"Oh god! What is that?" Hermione asked her reflection. It was morning, the first few rays of sunlight illuminating the room enough to show her something on her face. A little red . . . . dot. She thought it might be an allergic reaction to a potion or a side-effect of a spell. Then, just as she was about to rush to Madame Pomfrey, realization hit her with a crack like a bat to a baseball. Blemish. Zit. Pimple. 'I have another pimple.' She thought sadly. 'I thought I had finished with them! Like with chicken pox! Grrr!'Running over to her make-up bag, she looked frantically for something to cover it with. Finding only blush, she ran to the bathroom counter and started putting blush on that 'extremely disobedient spot of forehead.' When she was finally finished with covering her pimple, dressing, and generally getting ready for school, she hurried down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror, she exited the Heads common room thinking to her self, 'Puberty really sucks.'
He looked at her. She was radiant. The blood-red dress reached the ground, falling into a graceful train. The black lace hem on the off-shoulder gown matched her necklace of black pearls perfectly. The pearl-edged pure-white mask didn't hide her beauty, only accentuated it. 'I have to talk to her.', he thought. His long legs started the journey across the Great Hall, trying to reach her. He ran and ran. After what seemed like ages, he arrived at her side, turning to her. Gazing at her eyes, he slowly reached his hand up to the edge of the mask. When he was one inch away from touching her tan skin, she turned and walked away. "Wait!", he called to her retreating back. "Why won't you talk to me?", he yelled at her. She came to a slow stop, turning. 'Yes.', he thought. 'She's going to talk to me.' She took three slow, deliberate steps toward him. She kept her eyes on him, which now seemed cold and devoid of emotion. "I don't talk to Death Eaters." Then she walked away again, in the same icy demeanor as before. He called frantically to her retreating back. "Wait! But I'm not a Death Eater! Don't go! Hermione!"
Draco Malfoy woke in a cold sweat, screaming 'Hermione'. Not a very pleasing thing to do at six in the morning and people are trying to sleep. "What's the matter Malfoy? Are you alright? I thought I heard you scream 'Hermione'!" Madame Pomfrey reached down and took his temperature. "You seem to be doing fine. Better than yesterday. Why don't you have a drink of water? That Hermione really pulls a fast wand, eh?" she asked while smoothing his bed sheets. "Uh. Yeah. She's okay." He noticed Madame Pomfrey's worried glance at him. He knew why. Usually he would think up an insulting comment towards anyone in the Gryffindor house, especially one of Perfect Potter's friends. But he was to shaken to think about anything except his dream . . . nightmare. 'Hermione? I had been dreaming of Hermione? Why? And I dreamed the book-worm turning me down! Not the other way around. Only in her dreams.' he scoffed, 'Or rather,' reflecting on the last part of the dream,'mine.'
Hermione reached up and scratched her ear for the twelth time in one minute. Her ear was tingling, almost burning. "Is your ear messed up or something, Hermione?" The red-headed boy sitting across from her asked. "No Ron. It's fine. It just . . . tingles. Almost like a burning." she replied. Continuing to itch her ear, she looked around the table. Harry, on her left, was eating his bacon. Ron directly across the table, was talking to Ginny, who was sitting right next to him. 'Nobody has said anything about the pimple. Have they noticed? Are they going to say anything if they do? What happens if Pansy sees? What will she do? God, how I hate zits.'Sighing, she tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Harry say, "In the Muggle world, they say if your ear is burning, someone is talking about you." "Why would it tingle? That's so weird!" Ginny exclamed. "Oops!" She exclaimed. "Time to go to class. Have fun you guys! See you, Harry!" She grabbed her bag and walked away leaving her friends to get excited about their first class. Potions. Again. "Do you think Dumbledore is mad at us or something? Why else would he make us take potions again. And with the Slytherins!" Ron exclaimed so very ecstatically. "I wonder if Malfoy's better. I have to go see him again today after school and talk to him about the ball. He better be conscious, because I don't want to waste my time. Even though, since I'm stuck with him for an hour, an unconscious Malfoy might be good." Hermione said as she stood up with Harry and Ron and started walking towards the door. "I hope he doesn't get better." Ron said to Hermione. "He might not ever! That was some job you did on him, Mione!" Their conversation continued in this way for the rest of the journey to the dungeons, until they were face to face with the Slytherins, minus Malfoy. "What the hell is your problem, Granger?" were the first words out of Pansy Parkinson's mouth. "Why did you curse my Dracokins?" she spat at Hermione. "My God, Parkinson! One, it was in self-defense! Two, he doesn't like you, and three, get a life so you can stop being all up in mine!" she snapped back at her. 'I'm stressed, tired, and I have a pimple! I do not need this crap today! And right before Potions!'Granger thought wearily to herself. "HE DOES TOO LOVE ME!" Parkinslut screamed at the top of her voice. "He wants ME! Not you, you filthy mudblood bitch! He wants me! So don't even think he wants you, it'll just dishonor him!" Pansy's face was an amusing color of red and the spit flying just seemed to add to her idiocy. "Parkinslut, I don't want Malfoy. I have to put up with him. And by the way, the only way he wants you, is dead." she said calmly to the 'slightly aggravated' Slytherin, while whipping Pansy's spit off her face. Then, the hall was quite as the door slammed open and Snape stepped out. "What's going on here?" He asked the silent crowd in his usual dangerous silky voice, starring them down with his black eyes. "Granger insulted me, sir!" Parkinson whined to the favoring professor. She turned and glared at Hermione. "Ten points from Gryffindor!" he barked, in his normal biased way. Hermione felt Harry tense beside her and Ron shove his hand into his wand pocket. Resting her hands lightly on their arms, she tried to signal to them to stop. It worked, because they didn't do anything but look angry. As the infamous trio of friends walked under the stone archway, they wondered what would happen during the class. Neither of her friends dreaded the rest of the day as much as Hermione. As she walked Hermione thought to herself, 'Draco Malfoy, you better be good today. Otherwise you aren't worth those ten points.'