Draco burst into the Gryffindor common room, interrupting the game of chess that Harry and Ron were halfway through. The two Gryffindor boys looked up in horror.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron asked in alarm. Harry jumped to his feet and stood next to Ron, blocking Draco from coming any further into the room. He frantically felt around his cloak for his wand. Triumphantly, his fingers closed around it, and he jabbed the wand in Malfoy's face.

"How did you get the password?" Harry asked, not noticing the expression on Malfoy's face.

Draco wasn't sneering, as usual; rather, he looked a little worried. His face had actual coloring for once, instead of the bloodless hue that usually accompanied members of the Malfoy family. Ignoring both Ron's and Harry's questions, Draco said, "Weasley, Dumbledore sent me to find you. Normally I wouldn't have bothered, but it sounded urgent."

Harry and Ron looked at each other disbelievingly. Stunned, Harry lowered his wand a little. "Why should we trust you?" Ron asked Malfoy defiantly.

"Because your family's lives are in danger, Weasley. Believe me or don't, I don't care if any more bad blood is spilt. It's about time the Weasley bloodline finally thinned out a little. All those children your parents had sure soiled up the wizarding world."

"That's enough, Malfoy," Harry said. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"He said to meet him at his office. Password's Fizzing Whizbees. He said you'd know how to get there."

"You'd better not be lying about this, Malfoy," Harry said. Ron stood next to him, still disbelieving what the Slytherin had told them. It wouldn't be the first time his family had been in danger since he became friends with Harry Potter. Harry pressed firmly on Ron's back, and the two hurried out of the common room to find Dumbledore.

Malfoy smiled. Those two were so easy to manipulate. It had taken almost no effort at all to get them to leave, just a little stage makeup and a few false words. No wonder Potter got himself into so much danger, always running off like that, Malfoy thought.

He peered around the Gryffindor common room, comparing it to his own. It had been easy enough to get in here too, once he'd found Neville's books. The boy was so forgetful he had to have his name written in the cover of every book. After a minimal amount of searching, Malfoy found what could only be the Gryffindor password written inside the pages. It had eraser marks around it, as though Neville had written the new password there every time it was changed. Not surprisingly, Draco had felt no sympathy at sneaking in. But enough thinking about that. Draco had important things to do before Harry and Ron came back.

He started up the staircase leading to the girls' beds. He knew only one girl would be up there. The rest of the Gryffindor girls were in Hogsmeade, along with the rest of the school, third years and higher. Reaching the top of the stairs, he halted for a moment before pushing open the door.

Hermione was so immersed in her studies that she didn't even hear him walk in. That was fine with Draco. He'd much rather impersonate the evil git she thought he was for a while longer. At least she wouldn't see his sensitive side this way, he thought, as he snuck up behind her. He reached around her and clamped one hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream. With the other hand, he grasped her left arm to calm her nerves. Her eyes went wide with fear, although Draco could not see this. Loosening his grip a little, Draco used his left hand to trace small circles on her skin. He slid his hand from her mouth and placed it on her other shoulder.

She didn't turn around right away when he let go of her. Instead, she sat still, contemplating what to say. Finally, she settled on, "Your hands are like ice." Draco pulled his hands away from her skin, unsure what to make of that comment. She whirled around to look him in the eyes. "I knew it was you," she said factually. "No one else has such a grip of death."

He didn't know how to respond, but the moment he caught her eyes he knew he was lost. His face softened, and he reached out with his icy hands to caress her again. She didn't back away, which was probably a good sign, he informed himself. He contented himself with running his hands up and down her arms, and over her shoulders. She continued to stare at him, wondering what game he was playing at.

"And no one else has such an icy stare as you do, Granger. Though I'm sure you've heard that before."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked finally. "Why bother sneaking into my room just to come here and insult me? Don't you have better things to do with your time?" She gestured to the parchment she had been writing on, indicating her disapproval that he wasn't focusing on his studies.

"I needed a break. I have nothing better to do, what with Crabbe and Goyle being at Hogsmeade. Figured I'd come see the one person who I knew wouldn't be out having fun."

"Harry and Ron are still here, I'm sure you could hang out with them for a while."

"As thrilling as scar boy is, I figured I'd leave all the excitement to Ron," Malfoy said sarcastically. He grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to Hermione's, obviously not intending to leave anytime soon. He continued tracing patterns along her arms. "Your shoulders have got to be killing you from all those books you drag around," he said.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" she asked. She was obviously content to let him keep caressing her though.

"I've learned some tricks in my day. Think I could show you how to keep the stress out of a woman's body. If you're inclined to let me try, that is."

"Go ahead," she said, "but I doubt you'll be able to. I've got kinks like you've never seen in my back."

"Just lean forward," he said, "so I can reach you." He started kneading her back gently and skillfully, eliciting a few small moans from her that he found had quite a reaction on his lower regions. Unfortunately, the chair and her cloak were both in the way. He stopped, trying to figure out how to soothe her better. After a moment without his touches, she turned around, wondering what was wrong.

He shrugged his shoulders in frustration. "If you lay down, this would be a lot easier for both of us," he told her.

"Alright," she said, and let him guide her to the closest bed. He watched as she threw herself down on the sheets, homework forgotten, and he grinned. He had the upper hand. He slid his eyes up and down her body, in awe at how small her frame was. Why wasn't she considered one of the beautiful girls, he wondered. She was easily one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts, in his opinion. The only reason boys weren't constantly calling for her was because she wouldn't let them. And yet here he was, in her bedroom, no less.

She moaned. "What's taking so long?" she complained, with her face buried in the pillows. "You come into my room, give me half a massage, and leave me for your thoughts?"

"Impatient, Granger? Must've liked the preview. You'll get your full massage though," he said, and laid down next to her on the bed.