Disclaimer: eh, belongs to JK Rowling and a bunch of other people. The plot is mine... although there are those little details that I stole from other things I've read...

Author's Note: I had some trouble with the romantic scenes... any feedback would be appreciated. a note on the ending: i like it the way it is for some odd reason, and it didn't make sense to end it anywhere else. i ended it there simply to be able to post a chapter... there will be more; hopefully soon. (ps: if you got this twice, i did some minor tweaking... i forgot to get rid of something before, oops. hey k8ebug, since you seem to enjoy it, would you like to be my offical beta reader?)


You think you're so bad, drive the women folk wild
Shoot 'em all down with the flash of your pearly smile
Honey but you met your match tonight
Oh that's right
You think you'll knock me off my feet
Till I'm flat on the floor
Till my heart is crying Indian and I'm beggin' for more
So come on baby, come on baby
Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

If you can give it, I can take it
Cause if this heart is gonna break
It's gonna take a lot to break it
I know tonight
Somebody's gonna win the fight
So if you're so tough
Come on and prove it
Your heart is down for the count
And you know you're gonna lose it
Tonight you're gonna go down in flames
Just like Jesse James

-- Cher


…Hermione took Draco's arm and they walked back into the Great Hall together, looking like quite the elegant couple.

Harry and Ron continued to stand there, gaping. This was just too much.

Draco and Hermione decided to dance.

She leaned into him as the entire school watched and whispered into his ear, "why?"

He paused for a moment, as if to think it over, but never letting the startled feeling show in his face. "Most girls don't ask why; they simply dance."

"I'm not most girls."

"You do carry yourself better than most."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're confident… elegant. It's unusual."

"..."

He sighed, as if he'd already given an explanation. "Teenage girls are not generally in the habit of looking people in the eye, or of being self assured. It's atypical, but it gives you a certain elegance." He paused a moment. "So, what brings you, a Gryffindor, to my lips?"

Carrying on the act of the happy, if strange couple, she retorted only loud enough for him to hear, "I do believe it was you who surreptitiously arrived at my mouth. Not to mention the fact that you're avoiding my original question."

"Fine. I enjoy annoying Potter and Weasley. What better a way then to steal you from them? Your turn."

"Ron was annoying me."

He arched his eyebrow, questioning. "Why don't you tell me the truth, Granger?"

"Because you're lying too, Malfoy."

"I must admit, you are a trifle more difficult than most girls, as well."

"You enjoy it."

He glanced into her eyes as she stared back impudently, almost teasing. "Well, we're not going to find the truth here."

"Oh, and where can it be found?" she interrogated, returning the questioning look that had been plastered on his face only moments ago.

Draco resumed the act aloud. "Miss Granger, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to my quarters?" In a quieter voice, he continued, "I do believe there are answers to be found there."

She forced out an uncharacteristically girlish giggle. "Thank you very much, Malfoy.

The crowd of students stared silently at them, straining to hear every word between the two.

As soon as they turned the corner and were out of the view of the Great Hall, Hermione spun on her heels to confront him. "Your bedroom?! I am enjoying Ron's blatant pouting, but I don't want to give Harry and him aneurysms!"

"Actually, I was thinking of my prefect's sitting room. But whatever you'd prefer."

"The sitting room is fine," she retorted angrily as they made their way to the dungeons. "But why your quarters?"

"I told you, you look good in green. Besides, my quarters have wards and so on. I wasn't sure if yours would. Obscuro formae." He uttered, ignoring Hermione's questioning look at his choice of passwords. (A/N: roughly means 'obscured beauty', beauty referring to figure or shape.)

She wanted to say something – she had taught herself the basics of Latin over the course of two years in order to further understand the spells so many people used without thought – but declined her instincts in favor of observing him and his rooms. They said so much about him, if you bothered to notice. There was a large black leather armchair near the fireplace, with an elegantly carved wooden table beside it, stacked with books and the odd scrap of parchment. The room would have felt bare if not for the massive bookshelf against the wall opposite the fire. Its shelves were crammed full of assorted items. There were books on a variety of subjects, from academics to Quidditch, to… poetry? She'd have to ask him about that later. His broomstick leaned against a ledge, obviously well cared for. On the shelf beside it was an errant coffee mug full of quills and a stack of parchment. She picked one up gingerly; in a fashion that suggested she was worried something might bite her if she touched the wrong object. Soon however, she was flipping through them without reserve - each one of the scraps contained doodles and sketches, some of which were quite talented. There was a cartoon of Harry and Snape that, while irrespective, made her laugh, as well as other, more serious sketches. She gasped inwardly as she perused them - it was if Draco could look at someone and capture their soul on paper. As she reached the bottom of the stack, moving to place it back on the shelf, Hermione suddenly gasped. It was a pencil sketch of her, in History of Magic, apparently attempting to stifle a laugh. Quite well drawn, admittedly, but still... Hermione spun abruptly to face the figure that was currently transfiguring the armchair into a slightly larger couch that looked quite cushy and inviting. "Malfoy," she asked tentatively, "why is there… why do you have a drawing… oh, bloody hell," she uttered, "just plain why?"

Draco looked up and saw the picture she had been looking at, and a faint blush rose to his cheeks. Hermione stared – she had never seen his own personal wards ever come down before. "You intrigue me," he stated simply, looking away. Come sit down – those shoes cannot be comfortable."

She felt herself smile unwittingly. "Actually, I charmed them to feel like old sneakers, but thank you."

"Old sneakers? I hope they don't smell like them too." He grinned, then sat down beside her, looking uncharacteristically unsure as he faced her.

"Why?" she breathed.

"I wondered if you might have noticed it but obviously not." He fumbled for the right words to explain. "I suppose it's because you've only got half of the puzzle… It's… it's because we both have what the other needs. In a twisted way, we're the same."

"No, we're not!" Hermione interrupted. "I mean, we're both studious and neither of us can seem to keep a date, but you're like the sex god of Slytherin… and I'm… well, I'm the prude of Hogwarts." She finished lamely.

"We both hide ourselves," he explained patiently. "I've had to from birth, with my father being a death eater and myself being a Slytherin and so on. As for the 'sex god' thing, as you put it, I used to just be looking for a way to have some fun, escape my responsibilities… but then it changed. I've been looking for something... but I've been looking in all the wrong places." He looked into her eyes. "For years, I thought that you were just that; a prude, as well as know-it-all Gryffindor who constantly beat me in class, which, of course, annoyed the hell out of me. But as I grew up, the annoyance I held grew into a grudging respect, and finally, an admiration and attraction. However, as I realized your talents, I also realized that you hide yourself, as I do."

She stared at him silently, waiting confusedly for him to continue.

"I know I seem cold... actually, I know that I am cold and sarcastic at times, but truthfully... underneath it all, I'm looking for the same thing you are."

"By this point, I just want a set of arms, Malfoy."

"That's a lie, and you know it. You're smart, and ambitious. You actually care about things like this. You want a person attached to those arms, a person with a heart and a mind. You know I have a mind, but can you bring yourself to see the rest?"

Hermione, who had taken her shoes off in favor of going barefoot, if only to feel the soft beige rug beneath her feet, now pulled those pale feet up onto the sofa, hiding them beneath the silk of her dress. She stared into the fire, half-afraid to look at the boy who seemed to know her better than she did herself and murmured:
And you want to travel with him,
you want to travel blind
and you think maybe you'll trust him
because he's touched your perfect body
with his mind.

She glanced toward him and in that instant he caught her eyes, refusing to let go, and quietly replied:
And you want to travel with her
and you want to travel blind
and you're sure that she can find you,
because she's touched her perfect body
with her mind.

"Draco…" she breathed.

"Hermione…" he replied softly. "It's up to you." He got up and disappeared through the doorway, calling, "I'll be back in a minute."

Hermione stood up, standing in front of the fire. It was all just so strange… Draco had knowingly spoken the truth. She wanted a set of arms, but also a man with a heart and a mind to go with them. She had given up on it a long time ago, but now it seemed like life was urging her to pick it back up again. She sighed a bit at the complexity of it all. Well, he had asked for an answer, and she would give it to him.

In a few minutes, Draco came back in and sat down once more. Hermione placed herself beside him, draping her legs over his lap. Before he could say a word, she placed a finger to his lips, then moved her hands upwards, running her delicate fingers through his hair, arcing his head back, showing the seemingly cold skin of his neck. Slowly, but with an almost knowing sense, she placed her lips on his collarbone and worked them upwards with soft, almost teasing butterfly kisses, taking time to find sensitive spots on his flesh, making him give in and emit a small groan. Finally, after what seemed like both eons and seconds to the two almost-adults, she brushed her lips lightly across his. Compared to most kisses, it wouldn't seem like much from sight, but Draco had felt it and knew what it held. She was trusting him, letting him know her anxiousness, her vulnerability, and her curious passion through the bitten imprint of her lips. Then, she pulled silently away, pulling her legs away and back underneath her dress, turning away from him once more.