Chapter 3

Hermione sat awkwardly next to Ron. She could feel his body heat seeping through her robes and warming her seemingly from the inside out. Goosebumps scattered across her as Ron leant closer, his warm breath tingling the hairs behind her neck as she snuggle down under his chin, and looked up at him, still slightly dazed about what had happened between them.

When they had arrived at the great hall it had been absolutely packed, the cloudy sky seen through the ceiling did not help to ease the feeling. They had found Harry at the end of the Gryffindor table with Fred, George and Ginny, and judging by the way the boys were animatedly talking with excited hands with Ginny rolling her eyes in the background, they were obviously talking about Quidditch. Hermione knew the instant that they had been noticed. It had felt as though every Gryffindor had their eyes on them. In reality it was probably only six or seven.

Weasley's kept joking that she should see Madam Pomfrey to get her head examined. Every time it made her blush deeper, almost to her ears. And the heat of the blush made her even more embarrassed and made her blush deeper still. Oh, God do they have to be sooo attention drawing? Hermione could feel the eyes of the occupants being drawn to her, but especially one set burned her skin like a wild fire, burning her deep. She kept her eyes lowered out of fear of what Draco's expression might be, for she knew if she looked up that is where her dazed eyes should wander.

At the end of dinner Hermione and Ron, who still had his arms around her, rose to collect the first years. Hermione looked up at Ron, bewilderment evident on her face and embarrassed adornment on his. As Ron looked down on her Hermione could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. She cleared her throat just as Ron face lowed for a kiss. Omigod!

"We have to get the first years," Hermione squeaked. Ron sighed and they shifted over to do their duty.

The great hall was emptying and Ron and Hermione, hurried off to gather the first years. Draco watched them go; his hatred had dulled into a self-pitying throb during the feast, as he watched them awkwardly struggle with their new status as a couple. What spell has she cast on me? Draco thought desperately. When he looked at her again he felt a need rise in him. The need to be closer to her, the need touch, taste and smell her. He shook himself mentally and turned towards the new year of Slytherins gathered near the dungeon doorway. He glared at them as though they were the ones who condemned him to fall for a mudblood.

The first years followed Malfoy and the other prefect down into the freezing dungeons, their puffed breath was seen easily floating in the air before them as the hurried to keep up with the older students. The swift pace soon brought them to the statue that was stationed at the entrance of the Slytherin headquarters. The statue was of an elderly wizard with a gigantic stave a serpent slithering up to the crest on top. Just as the first years settled the statue growled and faced them.

"Password!" its voice was as dry and heavy as the stone it was carved from.

"Childs Blood," Malfoy hissed back. The statue immediately lifted its stave, in what looked like a vicious threat and swung it around causing the first years to jump back unexpectedly. The staves movement was gracious and had a particular flow to it. It reminded Malfoy of the way Granger walks when she's not carrying a tonne of textbooks. Ggrrrrr, she's everywhere! He growled mentally as the stave hit the solid wall. The instant its tip touched the cement, the brick work parted into a gloriously ancient and daunting arch above their heads. The entrance lead to the main common room, but Malfoy, without a thought to the scrawny new years strode off to his sleeping quarters.

Once inside, Malfoy flung his trunk open and rummaged through it until he found some warm long pants and a warm hooded jacket. He tossed off his uniform, and stood bare with tiny goose bumps rising all over his flesh in the cool still air before sliding into his selected clothes. His clothes were new and felt soft against his chilled skin, he flicked his hair over his shoulder pulled up his hood and reached for his broom. It was too early for what he had planned, and as it was the first night, it was late enough to sneak out and not bump into anyone in the corridors, most people will have gone to bed.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples. She stretched her body out like a cat and felt her back crack with satisfaction. With a quick glance around the room, she noted that all the other girls were sound asleep, and glanced out the window of which she was sitting on the sill of. A deep sigh hung on her breath, and continued into a groan. It's only the first night for crissake! How on earth am I going to survive? She rested her head against the cool glass and curled up were she was, pulling her slender legs up under her and only revealed her soft skin for few seconds before covering up herself with her nightgown.

Hermione glanced up out the window from a nagging sense that she was being watched, which was ridiculous because she was up in the Gryffindor tower and nobody would be that insane to get that high up in the air, and especially not on the first night at school. She could see reasonably well outside with only the one candle burning in her room. Her gaze moved over the grounds and she noticed movement in one of the trees. The tree held her gaze with ease but she soon moved on. With a sigh she stretched out and settled herself, gaze included inside her dormitory.

Draco peeked out from between two branches and sighed with relief, though his heart still fluttered and something behind his zipper stirred at the thought of how he had seen her moments before. With her gorgeous firm curvy legs showing up to halfway past her knees. Mmmmm. The thought gave him chills as well. Damn! He shook his head furiously and guided his broom out of the visible safety of the trees branches. Hugging the wall of the castle Draco rode his broom up to the Gryffindor tower. His stomach twisted tight at the thought that he might be seen but he couldn't help himself, he was obsessed. Nothing seemed more important than seeing her, being near her, even touching her. Oh, how he had begun to ache for a single touch, he longed for it with a fevered passion; he would do just about anything for it.

When he finally reached the window he had aimed for Draco glanced quickly in. He was sure that Hermione wasn't looking but he wasn't sure if she was the only one awake in the dorm. From his glance he was struck with a strong sense of warm and longing at the image that seemed to be burnt in his memory almost perfectly. Hermione, her back to the window, her hair flowing down her back all mussed from being out all day. He didn't know why he did it, he wasn't even thinking, only feeling, wanting. By the time Draco realized that he had knocked on the window, she had already begun to turn.