"Yeah, sure."

"Harry," Hermione said, marvelling at how she had managed to keep her head. Something in her tone obviously prompted Harry to stop his diatribe. "This is innocent," she said, pointing over to the table where Draco sat, waiting. "He doesn't want anything from me apart from Transfiguration tutelage. Come on. You know him. Why on earth would he appeal to a Muggle born if he wanted information? You know he thinks I'm lower than dirt." Or does he? she wondered, thinking of the "Hermione, don't."

But Harry's mind had been turned. "Okay," he sighed slowly. "Whatever you think, Hermione. I trust you enough not to let anything slip. But it's dangerous, you know, he could slip you a truth serum or hex you or anything while you're in here, and…" he stopped, looking at her face. "Okay," he said again, after a pause. "All right. But maybe it would be a good idea if Ron and I started hanging around here on Friday nights, just in case-"

"No!" Hermione cried, before she could stop herself. Blood rushed to her face immediately. Her eyes felt a bit watery, as they often did when she was feeling so guilty. "Harry- you can't tell Ron. He doesn't know and I've, um…led him to believe it's no one he knows."

"You lied to him?"

"No! Um…yes, I…." she sighed. "Yes, I suppose I did. But please," she pleaded, "You know what his reaction would be like- there's just no point in going through all of that when this is innocent, really!"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and considered what she was saying. Finally he sighed again. "All right," he said wearily. "He won't hear it from me. But I think you should tell him."

"I will- oh Harry, thank you," she said, almost tearful with relief. She grabbed him in a tight hug, and he obligingly gave her a bit of a squeeze. "I'll tell him soon, I promise."

"What's to tell?" he said, with a crooked smile. "Like you said, it's all innocent."