A/N: Remember when I thought this story would be ten chapters max? Remember when you were all absolutely smart enough to not believe me? Good times. I still stand by the fact that it won't be anywhere near as long as Little By Little, though.

It was from that point on that Marilyn found herself a new routine that she absolutely did not ask for - nor was it one that she particularly wanted. Each night, her evening ballet class would end, and she would stay behind to work on her broom balancing act. It was during that quiet little interlude that Draco would invariably slip into the room - and usually make his presence known by doing his utmost to startle her in some way or another. Sure, technically she could've avoided being startled by turning to check to see if he was there every so often, but if he caught her doing that then he'd know that she was expecting him, and if she was expecting him then she was thinking about him. And that? That, he would like.

In the end, she figured that it was good practise. It wasn't like audiences were guaranteed to be permanently silent and unobtrusive - so if she could dance with Draco Malfoy potentially being a menace behind her, she could dance under any circumstances. Even if he tried to put her off on purpose. You know, by coughing, tapping his foot, disturbing a chair, breathing. That sort of thing. This time around it was a sneeze (the nerve of the boy, honestly) but while she wobbled only slightly, she held firm as she stood on the broom on the toes of one foot, the other raised and pointed upwards in the air behind her.

"You're getting better at that," he commented.

Marilyn held the pose for a few moments, muttering her thanks as she did just to prove that she could talk while doing this. It was a mark of success, too - a comment like that from Draco Malfoy meant she'd almost mastered the bloody technique. The sheer pain radiating from her feet up her legs was almost worth it thanks to that alone. Holding the position for a moment, she then jumped from the broom down onto the floor, remaining en pointe all the while, and then slowly, slowly, slowly, came down to the ball of her foot, and then further until her heel was finally on the floor. Unable to help it, she directed a smug look towards the blond boy.

"The smugness ruins the effect rather, you do realise?" He asked boredly.

"Should we talk about the irony of that coming from you or nah?"

"Best not, if we're to remain amicable," he shrugged lazily.

Marilyn stifled a laugh - mostly to avoid giving him the satisfaction of having made her laugh. He really wasn't bad company when he wasn't being a complete and utter dick, it was just a bit of an unfortunate turn of events that when he was decent, he seemed to quickly remember he wasn't supposed to be and would resume being a prat. Or maybe it just came naturally to him and he didn't have to put that much thought into it. It was sort of difficult to tell.

But while Hermione had yet to come to any sort of concrete plan with navigating the way forward, Marilyn was formulating one of her own. They said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer for a reason, right? It seemed easier to deal with Draco if they were friendly, if not actual friends, than it would be if they were enemies - not least because her work where the former was concerned was already done, whether she liked it or not.

It helped that her panic had proven more or less unfounded. He hadn't come to her in a flurry of black and green robes, exclaiming loudly for all to hear that he'd forsaken Pansy for her and that she must promptly start necking on with him there and then so that it wasn't all in vain. A good thing, too, because if anybody tried to use the word "forsaken" in casual conversation with her, she'd probably pop a lung laughing. Sure, he hadn't made much of an effort to be subtle about seeking out her company after classes like this, but no great obvious move had been made yet - if it was even going to be made at all. He didn't really seem like the type to truly chase after a girl, and she had a feeling that if she didn't make an effort to do any sort of real and obvious flirting, he wouldn't chase. It was probably beneath a Malfoy to do any sort of chasing. Thank Merlin.

Wasn't this a smart way of doing it, though? If they maintained some sort of veneer of friendship, if he was later to bring up that stupid bloody ball again or try to make some sort of move, she could oh so sheepishly push him away with coy excuses of not wanting to ruin their friendship - of not wanting to start something that was doomed to end in sadness when she left Hogwarts for good at the end of the school year, of not wanting to partake in any sort of relationship-slash-activity that might take away time, energy, or both from what truly mattered. Dancing. That last one wasn't even a complete lie.

Of course, all of this was her operating under the pretense that Draco Malfoy would accept any reason as being a good reason while he was being rejected, and she already knew he was hardly the type who might handly any sort of rejection even vaguely well at all. But she could hope. And anyway, the way things were at the moment wasn't entirely without merit. The fact that he was sniffing around her meant that most of the Slytherin boys left her alone despite the way the Yule Ball would soon be breathing down their necks, and she was sure it played a role in lessening the number of boys from the other Houses who approached her, too. Although in their cases they probably didn't want him setting out to make their lives miserable rather than worrying that he might set out to ruin their family's social standing out of spite.

And when he wasn't being a shit, he wasn't half bad. Christ, even when he was being a shit, sometimes it was funny. Although she was almost certain that her little assessment as far as that was concerned would soon come back to bite her on the arse. Every time it cropped up she shoved it aside, but there was a growing trepidation budding stubbornly underneath the denial that this could only really end in disaster.

She kept up her dancing for another half hour, during which he pulled a textbook out from his fine leather satchel and began to leaf through it. By the time she was done, sweat was pouring off of her in bullets and he only closed the book when she was sitting on the floor, water in hand, beginning the arduous process of stretching out her legs as she cooled down.

"You remember the test in Muggle Studies today?"

"Mm."

"Professor Burbage had us mark one another's work."

"I was there. I remember."

"You corrected some of my answers for me," he pointed out.

"I know you probably fail these things on principle, but if you got below twenty you'd've had to go back at the end of the day and redo it until you got a passing score. I didn't fancy hearing about that for the next five weeks."

"Less an act of goodwill and more one of self-preservation, then?"

"Exactly."

"So what you're telling me is that my complaining works in getting me what I want to such an extent that now I don't even have to complain in order to see results."

Marilyn paused.

"You're a sick and twisted individual, Draco Malfoy, you know that?"

He gave a smug half-smile in return.

"You mimicked my handwriting well," he brandished the test, pulling out the parchment from where it had been folded in the back of the book "I'd have almost thought it was my own had I not remembered leaving half of the questions blank."

"It's all about letting the god complex show through in how you loop your 'y's," she said drily "Now we're even for the Potions help."

"Isn't that up to me to decide?"

"There's that god complex again."

"Mm. What would you do if I kissed you?"

Marilyn choked on the breath she'd been taking in, almost falling out of the pigeon stretch she'd so painstakingly forced her limbs into, eyes darting up to look at him. He regarded her perfectly casually, arching one pale eyebrow when she did little other than stare. Surely she'd misheard him.

"What?" She demanded.

The other eyebrow rose to join the first, suggesting he had no intention of repeating himself.

"I- what are you even on about?" she spluttered "Who just asks that?!"

Shifting her weight backwards, she brought both legs in front of her so she didn't risk an injury the next time something ridiculous left his mouth.

"I'm curious," he shrugged.

"Well…well don't be!"

"If you answer the question, I won't be."

"I have no intention of answering that question because it's a ridiculous one."

"How so? You have kissed before, haven't you?"

"Of course I've kissed before," she rolled her eyes.

"So why is it ridiculous?"

"Because who just asks that?" She repeated.

"So you'd prefer if I didn't ask and instead tried it and found out for myself?"

"No! Don't be daft," her cheeks were on fire.

"Really? Because you haven't yet said you wouldn't want me to kiss you."

She knew damn well the sort of answer he'd really wanted to his original question. A pretty blush, a shy little laugh, and a suggestion that there was only one way that he'd find out the answer. Marilyn had hoped that in not giving that response, she'd won. Apparently not.

"I'm busy trying to recover from the sheer audacity of the question in the first place. And I'd much rather you didn't think about kissing me at all."

"I can't make any promises as far as that goes," he smirked.

He was revelling in just how much he had her blushing - it was blatant, he was barely holding back his laughter as he continued to smirk smugly at her as she sat on the floor, gaping at him in disbelief. It was then that Marilyn thanked Merlin that she hadn't lied to him when she told him that she'd kissed before, because if she hadn't been telling the truth she'd have never had the courage to do what she did next. Rising smoothly to her feet with all of her dancerly elegance, she brushed non-existent dust off of her dazzling white tights and began to walk towards him.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, expression smoothing over as his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Putting an end to your curiosity," she shrugged.

"What?" He breathed a surprised laugh.

There. Bluff called. Giving a tight-lipped, incredibly self-satisfied smile, she huffed a laugh and replied lightly.

"Yeah. Thought not."

And maybe if she hadn't goaded him, it would've ended there - but she hadn't been able to resist, and she regretted it the moment she turned her back to him and heard the chair he'd been sitting on jostle in response as he stood, and then his hand latched onto her arm to stop her. Breath hitching, she barely had time to think oh, shit before she was spinning around and then he was kissing her.

Marilyn hadn't ever expected Draco Malfoy to be a good kisser. Or maybe she'd hoped he wouldn't be. Attractive lads had a habit of being bad when it came to things like this - always assuming they could just rest on pretty. Draco did not rest on pretty. He didn't simply shove his tongue into her mouth, he didn't eat at her face, he didn't paw at her with no idea of where to put his hands. The one that had caught her arm slid downwards to toy with the fingers of her hand while the other came up to cup face, tilting her head upwards as her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him back. The insistence of her better judgement that this was just about the worst idea ever was batted away the second she coaxed a low, dangerous sigh from him.

A/N: Teenage!Draco is absolutely the kind of lad who would hit out with "what would you do if I kissed you?" type lines while considering himself to be the smoothest bastard ever because of it. Unfortunately, Marilyn is but a fellow teenager so she hasn't learned to respond to such lines with "fuck off" just yet. What could possibly go right?

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