A/N- I know, I know. I'm sorry this took so long. Excuses to be found in my lookup. : ) BTW, tell me if you understand the last bit. I don't know whether or not it's clear enough.
Disclaimer- Not mine. Never has been, never will be.
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-Fearless-
-Chapter IV-
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'How dare you? You have no right! You don't know me!' Hermione slammed her hand down on the desk.
'Miss Granger, whatever troubles you and Mr. Malfoy might have, please at least have the courtesy to save them until after class. As much as your little friends appreciate the distraction, I do not, and you will do well to remember that I hold the authority in this classroom.' Snape's icy drawl cut off Malfoy's reply.
Hermione, blushing furiously, bowed her head and resumed taking notes. However, before she slipped entirely back into hyper-focused student mode, she hissed, 'and what are you afraid of, Malfoy? It's not as if you're terribly open about your fears.'
No reply came, and so she tried her best to forget the whole conversation.
At the end of the period, as she was gathering up her things to go, Malfoy jostled her shoulder. Her books, papers, and favourite inkwell tumbled to the floor, the inkwell making a cringe-inducing crash as it shattered. Before she could stoop to attempt to salvage what was left of her belongings, Malfoy swept them all up into his arms, muttering a quick cleaning spell as he did, and presented them to her with an exaggerated bow. 'Your books, Majesty,' he smirked. Hermione snatched them from him wordlessly.
Later that evening, as Hermione was flipping through her potions book, a small slip of parchment fluttered to the floor. Curious, she picked it up. Written on the slip of parchment in a dramatic, flourishing script was a single word: You.
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Overenthusiastic glomps,
-SMs-