She likes that boy.

She watches as he sweeps up from behind his fellow housemates, watches as he doesn't say anything, just watches, and when they feel his ice cold stare, they stiffen. They flee. (Her keen mind observes how they didn't need to look back to see who was behind them – perhaps this is a common occurrence?)

He eyes the young girl they had been tormenting, taking in her dark hair and eyes, bookish nature, then helps her pick up her books.

Then he walks away.

It all happened so quickly that, Hermione thinks that she imagined it all. That he doesn't have a secret nature – one where he is a vigilante. One where he is nice and kind and sweet. One where she is attracted to him.

Not that she isn't attracted to his bad boy side; who wouldn't? Everyone needs a little sarcasm here and there (especially coupled with that gorgeous countenance),

She is stunned by this new behavior. So stunned that she doesn't realize that her center of observation is nearing her until he is almost on top of her.

Almost? Scratch that. He is.

They tumble fantastically and it seems as if there are some residual instincts from the previous brown-haired girl he saved because he offers her a hand up.

"Thank you," she murmurs. It's her voice that breaks the trance. Her voice that brings them both back to where they are supposed to be.

She hates him.

"Watch it, Granger," he says with a sneer. She tries to ignore how the sneer makes his lips pout perfectly.

"You watch it, Malfoy," she snarls in return. "I was just standing here, minding my own business -."

"Wasting time," he cuts her off. "Probably daydreaming 'bout Potter or worse - that no good Weasley."

She really hates him.

"As a matter of fact," she says coolly, "I was thinking about something rather remarkable I saw today."

"Oh, pray tell," he says coolly, feigning interest, "Did you just notice that your hair defies the laws of gravity?"

She shakes her head and gives him a condescending grin. "No, something much more interesting... I saw a boy."

He laughs, "Looked in the mirror then, eh?"

She ignores it. Revealing this will be oh so sweet. "No. I saw a boy, helping a first year Gryffindor against some fourth year Slytherins. Do you know who that boy is, Malfoy?"

Inwardly she is appalled; he is no boy. All of that tall, well-built, blonde good looks point to only one conclusion. He is -.

Angry, very, by the looks of it. "No one of consequence, mudblood."

She cocks her head. "Indeed." She prepares for the backlash but it doesn't come – with the remembrance of that moment the animosity has dissipated. She half-listens to what he says, how he threatens her not to tell a soul or else, and she can't help but smile at his ruffled appearance, so different from his usual ice cold demeanor. She can't help but think -.

She likes that boy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: I do not know when I wrote this – quite some time ago because I just found it free floating in my school folder. I probably wrote it sometime when I was pretending to study. Hopefully you enjoy it.