A/N: Hey, this was part of Chapter 1, but it turned out massively long and it needed to be broken up even though they go together. Also, my computer decided to take the initiative to upload some of the new, unfinished, unproof-read, and un-betaed chapter. It kind of ended mid-thought, so that will be reposted completely later. Thanks!

When in the morning I awoke, I rose and dressed. Strolling to breakfast at a quick pace to keep off the cold, I managed to be one of the first people there. Looking around, there were maybe thirty odd people sitting at the various house tables. Only five or so Slytherins were up, two first years, a second year girl, and a couple older ones, sixth or seventh years, not really sure. Sitting down to some toast and eggs a ways off from the others, I glanced up at the Gryffindor table, and there sat Granger with puffy red eyes and a rather swollen-looking nose. She was more of a wreck than usual and looked as if she hadn't slept all night. Reveling in the sight, I sat contented with the morning, until I noticed that Potter and the Weaslette were also in attendance. They were thoroughly engrossed with each other, looking at nothing else, feeding each other little bits of food. It was thoroughly repulsive and left me without an appetite.

The next few days were rather overcast, and though I typically enjoy cloudy days, something about the extra-cheeriness of Potter and his new girlfriend ruined it. They have this way of being in the most visible places. Cuddling or some other boyfriend/girlfriend activity, talking in whispers or just sitting there. It's days like that that I wish all over again that he had never come to Hogwarts. How annoying. How beyond annoying. There isn't a word for it.

(So, having plenty of time to mull over the new school sensation, of course frustrated me even more. ) It was all anyone could talk about. That and how dreadful Grander looked. A small ray of happiness for me. But really it paled in comparison to the frustration. Something had to be done. Anything to wipe that sickeningly sweet smile off of Potter's face. But what? I could think of nothing until one day when I bumped into Granger in the hall.

Of course she had been bawling her fate out with Moaning Myrtle or something like that, but whatever it was she had been doing, she still looked quite the mess. Then it hit me. A plan that could utterly destroy Potter's oh-so-self-assured pride.

"Granger." I called, as she was walking away determinedly after brushing past me with her own silly head held high as if it was going to (make me not notice) her current state.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped and turned on her heel to face me. It seemed as if she was just waiting for anything to set her off - and I was it. Hoping to head her off before she started screaming or having fits, I raised my hands in a gesture of peace.

"I have a proposition for you, that is all. If you do not wish to hear it, fine." I was seriously trusting that her brown-nosing ways would not be entirely overcome by her off-the-scale emotions. They weren't. Well, not entirely anyway.

"If you just want to get a dig in at me, you can just go away and leave me alone!" She seemed as if she was about to explode with tears again. So melodramatic. Though being with Potter for so long must've (made her get used to having drama everywhere she went.)

"No, no, quite the contrary. I wish to offer you a…solution, if you will." Silence greeted this remark as she looked at me with distrust.

"What do you mean?" she asked, obviously confused.

"What I mean to say is, I have hit upon a plan which has the likely outcome of causing little Potter great emotional distress. However, it would require your assistance, as unsavory as that prospect is." The thought of having to help her, a filthy little mudblood, was entirely and utterly revolting, but the chance of success was doubly enticing. If this worked, it would all be worth it.

"Why would you be interested in helping me?" she asked, still very guardedly.

"I'm not. I'm in it for the glorious triumph of bringing Potter's sickening snuggling and cuddling to an end. It is driving me up the wall. It's disgusting."

I knew it was coming. The wistful, 'We used to do that,' from Granger, closely followed by an, 'But I still love him, he's sooooo wonderful. I don't want to hurt him.' I knew it was coming, and steeled myself for it. This would stop the whole plan, of course, but I had to make an attempt before I could be satisfied with giving up. She stood there looking at the ground and I knew it was coming. But it didn't.

"What sort of plan?" She still looked guarded, but definitely interested. I was shocked. So much for the goody-goody, love-the-world Granger. Now came the hard part, the part I hadn't really expected to be required to explain. Now as I tried to think of how to present the plan, I hoped it didn't sound as stupid when it came out of my mouth as it did in my mind at that very moment.

"Go to the ball with me." I gritted my teeth and waited for the words to sink in. Not for her. For me. I let my words sink in to tell me exactly what it was that I was getting myself into. What was I getting myself into?

She did look very startled and confused. I knew she was thinking something along the lines of 'He's a nut job!' on the inside, so before she could voice an objection, I cut in to explain.

"Look, Potter was going to go with you, right?" She nodded. "Well, you haven't gotten another…escort, have you?" I refused to say date. This was NOT a date. Ewww. How utterly revolting an idea.

She shook her head again, looking more than a little confused and disgusted. Not that I would expect much more out of her. Entirely predictable, this one.

"Well I'm betting on the fact that he doesn't expect you to come to the ball. You weren't going to, after what happened, were you?" I didn't even want to get into the fact that I had been there when it happened. She nodded. The horror of the prospect of going to the ball with me had evidently struck her dumb.

"Well, I don't think he expects you to, so it follows that if you do, then it would catch him utterly by surprise, correct?" She nodded. Still mute. Just how thick is this girl?

"On top of that, if you go with someone he despises, someone who despises him, then it would confuse him. Distract him. Wound his ego, his pride. It would look as if he meant nothing to you. So, what I'm proposing is this: you go to the ball with me, we pretend to have a fabulous time, the whole point being to ruin Potter's evening. His ego will shrink if he thinks he's lost the adorations of an ex-girlfriend." It really did sound stupid, and I was beginning to have second thoughts. I was starting to hope that maybe I'd get lucky and this would all be a dream and I didn't really just suggest such a stupid idea, thoroughly embarrassing myself. So much for Syltherin pride and dignity.

Eyes on the prize, I told myself. Think of the end result.

So we stood there awkwardly for a few moments in complete silence. I was waiting for the 'Not in a million years!' that I knew was coming. Hopefully it would end with that and the rest of the school would not hear of this humiliating encounter. But then she said something I didn't expect.

"You're going to have to work on your waltz."

What! Okay, so maybe this girl isn't as predictable as I thought.

"What do you mean, you little mudblood? My waltzing is perfectly fine!" So, maybe I shouldn't have said that, as she just agreed to help in my plan…but really, I couldn't stop the words from pouring out. Here I am helping her get back at Potter, though really for my own reasons, and she has the audacity to insult my pride. In response, she gave me that annoying "wounded animal" look. And then she grew indignant, another trait of hers I loathe.

"Excuse me? If this is going to work, you are going to have to learn not to insult me. I don't think it would be very convincing if we were in the middle of a dance and you started calling me names. And I've seen you in the preparation classes for the ball. Your waltz is terrible," she replied scathingly.

She had a point. This wasn't going to work if I let something like that slip at the ball. Even if she did something utterly ridiculous, like spilling pumpkin juice or stepping all over my feet in a waltz. I didn't like the waltz, but that didn't mean I was terrible. However, to appease her fiery wrath, I grudgingly said I'd work on it. However, that didn't seem to be enough for her.

"When? We only have one prep class left before the ball and you're going to ruin it if you can't waltz." Okay, I can waltz, thank you very much! Just not that well…

"I said I'd work on it, okay!" This girl was never going to shut up. She's more like Pansy Parkinson than she cares to know. And speak of the devil…

"Draco!"

Dear God, no! Pansy flounced up the corridor - yes, flounced. Pansy Parkinson, flouncing. Not a pretty sight.

"Draco, what are you doing…" she trailed off as she saw Granger standing there with me. Preparing for her worst, I stood there and said nothing.

"What are you doing here, mudblood?" she asked, with eyebrows raised, and then turned like I'm supposed to applaud her insult. I looked at Granger, (trying to let her know not to say anything,) but it was too late.

"I was talking to Mal-…Draco." How startlingly awful, the way she decided to use my first name without consulting me, though I do suppose I can't call her Granger at the ball. Just another of the distasteful repercussions I had not calculated.

"Draaaco," Pansy started in that whiney, childish voice she sometimes uses, "since when do you associate with girls like her?" This was turning bad. "She's probably just trying to dig up a last minute date to the baaaall." Crud. Why did she have to bring that up? "Tell her that you're already going with meeee." She pouted and grabbed my sleeve. This was ridiculous. This was also my breaking point in patience.

"I'm not going to the ball with you," I stated bluntly. My nerves had taken as much as they could of her prattling. Now she was going to feel the sting of all of the pent up frustration that had been building up over the past week. And for some reason, I felt I was going to enjoy this. "I've decided to go with Gr-…Miss Granger." I couldn't bring myself to use her first name, not even for this. It just felt disgusting, the thought of saying it.

Delightfully, Pansy looked at me as if I had just scalded her with some hot beverage or had given her some manner of very nasty joke candy from the Weasley's store. Yes, I was enjoying this. I felt better than I had in quite a few days. Though, now it was official. I had to go through with this crackpot scheme. Word would be all over school. Eyes on the prize. I'd explain the whole thing to Pansy later. Maybe.

"Well, I never…Draco, I…I…I can't believe you!" she stammered, her voice very shrill. "Wait until I tell your father!"

I froze. My father. He couldn't know about this. He would say it wasn't worth it. Well, maybe it wasn't to him, but it was to me. Eyes on the prize.

"My father is none of your concern. I have just sent an owl to him myself," I lied. Anything to keep her from sending one herself. It would take more than that, though.

"Well, I eagerly await his response, then!" She turned on her heel and stamped back down the corridor in the direction of the Slytherin common room. I'd have to think of a solution. However, Granger surprised me by supplying one herself.

"You didn't really send him a letter, did you." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "You don't want him to know. You'll have to have some response from him though. Lend me a sample of his writing and I'll make you one." I looked at her with some misgivings. Lying? Granger, the school's Little Miss Perfect had entirely proven every assumption about herself wrong. She was not the goody-goody she pretended to be. How hypocritical. How stupid. Eyes on the prize, I repeated again to myself. I was doing this for a reason.

Not really wanting to give her a sample that said anything of value, I handed her a note he had sent with some book or other that I had forgotten at the beginning of the school year. She looked at it briefly, probably expecting some curse or something to be found in its contents. Obviously assured that it wasn't anything of merit, she tucked it into her bag and said she'd have the letter tomorrow for me.

"And please try to smile, Malfoy. Remember that you are supposed to be having a great time." I noticed the return of the use of my last name and felt a bit more normal. "And also, work on not making a disgusted face when we have to use first names. Otherwise, this might prove most difficult."

Her prim and proper way of talking was grating. How dare she talk to me like that? A pureblood. But then, she is a mudblood. Eyes on the prize. Don't think of anything else.

We bid each other goodnight and I, not wanting to return to the common room where Pansy was sure to be waiting, ready to pounce, went for a slow walk outside, following the same path as I had on the night that all of this mess started.

A/N: It's still long, but I couldn't find any other convenient place to hack it apart. My apologies.