Hermione was disappointed to see her House table remarkably empty the next morning, even when a sleepy fourth year informed her that Quidditch tryouts had begun that morning, as the Slytherins had managed to book the pitch for the next month solid in an effort to prevent the other Houses from holding tryouts. Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering why Harry couldn't just talk to McGonagall. Even Hogwarts, A History had mentioned House equality rules. They might not be able to kick the Slytherins off of the pitch but they were guaranteed access to all the same materials: hoops, bludgers, Quaffles, and snitches. Hermione smiled, imagining Ron's face if he could hear her thinking about Quidditch, of all things.

A hand on her shoulder interrupted Hermione's internal dialogue. It was warm and soft and she turned around to ask Professor Psyche if she really had been in the infirmary the night before. Instead she looked up into soft blue eyes. Malfoy. "Hi," he said, smiling widely.

"Hi." Hermione's voice did not quite qualify as a squeak, to her immense relief, but it was definitely less confident than usual. Draco only smiled, as if he were glad that she had some obvious weaknesses too.

"I saw you faint last night, I wanted to make sure you were ok." The look in his blue eyes almost convinced Hermione that he actually cared. Not that she was thinking very well. A disproportionate amount of her mind seemed to be focused on his hand, still resting on her shoulder.

"I'm fine." Draco smiled, and Hermione felt her heart flutter as she wondered just how much a year at Durmstrang had changed him.

"I'm glad to hear it." Draco said amicably, "I was a bit worried." The boy looked down at the seat beside her, and then around at the hostile glares of the Gryffindors. He could see Hermione's throat pinken slightly as she noticed the same thing. He smiled ruefully, trying to hide his delight beneath his trademark Malfoy veneer. "Don't worry, Hermione," he leaned close to her ear and whispered confidentially: "I didn't really expect a year away to work wonders and make me acceptable to Gryffindors in general. I'm just glad it worked on you." The flush on Hermione's throat darkened to his satisfaction. He watched her eyes as they flicked down to his lips and then back. He smiled, and reached to squeeze the hand that lay on her lap. Hermione couldn't help but grin stupidly as she noticed that he was almost hugging her and as his hand brushed her shoulder on the way up. Draco walked out of the hall, and Hermione blinked stupidly, wondering if Draco Malfoy had really just been hitting on her… in as nice a way as she'd been hit on in… forever. Suddenly she found herself slipping out of her bench and following him out.

"Draco!" She called as she caught up with him. He turned, surprised but clearly not unhappy, and stared at her. She stood there, mouth slightly open, as she realized that when she began to dash after him she never really stopped to think about what she was going to say when she caught up with him.

"Forgot what you were going to say, genius?" Draco asked, walking back to her, his voice kinder than she had ever heard it.

Her heart fluttered and she wondered if all this was entirely good for it. Finally she found her voice, one part of her mind forcing her to speak, refusing to let Malfoy of all people see her disarmed and off-balance. "I want to know what you were going to say. On the train. When you followed me." It began a clipped sentence, following the general strategy that the best defense was a good offense. By the time she said the word "followed" her voice was less than a husky whisper.

He looked down, and she stepped in towards him, her hand raising of its own accord, desperate to touch that light pink that had begun to grow on his cheeks. "I was…" he began. "I was going to say that I… I thought about you at Durmstrang. With Krum there it just, well, you know he comes to visit every now and then and he'd talk about you like you were his girl and I was... I was jealous. I was jealous of him not because his was an internationally renowned Quidditch player but because he had a Mudblood girlfriend." Draco blurted all that out so fast that Hermione's brain wheeled. But even at that pace she could tell that his heart wasn't in it when he called her a Mudblood.

"You were jealous of Krum because of me?" Hermione echoed, needing confirmation.

"Shit, Hermione. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a year even when my dad sent me away specifically because I couldn't stop talking about you."

"You were talking about me?"

"Come on, Hermione. You're supposed to be the smart one."

"Not when it comes to you." Hermione bit her lip, wishing that her brain would just accept what he was saying and shut up! She looked up at him appealingly. "I'm sorry Draco, it's just a lot to take in..."

He cut her off by clasping her face between his two hands and kissing her. The kiss was hard but passionate and it filled her with a senseless buzz. She found herself pulled into a corner, back against the wall, Draco's arms framing her but not pushing her. He kissed her more sweetly then, leaving her room to come to him, move her body against his, all without loosing the passion, pressure, or demand. When his tongue hit her lips she awoke from a frozen stupor.

It was as if something within Hermione snapped. Parts of her mind still screamed that he was a Malfoy, the enemy, a bastard who had treated her awfully for so many years. The thing was… the rest of her mind just wasn't listening. All it cared about was that she had her hands in his hair, the heat of the kiss was only growing and he now had her pushed firmly against the cold stone wall, his warm body a sharp contrast. His hands were on her neck, one cushioning the back of her head against the wall, the other tilting her head back and playing with the small curls that grew just at the edge of her hairline. The sensation sent all the more pleasurable thrills down her spine. At the point where the two were all but drinking from each other they heard the sharp click of heels on the stone floor. They both compulsively sprang apart.

Professor Psyche walked in. Her gaze lit warmly on Hermione and quickly took in the student's hair, pulled from its loose barrette, her crooked collar, her flushed face, rapid breathing and kiss swollen lips. She smiled wryly as the girl blushed, her hand belatedly traveling up to her hair and realization dawning that it was all too apparent what they had been doing.

"Professor, I—" Hermione gasped…

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. I think the two of us understand each other quite well." Hermione smiled in relief, even more glad that the Professor was not only not in the punishing mood, but also confirming that they had met in the Hospital Wing, and that she truly had nothing to fear. "Besides," Professor Psyche allowed herself a small chuckle. "I appreciate different Houses becoming better acquainted." Hermione and Draco's smiles widened guiltily at her little joke.

"I trust I'll be seeing you both in class later today. Do try to keep your hands of each other while I'm teaching."

"Yes, Professor." Draco and Hermione spoke in unison and watched Professor Psyche walk down the hall and turn the corner. Hermione turned to find Draco's eyes warm upon her.

"My God, you're beautiful." He kissed her forehead. She could only smile at him helplessly. "Do you want to find a slightly less popular corridor?"

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