[Author's Notes: to PsYcHoJo, I wasn't planning on making it a "bet" per se. As for the rockstar Draco, I haven't read any fics with him in that role. My main purpose for Draco as a musician is to allow me to show a different side of him, more introspective. To all my other readers, thank you for your kind words. They are encouraging me to keep writing.]

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR. The modified lyrics featured are "Siren" by Tori Amos

Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

Chapter 6: The Opening Gambit

During the feast, Draco made it a point not to look at the annoying mudblood anymore. First impressions counted the most in Slytherin. He was not about to have some rumor about him acting like a besotted fool, over a Gryffindor no less. Besides, he had to show all Slytherins why he was their Prince. If not, any order he gave would be ignored. The chain of command had to be established from the very first second or the hierarchy would fall apart. And as he was at the top of the hierarchy, he was going to ensure his position and power.

He did consider two other individuals during the feast though. The first one was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Granted, he was a bit shocked to find that Dumbledore had found someone for the position. The fate of the last six teachers was a little daunting and some reckoned that the position was cursed. And if anyone had to bet money on someone, it would be on Snape, the potions teacher. Draco figured that Snape would never get the DADA chair unless Dumbledore decided to keel over and die. And since that was very unlikely to happen, despite Dumbledore's advanced age, Snape would continue to be the Potions teacher that all the other houses loathed.

That really wasn't the shocking part. After all, there was always a new DADA professor. The surprise was how distinctively unusual the professor appeared to be. First off, it was a she. Most DADA teachers were not women. Draco didn't even consider the Umbridge bitch a woman. She had been ugly as sin and meaner than a hell cat. Second of all, she gave an intense air of fragility. She looked like she had stepped out from some Asian myth, with her long raven hair and almond eyes. She was also dressed in what appeared to traditional Eastern robes, long and flowing sleeves that seemed to cover her hands and trail to the floor. Third, she looked young. But looks were deceiving. Dumbledore himself looked like he could be anywhere between 100 to 500 years old but probably had more vigor than most sixty year olds.

By the looks on several of the boys faces, the Defense Against the Dark Arts would soon become a favorite subject. Maybe it was compensation from when Dumbledore hired that pansy Lockhart. Draco almost wanted to wretch at how half the female population had turned themselves into giggling machines when the nimrod had been there.

The second thing he did consider was how to approach his bassist. Now, everyone who had attended Hogwarts previously was well aware of the fact that Terry Boot played in his band. However, he certainly did not want to give anyone that Slytherins openly fraternized with other Houses. And he certainly did not want to give Dumbledore the idea that he was buying into this interhouse unity crap.

His gaze flickered to Zabini. As the token information broker of the house, Blaise could legitimately be seen in the company of others. In fact, that was expected. You could not be a good information broker if you did not socialize. In fact, it was Blaise that had brought Boots' talent to Draco's attention. Draco had been dispairing about finding a suitable bassist among the Slytherins. He had never questioned how Blaise knew that Boots played a mean bass, or that he'd be interested in joining their musical entourage. Not that it mattered if Boots wanted to participate or not, eventually he would have caved into Draco's manipulations or Blaise's blackmail.

Draco's eyes caught Zabini's caramel ones. Almost preternaturally Zabini turned around to look at the Ravenclaw table. With an enigmatic half- smile, he rose and approached the tall, curly brown haired Boots and whispered in his ear. Boots' head jerked up and he sent a penetrating gaze to Draco, who looked coolly at him. Slowly, Boots nodded and Draco gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Now that was true power.

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Hermione was in her room unpacking. She had decided to hold her discussion with the arrogant no-good ferret once she was done putting everything away. It would decrease the chances of her destroying something in a temper tantrum or handling some of her more delicate possessions roughly while agitated.

Being the organized soul that she was, she put up all her school robes before they wrinkled. Next, she proceeded to stow her socks, underwear and muggle clothes in the dresser by the closet. Then, she put her jewelry and cosmetics on the vanity. Finally, she started decorating her room with some more personal touches. Her small collection of antique atomizers, she placed on the vanity table. She smiled at the three atomizers, filled with jasmine, water lily and sweet pea fragrances. She didn't care if the scents were subtle or 'unsexy', she felt pretty in them and that's what mattered. Besides, she wasn't sexy. She was Hermione Granger, ruddy bookworm extraordinaire.

She started to tack up several of her photographs close to her bed. There was one of Harry and Ron, Ginny and herself, her parents, Harry, Ron and herself, Hagrid and one of all the seventh year Gryffindors. She also had pictures of the Weasley brothers, Nymphadora, Moody and other Order members. She placed them at the left side of the table, so that the sun wouldn't get in their eyes and so that they would be the farthest away from her changing screen.

From her trunk she took out some of her favorite books and placed them by the night table. She loved curling up in bed with one of her books after a long day with Crookshanks. Some people, after going to class and studying all day, would probably stay away from the written word during their free time. Harry and Ron would play wizard's chess or go blow some steam with impromptu Quidditch practice if they were feeling particularly active. Hermione preferred more solitary activities. But with all the Gryffindors, it was difficult to get away.

Taking a look around, she sighed and decided that she better stake her claim on one of the sinks before Malfoy decided to hog the bathroom. Grabbing an assorted number of toiletries, she started to arrange them on the counter. She organized her toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss and mouthwash. She also put her shampoo and conditioner in the counter, deciding that leaving them inside the shower was a gesture too intimate. Besides, it would be decidedly odd to use her shampoo or conditioner knowing that it had been in the same shower as a naked Malfoy.

She shivered at the thought, telling herself that it was just disgust at the notion of Malfoy in any state of undress. 'Probably pasty white like a vampire' she thought derisively. But she knew that was wrong. Malfoy's skin tone did not have a gray undertone, but almost a pink translucence. Enough to convince anyone that he had red blood running through his veins. Hermione shook her head angrily. She must be going daft! There was no blood in Malfoy's veins. Just ice. Or poison.

She walked back to her room, her mind a flutter with thoughts of Malfoy. Although there was animosity attached to them, she still didn't want to think about him. She would prefer it if she didn't. But once she had evoked his name, a flood of images came unbidden to her, mostly of his infamous smirk. That smirk that infuriated her to the point of wanting to permanently wipe it off his face, the prat. Getting cross, she focused on the one thought that had nothing to do with Malfoy.

'Where is Crookshanks?' her mind thought, as she started to look for her cat around her room. She took the stairs down to the common room and peered around to see if her notoriously fickle cat was around. Momentarily distracted by reading the titles of the books found along the shelves, she sighed and resorted to the unseemly habit of calling her cat. Crookshanks was an intelligent animal, but calling to him was like trying to call to a cebu. You were not bloody likely to get a response. It wasn't like he was a dog and would come running at the sound of a whistle either. Sometimes, like this occasion, Hermione wished that her pet were less complex and more docile.

"Crookshanks," she cooed in dulcet tones. Not that she didn't feel annoyance behind to crease her brow. But the animal instinctively knew if she was in a foul mood and would continue to stay away. And the last thing Hermione wanted was for Malfoy to find her pet and torture it with some unthinkably and hideously unpleasant. She was rather fond of her cat.

She heard a corresponding 'miaow!' and called out "Crookshanks!" again, as sweetly as her rapidly thinning patience could allow. It had been a long day and she really just wanted to go to bed. Forget that this was her last year at Hogwarts, that she had another grueling school year in front of her, that she was a responsible Head Girl, that she had to share close quarters with Malfoy, that there was a war brewing in the outside world. She just wanted blessed oblivion.

Crookshanks miaowed again and Hermione's ear followed the sound of his purring. Into Malfoy's room.

"Blasted cat!" she muttered under her breath. The ever enigmatic and infurating pet of hers had decided that Malfoy's room was included in his domain. It was a good thing that Malfoy had left his door open and was not here at all. She didn't even want to imagine what kind of row they would have to get into. She was tired. She was cross. She wanted sleep.

Decidedly, she climbed up the stairs and stepped into Malfoy's room. Incidentally, she noticed that it didn't look like anyone had moved in. Malfoy's luggage was still piled to one side of the bed, a series of trunks in different sizes. Crookshanks was curled up in the middle of his bed, his orange hair constrasting against the deep green and silver of the comforter. He lifted his head, blinked and miaowed again before attempting to settle in for another nap.

"Oh no you don't, you rascal!" Hermione said a little irritated. She hated, just a little, how her cat had taken such a confidence to Malfoy. It had taken it almost a year to warm up to Harry and Ron. Granted, the presence of Pettigrew and Ron's animosity against Crookshanks hadn't helped either. Still, she could almost swear that Crookshanks bore them a special grudge, liking to sharpen his claws on their Quidditch shoes.

She scooped up Crookshanks into her arms but before she could turn around she heard a voice drawl, "Well, well, what did the pussycat drag in?" before the door to the common room thudded shut.

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Draco's eyes glinted when he discovered the source of his constant irritation in his room. Not that he was willing to admit that he had been thinking about her. Which of course, he had not been. At least not consciously. He had pushed her to the fringes of his mind after Zabini's comment and while he gave the first year Slytherins a 'personal welcome' and reaffirmed his status on the top of the feeding chain. Of course he had received dark looks from some of the sixth years that were expecting to inherit the power position from him once he graduated, but he need to remind the upstart bucks that he was still here, even if he wasn't sharing personal quarters with them. Draco prided himself in having precise and diamond control over the rest of the Slytherins. It was the only way the pyramid and hierarchical structure they had would work.

And despite of a few weeks without female companionship, he escaped the Slytherin common room with alacrity. He just couldn't stomach Pansy's nasal whine about how much she had missed him or inane dribble. Of course, she had offered in not-so-subtle words to help him assuage him of sexual tension, a lascivious glint in her eyes and a beguiling smile on her lips. However, not even the idea of a romp in the sack made Pansy even remotely attractive in Draco's eyes under the current mood he was in.

He felt an almost unholy glee at finding Granger in his bedroom, without her voluminous school robes, looking rather delectable, which he admitted to himself. More than the sight of her in just a boring conservative gray woolen skirt and an almost snug and translucent crisp white shirt with the Hogwart's insignia in the breast pocket was the look of sheer terror at having been caught. He almost wanted to rub his two hands together at this golden opportunity, but it was a little too undignified and pervy even for him.

A part of his brain also noted that she was barefoot, without shoes or socks. It made the entire scene... almost intimate. Ridiculously, Draco warmed to the thought but immediately squashed whatever thoughts he had along those lines. The only thing he could possibly be interested in Granger would be annoying the hell out of her.

"Waiting for me Granger?" Draco almost purred out in a silky tone, amused as her surprise at being found turned into a deep annoyance.

"I just came here to get my cat," she snapped back testily, scooping the large ugly cat from before that had decided, during his absence, to make himself quite comfortable in his bed.

"And here I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me about something, which is why you set up this little rendezvous," Draco said blandly, although his words seemed suggestive enough.

"If I thought we were capable of civil conversation, I would," she said coolly.

This made Draco's anger flare out unexpectedly. Little mudblood bitch, he wanted to snarl. A Malfoy was always capable of civil conversation. If he didn't choose to exercise the right that was another matter altogether. But he could speak the tongue of mortals and angels with anyone from a king to a commoner if he so chose to. "I am capable of speaking civilly, to you and anyone else as necessary. But let's get to the point Granger. I assume you wanted to discuss a bathroom schedule," he said in a clipped tone.

She narrowed her warm eyes at him. She looked like a cat about to spit. Ironically, the cat itself was nestled comfortably in the crook of her arms. "Complete and utter privacy when using the bathroom. I'm not putting up a peepshow for your enjoyment," she stated.

"Like I'd fancy seeing you buck naked," Draco scoffed. Again, an image of a naked Granger, this time rising from the water like Aphrodite rising from the sea foam came unbidden to his mind. And it was utterly appealing, warming his blood. He wanted to curse at himself. That had to be the third time he had thought about her naked today.

"I also like to shower before class. I am willing to trade off on who goes first, as long as the first person doesn't use all the hot water," Hermione continued, ignoring his comment.

"That's fine. I don't fancy showing up to all my classes without a proper bath after Quidditch practice," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't have the schedule yet at the moment."

Hermione nodded.

Draco studied Granger for a moment. It would be infinitely more pleasant if they were not continuously bickering. He would like to study somewhere other than the library for once. The common room seemed inviting and pleasant enough. It was also large enough to accomodate band practice. He and the guys had been looking for a private room in which to practice in. They usually tried to use the Room of Requirement, but that was notoriously unstable and anyone could wander in as well, if they were looking for them. Pansy had the annoying habit of showing up, as well as a small group of girls from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

"Another thing, Granger," he started to say slowly. He noted the growing suspicion in her eyes and her guarded expression. "Despite our... fondness, for lack of a better word, for each other, I would prefer being able to sleep without worrying about hexes or other complications this year. We will not be able to live peacefully and changing quarters is not an option. Despite everything, we are Head Boy and Girl and we are to set up the example of student behavior and decorum. I'm not going to go out of my way to avoid you and I'd like to be able to relax and use the common room. I can attempt to be civil if you can as well," he finished saying.

Hermione watched him silently, as if trying to gage his words. He could tell she was a little surprised at his rather mature words. Well, he'd done a lot of growing up in the last few years. And to be honest, he would rather not have to worry about being hexed in his own private sanctum. And there was no way around Granger at the moment. "Agreed," she said evenly.

Draco decided to postpone asking about band practice in the band room until his meeting with Boots. He was relieved and satisfied that she had agreed to his proposition. It made his life easier. But still he couldn't help himself. "So unless there is anything else I can do for you, Granger, kindly take your flea ridden pet and allow me my privacy," he said mildly.

He saw her eyes flash menacingly but she turned on her heel, taking her cat with her and slamming the door that connected his room to the bathroom. He chuckled and reached for his guitar. Sitting on the green and silver bedspread, he felt inspiration strike and let the words just fill his head as his hands plucked a melody from the guitar.

"You know I lied to you
But in my own way
You know I lied to you
But it's the only way

I lie so well
Alone, so well

You're the cure

I know you too well
The chills
She burns
My siren
No teenage flesh
No shields
No breaks
My siren

Never one for chills
No, I

Never was one for a prissy girl
Coquette, calling for an amulet
Reach high
Doesn't mean she's holy
It just means she's got a spell handy

Almost brave
Almost a break in hand
Almost in love
Vanilla, vanilla

You know I lied to you
But in my own way
You know I lied to you
Heaven's the only way

I never lied about
My love
So different
Someone said

I know you too well
The chills
She burns
My siren
No teenage flesh
No shields
No breaths

My siren"


And in Draco's mind kept seeing marrone eyes.