When Darkness Catches the Light Chapter 7: And so it begins, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: JKR owns all of these characters even though I of course supplied the idea of Draco Malfoy to her. Of course I did. You better bloody believe it. And if you don't - thank you especially for noting the sarcasm.

Title of Story: When Darkness Catches the Light

Summary: Can two sworn enemies ever find true love in each other? What happens when a seductive mission comes along to prod them in the right direction? Draco/Hermione

Rated: PG-13 for language, angst descriptions and some sexual connotations.

Chapter Seven: And so it begins

What's a girl like me to do
When she don't get a thing from you
I wanna go where you're going to
Have to do what you have to do
What's a girl supposed to try
When all you do is criticise
Pretty soon you'll realise
I can see it, I can see it in a boy's eyes
--See it in a Boy's Eyes, Jamelia

Hermione left the library with Ginny, both hastily wiping their teary eyes.

Hermione was glad that she had talked to Ginny. It seemed to have lightened her heart somehow. They had always been close, but sometimes Ginny's immaturity had irked Hermione.

Hermione tied her hair into a messy bun on her head. She hated having her hair in her face all the time.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was 8:30am. They meant that she and Ginny had spent more than half an hour in the library! But the time had flown by so quickly.

Hermione smiled faintly when she heard Ginny's words resound in her head.

...We all love you... remember that...

Hermione had forgotten about the support her friends had given her over the years. They had helped her through some of her toughest times, and she was more than appreciative for that.

Hermione cursed herself for being so rude to them. They definitely did not deserve having her go off at them at any given moment for no apparent reason.

She made a mental note to be nicer to them, but then stopped in her stride. Why did she have to make a note of it? Shouldn't it come to her naturally by now?

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny said worryingly, seeing Hermione stop walking.

Hermione glanced at her and gave her a reassuring nod, before resuming her brisk stride. She could not bring herself to lie again, for she hated being so two-faced to one of her best friends. And she felt she had donned enough faces for one day.

Draco woke up that morning with a smirk on his face. He had slept relatively well that night. He was pleased with his little rendezvous with Weasley. It had amused him, the way Weasley's ears had reddened with embarrassment and the reckless threats he had issued. Draco chortled pensively. It was a good escape from reality; perhaps more specifically, a distraction from the moment when he had thought that the whole world had mutinied against him.

When he found out he had to get Granger to trust him.

Draco trembled involuntarily and pulled the covers tightly over his head. He couldn't help but wonder whether the Dark Lord could see his weakness now...

No, Draco told himself firmly. Don't think stupid things like that.

But was the thought really so stupid?

Draco remembered the time his father had come home once, drunk and depressed from the Death Eaters conference. Apparently Potter had once again foiled one of the Dark Lord's malicious schemes...

Boy, was Father petrified! Draco thought, remembering the pained look on his father's face.

He recalled his father saying that even after enduring all the agony in his life, his Master's Cruciatus Curse could still find its place to injure him.

The thought did nothing to alleviate Draco's stress, as he realised that his mission was going to be far from easy.

He didn't even know where to start! What would Granger think if, all of a sudden, after six years of vicious banter, he were to suddenly entice her with sweet words?

I would be bloody confused if I were her, Draco growled.

He shook his head. I'm not going to do the mission, he thought steadfastly. I won't compromise my morals, even for the bloody 'Heir of Slytherin'.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, another voice reverberated in his head, like a sort of rancorous reminder.

...The Heir of Slytherin does not tolerate mishaps or treason...

Draco shivered. He did not want to be tortured like his father.

He got up from the bed and started smoothing the sheets out. Surprisingly, creases always irritated him. Draco brushed them out furiously, and failed to realise that he was in truth making even more crinkles in the sheets.

He sighed as he realised that making the bed in such a way was fruitless and he plopped back down on it. His head was pounding relentlessly and he scratched his hair frantically in his vehemence.

He didn't even know why he felt so angry, even after grabbing all that delicious food from the Head kitchen and having that comical fight with Weasley.

Draco felt a squirm in his stomach. What would his friends think of his 'newfound attention' towards Granger? He would never hear the end of all their teasing and insults. He wasn't as strong as everybody thought he was...

I'm a bloody human too, Draco snarled.

And all humans can get hurt, another voice in his head reminded him.

Draco's skin went pallid as he contemplated what the Dark Lord would do if he were to not complete the full terms of the mission...

Draco shuddered, and then his face suddenly hardened. So what if he was going to be subject to ridicule from the Slytherins? He should feel honoured to have been chosen by the Dark Lord himself to carry out the important operation!

He glanced around the room and noted that it was in a state of complete and utter disarray

I really need to get my old maid Pansy up here some time, he chucklde, a cruel smirk playing on his face.

He knew he would never impress Granger with a messy room.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said, pulling up chairs on either side of him for the two girls to sit on.

He was dressed neatly in his robes and his hair had been subtly spiked with a small amount of gel. He was clearly happy to see Hermione, and Hermione couldn't resist returning his smile. Harry had always been so good to her.

"Hi Harry," Hermione murmured, sitting on the chair to the left of Harry.

Ginny bent down to kiss Harry on the cheek.

"Hey cutie," she teased, taking her seat on Harry's right.

Hermione heard a cringe somewhere at the table, but her gaze was fixed on Harry, who went an evident shade of scarlet and muttered a soft, "Hey," before picking at the sausages on his plate.

"Eurgh you pig!" Ginny exclaimed in mock disgust. "How can you eat all that fat in the morning? You know where it'll all go," she said, lightly patting Harry's stomach.

Harry grimaced.

Hermione noted his sour facial expression. It didn't seem archetypal of him... but why had she suddenly felt a squirm in her stomach at the sight of it?

Hermione shook her head a little too vigorously.

"Aw Ginny, let him eat," she muttered, sipping some of her coffee.

Ginny laughed. "You sound like my mother," she said mid-giggle.

Hermione saw Harry glance her way, almost wincingly. She raised her eyebrow at him and he hastily turned away from her.

Hermione glanced around the Gryffindor table.

There was Parvati Patil, looking ditsy as usual... and then there were Seamus and Dean, both of them engaged in gesticulated conversation... and there was Lavender sitting right across from Harry, her face an odd shade of crimson and her eyes resolutely gazing at the omelette on her plate...

But where was Ron? Hermione felt a nervous wriggle in her stomach.

Was he still upset at her for withdrawing away from him? Or was there another reason...?

Harry seemed to have read her thoughts.

"Ron's at the library," he said shortly, his eyes not exactly meeting Hermione's.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Really? But we just came from the library and we didn't see him..."

Harry coughed somewhat deliberately. "Oh really? Well maybe he just, well, decided to get some, you know, food and stuff from the houselves... I mean, you know how his appetite is..." he gave her a brief wink and looked back at his plate.

"Um, Harry," she muttered, "he doesn't really need to go to the houselves to get food now, it's breakfast time..."

Harry flinched. "I don't know where he is then, Hermione," he said very sharply, his tone of voice hinted with finality.

Hermione felt a peculiar sense of resentment well up inside her.

"Yeah well, I didn't exactly ask you to tell me where he was in the first place, now did I?" she responded scornfully.

Harry raised his eyebrow at her, glanced momentarily ahead of where he was sitting and then his expression seemed to somewhat soften.

"Yeah, sorry 'Mione, just thought you wanted to know," he muttered, taking a quick swig of his pumpkin juice.

Hermione felt another flame ignite inside of her.

"What the hell is 'Mione?" she exclaimed dangerously, her eyebrows fused together.

Harry reddened slightly, but the determined look in his eyes did not fade. Hermione felt herself admiring those magnificent green eyes... they seemed to be so alluring and mystical... they seemed to be strangely morphing into an intense, silver colour...

"Er, Hermione?" Harry ventured timidly.

Hermione shook her head out of her gaze. "Wha-what is it, Drarry?"

Harry's eyes widened. "What did you just call me, Hermione?"

Hermione felt herself go red. "What are you going on about? Oh hey, I haven't even checked my timetable yet, have I...?"

She looked down in her bag and began fumbling around in it distractedly, looking for the timetable that she knew wasn't even there, when she saw a freckled hand holding a timetable in front of her bowed head.

Draco ambled pretentiously over to the shower in his room.

It seemed elegant from inside, its walls a tiled jade-green colour. He smirked fleetingly at the colour and turned on the tap.

The water seemed to cascade down his body flawlessly, every inch of skin being drenched with moisture. Draco sighed as the heat transferred agreeably to his body, his senses calmed and eyes closed in grateful assent.

He knew he had to tidy himself up properly today. He realised that Granger would probably find him more attractive if he were neat and immaculate, rather than if he were to adopt the whole grungy, heavy metal image that most girls would drool over.

I can execute both impressions perfectly, he thought haughtily.

He soaped himself thoroughly, washed the soap off and stepped out of the shower. The room was eerily silent now, devoid of the sounds of running water.

Draco shivered as he wrapped a black towel lazily across his lean waist and stood in front of the large mirror. He smirked arrogantly, studying his toned muscles and damp hair. He knew he was simply irresistible.

Draco thought that he should cut his hair, that only then would he probably come across as being intellectual to Granger. He picked up his wand, on the intent of casting a spell to neatly style his hair, but then decided against it.

Even a girl like Granger doesn't deserve me chopping off my precious hair, he snarled, throwing his wand onto the bed.

Draco starting walking over to his black robes, but then stopped in his stride.

"What the hell was I thinking, 'even a girl like Granger'?" he growled audibly, realising the folly of his thoughts.

He shook his head and resumed walking, gracefully slipping into his robes and deliberately not wearing a shirt underneath. He didn't want Granger to miss that particular spectacle.

Draco chuckled to himself, a chuckle that would be enough to make any girl swoon over him, and he knew it.

It was true that he had reservations of carrying out the assignment, but an amalgamation of the pain the Dark Lord could inflict upon him, the fact that this would all be an amusing farce anyway and the satisfying thought that he would break Granger's heart in the end had convinced Draco that the mission could actually be a blessing in disguise. It was all about perception.

He idly glanced over his timetable and a malicious smile spread across his face.

"Perfect," he murmured mercilessly.

Hermione looked up to see that it was Ron who was holding her timetable. Only he was looking away from her.

"Thanks," Hermione said hesitantly, taking the timetable away from him.

He nodded curtly and turned around, taking a seat next to Ginny. Harry glanced suspiciously over at Hermione, giving her a swift, searching look but she turned away hastily, absent-mindedly tilting her coffee mug from side to side, ignoring the clattering noise it was making as it collided with the spoon inside.

Hermione was so remorseful for getting angry with Ron. He had always been so nice to her, and even when he was upset at her he even took time out to get her timetable for her.

She thought back to the reason as to why she had gotten mad in the first place.

Ahh, she thought dryly, the memory returning to her.

Ron had wanted to endanger Malfoy's Headship prospects. It had been a harmless joke, Hermione knew that now, but why had it irked her so much at the time?

Hermione stole a quick look over at Ron. He was staring at his empty plate in an unwavering gaze, while Ginny was talking animatedly to him. He murmured his indifferent assent every now and then at what his sister was saying.

Harry was still eating sausages, the thick chunks of meat entering his mouth in a quick cycle. Hermione raised her eyebrow disgustedly at him, but didn't feel like saying anything. Harry was acting pretty weird today, and she had absolutely no idea why.

Hermione placed her mug down firmly on the sturdy wooden table and undid the messy bun of her hair. She let her hair fall down, reaching well below her shoulders and sighed. She didn't feel like dressing up today at all...

Not even for Malfoy, eh? a sly voice spoke in her head.

She frowned at the thought. Why the hell would she want to dress up for Malfoy? It's not like I have to outdo him even in appearance, Hermione thought wryly, smiling faintly at the thought that she had always beaten Malfoy in every subject.

You know what I mean, Hermione, the same voice spoke.

"Hermione, are you even listening to me?"

Hermione hastily looked over at Ginny, who was surveying her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ginny, what were you saying?"

Ginny sighed long-sufferingly. "Well I was just asking you what lesson you had first up today, because apparently this year some classes you have are joint classes with sixth years."

Hermione nodded, thought she didn't fully comprehend what Ginny was saying. Her thoughts were still far away, on a certain blonde rebel...

"Dammit, Hermione, what the hell is wrong with you?" Ginny exclaimed impatiently.

Ron looked up at Ginny, his face palpably red with fury. "Don't talk to her like that, Ginny, she's obviously busy thinking about something, alright? Just drop it."

Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly at him. She knew she should ideally be thankful to Ron that he had defended her, but strangely enough... she was actually irritated by his loyalty...

"Ron, I can take care of myself okay?" she said, forcing a tone of evenness in her voice.

Ron looked at her automatically, but quickly changed the direction of his attention. "I know," was all that he managed to utter.

Hermione felt a rush of penitence inside of her. How could she have been so capricious? How could she have acted without thinking like that? How could she have behaved in a manner so completely uncharacteristic of herself?

"Yeah so as I was saying," Ginny coughed. "Er... oh yeah, Hermione, can you check your timetable and tell me what classes you have before lunch?"

Hermione scuffled the timetable around, hoping the noise would drown out the sense of guilt that she now felt so deeply inside of her.

She scowled as she glanced at her first lesson.

"Advanced Potions, with Slytherin house," Hermione groaned.

Ginny laughed. "First class where the Head Girl and the Head Boy are together, eh? What a coincidence..." she finished, a smirk on her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's puerility. She felt another pang of anger within her.

"Oh yeah, that git hasn't given you any trouble yet, I hope?" Harry interrupted, his tone hinted with menace.

Hermione glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, but it was Ron who spoke instead.

"Harry, she can look after herself, leave her alone," Ron muttered sharply, his eyes still fixed on his empty plate.

Hermione felt a sharp twang of antagonism.

"Oh, so I guess I can look after myself well, but I just can't speak for myself, is that it?" she said loudly.

Ron stood up abruptly from the table and marched off, not bothering to answer Hermione.

"Good one, Hermione," Ginny said coldly, her eyes filling with tears.

She followed behind Ron, running to catch up with him.

Hermione fumingly walked off in the opposite direction, not pausing to look behind and catch the bewildered look on all the faces at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione had never felt the regret that had consumed her at that very moment, as she started walking to the Potions dungeons.

Her face was tear streaked and her hair fell messily into her face, but at that moment she didn't particularly care.

She hated herself for being so blunt with Ron. It had not been her true intention, really; she had just felt like another person had taken over her conscience at the time.

She trembled at the uneasy thought, the notion that she could no longer control her emotions and anger.

Hermione furiously pulled her hair back and tried to plait it as best she could and secured it with a grubby, yellow hair tie. She couldn't care less about the chaotic state she was in. She felt like she didn't care about anything at all. It was a seemingly good feeling.

Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the way Ron had avoided eye contact with her.

What could he possibly be afraid of?

You, Hermione, a voice arraigned in her head.

Hermione shook her head out of the thought and quickened her pace toward the dungeon. The last thing she wanted was to be late for class.

That'd just be the cherry to top off this brilliant day, she thought sardonically.

But before she knew it, her hand was grabbed roughly and she was pulled into a nearby opening in the wall.

"Ron, you have got to stop doing this! I don't want to be late for potions with that sadistic Snape, you know that bastard's got it in for me," she hissed, realising that she had been abducted into a broom closet.

It was extremely dark inside, but she knew the action was characteristic of Ron. She felt a swift movement in the room, and it seemed to make her somewhat edgy.

"You know Granger, I'm sure Professor Snape would be interested to hear your fascinating opinion of him. I'm shocked that the perfect, respectable Miss Hermione Granger would ever say the words 'Snape' and 'bastard' in the same sentence. It's simply remarkable."

Hermione's heart dipped as she recognised the owner of the cold drawl. She felt dread fill her very veins.

"Lumos!" the voice commanded lazily.

The spell was surprisingly intense, and the room was efficiently illuminated, only to reveal a smirking Draco Malfoy, leaning proudly against the wooden cabinet in the broom closet.

A few of the buttons on his robe were left undone, and Hermione caught a glimpse of his toned stomach. She felt herself go red, and she hastily turned away before Malfoy could see her childishness.

"You might want to cover up yourself, before I throw up in disgust all over you," Hermione snarled coldly, her eyes not exactly meeting Malfoy's.

Malfoy chuckled seductively and Hermione felt her breath hitch.

"Oh, I'm positive the food you've eaten has already been digested by now," he whispered, making Hermione reflexively move closer to him so she could catch every word. "And there's also the fact that it's getting very hot in here. Can you feel it, Granger?"

Hermione shuffled uncomfortably, turning away from Malfoy's penetrating gaze. She did not want to lose herself in his bright grey orbs...

"Relax, Granger," Malfoy continued. "You're not afraid of me now, are you?"

Hermione felt a pang of anger inside of her and she looked up at Malfoy in defiance, her eyes evidently communicating the loathing she felt for him.

"And why should I be afraid of a ferret like you?"

Malfoy lunged forward at Hermione and poked his long, slim wand on the pulse of her neck. Hermione closed her eyes submissively, for fear that he might hex her.

"Apologise, bitch," Malfoy snarled coldly.

Hermione opened her eyes and narrowed her eyebrows at Malfoy. He suddenly withdrew his wand, as if on a whim, and chuckled quietly.

"You're very charming, Granger. Very charming indeed."

Hermione massaged her slender neck, but her eyes never left Malfoy's own.

"I wish I could say the same about you, Malfoy. Yet I do admire your tactfulness," she murmured, the sarcasm evident in her tone.

Malfoy's eyes widened in malice, but he took a deep breath in and smiled at Hermione.

Hermione nearly gasped. He was actually smiling? No, it most definitely was not a smirk, nor a grimace, nor a snarl... no, it was a smile. And his eyes seemed to sparkle with joy too.

Malfoy stepped forward and undid Hermione's plait at the back of her head and threw the yellow tie on the floor. His warm breath tickled Hermione's ear, as he leaned over her shoulder gracefully. He let her chocolate-brown hair cascade elegantly down her back and he used his lean, pale fingers to separate the strands and frame Hermione's face.

Hermione felt her heart pounding inexorably against her chest, but she was nevertheless bewildered at Malfoy's gentle actions.

He stepped back and gave Hermione another smile that made her stomach squirm bizarrely.

"You should wear your hair like that, Granger, it suits your face better. Oh and allow yourself a little self-respect and don't use a Hufflepuff coloured hair tie in your hair. For your own sake, you know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. Why was he acting so gentlemanly?

She shot Malfoy another look of pure hatred and bent down to pick up the yellow hair tie and messily redid her hair in the same plait, her eyes never straying from Malfoy's own.

Malfoy's lips were fixed in a smile, but when he saw Hermione redo her hair, the corner of his lips twitched and his eyes became guarded once again. Hermione thought she saw them glint with spite momentarily.

"Thanks for the advice, but I'm pretty sure I know how to dress myself," she responded callously.

Malfoy nodded curtly at her and smoothed his hand over his hair and then stopped in the middle of the action and dropped his hand to the side of his body.

"Yeah so anyway," Hermione murmured, wondering why Malfoy desisted with his characteristic action, "why the hell did you pull me in this closet anyway? There must be a good reason, because I know you wouldn't soil your faultless pureblood hands by touching a dirty Mudblood like me."

Malfoy smirked at her, amusement apparent in his facial features.

"I would have thought a clever witch like you would have figured that out by now," he said simply.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the word 'witch'. Malfoy definitely wanted something from her; otherwise he wouldn't bother being civil. But what exactly did he want?

Hermione found him perplexing. He had money, enough fame for being the son of a notorious wizard, good looks...

So what does he want from a 'Mudblood' like me?

Then it suddenly dawned on her, and she felt a smirk playing on her own face.

"Look, I know you have a major crush on Parvati, but even if you flatter me, it doesn't mean I'm going to help you get her," Hermione snarled coolly, but she was happy at accurately discerning the sexist intentions of the playboy standing in front of her.

Malfoy laughed mirthlessly and Hermione suddenly felt wary as the cold laughter filtered through her body, chilling her very bones...

"Cut me some slack, Granger, "he said, wiping a fake tear of laughter from his eyes. "I'm not desperate enough to get help from a Mud-witch like you, purely to slake my own non-platonic pursuits."

He chuckled at his own joke and again moved to smooth his hair, but this time he reached all the way back, near the nape of his neck before he hastily pulled his hand away.

Hermione felt her lip twitch irritably.

"Okay, so if we're done here, I'd like to go now to my Potions class," she said coldly, placing her hand on the knob of the closet door.

She turned the knob and then felt another hand over her own, turning the knob in the opposite direction. Hermione felt faint rays of electricity go up her hand.

"You seem to have forgotten, but I'm in the same Advanced Potions class as you," Malfoy said, quickly withdrawing his hand and then looking slightly regretful for pulling his hand away so rapidly.

Hermione raised her eyebrow at his facial expression, but then shook her head. "That's exactly why I want to go now, so that if we go late to class together, I won't be put in the same detention as you. Not that Snape would ever give you a detention," she added as an afterthought.

Malfoy chuckled seductively, shook his head vaguely and opened the door of the closet.

"Point taken. After you," he said gently, allowing her to go out in front of him.

Hermione groaned angrily and stomped out of the closet, further annoyed when she heard Malfoy laughing behind her.

Draco shook his head in mirth and shut the broom closet door behind him.

The meeting with Granger had gone off well enough. It had been more spontaneous than he would have hoped for and he was sure that he had kindled some feeling of confusion within Granger; exactly what he had wanted to do.

Draco knew that her astute mind would now contemplate the broom closet incident over and over again, and if he were to be exceedingly lucky, she may even confront him first about it.

Draco grimaced as he remembered how his inherent feelings of repulsion had come through when he had touched Granger's hand on the door knob... and how he had called her a 'bitch'...

Nevertheless, he now knew that it was all probably for the best, as his insults would most likely befuddle Granger even further...

Draco chuckled to himself, as he began walking toward the Potions class.

He remembered the moment where he had let Granger's hair fall loose around her face. Draco admitted to himself that it had took a lot of courage... a lot of 'un-Slytherin' courage... for him to leap forward toward her like that... but he had to marvel at his own genius, for when he said that she looked better with her hair down, he had genuinely meant it...

But it had irked him severely the way Granger had stubbornly pulled her hair back once more. No other girl would have ever dared to do that to him... they would have loved that Draco himself had combed their hair with his delectable fingers...

Draco shook his head stubbornly, an odd fury accumulating within him directed at Granger. Her hateful gaze reserved only for him, the way that her eyes conveyed messages of abhorrence toward him... those beautiful, innocent brown spheres... filled with anger aimed solely at him....

Why the hell am I doing this damn mission? Draco thought furiously.

He knew the task would prove unrewarding in the end.

So why the hell am I trying?

Draco quickened his pace, knowing that the dungeons were a relatively long way away. And he did not want to prolong his negative thoughts.

But the thought of why he was indeed doing the mission was nagging at him. He couldn't help but wonder if the reason was Granger herself...

Draco groaned loudly at his own weakness and scratched his spiked hair furiously, desperate to shift his thoughts away from the attractive brunette...

Maybe the reason he was performing the duty was that he was a Malfoy. And Malfoys were never ones to step down from a challenge... no matter how impossible the challenge were to be...

Draco smirked, remembering his own impressive heritage. He was sure his own blood had never been... tainted... by muggles. And that's why he was so proud to be a Malfoy. But it was also the reason why he had found this mission so damn difficult.

He winced at the thought of seeing his father's reaction to the mission... he would most certainly go ahead and ruminate the details of the mission over with the Dark Lord...

Father knows I am impressionable, Draco brooded.

He kicked the concrete wall of the corridor leading down to the dungeons in his wrath. Draco hated himself for being so pliable, once his walls were overcome.

He knew that his father would most definitely deem his only son susceptible to... even fall for a pathetic Mudblood...

Draco felt his face harden. He would not let it happen. He would not allow his father's preconceived notions to reign.

Draco smoothed his hand over his hair and sighed contentedly. He had no qualms about completing the action now, as he knew Granger wasn't around to get annoyed by it. And that was the last thing he would have wanted to happen...

Draco smirked ponderingly as he reminisced about the good old days...

He and Granger's constant exchange of quick repartee had always been amusing. It was what he admired most about Granger; her ability to return his snide comments with equally promising argument.

And to not completely fall in love with my looks, Draco thought meditatively.

The attention he got from the opposite sex had got wearisome over the years. They would always fall straight into his lap, tend to his every whim and shower him with copious amounts of nauseating affection.

But Granger never seemed to follow the lead of the other girls. She was like a breath of fresh air... and despite his inherent reservations, Draco found himself suffocating, desiring more of that air...

He stopped mid-stride and slapped his own forehead furiously. Why was he thinking like that? This was just a stupid mission... and he was a Malfoy... he could handle the pressure...

And it was this thought that sustained him through another tedious Advanced Potions class.

Hermione was grateful to finally emerge from the dungeons.

She had purposely avoided eye contact with Malfoy. Hermione had kept her eyes set straight ahead on the instructions to make the intricate Halya Potion, used to obscure one's face from outside view. It worked similar to the invisibility cloak, but it was highly complex to make and even one minor mistake could result in fatal disfigurement.

She smiled as she remembered how her potion was one of the few to turn into the desired, distinct acid green colour. She knew she would at least receive a pass from her least favourite teacher.

Hermione had sometimes regretted choosing Advanced Potions for her final few years at Hogwarts. She had always liked the subject, there was no doubt about that... but the fact that she was the only Gryffindor in the class and that her teacher was none other than the notorious Snape had often reduced her to tears or to battle a crushed self-esteem.

She quickened her pace, hoping that the thoughts she had been resolutely trying to avoid deliberating over would finally disappear from her mind.

Yet it seemed that the enhancement of speed proved futile.

Hermione had been so confused during the entire class; it was remarkable that she had actually managed to successfully brew her potion.

The meeting with Malfoy seemed to have tied her whole brain into a tenuous knot. She could not stop thinking about the way he had grabbed her... the way he had let her hair down... the way he had let her go through the door first...

It all just seemed so puzzling and incongruous. His shameless flattery had done nothing to appease her; her mind was more so transfixed on his body language... his insults...

One minute he had acted the refined gentleman, the next minute he had called her a bitch!

What the hell is wrong with him? Hermione could not help thinking.

Hermione scratched her head absent-mindedly and pulled her bag over her shoulders more securely. She gripped the straps edgily, as if extracting some feeling of sanctuary from them.

She did not like the way Malfoy kept smiling at her. Normally she would have been charmed if any other boy were to grin at her like that. But it just seemed so bizarre coming from Malfoy. So atypical... almost eerie...

And what the hell was with Malfoy pointing his wand at her but then quickly putting it away? Why didn't he hex her? Of course, Hermione was relieved, but perplexed nevertheless at his gallantry. And why did he keep smoothing his hair with his hand and then hastily desisting the action? Hermione felt a mild migraine coming over her.

Hermione also did not like that queasy feeling in her stomach whenever Malfoy was around her. It was not pronounced, but it was definitely noticeable. She had only ever felt that way about Ron, and that was a very long time ago...

Hermione winced as she remembered how she had been so rude to Ron. She desperately wanted to apologise, to let him know that she did care about him... if only in a platonic way.

But if truth were to be told, sometimes she did feel like she was in love with Ron. Those intense moments when they were engaged in passionate kisses had rendered her both breathless and confident of her profound love for Ron.

And of course, a victim to the usual prickling that ensued.

Hermione's mind was plagued by the possibility of another episode of prickling. It was becoming unbearable, the internal pain that she felt sometimes. She sometimes felt like she would explode any second...

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned around and came face to face with Ron, standing a few feet away from her, looking sheepishly at his scuffed leather shoes. Hermione felt a slight squirm in her stomach.

"Ron!" she exclaimed in relief, running over to embrace him, but she then stopped in her stride.

Would it have been appropriate to hug him now?

Hermione had a quick battle with her conscience and then leapt forward to embrace Ron, to bring him closer to her, for him to claim every inch of her skin as his own... for his warmth to spread over her...

Ron's hands hung limply at his side, but Hermione then felt him wrap his arms hungrily around her back, and he sighed.

"I've missed you so much Hermione," he whispered huskily, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Hermione never wanted to let go of him. She loved the secure feeling she attained from being in Ron's large frame. She never wanted him to let go of her... ever...

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione murmured, her face buried in Ron's broad chest.

She looked up to face Ron's eyes, gazing down at her in desire and warmth. Hermione didn't mind Ron seeing the evident tears in her eyes... God, she was just so damn sorry...

Ron gently thumbed her now freely running tears away and rubbed her back reassuringly.

"Don't be, Hermione, I know how hard things are for you," Ron responded encouragingly, smoothing the dangling strands of hair away from Hermione's moist face.

Hermione captured Ron's mouth in a kiss, pulling his head desperately toward her to sate her growing desire for him and his warmth. Ron bent down, somewhat awkwardly, and their tongues engaged in a fierce and passionate skirmish, with Ron winning in the end. The warmth was transferring rapidly from Ron to Hermione, and she felt every part of her absorbing the addictive heat. Hermione felt her knees go weak and she withdrew from the kiss for air, breathing heavily and leaning onto Ron for support.

"I hate fighting with you, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I just love you so much."

Chapter Seven: And so it begins

Hermione left the library with Ginny, both hastily wiping their teary eyes.

Hermione was glad that she had talked to Ginny. It seemed to have lightened her heart somehow. They had always been close, but sometimes Ginny's immaturity had irked Hermione.

Hermione tied her hair into a messy bun on her head. She hated having her hair in her face all the time.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was 8:30am. They meant that she and Ginny had spent more than half an hour in the library! But the time had flown by so quickly.

Hermione smiled faintly when she heard Ginny's words resound in her head.

...We all love you... remember that...

Hermione had forgotten about the support her friends had given her over the years. They had helped her through some of her toughest times, and she was more than appreciative for that.

Hermione cursed herself for being so rude to them. They definitely did not deserve having her go off at them at any given moment for no apparent reason.

She made a mental note to be nicer to them, but then stopped in her stride. Why did she have to make a note of it? Shouldn't it come to her naturally by now?

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny said worryingly, seeing Hermione stop walking.

Hermione glanced at her and gave her a reassuring nod, before resuming her brisk stride. She could not bring herself to lie again, for she hated being so two-faced to one of her best friends. And she felt she had donned enough faces for one day.

A/N: Woahhh that was a really looong chapter wasn't it! I know your reviews are going to be saying 'argh I got so bored!' and im sorry, but I just had so much fun writing this and I couldn't resist a bit of herm and ron fluff at the end (come on, I'm only human hehehe). So I hope u enjoyed that and also herm and draco's encounter. Oh and if by eany chance ur wondering what Halya means (as in, the Halya potion) well it means a veil or a screen from light in elvish. I like using elvish in my stories, as opposed to latin. I hope u all don't mind. Lol. Okay, now I wont tell u what happens in the next chapter but lets just say that it will be tenuous. Well mayb. Lol. Anyways, keep reading and thanks for the reviews and don't forget to review this chapter too!!