Author's Note: Wow, I really wasn't expecting such a warm response! Thank you so much to those who reviewed, I really appreciate it. I'm so glad you like the story! I'm sorry this chapter is a little short, but the others will be much longer. Thanks again!

Chapter Two

Library Interlude

Hermione looked out the window of her dormitory.  The moon was almost directly above the school; when she'd first sat down by the window it was just rising.  Instead of falling into a dead slumber and having the unnerving dreams, as usual, she couldn't sleep at all.  Sighing and realizing she wasn't going to sleep that night, she put on her cloak and headed to the library. 

Going out of your common room after lights-out is restricted, the reasonable part of her mind said, but she pushed it away.  She was bored and without reading material, and no chance of falling asleep anytime soon.

"Part of the reason I'm not sleeping well—er, at all—is probably because of examinations," she muttered under her breath as she walked briskly through the dimly lit hallways of her beloved school.  "It's probably just nerves…I have Transfiguration the day after tomorrow, don't I?  Yes…and then all the rest come straight afterwards."

No, argued the annoying reasonable part of her mind she was trying to ignore, you can't sleep because you've been thinking about him again.  

Hermione scowled in spite of herself.  True, there'd been another encounter just two days before (ignoring both of their protests, Professor Snape had paired them together during their last class, and they had almost gotten along), but it meant nothing.  He meant nothing, not to her anyway.  Just because his smirk was suddenly charming and their verbal duels seemed to be more joking than serious as of late, that didn't mean anything.  I'm just desperate, she thought as she entered her beloved library.  The pickings seem awfully slim these days, that's all.

Hermione jumped back and put her hand on her heart when she saw a certain blond Slytherin soundlessly come out of the shadows.

"Draco, don't do that!" she exclaimed, her heart racing.  "You look like a vampire or something; you nearly scared me to death!"

"Aww, poor little Mudblood's scared of the big, bad, vampires," Malfoy said callously in a mocking baby voice.  After a moment's pause, he frowned.  "You called me Draco."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest, puzzled.  For a moment his voice had sounded softer and gentler, and all because she'd said his name.  That wasn't like him.  "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you've never…" he paused and cleared his throat.  His malicious tone returned when he added, "What are you doing here at this hour, anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she pointed out.  "But if you have to know, I just couldn't sleep.  I came here to read."

"Me too," was the reply.

Hermione bit back a smile.  "Honestly, Draco, you're scaring me.  Since when do you read for pleasure?"

"Since always, Granger, what are you getting at?" he retorted, slightly confused.

She blushed.  "It's just…"

"Get on with it," he prompted.

"Well, I always…I always thought the only pleasure you got out of anything had breasts attached," she said uncomfortably, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks like wildfire.  I cannot believe I just said that out loud, she thought, surprised at her own boldness.

Draco, on the other hand, was impressed.  He hadn't ever realized Hermione was actually, well, a girl.  He had always just thought of her as Mudblood Granger, the saintly Harry Potter's bookworm best friend and Hogwarts' resident uptight bitch.  He laughed outright when she made that comment; obviously she was as surprised as he was that it had come out of her mouth.  "Oh, how little you know me," he sighed playfully.

She shrugged, still dreadfully embarrassed.  If she hadn't been so out of sorts for saying what she had, she might have thought a little more about how, well, normal Draco was acting.  Throwing a few insults to the wind, she could easily mistake him for someone she actually wanted to have a conversation with.

Except for one thing: she couldn't possibly forget that she was, indeed, talking to Draco Malfoy, and despite their rocky past she found she did want to have a conversation with him. 

"I'll just be going," she mumbled quickly.  "The books call to me."

"Hermione, wait," Draco called out, grabbing hold of her arm as she started to leave. 

She turned back at his touch, which sent involuntary shivers up her arm, and unintentionally looked up into his eyes.  Unlike their usual icy steel, his eyes were now like a summer sky; warm and lovely (although she was sure he didn't intend it to be so).  Dragon eyes, she thought, referring to the term used when a person's eyes changed color with his or her emotions.

"You called me Hermione," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

He smirked, but it was almost a kind one.  "You called me Draco."

She blushed again, smiling slightly.  "You wanted me to wait?" she reminded him.

His eyes flashed, and suddenly they were stormy grey.  "Never mind," he said quickly, still holding onto her arm.  Hermione didn't seem to mind.  "Just go read.  And don't bother me again." 

He couldn't tell her—a Gryffindor Mudblood—that he wished he could talk to her, really talk to her.  Like he'd accidentally told her in the library all those weeks ago, he had no real friends of his own—just companions, and that in and of itself was an dodgy matter (mainly because, contrary to popular belief, he did not particularly like them)—and something about her made him want to trust her.

He didn't like the feeling, not at all.  It terrified him; he wasn't used to trusting anyone.  He didn't trust anyone.  And yet…she just looked so innocent and sweet.  It was suddenly hard for Draco to hate her, try as he might, but unfortunately she was the one person who he was sure would always hate him back.