Hi! Thanks for reading and coming back for chapter three! Much thanks to all of you who reviewed!

Kaori: We do not own Harry Potter. We tried holding him for ransom, but that didn't work.

Hermione woke gently. She was encircled comfortably in the embrace of the young man behind her. She sighed contentedly and snuggled closer against his bare chest. She had given up trying to feel guilty. She never would, no matter how much she told herself she should feel ashamed or embarrassed. They were both of age. They had known each other for years. And as far as she could tell, they weren't breaking any rules.

And she loved him.

So there was nothing to feel guilty about.

She rolled over in his arms and looked at him. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake. She kissed him ever so gently and wrapped her arms around his chest. He groaned sleepily and rested his lips at the base of her neck. A warm glow spread through her, all the way down to her toes. She smiled and drifted back into a doze.

Draco slammed his book shut. Why, why, why had he insisted on taking N.E.W.T. Potions? His essay lay, half-finished, on the table. Only the first week and Snape, Draco's favourite teacher, had assigned them a three-foot-long essay on the top ten most dangerous poisons.

He heard a door open and close behind him. He looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who had emerged from her bedroom.

"Nice outfit," Draco sneered, raising an eyebrow at her clothes, (a pair of jeans and a sweater). "Planning to go cavorting with your Muggle brethren, Mudblood?"

After a week with Draco as a roommate, Hermione had learned to simply ignore his insults. She marched up behind him and began reading his essay over his shoulder.

"Do you mind?" Draco said, rather testily. He wasn't an exceptional essay-writer, and he wasn't too keen on Hermione gloating about it.

But Hermione didn't gloat. Instead, she leaned over him and tapped his parchment with her index finger.

"Circe's Potion makes your liver boil out of your mouth," she said. "You've confused it with Tuberculan Draught."

"Oh," Draco said, surprised. He hadn't expected help. Just in case she was up to something, he made a mental note to check the information once she had gone. "Is he here?" Draco asked casually, a wicked grin playing around his lips.

"No, he left an hour ago," she said, lifting her school bag.

"And where are you going?" Draco drawled.

Hermione glared at him reproachfully over her shoulder. "To the library," she said, annoyed. He might have thanked her for the help, instead of interrogating her about her personal life. She closed the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary.

"I do wish you two would try to get along," sighed the matronly witch in the portrait above the fire. Draco gave her the finger. "Well!" she said, affronted. He reopened his Potions text. Sure enough, Circe's Potion made the drinker's liver boil out of his mouth, and Tuberculan Draught caused blood to pour out of every orifice. He corrected his essay with a shudder. It was like writing a paper on the top ten most unpleasant ways to die.

He glanced down at his arm and the shiny pink scars from the last week. Being eaten alive by some mad animal was right up there with your liver boiling out of your mouth.

Draco hadn't been sleeping well. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw a white wolf grinning at him; when he looked in the mirror he was afraid to see another face.

Hermione returned like a hurricane a few moments later.

"Something wrong, Granger? Boyfriend dump you?" he said as she dropped her bag and threw herself into the chair across from him.

"We are under express orders," she articulated, "to learn to like each other." She glared at him over the polished oak table.

Draco sighed and put his quill down. He looked up at her from beneath his blonde fringe, as if he were rather bored by her. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. She had always been so busy hating him, she had never really realized how attractive he was. His body was firm and muscular, but not extremely so. His hair was a perfect, white-blonde colour and was flattering no matter what he did with it. His face was strikingly handsome, and his eyes were a breathtaking smoky grey that reminded Hermione of the sky just before a thunderstorm.

Draco sighed again and folded his hands. As much as he disliked her, he did take his Head Boy post seriously. And besides, he figured if he had to room with her for the entire year, he may as well try, for his own sake, to get along with her. "All right," he said, "what's your favourite colour?"

Hermione blinked, a little startled. "Blue," she said. "You?"

"Black. Your turn."

"Okay," she said, thinking. "What's your favourite subject?"

"Potions. You?"

"Arithmancy. Your turn."

They passed about half an hour asking and answering questions. Hermione explained to Draco the concept of contact lenses, and Draco told her a joke that sent her into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

"So," he said, while she was still recovering, "who's your boyfriend?"

The laughter escaped her and she crossed her arms.

"Is it Weasley?"

Hermione choked. "No!" she exclaimed. Draco was surprised. He had always been certain that she and Weasley were sweet on each other.

"Potter, then?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is he in Gryffindor?"

"Yes."

"Seventh year?"

"Yes."

Draco struggled to remember who else in Gryffindor was in their year. "Who is it then?"

Hermione remained silent.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You already know a nasty secret about me."

Hermione sighed. "Neville," she said.

Draco choked. "Longbottom?" he shrieked.

Hermione nodded.

"Why the bloody fucking hell would you want to go out with Longbottom?"

"Well," Hermione said, glaring at him. "He's the sweetest, gentlest, most caring person I've ever met. He's wonderful, he's sensitive, and-" She stopped herself, blushing.

"And?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione made a sign with her hands, unable to look him in the eye. Draco whistled. "I can understand that," he said.

Now that he thought about it, he figured Neville Longbottom was probably a pretty good choice. In the past few years he had grown into a great bear of a man. He had outgrown most of his clumsiness, and the dark times had sculpted his features and lit fires behind his eyes.

"My turn," Hermione snapped. Draco winced. Now he was going to pay for that question. "Exactly what happened on the first day of term?"

Draco's eyes clouded. His uncertainty showed in his voice as he told her all he could remember. Hermione listened, white-faced and wide-eyed. When he had finished, she clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Do you think it could have been a - a werewolf?"

Draco's head was in his hands. A knot in the wood of the table looked like a manic eye staring right through him.

"Well, did you look for the five identifying signs?" Hermione asked, breathlessly.

Draco shot her a whithering glance. "I was a bit too concerned about its fangs being inches from my throat," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Well, if it were a werewolf, I expect you'd be lying in St. Mungo's, wouldn't you? I really can't believe that you didn't go straight to the hospital wing, Malfoy." But she knew that the hospital wing was up another two flights of stairs. If he'd barely had the strength to pull himself into their living room, he might have collapsed in the corridor.

Draco traced his scars with his finger and gave a noncommittal noise.

"Are you quite sure you didn't - I don't know - cast some sort of healing spell before you passed out?" she asked, apparently flustered.

"I'm quite sure," he said, annoyed. "And I'm absolutely miserable at healing spells anyway." He looked up and met her eyes. She was fidgeting nervously. He reached across the table and caught her hand. She flinched under his touch, but did not pull away. She could feel the strange, smooth scars massed inside his palm.

"Hermione," he said, testing her first name on his tongue, "please don't tell anybody about this."

Maybe it was the use of her first name, or the desperation in his voice, or the pleading in his eyes, or the loneliness, but against her better judgment, she agreed. "All right," she said, quietly.

What is this feeling? Draco wondered. A tiny thrill was singing in his veins. He still had a hold of Hermione's hand.

Draco looked up again. As she gazed into his big, grey eyes, she realised something. For the first time in six years, she was seeing him as a human being, as a man, and not a serpent or an insect to be feared or crushed.

There was a knock at the door. Hermione threw off Draco's hand with a gasp.

"Hermione, are you coming?" the voice of Harry Potter called.

"Coming," she called back, rising and lifting her bag once again. She made for the door, but as she reached it, she paused. "If you like," she began, "I could proofread the rest of your essay when you finish it."

Draco looked into her round, brown eyes. "Thanks," he said. The door closed gently behind her.

Draco's brow furrowed as his fingers closed on air. He could still feel the warmth of her hand.

And that concludes Chapter 3! Be sure to review, and come back to read Chapter 4!

Kaori: Thank you!