"Why don't you call me Hermione?"
Hermione had been thinking about this for a while, ever since she'd gotten his note. He'd never once called her Hermione. She really wanted to ask him about that poem, but didn't think he'd admit that he'd written it. After all, he hadn't even signed his name. Just Someone Who Knows. How did he know not to let go of your dreams, anyways?
Malfoy looked up from yet another quiz and stared at Hermione a few seconds before answering. "Because I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"Why do you hate me, then?" Hermione asked.
"Because you're a Mudbl-" He caught himself by looking at her scowling face. "Er, I mean, Muggleborn."
"So?"
"What do you mean, 'so?'"
"Well, why does being a Muggleborn have anything to do with your friendships?"
"We wouldn't be friends even if you were pureblood, Granger."
"Why not?"
"Because you're in Gryffindor."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Malfoy's gaze fell instantly back to his test. He was pretending to read a question on the quiz, but Hermione knew he was faking. His eyes weren't moving along the page at all. He was just staring at it.
"What is it?" she asked, almost in a whisper. Malfoy slowly looked up at her. She sounded funny. He'd never heard her voice sound so delicate, as though she was trying not to break him. Suddenly she leaned back, and pouted. "You don't have to look as though you're going to bite my head off."
Malfoy realized he'd been scowling. He quickly shook the expression from his face, and went back to his test. Hermione snatched it from him and crumpled it up, angrily.
"Will you answer me, please?" All the gentleness was gone from her voice. Now she sounded flustered and angry. Malfoy wondered what he'd done this time, but realized that she wasn't only mad at him. She was angry at herself, as well, for some reason.
"I don't know the answer," he said.
"Would you leave a questionon a test blank or try your best?"
"Not everything relates to school, Granger."
"HERMIONE!" she cried, standing up quickly. "Why won't you call me Hermione? It's my name, damn you. Call me Hermione!"
"You don't call me Draco, do you?" Malfoy demanded, now getting angry himself. "No! Now don't yell at me for calling you what I've always called you. Granger is as much your name as Hermione. Now, would you sit down and teach me... whatever it is I'm supposed to be learning?"
Hermione's mouth flailed a little bit, but she could find nothing to say to that that wouldn't make her sound like a complete moron, so she sat down. She took a few deep breaths, and calmed herself down. "You know what? You teach me."
"What?"
"You teach me. I have things to learn, and I don't know them yet."
"Teach you about Potions?"
"No," she said. "About you."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "'Scuse me?"
"You're fascinating," Hermione replied, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I want to know how your mind works."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione sighed. "I want to know your story. About you're life."
Malfoy was about to tell her to go get her own life, if she wanted to hear about one so badly, but he knew she wasn't going to let this slide. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. He gave a sigh of his own, and asked, "Where do you want me to begin?"
"At the beginning."
A/n: Oh, yes, I am evil, aren't I? Short chapter, I know, but the next one will be much longer, I promise, and go through Draco's life, since we don't get to see that much of it in the books. I swear it won't be a cliche "Oh yes, my Dad abused me" sort of thing, but it may take me a while to write. R&R perdy pwease!