Author's Note: Don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters, any of the ideas, you know the drill - it is all property of J.K. Rowling. Review if you'd like, but only if it's constructive criticism or a compliment, please no blatant insults.

The next morning went terribly slow, but Hermione didn't really mind. She'd spent several hours in bed the pervious night fretting over what Draco would think of her kiss. She regretted having let her defenses drop so far that she could only find comfort in Malfoy. She figured that he'd probably told every slytherin that he could find of the triumph that he'd had over Hermione Granger. She'd even come close to throwing up once or twice, but she'd forced it down and told herself that she would vehemently deny any accusations.

But this morning, no one had mentioned anything about the previous night besides Seamus, who told her that she spent way too much time in the library, and that her lack of sleep was beginning to show.

As she pored over the Daily Prophet and sipped at her orange juice, the thought of Potions was eating away at her. Was he planning something horrible for her? Would he unveil some mortifying plot to destroy her where only Snape could intervene?

She approached the dungeons with every footstep falling heavily against the stone floor and her heartbeat echoing in her ears, then caught sight of Malfoy himself standing in the courtyard, waves of purplish smoke slithering about his head like some great protective snake. She was forcefully reminded of Nagini, Voldemort's pet snake, and it made her turn away once he saw her.

She began to hurry toward class, but he had tossed down his clove and jogged to catch up with her.They walked in tense silence for a few minutes before Draco finally broke it, his angelic features forming a warm smile.

"I hope that I could see you before class..."
"Why?"
"Why? I don't know, because I like to look at you up close?"
"Who did you tell?"
"Who...did I..."
"Tell, Draco. Who did you tell? Who knows?"

They had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione leaning purposefully away from him. His expression fell from somewhat chipper to hurt, and then merely insulted. He'd wrestled with himself all night as to whether or not it was okay for him to have kissed a mudblood, to have feelings for one. And when he'd pictured her tear-streaked face so close to his own, he'd known that it was perfectly acceptable to love whomever you wanted to love. How dare she recoil from such a perfect situation? Who did this dirty, insignificant female think she was?

"You know, mudblood, I can't even think of a suitable insult for you right now. But you'd better believe that I'd never tell a damned -soul- if I'd touched you... So don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

And as guilt had begun to overwhelm her she stepped forward to apologize, reaching for his arms. But he flung her hands away disgustedly, glaring at her with the unmistakable air of contempt before turning away and heading into the Potions classroom.

Hermoine only tried once or twice to get his attention by staring at him for extended periods of time throughout Potions, but eventually she realized that he wouldn't look at her. As he talked animatedly with that pug-faced Pansy Parkinson on the way to their next class, Hermione felt a surprising surge of jealousy. Never would she have assumed that he was only doing it to hurt her, because of course she was insignificant enough to be immediately forgotton. After all, what had she done for him besides soak his shirt and barely kiss him? And of course Pansy would be willing to do so much more for her blond god.

Determinedly, she pushed past the two of them and headed to History of Magic. Not once, all day, had she thought about Ron.

Her next three classes were nothing but a blur to her by lunch, and all that she could think about was how dreadfully hungry she was. Harry and Ginny wached her with open mouths as she practically inhaled her steak-and-kidney pie. Seamus had lifted his govlet to her in cheer, and Dean had continued to pass her the same bowl of potatoes throughout lunch, valiantly hiding his grin.

"Hermione... Are you feeling better?" Harry seemed apprehensive about addressing her, feeling as though her were trying to ask a lioness something as she ripped pieces of meat from an antelope carcass.

"Bewwa?"

Ginny cleared her throat and glanced at Harry warily, setting down her fork.

"Yes, 'Mione... You haven't eaten like this in ages."
"Oh."

She swallowed ungracefully, lifting her napkin to wipe away the flecks of food on her chin.

"Yes, well... I suppose that hunger catches up with you when you've been running for so long..."

As the two nodded suspiciously at her and continued eating, a familliar wave of hopeless depression washed over her. In a daze, she pushed her plate away and stood from the table, ignoring the disappointed gazes of her fellows as she drifted toward the large double-doors, intent on the library.

Draco watched her spindly frame disappear from the Great Hall and felt drawn to her. Goyle had begun muttering about Millicent's new hairdo and how it made her look a bit less manly, but all that Draco could think of was how to restrain himself from following her. He knew exactly where she'd gone, and he couldn't bear the thought of her free-flowing tears splling across the pages of ancient books in search of a cure for her ongoing pain. When would she realized that it was useless? That Ron was gone, dead, blinked out forever, and no amount of searching or studying could reverse that fact.

He felt a flow of anger that made him forget what he'd taken earlier to be her embarrassment, replacing it instead with the will to make her -see-.

"I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he announced, and then he stood and hurried toward the door.

He found her staring at the cover of a large, green, leather-bound book, and was shocked to see that it was alone on her table. He watched her for several moments and observed that she looked much healthier now that she'd eaten something, even though her eyes still set above grayish circles.

Suddenly, he realized what book she was staring at, and the reason why she hadn't opened it yet. It was a spellbook that he had often seen his father consulting, full of answers to Dark predicaments. She couldn't have gotten it from this library.

Solutions for the Dark Wizard. His mind was racing - she couldn't resort to Dark Magic, it was much too volatile for an unexperienced and unprepared witch. She couldn't be so desperate that she...

He shot forward as she began lifting the cover, making himself known in the most abrupt way possible. He snatched the book from her hands and drew away, fingering it delicately.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She glared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how long he'd been standing there, then her eyes slid down to the book at his chest, and her gaze hardened.

"Whatever I have to do. Now, I paid a lot for that, please give it back to me."

She reached for it, but he backed away and shook his head, his gaze dropping to the inlaid black lettering across the cover. It struck an uncomfortable chord in his memory, this book, and he cautiously opened it, staring at the top left corner ingraved in silver with the name "Lucius Malfoy."

His heart turned to ice, and he glanced up into chocolate brown eyes with sharp malice traced all across his features.

"Where did you get this?"
"Guess."
"I know where it came from, Hermione. I want to know where -you- got it."
"I went down to Knockturn Alley and got it myself over the weekend. Why, think I'm too weak to buy something, unattended, from a Knockturn Shop?"
"We didn't sell this."
"Funny. I could have sworn I bought it."
"Not legally, Granger! We kept all his things!"

Her own expression turned from cool to cold at being addressed as "Granger." She was so tired of being nothing to the Slytherins but an object, numbly dubbed and referred to by only her last name. Working to compose herself, she exhaled heavily and levelled her eyes with his.

"Please give it to me, Malfoy... After all, your father is much too dead to put it to use."

He was appalled by her lack of consideration for how dangerous this was.

"You could kill yourself."
"Well," she began, seemingly resolved to her opinion, "Maybe it would be better that way."

His eyes widened, his lips formed a perfect line across his mouth, and he slammed the book onto the table between them, snagging her wrist in his iron grip before she had time to move away.

"You will NOT kill yourself trying to revive that red-haired... boy. If I have to watch you day and night to keep you from making some idiot decision, then I'll do it! And don't you EVER touch this book again, do you understand me?"

She tried to jerk away from him in vain, unsettled by how calm his voice was. She was almost sure that she could feel the bones in her wrist grating against one another.

His expression was so frightening and full of threat that she could only whimper in reply to his question. Just as she thought that he might loosen up a bit, he defied her expectations and squeezed harder.

"I asked you a question, Granger!"

She tried her hardest to nod, her thoughts and vision blurring with tears and pain. And then the unmistakable sound of a fist on flesh was followed by the realease of her arm. She had a shrewd idea of what was happening, but her attention was momentarily occupied by the steadily residing pain below her hand.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to her best friend's fist falling continuously on Draco Malfoy's face, Harry's own a surprising twist of fury and glee.

"You... will not... EVER... touch her... again!"

Hermione knew that Harry had watched Draco follow her out of the Great Hall, knowing that there was something going on... Inwardly, she thanked Harry for being so observant, but then she realized the trouble that he would be in once the librarian discovered them...

"Harry, no! Please, you must stop!

But it was too late. The librarian had come bustling into the back of the library, and Harry was immediately flung from Draco with a resounding 'Expelliarmus'. Harry went for him again, hands outstretched, but paused when the librarian pointed her wand threateningly in his direction.

Draco assessed the damage done to his face with deft hands as both boys were led from the library, Harry recieving quite the tongue-lashing.

As Hermione watched them both being escorted from her favorite area, her attention settled on the Dark Arts book setting so innocently on the table in front of her. Minutes passed as she debated her choices, knowing that Draco would eventually see her again and likely be incredibly angry if he knew that she had the book.

What the hell, she thought as she slid the book into her bag and headed to the Gryffindor Common Room. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.