Author Note: Big thanks and showers of confetti to all those who reviewed! Special thanks to WashAway the Rain--technically the first reviewer of the story... I accidentally uploaded the wrong version of chapter one and had to delete it and start over. So big thanks to everyone who reviewed, including thosewho aren't shown on the review board. :o)

Also, I'm messing with the Potterverse: I want the character to be older. Hermione is about 19 and Draco is 20. I know this isn't canon, but I really don't think the actions/situations in the story would be believable for 15-year-olds. I want a more mature romance than "Liek OMG! Your 2 cute!". So hang please hang in there with me. Thanks muchly.

Rating:Mild language, some sensuality. In this chapter, Draco has a bit of a bad mouth.

Disclaimer: The fabulous JK Rowling is goddess of the HP universe. I just wrote this story, 'tis all.Oh, and P.S. This chapter was written on Wordpad! Gah for no spellchecker! So please
excuse any errant spelling errors. Thankies and enjoy!

In the Slytherin compartment on the Hogwarts Express…

"I can't believe goody-goody Dumbledore would enchant something so rude! What an obnoxious plaque! I bet it's still singing Horrible Hermione Granger's praises when it should be snickering about her disaster of a hair color! She could be part of the Weasley lot now. Like those paupers need another mouth to feed!" Pansy cackled nastily, tucking an errant strand of black hair behind her large ear. Goyle nodded loyally and Crabbe shoved another cauldron cake into his already-full mouth. Pansy turned to Draco, impatiently patting his thigh. "Don't you agree, Sweetums?" Her eyelashes fluttered like hyperactive butterflies.

"Yeah, Pans." Draco managed a nice-enough smile. What exactly had he agreed to? He hadn't been paying much attention to her catty, high-pitched ranting. His attention had wandered off when she screeched the words Hermione Granger".

Granger…

Today, he'd shocked himself. He planned to rile and unnerve Granger, maybe even annoy her. Draco had no idea he would practically throw her against a wall and kiss her senseless. It was a agreeable change of events. If he hadn't pushed Granger so far, he'd never have discovered the fiery-eyed demi-goddess hidden beneath her mousy exterior. She was a hexing whirlwind of tussled hair and flushed cheeks when she lost her temper. In other words, she was irresistible.

So what if he kissed her? Bloody hell, he was a hot-blooded male and Granger had blossomed nicely over the summer. Her teeth finally suited her face and the heavy length of her long hair pulled her unruly curls into soft waves. It didn't hurt that she seemed to be taking more pride in her appearance. For the last six years, she looked as if her morning routine consisted of rolling out of bed and picking out whichever robes were the most wrinkled. Maybe her choice in clothes would be all right if she holed herself up in the dusty bowels of the library forever… but she was Head Girl this year. As Head Boy, Draco felt it only fair that his Head Girl be as attractive as possible: he was the one who would be seeing the most of her, considering he'd be sharing a common room, a bathroom and Head duties with her. Thankfully, Granger was rather fetching…for a Mudblood.

Instantly, Draco bit his tongue as if he'd spoken the thought aloud. Calling Granger a Mudblood was the kind of thing his ratbastard, ass-kissing father would do. He had taught Draco to say Mudblood, but he could never teach him how to feel comfortable sneering it at Granger. It never felt right… Draco's nostrils flared in rebellion.

He could think for himself--he refused to be a mindless servant to Lucius Malfoy and his beloved half-blood dark lord. Draco's excuse for not wanting to be a Death Eater was simple. He'd been taught since birth to hate Muggle-borns and anyone not of pureblood ancestry. By serving a half-blood dark lord with a 'thing' against Muggle-borns, Draco would be catering to the pathetic hang-ups of a dark wizard who was too weak to carry through with his own petty plans.

Denying him wasn't such and easy or casual thing: it was impossible. As much as Draco wanted to be his own man, it would never happen. He'd been pampered and spoiled his entire life until he'd entered Hogwarts. Until then, he was given anything his heart desired--money, clothes, rare magical items, his own personal staff of house elves… Anything. Draco felt that he, the only son of a wealthy pureblood family, was entitled to the finer things in life simply because he was born. Little did he know that one day, the dark
forces would ask a hefty price in return for grooming him to become Lord Voldermort's heir. They demanded his undying, total loyalty to their cause--one he didn't believe in.

The crown of king was too heavy for the youthful brow of the Slytherin Prince. This Christmas break, a magical branding of the Dark Mark would seal his fate. His father set the initiation date long before his sorry ass landed in Azkaban, and it couldn't be broken. His mother's desperate pleas had done nothing to sway the obsessive minds of his Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rudolphus. With the Ceremony looming somewhere in the foggy ethers of the future, why shouldn't he kiss Granger while he still had the free will to do what he wanted?

"…Drake? Sweetums, the train stopped. We're here." Pansy gently touched Draco's shoulder. Her nose wrinkled as she shot him an annoyed frown. "What is it? Did you catch a disease from that awful Hermione Granger?" Her hand instantly went to his forehead, searching for signs of clamminess and fever. "You look pale."

"So what else is new? Draco's not one to have color in his cheeks. He's downright ghoulish." Goyle smiled at his friend. "It's what makes him so scary."

"Yeah! Stop smotherin' him, Pansy. He's probably thinkin' up something vile to do to Potter and his friends this year, seein' as he's Head Boy…" Crabbe laughed. Pansy sneered. Goyle nodded dumbly. Draco wanted to Avada himself for having such a hapless lot for a gang.

The Hogwarts' welcome feast started with its usual wham-shazzam of pomp: the insistent warnings about the Forest. the lively Sorting Hat ceremony, and the flourished announcement of the Prefects and Heads of House. Hermione Granger listened intently as Dumbledore coughed and began the salutation.

"Ah yes. Another year begins at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly. "Because of recent events, the faculty and I feel it is in everyone's best interests to cultivate strong relations between the four houses. I'm thereby placing the Heads of House and the Prefects in charge of planning several holiday masquerades this year. Why masquerades, you ask? An excellent question. We all wear a mask of some sort in our day-to-day lives—sometimes we wear many. So rather than hide behind our masks, we will proudly wear them to free ourselves of prejudice and fixed notions." Dumbledore's smile was a beacon of light and hope. However, the greater message behind his speech became muddled in a loud buzz of: "Did you hear?", "What will I wear?", and "Who are you going with?" humming from student to student through the Great Hall. Dumbledore patiently gave his audience a moment before he raised his hand, effectively quieting the commotion. "There's more, dear students, there's more." His snowy white moustache twitched mischievously.

"Oh, no… Here it comes…" Ron muttered caustically. Hermione shushed him with a loud glare.

Magically, a neat roll of parchment appeared on the tabletop at every student's place setting. Every student…except for Hermione Granger. She glanced around the Gryffindor table to see if anyone else was missing their parchment. Her eyebrows knit together in a confused frown. She shrugged helplessly when Harry gave her a quizzical, inquiring glance.

"This is a questionnaire of your personal likes, dislikes, and hobbies. Please complete it honestly. Houseelves will be around shortly to collect them." Dumbledore's words were met with a shocked silence. Everyone stared with narrowed eyes when Luna Lovegood let out a mercilessly loud sneeze that cut through the tense silence.

"Tonight, the Sorting Hat will examine each parchment and pair off suitable friendship matches from differing houses." Dumbledore continued. "Tomorrow morning, you will receive your chosen match by owl mail, along with further instructions. I advise you to take this assignment seriously. Ms. Granger? Mr. Malfoy? Will you please see me at the teacher's table?" He beckoned with a slight curl of his fingers. Hermione stared mutely for a second until Harry nudged her in the ribs.

"Go on, then. It's okay. Probably Head business…" He whispered with false assurance. A half-hearted, sorrowful excuse of a smile played on his lips. Hermione nodded and tried to hide how self-conscious she felt about having so many curious eyes goggling at her. The quick skittering of her gait contrasted with the assured ease of Malfoy's relaxed footsteps. She glanced over at him then resolutely kept her eyes on the floor until she made her way to the teacher's table.

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione smiled confidently, though the breathlessness of her voice betrayed her nervousness. Malfoy threw an amused smirk her way as Dumbledore began to speak. "Hogwarts' two smartest and brightest are probably wondering why they didn't receive a questionnaire. The Sorting Hat and I agree that no one needs to work more on their inter-house relations than you. Since you both are sharing quarters, you have the fantastic opportunity to complete the questions one-on-one. I'll send your parchments to your portrait this evening with a tray of hot cocoa and vanilla pound cake. Any questions?" Dumbledore smiled warmly. Hermione gaped at him while Malfoy tried to hide his amusement.

"No questions here, Professor. Thank you." Malfoy said smoothly.

"None from me." Hermione said with forced courage. Inside, she felt like wailing 'Noooooooooooo!' and running away. Her heart missed a beat.

"Enjoy the night, dear Heads of House. When the feast ends, please see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. They'll show you to your portrait."

Hermione numbly mumbled her thanks and walked back to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron were digging into their food as if they hadn't eaten anything in years. Ron glanced up from his heaping full plate as Hermione sat down.

"Whuf huppind?" A piece of mashed potatoes shot from his over-stuffed mouth. His compassionat eyes shone nothing but concern.

"What happened? Dumbledore and the Hat paired me with Malfoy since we're the least compatible pair in the school. I don't even get to do the fun part of the assignment—the part where I fill out the questions and feverishly pray I don't get stuck with a Slytherin…" Hermione roughly buttered a steaming hot dinner roll. "Nope. It's straight to Slytherin for me…" She let her voice trail off.

"Oh, honey…" Ginny's voice dropped sympathetically. She reached across the table and reassuringly patted her bestfriend's hand. "I'm so sorry. You worked so hard to be Head Girl. It's supposed to be an honor, not a punishment! How exactly did Malfoy get Head Boy? Wasn't it supposed to be Eddie Merrick this year?" She strummed her fingernails anxiously on the tabletop.

"There was some miscalculation in grades and Edward was chosen by mistake. Malfoy's the true pick, apparently." Hermione explained with a shrug and a watery smile. She purposely kept her comments noncommittal to hide the chaotic emotions swirling in her heart. Ron and Harry would hex, curse, and jinx Malfoy to oblivion if they found out he had kissed her on the train. Hermione didn't want them to do something stupid and get expelled. Things were crazy, stressful, and confusing enough as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned! Hermione sighed, wanting the day to be over.

"C'mon! Don't be so gloomy, Hermione. Your patronus otter could dance circles around that nancing git Draco and his daft minions." Ron snorted, spearing a green bean with his fork.

"Hmm... a dancing patronus otter… What a great costume idea for the Halloween masquerade." Harry thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Do you think anyone will notice my scar?".

"Don't even try it, Potter." Ginny, seated across from Harry, lovingly kicked him from under the table. "If you dress up like a patronus, I'll have to dress up like a dementor so you can spend the evening chasing me around the Great Hall."

"Oh, the possibilities…" Harry grinned wolfishly.

"Ack! How can you guys make jokes now? All this lovey huggy inter-house rubbish is killing me! Yeah, it's important to try and be civil to each another, but I'm sure more than 3/4 of the Slytherin house is waving little flags that say "Go You-Know-Who!" or "Yay Evil!". They probably have a shrine to You-Know-Who in their dormitory--right next to the fiery pit where they sacrifice virgin girls and
goats." Ron huffed, mussing his red hair.

"Nah, the goats aren't for sacrifice. They're for Malfoy's late night snog sessions." Harry quipped, puckering his lips and making kissie-kissie faces at Ginny. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure Hermione'll hear more than enough late-night bleating from Pansy Parkinson..." Ron grumbled into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Guys! Not something I want to think about while I'm eating..." Hermione said with polite sternness, interrupting the happy banter. She moodily pushed her peas around her plate. Stupid Pansy. A lot of girls at Hogwarts would give anything to be in her place. The Slytherin girl was clingier than taffy and had the brainpower of an old shoe…but she was the one Malfoy wanted at his side. Hermione huffed. Their relationship was perfect: Draco had a mindless bit of fluff to boss around and Pansy had a yummy piece of arm candy to show off wherever she went. They deserved one another! Not that Hermione was jealous… she just fiercely despised how Draco could pick Pansy for a girlfriend when there were so many other girls at Hogwarts with more beauty, personality and brains. Why was he so turned off by smart women? Hermione tore apart another innocent dinner roll. She kicked herself for thinking so much about Malfoy and his immature excuse for a romance.

"Oi oi! Hermione! McGonagall's waving at you. She looks more impatient than usual." Harry frowned slightly,taking a nibble from his treacle tart.

"Oh! I have to go see my new room." Hermione smiled. 'Wish me luck…"

"Go giffum heff." Ron said through a mouthful of cupcakes.

"Huh?" Hermione blinked.

"Go give 'em hell." Ginny rolled her eyes, translating. "Don't worry, Hermione. You are beautiful and Malfoy is a whiney little prat. Turn him into a pin cushion if he tries anything."

"And remember, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team is on your side." Harry winked, referring to his captain status.

"Will do. Thanks so much, guys. I'll catch you later! Love love!" Hermione waved breathlessly. She pocketed an apple and an orange as she left the table.

"There's our Miss Granger." Minerva McGonagall affectionately patted Hermione's arms and regarded her with beaming content. "You've made your house proud." The older woman gave Hermione a brief but sincere hug. Hermione tensed at the very un-McGonagall-like display of affection.

"As have you, Mr. Malfoy. I expected no better than the best from a Slytherin." Snape and Draco exchanged haughty, egotistical smirks. Hermione guessed it was their evil way of making a pleasant greeting. Minerva sent Severus a withering look and straightened her features.

"Right this way, young Heads of Class. Professor Snape and I will show you to your quarters and set the ground rules for the coming school term."

Hermione stayed by McGonagall's side while Draco obediently followed Snape. The wandered through long, torch-lit corridors and came upon a stunningly large painting of a group of nude dryads dancing playfully in a moonlit forest glen. The full moon bathed the lush landscape in a surreal silver glow, while hundreds of fireflies twinkled on and off like winking stars.

"Ladies." Snape purred wryly. His tone betrayed his dry amusement. All but one of the girls giggled and scattered into the leafy foliage of the forest. Snape smirked. Draco snickered. Hermione silently cursed the stupidity of all men.

"Oh! Good evening professors and Heads of class!" A dryad laughed merrily and covered her nakedness with the curtain of her long cascading hair. "Password please?"

"Slytherin wins the Quidditch cup." Snape provided with a crooked smile. Hermione thought she noticed McGonagall's eye twitch as the portrait obediently swung open.

"As you can tell, students, Professor Snape and I are to take turns choosing the password for the week. This is so no funny business happens. I won't have anyone intentionally locked out of their own dormitory." Her eyes narrowed briefly at Draco. She patted her bun, composed herself, and continued. "On Friday, you and Draco will please see me for the new password. Any questions?"

"Yes, Professor." Hermione spoke up. "Would it be all right if I enchanted my door with some kind of protection charm? A door isn't as secure as a portrait. I need something more to feel safe."

"I am certain you will think of something special, Ms. Granger." The ambiguity of her answer was a clever carte blanche for Hermione.

"However, that 'something special' will not include hand-eating doorknobs or eye-gauging keyholes. Am I clear, Miss Granger?" Snape looked down his hooked nose at Hermione. His arms crossed menacingly over his chest.

"Perfectly, Professor." Hermione replied earnestly. Snape's nostrils flared at her insolent politeness.

"Such cheek! Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for—" He practically hissed acid at Hermione, but McGonagall deftly interrupted him with a demure cough. She glanced knowingly at him, as if she'd just caught a young boy with his hand in the cookie jar. Snape reined his temper and smiled tightly.

"Come, Severus. Escort a lady back to the Great Hall." McGonagall offered Snape a tartan-covered arm.

"My pleasure, Minerva." He stiltedly accented the syllables of her name as he hooked his arm around her elbow. "Don't forget to fill out your questionnaires, young Malfoy and young Granger." He tossed the comment over his darkly-clad shoulder.

Hermione and Draco were left standing side by side when the two professors left. She tenatively side-stepped away from him and walked over to the center of the common room where her luggage was stacked next to Malfoy's fleet of trunks. She knew house elves had brought them up sometime during the feast. Instead of going off into a rant about equality and worker's rights, Hermione said nothing. She'd freed several elves last year through underhanded means--tricking them into taking knitted hats while they cleaned the Gryffindor common room. Her heart was in the right place, but the elves had a horrible time adjusting to their freedom. They offered to work solely for Hermione under the condition she stop her sneaky elf-emancipating ways. She agreed, insisting on paying the three elves a weekly salary for their hard work. They didn't ask for much money, but Hermione made sure that Glint, Gleam, and Bella were well-fed and cared for. Smiling, Hermione bent down and scooped Crookshanks from his carrier.

"There's my little love. Are you hungry? Of course you are. That's a silly question to ask the great Crookshanks--infamous ravager of mice and vanilla cupcakes. Oof!" Hermione grunted, lifting his heavy weight. He purred lavishly in her arms. "Come on, let's explore our new room." She gently draped the beloved pet over her shoulder, casting the Wingardium Leviosa charm on her luggage. Hermione gave a dainty wave of her wand. The trunks levitated obediently as she stood pondering the two doors at the far end of the room. "Is it safe to assume my bedroom is the one with the gigantic Gryffindor banner draped over the door?" Hermione stopped suddenly and turned toward Malfoy.

"Are you talking to me or the cat?" He smirked at her unassuming face.

"To you, Malfoy." She spoke self-consciously over Crookshank's luxuriously loud purrs.

"Yeah, I think you can 'safely assume' that room is yours. It would be tricky to tell the difference between them at night, though. You wouldn't want to accidentally wander into the wrong bedroom...wearing something silky that slithers when you walk." Draco quirked an eyebrow as his eyes wandered the length of her body.

"Uh! Perv!" She shook her head in dignified disgust and shouldered past him to her room. Hermione's trunks followed, nearly knocking Draco off his feet as they flew in a neat line behind her. Her door slammed shut with a powerful magical force.