Oh, it has been so ridiculously long, has it not? Sigh. But now that summer is here, as you may have noticed, there has been a rash of updating in the HG camp. Enjoy this newest installment, and pleaaase tell me I haven't lost my touch! ;)

-HG-

- - -

Breakfast that morning was very awkward. For one thing, Ron and Harry both stared at me throughout the entire meal. Honestly, I wonder if they even blinked. As I calmly buttered a piece of toast, my two best friends in the world gazed ceaselessly, nervously at me, as though afraid that at any moment my butter-knife was bound to violently lodge itself between their eyes.

I ignored this as best I could. After all, I wasn't feeling murderous at the moment. Not even towards my dreadful dorm-mate. Having gotten one-up on him in the bathroom had just about set a bright, cheery precedent for my entire day.

But alas, there was another reason for the aforementioned awkwardness. And that was the fact that, try as I might, pleased as punch as I was with the actual outcome of the encounter, I couldn't manage to rid myself of the image of Draco Malfoy standing dripping wet and half-naked before my eyes. As one of the most bookish, sexually disinclined girls in the whole of Hogwarts, I'd never seen anything quite like it. Did they sell bleach that one could use on the brain? I felt that was the only way to erase Bathtime Draco from my head. As I turned this thought over in my mind, I felt the slightest change of temperature in my cheeks. Not that I'd minded it, I added grudgingly, all the while willing the heat to hurry up and leave my face before—

"Why're you pink?" Trust Ron Weasley to notice something at the very instant I wish he wouldn't. The worst part was the attempted nonchalance with which he said this. I mean, really.

"Didn't you notice last night? I got a touch of sun the other day," I responded somewhat coolly. There. That was a believable lie, right?

Harry suddenly laughed, and unfortunately, said laughter did not cease, as it should have when I tried to quell him with a glare.

"Hermione, just admit it. You're blushing."

I gaped at him. Since when does Harry Potter notice bloody anything! He's the least observant person I've ever met in my life! Bless his soul.

This presented me with the uncomfortable notion that perhaps he was taking more notice of me…I cast a furtive glance down at my chest, but the twins were secured beneath my blouse, sweater vest and wool robe, duly flattened by the school uniform obviously designed to promote an outer image of androgyny. So what was it with him, then?

"I am not!" I insisted heatedly. I grappled with my water goblet for a moment, taking entire too large a sip and sputtering on it. Oh, excellent job, Granger. Now they'll never question that everything's hunky-dory. I determinedly avoided the pointed stares of both Harry and Ron as I set my water back down, cleared my throat primly, and focused my attentions on my bangers and mash. But everything is hunky-dory, though, right? I swallowed a moan. Now I was arguing silently with myself in my head! What could be better? Yes, everything is hunky-dory! I thought firmly, shoving my food decisively into my mouth and chancing the teensiest glance upwards.

Ron was staring at me in wonder. "One night with Malfoy was really that bad, huh?"

Another near-fatal choking incident occurred just then, me of course being the one with the potatoes stuck in her windpipe. I banged my fist against my chest for a moment, and once I decided that I was going to survive, I cast my nastiest glare at Ron.

How in God's name did he figure it out?

This thought was, of course, followed immediately by a rash of vehement denial inside of my skull. Figure what out? There's nothing to figure, everything's quite all right thankyouverymuch.

"Oh, it was fine," I lied, now entirely unable to prevent my blush from becoming suddenly quite more pronounced. It seemed my own face was now conspiring against me, resolute in its determination to have my head mistaken for a Quaffle.

Ron gave me this infuriating knowing sort of look and deigned not to reply. Bloody Merlin, no one on this green earth could infuriate me quite so easily as Ronald Weasley.

I wrenched my eyes from his smug mug and looked desperately around the Great Hall. It was no great surprise that, when my eyes landed on a certain former ferret, he was giving me one of those "Kindly die, Mudblood" looks.

Well, fine, I amended. Malfoy might also possess that ability..

- - - -

Potions was positively hellacious. I was fully prepared to concoct a little batch of poison along with the day's assignment, and kiss Head-Girlhood goodbye…why not let sweet, sweet death take me, when I'm forced to work at the cauldron right next to Draco Malfoy?

Better yet, maybe I should plan on poisoning him…dabble a little surprise on his toothbrush…hmm. Very intriguing possibilities that, as a matter of fact, would be rather difficult to put into motion if I went and snuffed it. Thusly, I decided to remain alive.

"Oh, good Lord." That drawl did nothing to lighten my spirits. It wasn't as though I'd asked for Snape to venomously decide that Harry, Ron and I were "talking too loudly" and "separate" us for our "own good".

I glared at him and set my cauldron down on the grimy wooden table with a vehement clunk.

"I'm not exactly pleased with it, either, thank you," I replied haughtily, removing my things from the cauldron so I could start the day's lesson and have a perfect excuse to ignore Malfoy completely.

A white hand suddenly gripped me very tightly by the wrist. Oh, not again. Get a new "threatening physical action", for Pete's sake.

"Don't take that uppity tone with me, you filth," he snarled quietly. Was it even possible to snarl quietly? I supposed it was, because that was the only description I could muster for the low, guttural voice he was using with me.

I snatched my arm back. "Yes, sorry, Your Purity," I said in a bored tone. It really was almost boring, to be truthful. The I'm-an-arrogant-prick-and-you're-inferior-because-of-your-family schtick was really getting sort of old. Actually, very old, seeing as how it had been his only source of material since second year.

You know, come to think of it, class really wasn't too awful after the initial locking of horns that was neither unexpected nor particularly upsetting. I'd gotten so used to comments about my "filthy blood" that they had really lost their zest.

I finished my Antiseptic Solution before him, of course. I mean, really, the boy seemed to be crap at Potions. The only logical explanation for his good marks in the class was that Snape dutifully graded him highly anyway. No surprise there, I thought with a little smirk. The Slytherin had never really struck me as a rival in the intelligence department.

I poured a little of the frothy pink potion into a vial, corked it, and walked very crisply past Draco, whose cauldron was seething with an orangey mess.

Of course, the thought did occur to me that perhaps Draco resented my proximity to him so much that he just couldn't apply himself to his schoolwork as splendidly as usual. He'd never seemed too out-of-sorts in Snape's class. I suppose that could be it…he is top of the class in here, isn't he? I admitted, glum to have to relinquish what I'd thought was a possible flaw.

Not that there wasn't already a sizeable enough list. Well, okay, so the proverbial two scrolls' worth will have to go without that one.

I returned to my seat after setting my sample on the desk of the always-pleasant Potions Master, and pulled out a history of Wizarding Wireless Network out of my bag. Maybe that would prevent my brain from seceding so far from its normal self as to keep bringing up an image of a soaking-wet Slytherin clad in only a towel…