Draco threw himself down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling in his room. He had just returned for the summer from Hogwarts and wasn't in the best of moods, mainly because of the way he'd returned. On the train ride home Potter and his own private militia had blasted him, along with Crabbe and Goyle, with enough hexes that only now was he starting to feel like himself again. He'd arrived more closely resembling a giant slug in robes than a Malfoy. His mother had been deeply disgusted and after fixing him up had told him to go away from her before she became ill.

There were plenty of things he could do for entertainment, of course, but he just didn't feel like any of them. He was still worrying over everything that had happened with the mudblood. He'd kissed girls before, and even done more satisfying things than kissing, but this was different. This wasn't with some pureblood. It wasn't even with a half-blood girl that he was willing to put up with. It had been with Potter's frizzy haired, bossy, buck-toothed, brainy, Muggle-born best friend. Half the time, Draco'd thought the two of them were going together, but perhaps not.

He'd kissed Hermione Granger and just wasn't nearly as disgusted by it as he should have been.

That wasn't to say that he'd liked it or anything. Clearly not. What was there to like about kissing a girl like that? Oh, certainly she was nicely shaped under her robes and her lips were soft and she had very pretty brown eyes, but it was still Granger. Just because the mudblood wasn't hideous didn't mean he really wanted to kiss her. It had just been the best way to distract her, right?

Of course that had to be all that there was to it.

But, maybe when they went back to school they'd happen to be alone again, in some dark hallway where few other students ever went. He could kiss her again, in a situation like that. She'd probably pretend that she didn't want it or something, but he knew that she did. He remembered how she'd responded to his kisses before. Maybe the second time around she wouldn't be so uptight and wouldn't run away when he slid his hand under her skirt.

On the other hand, what might happen if the Dark Lord rose in power again? All of the Muggle-born students would have to leave school, fleeing and hiding for their safety. He could give safety to Granger, though. Lock her up in Malfoy Manor and make sure she knew exactly who was responsible for saving her life. Surely she'd be so overcome with gratitude that she'd agree to anything he asked of her. And, he could ask for a lot. There were all sorts of things he could make her do and she'd just be so, so happy to be alive and safe....

His thoughts kept tumbling along those lines until he realized what he was doing and wrenched his thoughts away from her, making a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. If it had just been an attempt to distract her why was he still thinking about it? And why did his mind keep going off on little flights of fancy, imagining scenarios in which he could be alone with her again? He didn't fancy her or anything as grotesque as that. No, he couldn't stand her personality, or her background. He hated everything about her, except of course the parts he was attracted to. And, in the end, that was really it, wasn't it? Just an ordinary, healthy physical attraction.

To someone he hated.

Well, it wasn't an ideal attraction, clearly, but he figured that he had a couple of options here. He could try to forget about any physical desire he had for her. That might be difficult, and ultimately unsatisfying, but it was definitely the most attractive option. On the other hand, he could lust after her from afar like some sort of complete idiot. As likely as that sounded at the moment he didn't really want to go down that road.

He groaned in utter disgust as he threw a hand over his eyes. "Stupid mudblood," he muttered to himself. "I hate her. I hate her a lot. She's a complete bitch: a stupid Muggle-born, toothy, hairy, Potter worshipping, house-elf loving bitch."

As he continued his tirade, something started to nag at him. Some little thought was there in the back of his head, some association he hadn't made just yet. After a moment, it was bothering him so much that he stopped insulting her and tried to figure out what it was. Something about the house-elves, which meant something about Granger going in for ridiculous lost causes. Which meant something about...

He took the hand from his eyes and sat bolt upright on his bed. A nasty grin slowly spread itself across his face as he thought over it. He had more than two options. There was a way to have his cake and eat it, too. Or, more accurately, have his mudblood and destroy her, too. Now that he'd seen it the whole idea was so ridiculously obvious that he wondered if he could really fool her. She had been willing to believe that a logical discussion would be enough to make him turn his back on his father, though. She was an intelligent girl, he had to admit, but she was also moronically naive at times.

Which, of course, was perfect for his plan.