A/N: Hello. Again. Psyco Faerie informed me that I'm not allowed to write personal responses to reviews anymore. Is this true? I mean, I don't think you were lying, but I mean…everyone else is still doing it, and I can't find an official rule anywhere… Until this is clarified for me, I'm just gonna keep on responding, because it's fun, and I am quite the little rebel. Though I do hope very much that I don't get in any trouble. The responses are at the end of the chapter, if you want to read them. Thanks for looking out for me, Psyco Faerie: )

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters…but I do own a spiffy pair of rainbow suspenders. Wait…no I don't. : ( Why do I get up in the morning?

He did it again. I can't believe it. He almost kissed me. Again. HE DID IT AGAIN!

Such were the thoughts of Hermione Granger as she lay curled up on her bed, her arms clutching her knees tightly to her chest and her face buried in her pillow. She was shaking all over and did not yet have her breathing under control.

The feeling of Draco Malfoy's body pressed up against hers was still very fresh in her mind, almost as if he were still there in front of her.

If she focused, she thought she could still feel his strong hands pinning her wrists to the wall, the heat of his body as it flowed into hers, the quick and uneven rise and fall of his chest as it pressed against hers.

Sometimes you can think you know what something feels like—and then actually feel it for the first time and realize how completely and utterly wrong you were. When Hermione had been in that same position before, right after she had slapped him, when she had been mentally urging him to take that one step closer, she'd thought she knew what it would feel like.

But she'd had no idea. No idea whatsoever how much difference one little step could make. The closeness, the pressure, the heat. It was nearly intoxicating.

And having his lips so close she could almost taste them… That was a feeling she'd never experienced before, that desperate feeling of being so close to kissing someone and wanting it so badly, and then being deprived.

And what's more, she knew her reactions to him were completely wrong. Based on everything she had learned since the very first time she went to Hogwarts, Hermione knew she certainly wasn't supposed to want to kiss Draco Malfoy, let alone be in the same room with him. He was…well, he was just Malfoy. He was supposed to be a disgusting, foul, loathsome piece of scum. How could she possibly want to kiss that?

And what's even more: she never had urges like these! Never before had she put so much importance on being able to kiss someone. She was…she was Hermione Granger, forGod's sake!She was a bookworm! She didn't want to kiss boys! She wanted to read books! Right!

Wrong! She wanted to snog Malfoy! But why? Why him? Why was it that Malfoy, the horrible, hateful Slytherin, was the only boy so far to inspire these feelings inside of Hermione? And after only three days! THREE DAYS since Harry had brought him to Grimmauld Place! How could such an enormous change take place in such a short period of time? It was just…crazy! Really, truly insane.

The whole thing made her want to scream.

It was like there were two Hermione's now: the one who desperately wanted physical contact with Malfoy and the one who desperately wanted to just continue hating him. It was really a horrible combination of forces in one body.

But also, when she thought about it more, there was another very distinguishable part of her: that curious kitten right at the core of her being who wanted so badly to learn more about Malfoy. The feeling had come on slowly over the past few days, starting when she had received the shocking knowledge of Malfoy renouncing Voldemort. Then, when he had revealed to her the way his parents were murdered and how anguished he felt over it, the feeling had strengthened substantially. And now, with these two occurrences of almost being kissed by him and feeling so suddenly drawn to him…well, the curiosity just exploded inside of Hermione. Her brain automatically thought up a list of questions she wanted answers to.

Why is he such a cruel person? Did something happen in his childhood to make him that way? Or is he just copying his father? Why does he hate muggle-borns so much? Why did he join the Death Eaters? Why did he agree to murder Dumbledore? And why didn't he go through with it in the end? Was he just a coward—or did he have some sense of moral obligation? Why did Voldemort kill his parents? And why didn't Voldemort kill him too? Why did he renounce Voldemort? Why did Snape take away his Dark Mark and try to kill him?

And more importantly, Why has he tried to kiss me three times now? Is he feeling the same sort of strange attraction that I am? Does it scare him the way it scares me? Can I possibly ask him any of these questions without him yelling at me to leave him alone? And do I even want to know the answers?

The answer to that: oh, yes, she DID want to know the answers. The questions were forming a blazing hole in her pocket. She just had to find some way to draw him into a conversation—a laughable thought. Having a conversation with Draco Malfoy…was it even possible? She'd have to find out soon if she wanted to calm her swirling mind.

Right now, though, she was dead tired. As she lay there curled up in the covers, her eyes began to grow heavy and her limbs started to relax and she felt like she was sinking right down into the softness of her own familiar bed. Sleep seemed like a very good approach to getting Malfoy off of her mind, so she gave herself over to the feeling and let her troubled thoughts drift slowly into dreams.

How wrong she was, though. Even in sleep her mind was filled with Draco Malfoy. She couldn't escape him. The most disturbing of her dreams played out like this:

She was sitting on the window bench in her room at home, staring at the orange sun as it sank lower and lower below the horizon. She was wearing her school robes and had a crisp copy of "Hogwarts: A History" placed lovingly in her lap. As she stared out the window, a tiny black blur appeared in the orange sky far off in the distance. As she watched it, the blur became a speck. The speck got bigger. It was a big speck. It was a dot. The dot was advancing and then…she could hear the flap of wings. Then the hoot of an owl.

The owl reached her windowsill and pecked at the glass in annoyance. Hermione quickly unlocked the latch and let the small brown owl swoop inside to land on her bed. It dropped a letter onto the flowered bedspread, stretched its wings, and then took off into the air again, straight out the window and into the sunset. Hermione walked to the bed and picked up the letter. It had the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the back. She tore it open quickly and opened the folded parchment hastily. It said…it said…SHE WAS HEAD GIRL! Hermione Granger was head girl!

Suddenly she wasn't in her room anymore. She was in…some sort of bedroom with stone floors and stone walls and two elegant four-poster beds, one decorated in green and silver, the other in gold and red. That was strange. Where was she?

Suddenly there was a cold draft and the creak of a door opening. She turned and saw—Draco Malfoy. Wearing nothing but a towel.

"I see you got your letter," he said huskily. "I got mine too. We're head boy and head girl. Improbable, I know, but isn't that…sexy? Now we'll be sharing a bedroom. Get ready for some awkwardly sexual moments in which I will come on to you and you will try to resist me. Then we'll make some sort of bet. And baby…I'm so gonna win. But in the end, I'll love you for who you really are and we'll transition onto a first-name basis and probably have some kids. I am such a bad boy. Now witness my manhood!"

Just as this dream-Malfoy was about to whip off his towel and reveal his "manhood" to her, Hermione woke up gasping and sputtering and looking around wildly to make sure he was nowhere in sight.

THAT was the weirdest and most disturbing dream she'd ever had in her entire life. She sat up and clutched her arms tightly around herself. She suddenly felt cold, though it was a warm summer night.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall—it was nearly five a.m. She wondered if anyone else would be up. Regardless, she didn't want to be in this room any longer. The walls seemed to be smirking at her, as if they had seen her dreams and were quite amused with her predicament.

Hermione slid down from the bed and rubbed her eyes. She tried to think back to the last time she had showered; it had been at least a day. She grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on the back of the door and stepped into the hallway. All was quiet. She crossed the hallway and entered the bathroom. As she flipped on the light switch, she caught a surprising glimpse of herself in the mirror and did a double-take.

The girl staring back at her was deathly pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Her robes were wrinkled and her hair was in tangles. Hermione just stared at herself, wide-eyed, for a few minutes. Was she really this worn out? Merlin. She looked like she had just come home from a battle or something.

Not too far from the truth, she thought, and the image of Malfoy's face rose to the surface of her mind. Every moment with him was a small battle.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the distressing state of her appearance, undressed quickly and stepped into the shower. Soon she was engulfed in a lavender-scented cloud of water and steam. She wished she could somehow just lose herself in it and let her mind go blank. She just wanted to be free of thoughts, just for a little while. Anything to clear her head of Malfoy. He was always there…always with his haunted stare and the hoarse whisper, "They made me watch!" The memory of that moment still gave her chills.

And just as often, she had the remembered feeling of their bodies pressed so tightly together, their lips so close…so very close…

She wanted to cry, or laugh, or maybe hit something. It was all just too much. She felt like her mind was one big, swirling tornado. Maybe she was going crazy.

Crazy with renewed hatred, crazy with burning curiosity, crazy with…

Hermione sighed loudly. Lust? Was that what it was? Seriously? Lust? Hermione Granger? LUST? This was one of the funny parts of the whole situation: Hermione Granger actually considering the possibility that she might hold lust, a word she had probably never said out loud before, for one Draco Malfoy. She might have laughed had the disturbing thought not rang with such truth.

When she felt thoroughly revived (physically, at least), Hermione turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

Not lust, she thought forcefully. I don't even know what lust is. So I've thought about kissing him! That's not lust. That's pathetic girlishness. Nothing more. I'll get over it soon enough. In fact…I need to just get over it right now. It's mad, the whole deal. It's just…it's nothing. That's what it is. It's absolutely nothing. This whole thing. It's just silliness. And I'm going to treat it that way from now on.

She resolved right then and there, that from now on, she would evict from her mind any thoughts regarding Malfoy that did not directly involve his health. She wasn't going to start acting like some idiotic, flustered, pre-teen girl just because he got a little bit close to her. Her interest in Malfoy from this moment forward would be strictly professional. Her thoughts would be strictly appropriate. She would just pretend that their last disturbing near-kiss didn't happen. She could do it. She knew she could. And she would.

After returning to her room, Hermione glanced at the clock again. She should be able to use healing charms on Malfoy in about…two more hours. She wondered if he was awake.

As his nurse, I should definitely check, she reasoned.

After dressing in fresh black robes and making a half-hearted attempt at finger-combing the tangles from her hair, Hermione left her room and walked slowly over to Malfoy's. Once there, she held her ear up to the door. She heard nothing. She turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door quietly.

She could see his sleeping form from the narrow opening in the doorway. His eyelids were fluttering and his chest was rising and falling steadily. He looked fine. Still alive, anyway. That was a good sign.

Hermione thought for a moment about going inside—but then decided against it in light of what happened last time she disturbed him in his sleep. It had resulted in their first near-kiss. She didn't think she could handle any more repeats of that. She closed the door silently.

She stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the door, trying to decide what she was going to do next. Then her stomach growled loudly and she realized how hungry she was. It had been quite a while since her last meal.

Sandwiches, she thought bitterly.

She made her way slowly down to the kitchen, trying to be silent in case anyone was sleeping. A fire was burning dully in the grate when she got there, providing only dim lighting. Everything else was silent and still. She didn't think it right to wake Dobby up so early to make her breakfast, so Hermione pulled out her wand and set out to make her own meal.

She got as far as opening the cupboards before a resounding crack echoed through the kitchen and Dobby the house elf was standing before her, his eyes shining with excitement. Hermione jumped at the loud noise and let out a gasp. She clapped a hand to her heart when she realized it was only him.

"Dobby! You startled me," she said.

He was already at work rifling through the cupboards, setting out bowls and utensils and ingredients.

"Dobby will make breakfast!" he cried happily, cracking two eggs into a bowl. Soon a whisk, suspended in the air by magic, began beating the eggs by itself.

"Oh, you really didn't have to—" Hermione began. She stopped when she realized the house elf wasn't listening, so absorbed was he in the wondrous process of toasting bread. Hermione smiled weakly as she took a seat at the table. If he was happy…she was happy.

Within two minutes, a heaping plate of scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and buttered toast sat before her. It was like—wait…it was magic.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Hermione, and the house elf, his face beaming, disapparated.

Hermione dug in. Dobby's cooking was excellent and she was starving. But she found that as she ate, she couldn't keep her mind from drifting off to…other things…things that she had sworn to evict from her thoughts…things such as, "the incident," as she had begun calling it.

"The incident" was a much better name for what'd happened between her and Malfoy that oh, say, "that one incredibly passion-filled moment when our bodies were pressed together and our lips were just a breath apart and I realized how much I actually wanted him to kiss me." Yeah, she was definitely sticking with "the incident."

But one thing she did not want to allow herself to do was to think about it. At all. So she focused instead on the first thing she happened to glance at…her bacon.

Bacon…it's a pork product. It comes from pigs. I like bacon. Harry and Ron do also. It's a good food. I wonder if Malfoy is awake yet—I mean…I wonder if bacon is…uh…high in…sodium. Probably. Malfoy…I mean toast! Toast is good too. I like Malfoy—TOAST! I LIKE TOAST!

Luckily, before Hermione could lapse into a mental breakdown, Lupin and Tonks walked down the stairs together, their hands linked.

"'Morning, Hermione," said Tonks brightly.

"Good morning," said Lupin.

"'Morning," said Hermione weakly. She felt like her mind had just run a marathon trying to block out thoughts of Malfoy.

"You're up quite early," said Tonks, plopping herself into a seat at the table.

"Yes, well…my schedule's been all off ever since Malfoy got here," said Hermione.

"I checked on him around midnight," said Lupin, taking a seat beside Tonks. "He was sleeping. What's his condition now?"

"Still sleeping," said Hermione. "If he's not up by 8, I'm going to wake him up so I can heal his wound."

Dobby suddenly appeared again with his characteristic crack and went to work immediately on two more breakfasts.

"How do you intend to do that?" asked Lupin.

"With a charm, the same one I've been using," said Hermione, taking a bite of toast.

"Hmm…" said Lupin. "I was thinking more along the lines of a potion. One that will both heal his wound and give him some of his strength back.

A sudden image flashed through Hermione's head: Malfoy on top of her, pinning her to bed. She shivered slightly at the thought of him having any more strength than he already did.

She forced the image away and cleared her throat. "What potion is this?" she asked in a voice that was a little bit higher than normal.

"Nothing extraordinary," said Lupin with a half shrug. "I know Madam Pomfrey uses it occasionally with her patients… The ingredients are quite simple, but the calculations are extremely precise. There's much room for error; it takes a lot of concentration."

Hermione suddenly smelled a challenge. And it smelled delicious.

"I want to make it," she said abruptly, all thoughts of Malfoy gone for the moment.

Lupin raised his eyebrows at her. "Like I said, it's a very difficult process," he said.

"Good," she replied.

She thought she saw a faint smile twitch at the corners of his mouth as he said, "Very well," and stood up. "I'll just go get you the potions book."

By this time, Dobby had set two more steaming plates of food on the table. Tonks looked down happily at hers and immediately began eating. Dobby cracked into oblivion.

"So, Tonks," said Hermione in a deceptively light tone. "I know you told me specifically not to keep asking you this, but—"

"No, Hermione, I have not heard anything about Hogwarts yet," interrupted Tonks through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Hermione had been waiting all this time for some word, any word, on the future of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but so far, Tonks and Lupin had delivered nothing but uncertainty. It was so, so, very close to the time when school would start and Hermione was itching to know if Hogwarts would be opening. She usually waited until she was alone with Tonks to broach the subject, because Tonks normally leveled with her and spoke honestly.

"The governors…?" inquired Hermione.

"Have still not made a decision," said Tonks with a tone of finality. Then, at the crestfallen look on Hermione's face, she added in a softer voice, "Look, Hermione, things are just too dangerous right now. Remus is sure the governors won't allow the school to be opened while Voldemort is still at large, I've told you that. So it's going to be closed for a while. Without Dumbledore…it's just…it can't be opened…" Her face fell sadly and she trailed off. Then she blinked and looked back at Hermione. "But it's not forever…you'll get your seventh year eventually. Alright?"

Hermione gave a sad little nod and looked down at her empty plate.

"You know I'll tell you the second I find out anything," said Tonks.

Hermione nodded again just as Lupin walked down the stairs with a tattered red book in his hands.

"Page three-hundred and fifty-seven," he said, setting it on the table in front of Hermione. Then he sat down to his plate of food beside Tonks and began eating.

Hermione flipped to the correct page and skimmed the directions quickly. Lupin was right; the ingredients were simple. But there were so many steps…so many precise measurements to make. It would definitely be a challenge.

And Hermione loved a good challenge.

He was trapped. Trapped in some sort of black cloud, chained to invisible walls by his ankles and his wrists. He called out. He cried for help. No one could hear him. He called for his father. He called for his mother. No one came to his rescue. He was alone. Lost in the black cloud. Chained forever to this darkness.

Then, off to the left—a weak glow of white light. It grew brighter. It became…golden. The darkness of the cloud prison was slowly dissolved away by the ever-increasing heavenly glow. Suddenly—a face. A face in the light. The face of…an angel. He had seen her before. Somewhere. He knew her. He knew this angel, this beautiful creature from the realm of the heavens. But how? How could he possibly know her? Where had he seen those soft brown eyes and rippling curls before? The face was so familiar. So beautiful. Who was she?

Then she spoke soft, beautiful words that were music to his ears: "Malfoy. Would you get up already, you lazy git?"

Wait… Granger? Ah, hell…

Draco groggily opened his eyes and stared up at the "angel" above him. It was Granger. He had apparently fallen asleep. But…he didn't remember falling asleep. Wait—he didn't really remember anything. What was this heavy feeling of impending doom in the back of his mind that seemed to be saying "Don't you remember?" What exactly was he supposed to remember? He flipped through the most recent images in his memory…Granger coming into his room with the potion…himself drinking the potion…then feeling all the pain…what next? Ah yes, Granger laughing at his pain. But what had happened after that?

Then the tell-all image popped up and Draco's sense of impending doom increased tenfold. It was the image of, and the remembered sensations that went along with, pinning Granger against the wall again and very nearly kissing her.

And along with this image came the image of an anvil falling from the sky and landing neatly on top of Draco's head. Now would be a really good time for that to happen.

As Granger stared down at him with one of her eyebrows quirked up, Draco wanted to just sink into the mattress and die. Shouldn't she be embarrassed or shy or something? Wouldn't a normal girl act like that after what happened between them? Oh, but of course. She was Granger. If she acted like a normal girl, it would probably kill her.

"What," he said, trying to sit up and trying to keep his face from turning red, because all he could think about was the way it had felt to have her body so close to his.

"It's time to wake up. You've been asleep for oh, about, twelve and a half hours," she said in an annoyed tone.

"My apologies," he said sarcastically. If she could act like her normal self, so could he. He shot her a glare for good measure.

Apparently this almost-kiss, just like the first one, would be sidestepped and overlooked. That was just fine with Draco.

"We didn't expect you to sleep this long," said Granger. "It's probably the effects of the potion. Your twelve hours are up, so we can heal you now. I've got a potion nearly finished, so I'll give it to you in a little while. I suggest you take care of any…business…before-hand. Do you need help getting down the hallway?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side in a way that made Draco want to snap it off completely. She was deliberately trying to make him feel uncomfortable. The girl was just…sadistic.

"No," he gritted out. "I don't need your help."

It wasn't just his pride talking. It was also a precautionary voice in the back of his mind that was telling him, "You know what kind of thoughts pop up every time you touch her. So why don't you just not touch her, 'kay, Hotlips? Save yourself the anguish." It was sound advice indeed.

Granger stood up and smoothed her black robes. "Alright, then," she said. "I'll be here with the potion when you get back." Then she walked to the door, opened it with a creak, and stepped into the hallway without a backward glance.

Draco ran a hand weakly over his eyes. He tried to push away any and all confused thoughts regarding Granger's apparent lack of concern for the shocking event that had transpired between them only…well, according to her, twelve and a half hours ago. It was a pointless endeavor, though, because it was the only thing he could think about.

How could she possibly be so calm and cool? He himself had felt the blood rush to his face just looking at her. Had she just—

Wait. He had a sudden thought. Was it possible that she hadn't even known he was trying to kiss her when he had her pinned to the wall? Draco immediately clung to the possibility. Could she have just seen it as an act of violence? Because that would be fantastic.

Maybe he had misread the look in her eyes. Maybe she hadn't really been waiting for him to kiss her. It was completely possible. He had been in excruciating pain at the time, after all. Perhaps he had just been delusional. Perhaps the look of desire he thought he saw in her eyes was really just his own, projected onto her. He very strongly hoped so, because it would greatly simplify the situation if his own desires were the only ones he had to take into consideration. Himself, he could control. And he would.

Once outside, Hermione leaned against the wall for a moment and closed her eyes. Her heart was beating rapidly. She let out a strained breath.

It was hard work keeping up a façade of normalcy around Malfoy. Much harder than she thought it would be. There was just something about his presence that set her heart racing.

She almost hated herself for acting the way she had, taunting him like that with raised eyebrows and tilts of the head. It felt like a lie. She hadn't gotten even the tiniest sliver of satisfaction from making him angry. But she couldn't stop herself. It just happened automatically. It was an easy way of telling him, "Nothing has changed, Malfoy, and you haven't affected me in the least." But that was a lie too.

There was a strange, heavy feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach and she didn't know why. She felt like a bit of a fraud. She had the sudden desire to just talk to Malfoy plainly, without any pretenses, and just ask him all the questions she had.

Maybe she would. Could she? Yes. Of course. She would get the potion and wait for him in his room and when he came back, she would refrain from being mean to him (as long as he didn't deserve it) and try to get him into a conversation.

It couldn't be too difficult. It would just be a conversation. Nothing bad would happen.

Right?

A/N:

There were two references in Hermione's dream sequence. Get both, you win a prize. (Hint: one is extremely obvious, and the other is from an obscure two-person play about ducks.) Tinyminx is not allowed to guess.

Anyway…ON TO MATTERS OF BUSINESS!

At this point in the story, my beloved Loyal Band of Reviewers has become severely divided. Some of you want me to speed up the romance. Some of you want me to keep it slow. Some of you want more than anything for Hermione and Draco to have their first kiss RIGHT NOW. I would love to please you all, but that is completely impossible, since you all want such different things. I apologize ahead of time if you're not getting what you want from this story. I can only hope you will all keep reading and following along with me.

Review, my Loyal Band. How was chapter 10, other than delayed?

Oh and also, as you can see, I changed the summary. What do you think of it? Does it make you want to click on my story more?

A few responses: (I would love to respond to all of you….but there are so many of you! These are just the ones that stuck out. But if you really want me to respond to you next time just say in your review, HEY YOU BETTER RESPOND TO ME NEXT TIME and I totally will.)

DawnaMalfoy: You're so right. They do need to sit down and have a conversation. Thank you for the input! Those are the kind of suggestions I like to hear. As you can see, I've built it up to happen in chapter 11. You'll see them kind of enter a new phase.

Jo: Thank you so much! I get all warm and fuzzy inside when people compliment my writing style. As for being published, heck yes I have considered it, I've got three stories in the works. And yes, bad boys do rock my world!

Carwatcit: I LOVE needless ramblings! lol. Thanks for your review…I'm really glad you think the story is believable. It's one of the things I strive for.

GooseyCorsair: Self control vs. physical weakness? Very good question. It's self-control, all the way. Weakness wouldn't keep him off of Hermione if he really wanted to go after her. He's holding himself back though. And that is hot.

SalemWitch: Of course you're still allowed in my Loyal Band, silly. I was just disappointed cause I didn't know where you thought the story went wrong, and I was expecting you to clarify. But now I realize you were talking about the pace. I was just confused is all.

Charlie: Scottish boy…heh. Flying sandwiches ARE funny. I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I was writing that scene. (I find my own writing highly amusing at times.)

S T I L L: Thank you so much! I'm glad you found this story too. What do you think of the new summary?

BlackEyedBella: Ha, I'm SO going to write a me/Draco story. You can be in it too! lol

Draco's-Cutie-Aaliyah: Thank you! I am totally honored to be the funniest and most psychotic writer you know of. Haha….

English Person: Ah, okay, I get it now… I've actually never read a truth or dare D/H fic. Sounds weird.