Disclaimer: All things Harry Potterish belong to JKR.

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

Author's Note: I updated as fast as I could. As this is a relatively long chapter and I cover a lot of ground, I hope you all enjoy it.

And worry not, I haven't forgotten about Draco and his music. There should be a scene about that in the next chapter. I have brief outline on how that one.

Hopefully all the inconsistencies have been fixed. If not, drop me a note. Thanks!


Chapter 18: Temporary Insanities


Hermione rubbed her temples. The talk with Ginny had not gone as well as she had hoped. But she was going to keep quiet about the entire affair. She tried to pass it off as a momentary lapse of judgment, of raging teenage hormones and girlish daydreams. Ginny wasn't quite so convinced but she held her tongue. And that was all that she really needed. In a few weeks, she would be over her fascination with Draco. She was just overwhelmed with schoolwork, with being Head Girl, with being Harry Potter's best friend, with being the cleverest witch of her generation. This was just a moment of temporary insanity.

This was like the time when Ron kept making an ass over Fleur Delacour. Granted, the girl was part-Veela. Could Malfoy have some Veela blood in him? That would definitely explain this weird infatuation she had with him. At least she could be able to blame it on things she had no control over.

If Hermione had not been so deep in thought, she would have been paying more attention as she turned the corner.

As she wasn't, she ran smacked solidly against someone, losing her balance. Just as her mind registered that she was indeed on a rapid collision course with the ground, her mind realized that it had stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy, grabbing her arm to stop her from falling. Between the shock of actually seeing him after doing her best to avoid him, and the shock of her would-be-fall, she just stared into his gray eyes, uncomprehending and stunned.

They really were glorious eyes. Not just their unusual color but the life in them. Although, most of the time, they gleamed viciously or with undisguised hatred, they were so full of life. The rest of Malfoy might be bitingly cold, but his eyes…. His eyes were always so passionately alive.

Currently, these eyes were looking at her, searching. She couldn't possibly imagine what was going through his mind but his eyes seemed to give slight indications. They looked at her. Really looked at her. Like if he was trying to memorize the curve of her brow or the shape of her eyebrows. They searched her own like if she held the answer to some pressing question and she wasn't even sure what in the seven hells Malfoy could want with her. She saw his eyes darken to pools of steel with some unrecognizable emotion.

Little did Hermione know that this was an unconscious reaction in Malfoy's part. However, the next action was most decidedly premeditated and consciously taken.

Hermione was yanked forward and Malfoy's other hand came to rest behind her head as he pulled her into a kiss.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Her body went rigid with shock and disbelief. But her mouth! Her mouth, although surprised, felt warm and alive.

It wasn't necessarily soft. It wasn't necessarily gentle. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't dreamy. It wasn't passionate. Her brain, attempting to categorize the experience and simply failing miserably because it was more than just lips meeting lips chastely. Because it wasn't like anything she had ever experienced and yet it was. She couldn't recognize the feeling. Or maybe, she refused to.

His lips tugged at hers persuasively and her lips responded.

The feelings changed.

Deepened.

It wasn't hot. It wasn't dark. It wasn't desire. It wasn't an ache. It seem to spin slowly through her, a line drawn from him to her, moving timelessly, following the dance of fate. It wasn't a burn. It wasn't a pleasure. It wasn't a yearning.

Just his mouth on her mouth. Just his breath mingling with hers. His hands held her captive but her body seemed rooted to the spot.

For a millisecond, his lips left hers. But that second was enough. The spell was broken.

She jerked back, her eyes still too full of confusion, and her mind spinning, and completely unready for any kind of understanding. They locked eyes and Hermione felt the white light of certainty just flash through her mind that what had just happened was meant to happen. But still, she could not believe it. "Why?" she asked, her voice husky, confusion and desire trapped in her throat making her heart beat erratic.

He didn't answer her but continue to look at her with those eyes, serious but with a brightness to them, glowing like polished silver.

"Why?" she asked, a little more forcefully, getting angrier, letting herself become infuriated. He had changed things, changing everything, driving her into unchartered waters, path she had feared to tread. And she didn't like it. No, getting angry was the right choice. It was safe. It was predictable. It was normal.

He still didn't answer, although she felt her cheeks getting hot and her anger begin to warm her skin.

"Why Malfoy? Why?" she screeched at him, that unholy sound that should have only belong to a Banshee, demanding an explanation and this time he didn't flinch at the sound. She felt her voice rise to a panic underneath the veneer of anger. Thing weren't supposed to be this way. She shouldn't fancy him. He shouldn't have kissed her. She shouldn't be here, at this moment, asking him for an explanation. They were supposed to hate each other. And if they felt anything else, they certainly were not supposed to act on it. She would have hit him, for violating the rules of the game, but she was afraid of touching him.

"I don't know," he said simply.

No. She couldn't have heard that. She refused to believe she had heard that. She wanted to close her mind and heart to those words but like a giant stone they splashed and sunk through the depths of her conscious being. She clung to her anger with even more tenacity. "You don't know?" her voice, riddled with desperation and derision rang loud. It even sounded a bit hysterical in her ears. "Then I'll tell you because you are obviously gone bloody daft. You are a pureblooded Slytherin and I am a Gryffindor mudblood," she spat out, ignoring the pain of the word, using his word, to remind him that it was him that had named her thus. "And that's all we are to each other."

His expression turned stony, his eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously and Hermione secretly rejoiced. She was familiar enough with Malfoy's expressions to know when he was angered. And she had done it. She had shaken him from whatever deranged reality he was currently in. Now, they would argue, scream at each other and threaten to hex each other to bits. Nothing would change. This would become a temporary aberration, a temporary insanity born out of the tension from the War and the pressures of their last school year. It would be an incident neither of them would ever mention again.

But instead of screaming at her or threatening her or throwing insults at her like finely honed daggers, he grabbed her head and fused his mouth to hers in one angry kiss. She could feel the waves of anger, tension and frustration roll of him. The kiss was hard and rough and she could taste the bitterness with her tongue.

It only lasted a second, because she was angry and she wanted to fight him, so she was able to force a space between them, jerking out of his grip. She wanted to strike at him for doing this to her. She wanted to blame him for her confusion. Besides, fighting was normal. Passionate snogging, not so much.

With wild eyes, she moved her right hand to strike him, slap him silly if need be. Anything to turn him back into the Malfoy she knew. Anything to make this boy who wanted to kiss her disappear. Anything to make this boy, who didn't exist outside her girlish hopes and dreams, vanish.

But he stopped her hand from hitting him. Gripping her wrist hard, he said in a low voice, "You hit me once. Never again." He turned his face into the palm of her hand; his eyes still fixed on hers, and kissed the center of her palm softly and deliberately.

The touch was electrifying. It made Hermione weak. She knew instinctively what it was and she wanted to close her eyes from what stood between them and will it all away. This was madness. Nothing but foolish desires. Nothing but raging hormones. Nothing she should be feeling.

But she was afraid. Because she wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted his mouth on hers again. She wanted to feel his hands tangled in her hair. She wanted to touch his skin. She wanted to feel his body, hard and lean against hers. She wanted to feel his smirk against her lips.

But these wants were forbidden. She should have never felt them. She should not be feeling them right now. She closed her eyes and steeled her resolve.

She held her on to her Gryffindor pride and her Gryffindor courage and twisted her hand away from grip. She turned around and ran back to the Gryffindor Tower. She ignored the strange beating in her heart and the churning feeling in her stomach and ran back to the place where she knew everything was still normal.


Meanwhile, in another part of Hogwarts…

Ginny Weasley was deep in thought. Usually when she was deep in thought she was thinking of the Boy Who Took No Notice of Her. This time, her brain had bigger problems to ponder; or rather, one particular problem. Her mind was still reeling from the fact that one Hermione Granger had finally admitted to the "possibility that she could conceivably be attracted to one Draco Malfoy," as her brain recalled how Hermione had tried to evade answering her questions directly. But in Hermione-speak that was as close as Ginny was going to get to Hermione stating that she fancied the Malfoy heir.

It had been torturous. Worse than getting Charlie's attention away from anything dragon related. Worse than getting Percy to take that sanctimonious 'I am Perfect' stick out of his arse. Worse than trying to get Bill to cut his hair. Ginny had to work it.

But in the end, she had done it. And yes, part of her was extremely satisfied in having finally cracked Hermione Granger.

Of course, this now left her with a bucket load of information to think about. So Ginny did what she always did whenever she was deep in thought.

Go talk to Luna.

But as she started down the stairs to go to the Ravenclaw dorm's she saw one Blaise Zabini waiting at the foot of her stairwell, looking quite impishly up at her.

She stood a little straighter and her walk became al little stiffer, as if someone had decided to starch her clothing, including her knickers. She walked a little slower, her steps becoming more measured. And she watched Zabini.

Blaise Zabini kept watching her descend, still grinning, his eyes bright with merriment. "Miss Weasley," he greeted her pleasantly as soon as they were seeing eye to eye with each other.

She took the last two steps and dropped his gaze naturally. "Zabini," she said curtly with a small jerk of her head.

"I was wondering if you had a minute, I would like to talk to you about a private matter," he said, his voice a low caress, his amusement peaking around from every word.

Now Ginny could imagine what it was that Zabini wanted to talk about and she was at least mature enough to admit to herself that she was intrigued. However, she also knew that going anywhere alone with a Slytherin, let alone an attractive one, was a bad idea. Bad with a capital B. "I'm sorry Zabini. I'm busy at the moment," she said with a smile that wasn't quite cold but that was by no stretch of the imagination, friendly.

Adeptly, Blaise blocked her from taking another step with his body. Ginny was suddenly very close and very much looking at the Slytherin's necktie and chest. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and stepped to her left.

Zabini blocked her again.

She tried two steps to the right.

Zabini continued to block her. "I play Quidditch too, you know," he said pleasantly. "I can do this all night long," he added with a cheeky grin, his tone full of innuendo.

Ginny couldn't help her cheeks from coloring and not for the first time in her life, she cursed the milky white complexion she had inherited from her mum. She quickly assessed her options. He was obviously determined to talk to her. If she were able to find an opening and breakaway he would have no problem catching up with her with his longer strides. Quidditch had definitely honed his speed and his coordination. She decied she just needed to rid of him as soon as possible.

"Fine," she said, capitulating and crossing her arms across her chest. She might have to talk to him but she didn't have to like it.

"Capital! Follow me. I know just the little nook," he said with an even wider grin that showed off his even white teeth.

"Hold it right there Zabini. I am not going anywhere. You want to talk to me, then you to me here," she said firmly. Did he think she was a fool? To just follow him peacefully like some lamb to a slaughterhouse? If he thought he had her cooperation, he had another think coming.

"Alright. Have it your way," he answered with a shrug, not bothered at all.

It made Ginny want to hiss. "Well?" she scowled.

"That's impressive. For a pretty girl, you almost look ugly for a moment. Quite the Millicent Bullstrode impersonation but I'd prefer not to be reminded of her. Did you know she tried to seduce me back in the fifth year? Positively traumatic. I thought she would just raise me over her shoulder and haul me off to some place where she could have her way with me. But call me Blaise. Can I call you Ginny?" Blaise said breezily, still smiling at her, the words falling cheerfully from his honeyed tongue.

Ginny was a little stunned and a little bewildered. "No," she said a little confused. No, she hadn't known Millicent Bullstrode had tried to put the moves on Blaise. No, she didn't want him to call her Ginny. No, she hadn't just heard him call her pretty, had she?

"Well, admittedly, it wasn't something I would publicize, you know," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Ginny just looked at him. She had heard of Zabini's not inconsiderable charms. And she had to hand it to him. He was slick, very smooth. But she wasn't an innocent and she wasn't born yesterday. It would be a good while before anyone else pulled a number on her. And she had learned her lessons. Even sympathetic sounding Slytherins were nevertheless still Slytherins. "What do you want Zabini?" she ground out the words.

"Easy now Red. I just want to talk," he said, raising his hands in a gesture to placate her.

"We are talking and you're not saying anything," she said icily.

Blaise stopped smiling. The change was remarkable. Now he looked serious and somber. His eyes still sparkled but he wasn't amused anymore. "You asked what I wanted and I answered. I just want to talk to you," he said briskly, his voice sounding professional.

"I heard. I want to know why," she asked warily.

"You're entitled to ask. But seriously, do you expect me to answer?" he said with a raise of his raven colored eyebrows.

She could only hope. But no, she had not in all honestly expected him to answer her truthfully. So she just stood there, looking at him, her expression stony and her eyes flashing at him.

"Here's the deal Miss Ginny. I would be most honored if you would spend an hour every week with me, conversing," Zabini said with a small smile playing on his lips, the gleam in his eyes bright.

"Why should I? It's obvious you don't need elocution or conversation classes," Ginny said bluntly.

Zabini bit down on his generous bottom lip. Ginny gave herself a mental shake for noticing but he really had a delicious pout, fully Italian and very kissable. "I know about the diary," he said softly.

Ginny stood there stunned. She expected that there would be Slytherins that knew about the blasted thing. But she had not expected any of them would confront her with the information. Thanks to Harry the entire affair had been kept quiet and she knew her housemates, even if they found out, would not be the kind to tattle. But it was still a shock to be blackmailed with that information. More than anything it was just embarrassing for her. Not that anyone would blame her about it. She had done no wrong. She had been up against some very powerful Dark Magic and the most sinister fiend her world had ever known. But the entire affair still made her feel foolish. What an idiot she had been.

And the last thing she needed was to remind everyone of what had happened her first year. The other Houses might not be as understanding. And Harry and Ron certainly didn't need the additional stress. Why? Why had she been so stupid? Tears threatened behind her eyes.

"I just want to talk. One hour a week. I'll get you a message about time and place. And if it works for your schedule, send me an owl. Honestly, Ginny, I just want to talk," Zabini said gently, as if he noticed how greatly his words had affected her.

Ginny just nodded at him. She didn't trust herself to speak. She knew that it wasn't as harmless as Zabini made it appear. But she also knew she didn't have a choice. And really, it wasn't all that bad. Just one hour a week. She could tolerate that. Better than ripping this school apart at the seams when everyone was so tense, when even the barest whisper of the name of the Dark Lord sent people into panic and hysterics. Better than have her brother try to take a swing at anyone that even implied she was in league with the Dark Lord. Better than reminding Harry of almost dying at the Dark Lord's hands that year. Just one hour a week. Just one hour a week to buy Zabini's continued silence. She would do it.

"Well then, I won't keep you," he said again in that soft tone of his.

Ginny just walked away from him. Walked away slowly, on her way to the Ravenclaw dorms.

She didn't notice how Blaise followed her walking with troubled eyes.


Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Dungeons…

"Is everything ready?" Pansy asked as she brushed her hair, sitting on her bed.

Millicent nodded at her.

"Good. We'll move on it on this Friday," Pansy said with a malicious grin as she continued to brush her hair.

Millicent just walked out of the room. In the same way, Vince and Greg followed Draco, she followed Pansy. She knew that she wasn't necessarily in the same category as Pansy. Pansy was one of the pretty girls. She was a Slytherin Princess and she wasn't. She had accepted it long ago, when she first arrived at Hogwarts. With her big frame and her square jaw, she knew that her figure was not one that lent itself to admiration. But just because she knew, it didn't mean that she wanted to spend more time with Pansy than was necessary.

She strode into the common room and saw Vince and Greg loitering by the couches, with a set of hand weights between them. They weren't exercising in earnest, so she decided to join them.

"Millie," Vince's voice rumbled deep in his chest. Greg just looked at her, smiled and went back to working on his biceps.

She nodded at Vince and Greg. Greg never talked much to her. Vince occasionally tried to make conversation but he didn't seem to mind when she didn't exactly answer with words. She felt a strange affinity to them. When compared to Draco, both of them, well, looked like big hulking morons. They weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer but they weren't exactly mentally retarded either. Nothing great was expected from them. She understood that. Her parents had despaired at her lack of beauty, complaining that they would have to buy her a husband when the time came. And when the biggest expectation for a pureblooded witch was to secure herself a pureblooded wizard to marry, it spoke volumes about the kind of expectations her parents held for her.

"What are you and Pansy cooking up?" Vince asked.

Millicent just looked at him. She wasn't necessarily surprised that Vince knew. As part of Draco's guard, they had access to information. On the other hand, she wasn't going to let the cat of the bag either. Pansy would bitch at her if she ruined the surprise. And if there was something Pansy could do, it was bitch.

"Just save me front row seats, alright?" Vince said with a smile on his big face, flicking his pudding bowl cut hair out of his eyes.

Millicent nodded, deciding it was safer if she didn't stay with Greg and Vince at the moment. Not that she was afraid she'd talk, but Pansy could come downstairs and then assume the worst. She'd go to her room and play with her cat for a while.

Millicent got up and climbed the stairs, never noticing the light in Vincent's eyes as he watched her arse climb up.

Gregory leaned over and whispered to Vincent, "You gonna say something to her or what, mate?"

Vincent turned around and glowered fiercely at Gregory, cracking his knuckles.

Gregory shrugged and kept lifting.


And in the Gryffindor Tower…

"You reckon that he told the truth?" Ron asked as he moved his knight to take one of Harry's pawns.

Harry grinned. "As much as a Slytherin can tell the truth, I suppose."

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked, looking at his best friend.

"About?" Harry asked as he pondered his situation. He always managed to himself in these situations. The pieces yelling advice at him weren't helping either. His chess pieces were never too keen on him whenever he played Ron.

"The situation mate. What are we going to do!" Ron said, gesticulating wildly, frightening his bishop.

"Oh," Harry said, only half paying attention to what Ron was actually saying. Well, to be honest, he needed to think. He didn't know how much he trusted Zabini's information. He supposed it to be at least mildly accurate. But he really did want to at least think about it before, well, before he did anything.

"Oh? Aren't you worried?" Ron asked, his voice getting louder.

"Honestly Ron, Hermione knows how to take care of herself. And you know we're not going to let that slimy git get close to her," Harry said with a smile. He knew that Ron was unnecessarily worried. Blaise Zabini didn't strike him as Hermione's type. Besides, she was the cleverest witch in her generation. She wasn't going to fall for some slick lines some Slytherin prat fed her. They wouldn't let her.

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione popped in from the portrait hole. Although she looked like herself, she seemed a bit out of breath and her cheeks were flushed. She immediately spotted them and walked very decidedly toward them.

"Hey," Harry said, with a gentle smile.

Hermione smiled brightly at him. But seemed a little odd to Harry, like she was smiling a little too widely.

"Hullo," she said, sitting on the arm of his armchair. She reached over and casually ruffled up his never in place hair. Harry could see Ron's eyes track her movements, and his face screwed up in an internal struggle.

"Hermione, Blaise Zabini fancies you!" Ron blurted out, exhaling a long breath afterwards, like if the information had been too much for him to hold onto.

Harry chuckled to himself. For all of his faults, Ron wore his heart on his sleeve. Honest to the point of tactlessness, blunt to the point of idiodicy, he let you know what he was thinking. No deceit, no pretense, no treachery. Ron was always the Weasley that cracked the first whenever Mrs. Weasley wanted to find out 'whodunit'.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "I know. Everyone in the entire bloody school knows. How I have no clue. People really should take their studies more seriously if they believe it all. I don't know what Lavender and Parvati are thinking but that piece of yarn is obviously ludicrous. I mean, Blaise Zabini!" she exclaimed.

One could literally see the tension drain from Ron's body. The play of emotion was obvious on his face and a smile just lit up his face. That was one of Ron's best features. The way his face would light up like a comet streaking through the night sky. It was one of the things that Hermione and Harry loved best about him. The unadulterated joy, the unmitigated pain, the loyalty to whatever emotion he was feeling.

Harry hooked Hermione's hand and brought it around his shoulder so that she was half hugging her. "Don't you worry Hermione, we won't let anything happen to you," Harry said with a grin.

Neither of the boys saw Hermione's eyes as she closed her eyes and smiled as widely as possible.


In his room…

For a moment, he just looked at the contrast the creamy ivory letter made against the dark wood of his desk. The green wax seal stood out like an emerald in the middle, the Malfoy crest imprinted deep. He took the letter in his hands and felt it heavy. They always were. Heavy with expectations. Heavy with recriminations. Heavy with hidden meaning. He thought for a minute of just throwing it into the fire in the living room but there would be another letter awaiting him tomorrow. She would know that he hadn't read it.

Draco ripped open the seal and started reading Narcissa's flowing hand.

Draco,
I know you have been busy with schoolwork but you could at least spare a few minutes and write to your own Mother.
I have been well. I'll be going to Paris for the next fortnight. I hope you don't plan on staying at school over the Christmas Break. The house is so empty without you.
Let me know when your next Quidditch match is and I will come and see you.
Love,
Mother

He wanted to crush the letter in the palm of his hand but he took a deep breath. He greatly loved and despised his mother. With a casual detached arrogance, she still delivered a roundhouse punch of guilt and expectations, all rolled into a few simple sentences.

He had forgotten to write to her. He had never gone so long without at least scribbling a cursive note to his mother. It was the least she deserved, as she had so neatly impressed upon him his first year in school and he had been delinquent with his correspondence. She had made him feel like such a git that he promised he would write every week to let her know how he was doing.

But he hadn't. Not this year. And his mother let him know that he had forgotten his promise. That he had broken his word. She reminded him of his failure. He could read between the lines, read the hurt and resentment and sadness and loneliness and it tore at his gut.

Because now, the last thing he wanted his mother to feel was abandoned. Despite it all, Narcissa loved her husband. It wasn't something he completely understood. Narcissa, more than anyone, understood what a right bastard his father was. She had married the most eligible Pureblooded wizard she could, as expected of her. She had established herself as a society matron and upheld the Malfoy honor, as expected of her She had borne him an heir, as expected of her. She had stood by him through everything, as she had been bred to do. She followed him, regardless of what she really thought. And Lucius had abandoned her. His family and his marriage had been sacrificed in the altar of service to the Dark Lord. And still, she loved him. Draco knew that she had been raised to be a Pureblooded wife and mother, but he wished, as he had often done, that she would at least admit to herself that her husband was a wanker.

The house is so empty without you. The phrase haunted him. He knew how forbidding Malfoy Manor could be. He understood why his mother spent as little time there as possible, opting to spend time in a property that she had inherited from her parents as a wedding gift. A little chateau outside Paris, with a garden, that had survived the Revolution. Without Lucius there, for good or for ill, the house felt empty, hollow, devoid of what made it home. Malfoy Manor felt like a ghost house.

He didn't want to go back for Christmas. Didn't want to spend dinner at the table with just his mother, staring at the empty place at the table, making small talk like if that could fill the void. Like his father was simply gone for the evening instead of being locked up in a cell in Azkaban. Like he was coming back.

Let me know when your next Quidditch match is and I will come and see you. He just stared at the line, knowing that his mother hated Quidditch. It bored her. She much rather be at an art gala or go to the theater. But she knew that it was important to him. She also knew that everyone else's parents came to see their children and she would never ever abandon him to face the shame that Lucius had placed upon the Malfoy name alone. So last year she would sit, without really talking to anyone, regal and icy in the stands and watch him play. He didn't know if it was just another duty that she fulfilled for the sake of the Malfoy name.

Draco took out a sheet of monogrammed stationary. He stared at the blank parchment before writing.


Author's Note: Originally I had another scene planned but my brain is fried at the moment. I might rearrange the next few scenes into 2 chapters instead. I found out I had to rewrite two scenes in this chapter to make them more plausible.

Yes, we will find out what Blaise told the Lavender and Parvati. Yes, Pansy's prank is coming up. Yes, you will find out what the name for Draco's band is. Stay tuned for the next two chapters.

Did people like the kiss? Drop me a cookie and let me know if it was well done.