Lorelai yawned as she made her way to the last class of her day, Advanced Potions. As far as she knew, only three sixth years had the privilege of taking it, but as of yet, she only knew of her own admittance in that class. She reached the large door leading to the Potions classroom, at least 10 minutes early for class. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the stone room. Luckily, Snape hadn't arrived yet, so she could avoid an awkward confrontation. She smiled, remembering the rose from the night before. Well, it was a nice gesture. Although, the Snape that existed when they first met would never have done something so thoughtful. She could she that one other person had arrived; and that person belonged to a head of white-blonde, slicked-back hair. Draco was sitting up front, rigidly straight, eyes closed. She wandered toward him, slightly irritated, but also willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Because they were both in Slytherin, they saw one another in all of their classes. In first period Transfiguration this morning, she had offered a warm greeting, and he hadn't said a word to her; he had turned his back to her and whispered something in Pansy's ear that made the latter blush like mad. In second period Herbology, Lorelai had hoped that Draco would stop being a prat, but no such luck. And at lunch, she sat at the end of the table, quite by herself, which was alright with her. She and Hermione had taken turns making faces at one another throughout the period!

She reached him. "Hey, Draco." He turned toward her blankly, and she smiled at him warmly. "How has your day been?"

He raised an eyebrow and said nothing, his expression clearly showing disinterest. She sighed and tried one more time.

"I'm a little tired today from being up so late last night. How are you doing?"

"Let me ask you a question," he replied.

"Shoot." Lorelai waited.

"Are you stupid, or just desperate? I thought I'd made it clear throughout the day that I don't wish to speak to you. In fact, nothing would disgust me more." That should get through to her, he thought, sitting nonchalantly back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.

She set her jaw. "Excuse me?" she asked through clenched teeth. Students were now filing in. Draco narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

"You disgust me, Mud-blood!" He said this slowly, exaggerating the words as though she could not understand simple English. "I'm ashamed to be in the same house as you. Now, bugger off!" She bit her lip and he took pleasure in that small demonstration of her hurt. But whatever hurt he saw there was quickly replaced by fire as she pointedly slammed her books down at the empty seat next to him, and defiantly sat.

Draco opened his mouth to protest when Harry Potter walked in, obviously the third sixth year in the class, followed closely by Snape.

"Potter, there's an empty seat next to Miss Green. Sit before I take points for stupidity." Potter clenched his jaw but sat, and Snape turned to address the rest of the class. "I hope you chose your seats wisely, because this will be your seating arrangement for the year!"

Draco groaned, and Lorelai smiled triumphantly. To her surprise, Harry Potter nudged her with his elbow, and she turned to him. When their eyes met, she suffered a terrible pang of pain in her head. She ignored the throb and asked Harry what was up.

Snape had been rifling through the stack of material he brought into the room, and realized that he'd forgotten something quite important. He told the students to behave themselves as he went to his personal chambers to retrieve the lesson plan. Harry saw his opportunity to speak freely and jumped at it.

"Well, I just thought I should apologize...you see, I thought wrongly of you merely because you're in Slytherin, and it was wrong of me to prejudge."

"Well, isn't that sweet," Draco muttered, and neither Harry nor Lorelai paid him any mind. Lorelai waved off Harry's apology with a quiet chuckle.

"Did you talk to Hermione?" Harry nodded guiltily. "Don't worry about it, hun, it's no biggie. Hermione is a fun girl, and if she wants to defend me, that's fantastic! Just know that I would do the same for her."

Snape returned then, and Harry and Lorelai turned their volume down.

It was then that she noticed the severity of the green color of Harry's eyes, and she bit down hard on her lip as another shot of pain ran through her temples. A show of concern ran through those eyes, and Harry whispered, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I get these headaches all of the time." Draco had been taking an interest in the conversation, and admitted that he had to respect a girl who hid her pain. But his mouth nearly dropped in horror when he heard Lorelai unabashedly tell Harry, "You know, you have really pretty eyes!" Harry blushed.

"Oh, Harry, think nothing of it," she continued. "I'm very blunt. And I appreciate that you are willing to trust me a little. You know, some people will let their ego rule over their common sense!" Draco heard this comment, and knew that she was referring to him. While he knew it was true, it bothered him that she would pick up on that. Instead, he snorted, and caught Snape's attention.

"Mr. Malfoy," he began in a foreboding tone of voice. "Would you care to explain to the class the problem you are having over there?" Lorelai jumped in for Malfoy and smiled brightly.

"There isn't a problem, Professor!" Draco felt relieved and Snape cocked an eyebrow as she continued, "I was just telling Draco to go fuck himself."

The seventh years guffawed, and on her other side, Harry couldn't stifle his laugh. "Miss Green, see me after class," Snape commanded. "I would think that a young lady of your intelligence would be able to use more tasteful language. But since you are new this year, I will not take any points from Slytherin, this time." The seventh years from the houses other than Slytherin groaned at this unfair display of favor.

Draco sat back, and was stoically silent for the rest of the class period. He quietly reflected on the days' events. It was no secret that he was a proud individual. Didn't the idiot understand that he couldn't talk to her? He had enjoyed himself in the kitchen the night before, watching she and Granger interact. It was fascinating to him that someone could be so natural and without airs as to interact with someone who was of another house, the rival house. He was even a little...envious, maybe. Though she didn't seem to care too much about the importance placed on the rivalry or the danger, yes, the danger she put herself in by being friendly with a Mud-blood Gryffindor.

Not that he cared. .

And he had enjoyed watching her squirm all day, trying to come up with conversation. He was downright rude to her, and still she persisted.

He smiled inwardly at the thought of what she had said to Snape. The girl had guts, and had no qualms about what came out of her mouth. But as nonchalant as her conversations seemed to be, she was always careful to think about what she said before she said it. But she seemed to react to her anger more quickly than anything else. She did not exhibit much control in that area, which could be useful later.

He glanced at Potter. The poor sap was stealing looks at her, blushing furiously as he responded to one of her notes. Suddenly and without warning, Draco became filled with an unexplainable rage! How dare she consort with the enemy? She's a Slytherin! She may be a Mud-blood, but a Slytherin nonetheless, and Slytherins do NOT take kindly to one of their own being as disloyal as to openly be friendly, no: FLIRT with Potter and insult Draco Malfoy in the same breath! She would be punished, he decided.

He looked again at Lorelai, her head bent down; furiously scribbling notes that Snape was dictating. He watched as she looked up and smiled as Harry passed her a piece of parchment. Draco scoffed at the childish display, but couldn't ignore that her smile always reached her eyes. Draco wondered what that would be like, but to his relief, Snape ended his lecture and dismissed the students.

Draco prepared to leave, and turned to follow the aisle out to the door. He started but was momentarily stalled when a hand pressed hard against his muscular chest. He looked down as the owner of that hand said, "Draco, wait!"

He found himself making severe eye contact with the blend of emerald and gold that belonged to Lorelai. He sneered and picked up her forefinger between his thumb and middle finger, and, noting the bitten fingernails, he flung it away from him and brushed off his chest as if contaminated by her touch. "What do you want, Mud-blood?" his voice was hard. She ignored the insult and handed him the parchment that was handed to her by Harry. "This is for you. And Draco," He sighed impatiently but allowed her to finish. "I'm sorry if what I said in class today may have upset you. Even if you were being a prick, well, let's just say that I don't know you well enough to judge why you act the way you do." She paused, and he pushed forward, but her insistent hand stopped him again.

"I think we have a lot more in common than you would think," she whispered. He scoffed at her apology. "Really," Draco said sarcastically. "Unlike you, I have a right to be here. How would we have anything in common?" She shook her head, thwarted for a moment.

Then she lifted her head. "Well, for starters, we both like coffee!" She chuckled softly, and it was a pleasant sound. "Anyway, Draco, have a good afternoon." He definitely wasn't expecting that. He shoved past her, and continued on his way to Quidditch practice.

Practice had not gone well. His head was somewhere else, well, more specifically on Green's apology. How could she think that what she said would affect him? Because it does, his mind answered. Afterwards, on his way back from the field, he literally ran into Ginny Weasley, who was apparently doing a piece with all of the Quidditch captains for the newspaper. She smirked smugly, hands on her hips. "What's the matter, Malfoy? You looked horrible! You're going to have to shape up if you want to hope to give Harry some competition this season!" she taunted.

He grunted, but he knew she was right, and stalked away. What was it with redheads-with-attitudes today? He grabbed his books from where he had left them, and continued to the Slytherin dormitories. What the hell was I thinking? He chastised himself. I know better. Why is everything bothering me lately? Where is my Malfoy indifference? He thought back to the day before yesterday. His father's grim, cruel smile, and the backhand he had received when he refused to go on a Muggle raid with death eaters.

Yes, I really do have an evil, mean nature, and those idiotic Muggles get on my nerves, but I don't like to kill. Tease, slap, maybe punch, but I don't like to torture or kill. He had seen enough to know that those people didn't do anything to warrant the torture they were put under.

He reached the Slytherin common rooms, and saw Crabbe and Goyle on the sofa, but his gaze shot to the fireplace, where Lorelai sat, reading comfortably. She caught on and smiled, but he just continued to his rooms. It was then that he remembered the parchment he had been given. He unfolded it, and recognized Granger's neat, precise printing:

Malfoy, here's something that Lorelai and I thought you might need.
IF HE WEARS PAJAMA PANTS

"He wants to appear studly, but craves coziness. Comfort is key to him, so he chooses the loose bottoms and likes the unrestricted feeling of his bare chest. Though he may not be as open as those who sleep in the buff, he's confident enough to display his body. PJ's lay low on the hips and are sexier in a way that is not vain or pretentious. His preference for steamy-cuddly combos hints that his favorite sex position is side by side, the woman's warm body pressed against his chest."

-Hermione Granger.

He let a sigh escape, once again letting his mind wander back to the previous night. Not only had he conceded and sat with Lorelai and Granger, but he allowed himself to be in a position to have an inside joke with not one, but two Mud-Bloods! Though I don't know for sure if Lorelai IS a Mud blood. How many Mud bloods can speak parsel-tongue?

He was disturbed for a moment, and then pushed it out of his mind. His mind returned to the note.

Unseen to anyone else, Draco Malfoy genuinely smiled to himself for the first time in months.

Then he whispered the incantation to set the parchment on fire. Once it had disappeared, he went to take a shower, his mind and heart heavy with life.

a/n: the explanation of the pajama pants thing was taken almost word for word out of the Cosmopolitan magazine. I thought it was funny! Please leave a short review; I'd appreciate it.