A/N: HI guys! Back from Seattleeeeeeeee!  Because I replaced Chap 7 I don't think you guys realized I updated. What a crime! Cheated out of a chapter!

I have already finished the story in my head, (what is this story rated, PG? Better make it PG-13…) and I just need to write it down. I wouldn't get your hopes up, just because I know what I'm going to write isn't gonna make it any faster. I have to study math, English, Latin AND Japanese. Not to mention history, violin, or science. AND I have to check my e-mail (I never get any… HINT HINT (Serpentotheelves@yahoo.com!!)), and pester my cousin about his lover, Keria Knightly. 

About my last chapter, I got some reviewers who were a little confused. Why? How does that not make sense? *reads chapter again* I don't get you. *chucks papers over shoulder* Would you resist a hot guy that you live with and has been really nice and you see him sleeping like a little angel…Sigh….  *sob* I have no love life…

~Gm, Jack and Bo the Wonder Monkey

VERY IMPORTANT A/N!!!: I decided to change it from taking place in 5th year, to 6th year. I am REALLY sorry for any confusion this may have caused. I can't think of any way to change it in the past, so…just bear that in mind. Gomen!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, The Beatles, Jack Sparrow (only his heart…), or the knickers someone threw into the rafters of the girl's locker room. (I swear it!!! Why won't people leave me alone about that? It was last year, okay!? Get over it!!!)

Hermione made her way back up the stairs. Had she just kissed Malfoy? No, she decided. Not Malfoy, Draco. Why had she done it? Well, he just looked so cute sleeping, just like a little boy. And he had been so nice to her lately, just like a brother. Not that she would kiss a brother like that.

She walked into her room and took out her Ancient Ruins homework. What does it matter if she kissed him, anyway? It's not like he knew.

Hermione thoughtfully rubbed her quill against her lip, translating Elvish to Latin. After ten minutes of starring at the same word, she put it away. She just couldn't concentrate.

What of this ball, anyway? Would she have to dance with Mal—Draco? She half hoped so, but she half dreaded it with all her heart. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, but yet it meant more then the world itself.

Hermione pulled her hair in frustration. She needed to tell someone, anyone about everything. She got out a piece of paper from her bag. Who could she write to? She could only think of Ginny. She just hoped to God that Ron wouldn't get a hold of it…

                                    Dear Ginny,

                        How is your summer so far? Have you done your homework yet? My summer has been very eventful, but I'll get to that        later.

                        Did Harry come over to your house yet, or is he still at home? I hope to visit all of you very soon!! I miss you all so             much… Summer is much too long. My mind is rotting from lack of use, so I have been reading all I can to keep it sharp.        Imagine what would happen if school came and I didn't know a thing!

                        The reason I wrote to you is because I am not staying with an old lady like I told Ron. The truth is I am staying with

Hermione let out a frustrated scream and ripped up the parchment. She just couldn't bring herself to write it. Hermione threw the torn-up pieces in the wastebasket, and stomped downstairs.

Mrs. Malfoy was sitting on the couch, happily humming and stitching. She looked up when Hermione came to the bottom of the stairs.

"My, Hermione, such temper," Mrs. Malfoy said, sounding concerned. "Is something bothering you?"

"No," Hermione said, forcing a smile on her face. "No, I'm fine."

Narcissia tittered to herself, and smiled understandingly. "Oh, I understand. The moon has turned on you." Narcissia tittered again and continued to stitch.

Hermione stared at her in amazement. She must have some guts to talk to people that she didn't know like that. Hermione shook her head and went into the library. Even books couldn't comfort her, but it felt safe and familiar surrounded by her best friends.

She laid her head on the desk and sighed. Life sucked.

Draco cackled to himself. "No, not one ninja, but two, yes!" he ranted out loud. "Two ninjas leap down on him. But Potter doesn't see them. Oh no, but just as he bends down to tie his shoe, the ninjas attack!" Draco threw some mud on another pile of mud to prove his point. He glared at a spider on the wall. "What's that, Mr. Jones? You don't believe me? Well it's true! Or will be. Yes, one day it will be…"

Draco stopped telling Mr. Jones "Harry Potter and the Ninjas of Doom," by Draco L. Malfoy. He had the feeling someone was watching him. He looked up. His mother was holding some bread on a tray, staring at him with a look of dumb shock on her face.

Draco grinned, standing up and putting his hands on the bars. "Is that for me, Mom?" he chirped. "I hope so, I'm starved."

Narcissia opened her mouth in horror. She screamed, dropping the tray.

"Hey!" Draco wined, dropping to his knees, trying to reach the bread through the bars. "Whaddid yoo do that fer?"

Narcissia backed away from him, and pressed herself against the wall.

Hermione raced down the stairs, wand out, and looked wildly from Draco to Narcissia. "What happened!?" she yelled.

Narcissia seemed to recover herself. "You're filthy, you're eating food from the floor, (Draco guiltily spit out the bread he was eating) and you're talking to a spider about ninjas and Harry Potter's death," Narcissia shrieked.
Hermione giggled to herself, but stopped when both Draco and Narcissia stared at her. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I always laugh when the subject of ninjas are brought up."

Narcissia rushed to open the jail cell. "Draco. You will not leave this room until your clothes are changed, your hair washed, and those leaves are out of your hair!"

Draco scowled at her. "Those aren't leaves, they're ninja camouflage," he muttered sourly to himself.

"Come, Hermione," Narcissia said, in a very controlled voice. "We need to go upstairs and work on our dresses. Roosta!"

The House Elf scurried down and bowed shortly.

"You need to hose down young Master Malfoy and get him some clean clothes," she finished. With a parting glare, she and Hermione went upstairs.

Draco smiled at Roosta. Works every time…

Draco walked up the stairs swaying gently. That shampoo Roosta used always made him feel slightly drunk. He loved it. He walked into the parlor room, and watched his mother and Hermione sew. Narcissia seemed to be on some rant on how blues and greens must never mix, and Hermione was miserably sewing a long piece of black fabric, sucking her bleeding thumb occasionally.

Hermione looked up and looked at him pleadingly. Draco silently laughed to himself and shrugged. "What can I do?" he mouthed. Hermione sighed and returned to sewing her bloody dress. Draco smiled to himself. Hermione was really growing on him; he found himself in her presence more and more.

Draco hummed and walked up to his room. He sung a little muggle tune concerning the fact that money could not by him love.

There was only two more weeks until that stupid ball. He guessed that his mother had made him a stupid little outfit with too many frills. Heck, if he had it his way, he would wear his leather pants and black silk shirt, but noooo, he had to wear a shirt that formally belonged to Prince Charming. Or at least the Charming guy formally known as Prince.

Draco paced around his room anxiously before falling on his bed. He was so bored.
He picked up a small toy that his mother had given him when he was very young. It was a shaped like a small glass ball, and when it was shook, it told you an activity to do. His mother gave it to him so he wouldn't complain about being bored.

Draco shook the ball and squinted into it. Small silver letters snaked around forming: Go read your roommate's diary to see if they like you, because even if you won't admit it, you like her. Draco blinked. "That was oddly specific," he muttered. "But I don't know where it is, so…" He looked at the ball again, which letters were reforming. Inside the bottom drawer underneath a Hypnosis textbook.

Draco blinked at the ball again. He shrugged

"When in Rome…," he began, and snuck to Hermione's room.

Draco pulled the giant textbook from the drawer. Underneath it was a small leather unlabeled book, that Draco supposed was the diary.

He froze when he heard a noise from below. A few minutes later, he grabbed the book and ran to his room.

Sitting down on his bed, Draco opened the book in a random place and began reading.

Dear Diary,

Today was my first day back at Hogwarts as a 5th year! It feels so good to be back home where I belong and am understood. My parents are sweet, but I love it here!

I missed my boys, Harry and Ron, so much! But there's one person I don't like: Draco Malfoy. Why can't he get a life and stop plaguing mine?

Draco laughed to himself. Yeah, that pretty much described him in a nutshell. But not anymore. He was going to change. Hell, he already did.

Draco flipped to the end of the writing.

Dear Diary,

Today,

And that was all she wrote. Draco shut the book with a scowl. Leave it to Hermione to mess evil plans up.

He returned the diary to the dresser, carefully making sure that every last thing was in its exact place. He then went downstairs to wait in the Library. The place that Hermione was sure to be in one time or another…

A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I had an acute sense of writer's block. If I had written this on time there would have been more to it, but SOMEBODY *coughkitsunecough* was pressuring me to put it up. Aah well. I promise to write Chapter Nine faster. But the more reviews I get, the higher my ego is, thus the faster I write. Remember that!