Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my short little Dramione fluffy smut fic! I have no idea if it'll be two or three chapters yet. There is maybe a little angst but not much. Since there is smut suggested reader age is over 18 and reader discretion is advised. I hope you enjoy this Dramione Quidditch-esque fic!


Chapter One


Hermione Granger had always considered herself a gracious winner. It was a learned skill from all the times she'd placed first in various school related activities in the muggle world and more so when she entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There simply wasn't a goal she wouldn't go out of her way to accomplish.

Top score in every charms exam? A few extra late nights of practice in the empty classroom had seen to that.

First one to create a moving three dimensional constellation diagram of the Ursa Major family? Nothing a few tweaks to the 'Arresto Momentum' spell she placed on the model pieces and weeks of late night observations in the astronomy tower couldn't produce.

Passing that extra N.E.W.T. exam to become the most awarded student with top marks in almost a century and a half? Masterfully completed and acknowledged with a brilliantly worded letter from the Minister of Magic himself, congratulating her.

All of these triumphs and accolades were received graciously with a meek smile and polite thanks.

Which was why she was struggling so much with the fact she'd lost.

Perhaps he'd used the confundus charm on her or maybe he'd somehow slipped something into her project whilst she wasn't looking. There really wasn't a reasonable explanation Hermione could decide upon as to how he'd managed to outdo her when it really mattered the most. She'd been preparing rigorously for today for several weeks now. Instead of leaving the classroom flying high on the success of her performance, the prig had waltzed in without a care and had taken it all away from her.

It began the first week of eight year classes. It'd been so long since she'd even been in a classroom that when she walked into her first class with Headmistress McGonagall for Transfiguration she was quite literally moved to tears. The sight of the rows of desks, the dust dancing in the window filtered sunlight, the wafting smell of parchment and ink all brought back a joy she sorely missed back into her life.

It'd been invigorating to revisit the challenge of schoolwork again. To taxate her mind as it craved to expand her knowledge of things such as how one would transfigure a dense object of lesser mass so it quadruple its properties, which charm in Professor Flitwick's class was considered grey area by Ministry of Magic's codified laws, and even the dullard lecture of the Black Cat Fever Scare of 1872 Professor Bins droned on about.

All wonderful things until her final class on Friday of her first week; N.E.W.T. level Potions. The class itself would be intriguing, to be sure. No doubt Professor Slughorn would have an excellent repertoire of advanced potions to impart on them for use after they graduated from Hogwarts.

The problem wasn't the professor or classroom material itself; it was who was in the class. A specific whom. A distracting whom. A blonde distracting whom.

Out of her peripheral she could see Draco Malfoy was leaning casually back in his chair at his shared workbench, chatting with fellow Slytherin dorm mate, Blaise Zabini. Even across the room they were making such a ruckus it disrupted her concentration as she finished rereading the third chapter of 'Practical and Advanced Potion Making Volume II'. A small frown crossed her face at their behavior.

He'd been rather subdued during his trial from what she'd seen. Contrite and more than eager to move on from his past mistakes he'd partaken in with the intent to spare his mother. He'd even sent her a letter of apology, written with such sincerity she had no doubt of its authenticity, to let bygones be bygones. This was received shortly after she'd submitted a letter of support for his moral character standing to the Wizengamot. She felt it necessary he be given a fair chance by having his actions at his home when the snatchers brought Harry, Ron, and herself to be turned over to Voldemort be brought to light. If she were being honest it'd been a snap decision in part driven by the inexplicable secret crush she'd developed on him after a fifth year quidditch match.

Something about his hair being windswept and the way he'd dove right in front of the rickety tower where she stood as she watched him catch the snitch. He'd moved at an impressively accelerated pace, turning on the spot to halt his forward motion before ramming into the wooden siding of the stands. The splendid bit of broom work had brought about a sudden palpitation of her heart that had driven her to a maddening silent attraction ever since. She didn't completely exonerate him of his actions during the war when she wrote in his favor of liberty but it seemed enough to convince the panel of witches and wizards to give him a pardon along with a chance to return to school.

Now in hindsight she wondered if she would regret that decision as she simpered to herself when he beamingly grinned at whatever Zabini had just said.

"Alright class, welcome back to school my N.E.W.T. level potioneers!" The call to order from Professor Slughorn brought the combined seventh and eighth year students to attention.

He proceeded with the typical beginning of school lecture of respecting the classroom space, no they could not partake in the gillyweed as it was an ingredient not an alcoholic beverage, and yes they would be making more deadly potions this year so it was imperative they listen closely when given instructions.

"Well, let's begin, shall we? I think given the stressful end to last term, I would like to try for some fun distraction, wouldn't you agree?"

Slughorn chuckled, an attempt to bring some laughter to the room.

No one thought anything about the end of last term was humorous.

Reading the room a bit late the elderly wizard cleared his throat and continued, "Now, you all remember during your sixth year the first class you participated in I offered a prize to the best crafted Draught of Living Death. Well, I have another competition to kick off a more happy year, I should dare say. This one will take a few weeks for you to prepare but the prize is truly a unique one, if I do say so myself."

Finally, the room of teenagers responded with some intrigue, sitting up straighter and suddenly all focused on the portly man before them.

"Now, it won't be another dose of liquid luck up for grabs, although I dare say it's just as expensive. This," he reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a package bundled in a drab brown fabric, "is indeed a most valuable prize."

With great flourish the man united the package, pulled the fabric away, and…

To the majority of the class' audible dismay, the professor flashed a book. Hermione, on the other hand, gasped delightedly as her eyes glazed over while pacing back and forth over the cover. 'Masterful Artistry Of A Master Potioneer' by the great Eunice Mastov, a possible first edition, no doubt. Her fellow classmates were downright ninnies to not see the value of the book the aged man held before them. It contained some of the original recipes from potions created all the way back in the days when Hogwarts was founded, some of which could only be found by requesting special access to the restricted section. A rarity such as this would indeed cost almost as much as a fifth of the liquid luck they had all vied for two years ago and would indeed be quite the addition to any personal library.

She had to have it.

Apparently Professor Slughorn was dismayed at their reaction as he placed the book back down and covered it once more, much to Hermione's dismay.

"Well, I know it isn't what you had necessarily hoped for, but don't be fooled. There are true works of art in these pages for any serious potioneer to add to their collection for their post Hogwarts studies. Now, to earn this marvelous book, I will require diligence and superb technique from each of you."

He gestured grandly to the oversized cauldron on the desk next to him.

"You will have the rest of the class period to examine this potion and deduce what it is exactly so you may prepare a replica potion to be presented in a few weeks time. Off you go, then."

Hermione practically sprinted to be the first to the front of the class, hovering over the vessel's lip as her eyes moved around to observe the liquid within. It didn't simmer, even with the fire roaring beneath the cauldron at a rather high flame. It didn't even give off a steam trail to decipher. That was her first inkling of what this was. Next she noted the color. It wasn't exactly a bright green yet it held a kind of luster that made it appear to shine like an emerald. Finally, she smelled it. Sour, like wine grapes.

She knew this potion's characteristics; it was a shrinking elixir. She'd never made one of this difficulty before but knew of several library books she could borrow to begin her research. With confident steps Hemrione returned back to her seat, scribbling down her theory and the book titles she could remember off the top of her head, her hand moving at a ferociously fast pace.

"Mr. Malfoy? My dear boy, you will need to come to the front to observe the potion in order to make it, as your classmate Mr. Zabini has already done."

Professor Slughorn's assertion had Hermione's gaze drawn up. Malfoy had still been sitting in his seat, chatting it up. Standing, he shifted toward Zabini so Slughorn couldn't see the eyeroll he gave, making it seem he'd intended to retrieve a bit of parchment and quill to write when he returned to his desk. Zabini snickered as Hermione frowned at this childish conduct.

Malfoy casually made his way up to the high table that held the mystery liquid. The prat stopped long enough to glance in, look up through his blonde fringe at the old man who seemed a bit perturbed by this ne'er do well countenance, and turn to saunter back to his seat. Hermione glared at him as he walked by, glad to see he noticed her looking at him disapprovingly but he didn't so much as sneer at her. Still so damn rude, she thought with disappointment as she returned to her note taking.

Over the next few weeks she poured herself into multiple books, even a few from the restricted section, to find the exact recipe needed. At last with a week to spare, she was confident she'd found the correct shrinking elixir used mostly for shrunken heads as it turned out. Giddy enough to physically pat herself on the shoulder for a job well done, she began the process of transferring the instructions to parchment. By the time she'd finished transcribing the recipe she'd already begun to schedule times in her calendar mentally to practice the brew.

That Saturday afternoon was the best time she could find time which found her alone in the potions lab. She was almost done, her hair was practically curled straight up to the ceiling, a healthy flush graced her cheeks from the heat as sweat trickled down her nose. She quickly wiped the moisture away without looking from the cauldron, counting silently to herself before she could proceed with the stirring pattern she needed to complete her sample. A half turn later and she grinned in satisfaction. It was almost perfect. No doubt she'd win that book now.

"Granger, what have you done to your hair?"

Startled, Hermione glanced up to see who was speaking to-

Oh, Malfoy.

He was standing before her table, a look of laissez-faire to his stance as his hands slipped into his black dress trousers. Who wore dressy clothes on the weekend?

"If you must know, it naturally happens when it's exposed to high volumes of steam. Obviously brewing," she waved impatiently at her cauldron, "will induce such a reaction. What're you doing here?"

Malfoy didn't answer her, instead he tipped over to glance into the cauldron to see her concoction's progress.

"You didn't properly deseed the banesberries. There's a trace amount of steam from the pulp boiling into the potion."

She glared at him momentarily before returning her attention down to her work, flustered at his sudden appearance and attempt to educate her.

"I don't need your help, Malfoy. Don't you have somewhere else to be or perhaps someone else to bother?"

He smirked, the same kind she'd watch from across the room as he spoke candidly with his friends that made her shift ansily.

"No, I think I rather like being here critiquing the best potioneer in our class on how to properly handle her ingredients."

The puff of air she blew out in frustration did nothing to help the voluminous rise of her hair.

"Well, can't you critique from your own bench instead of crowding mine? I really must concentrate," she requested, her gaze glanced up at him for a moment now that her potion was set to boil for five minutes before she added the wormwood.

"Why are you here, exactly?"

Malfoy seemed to pause at her words before giving an noncommittal shrug.

"I just so happened to walk by and saw you in here. I suppose I figured it being a Saturday you'd be with your Gryffindor pals partaking in the eighth year special privilege of Hogsmeade any weekend. You know, curiosity killed the cat."

Hmm, unlikely.

"Well, the cat is dead and buried. Now, I really must get back to my work."

Unsurprisingly he snickered at her, but much to her astonishment instead of laying into her further he turned and left the classroom, throwing his hand up in a waving gesture.

"Good luck with that shrinking potion, Granger."

Her eyes turned to molten chocolate as she thought on his words about the banesberries, staring down at the cauldron. After a few minutes of consideration she grumbled before she moved to grab her wand and start over.

The following Friday brought about the day, at last. Hermione arrived extra early to the potions classroom, knees bouncing excitedly as fellow students slowly made their way into the room. Seamus, bless his heart, sat next to her with his bag stuffed full of rolls of parchment.

"Hermione, did you figure out what the potion was that we're brewing today? I've looked everywhere and I couldn't find anything."

Hermione smiled sympathetically to her friend.

"Oh Seamus, you should've asked me sooner. It's an advanced shrinking potion. Do you have any notes with any shrinking potion mentioned?"

The poor boy began to dump out all of the bits and pieces of parchment he'd scribbled down whatever notes he could.

"I think I have something here about a growth potion. D'you think I could change the amount of ingredients I put in or maybe add a few rat spleens instead of bat spleens to make it work?"

Hermione rubbed her lips together. That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. What if Seamus's potion had a catastrophic failure and exploded all over? It wasn't that far fetched given his history in potions. This could potentially contaminate and ruin her own potion.

"Here, Seamus, let me see a quill. I'll do the best I can to quick write it down for you."

Her notes were wonky, scribbled around a corner of the page he provided but hopefully legible enough for him to read. She'd just finished blowing the ink dry and held out the instructions to the ever grateful friend when a hand reached out to snap the page from her. Hermione looked up in shock to see Maloy holding Seamus's note, twisting the page as he attempted to read what she'd written.

"Granger, you're handwriting is atrocious. How is poor Finnegan going to follow these directions?"

Hermione was about to snap at Malfoy to mind his own business when he also plucked her quill from her hand, scratching out something she'd written and rewriting it.

"Salazar, Granger, at least tell him to slice the caterpillars diagonally instead of horizontal. The stench it'll create if the juices are released too soon will make us all gag."

Seamus's eyes widened in awe when Malfoy held out the page to him.

"Don't screw this up too badly, Finnegan."

It must've taken Seamus one too many seconds to find his words because Malfoy shook his head in annoyance and dropped the paper.

"This year is going to be hell on earth." He muttered, walking onto his desk where he slid into his seat, stretching his legs out, loudly asking Blaise if he wanted to go down to the pitch later with Theodore Nott for a bit of flying.

Hermione was completely blindsided, sure her and Seamus must look like twins with their matching incredulity. Malfoy…helped Seamus. Truely, genuinely helped him.

"Should I go thank him?" Seamus finally found his voice, looking with unsure eyes at Hermione.

She for her part managed to find herself once more and shook her head.

"Perhaps after class. Come on, we need to clear these parchments and set up our cauldrons."

By the time Professor Slughorn arrived the class was already mostly prepared for the commencement of the potion competition. Hermione had all of her supplies neatly alined on the left side of her work station. Her ingredients were plated and bottles unstoppered in the order she would need to ready them right next to her instructions she'd meticulously rewritten three times the night before. Nothing was forgotten.

"Alright students. I hope you've all prepared yourselves well enough for this very difficult trial of wits."

The student body as a whole tightened their lips and stared at him as he moved about the front of the classroom, pulling a few large vials out.

"Now, the top marked brews will be bottled for display before I add them to my personal depository."

Hermione's eye twitched in disbelief. No doubt he would be off to sell the potions in Knockturn Alley when he thought everyone had forgotten about them.

"The winner will be announced at the end of class and as promised, the prize will be awarded to the best brewed potion."

The withered hands brought the swathed object of her desire out of its hiding place, displaying it at the front of the class as if to entice the youth in the room of what was at stake. Only she seemed to appreciate the monmentuousness of this task. A fleeting gander around the room let her know that she seemed to be the most prepared, aside from Malfoy who had also set his potion items at the ready. However, seeing as Malfoy did rather well as second in this class right behind her, it's no wonder he'd set his station up in a no doubt attempt to intimidate her. She was unstirred by any distractions.

"Well now, let's begin!"

A flurry of activity commenced then. Fires were lit by wand, foolish students who obviously had no clue what it was they were creating. Hermione began to work on the banesberry, carefully deseeding them and patting them dry to remove all the pulp as Malfoy had correctly identified as a problem, she sulkily admitted. The issue now corrected this time she should make the perfect example of the shrinking potion to present at the end of class and could spend her lunch hour pouring over her new book.

Halfway through the class and several exploding potions later, Hermione's hair was an uncultivated array of brunette tresses. When yet another fell into her face she impatiently shoved it aside.

"Hermione, does this smell a bit off to you?" Seamus whispered beside her.

Hermione leaned over, taking a short sniff of the potion. Hmm…it was sour but not quite the right pungency.

"Did you add the leech juice yet?"

Seamus hectically began to pick up bottle after bottle around him, thanking Hermione. She returned her attention to her potion and frowned, slightly confused. The green color…it wasn't exactly the right hue it had been moments ago. Why had that happened? She wasn't meant to do anything further for another three minutes. Perhaps she should stir it now. A quarter turn to the right as the instructions indicated being her next step fixed it a little but it wasn't as perfect as her last practice potion had been. No matter, the difference was hardly noticeable.

Hermione couldn't help but glance over at Malfoy's station. He worked as methodically as she, smelling his potion, wrist flicking rather than making large arm stirs to create his own sample. She chided herself to not worry if Malfoy was outdoing her. The git hadn't even attempted to create the potion before today from what she could tell. At last, with a light sprinkle of daisy roots that practically melted into the solution upon contact and the final quarter turn, Hermione had completed her brew. It was perfect…almost.

Raising her hand she waited patiently for Professor Slughorn, who was chatting with a Hufflepuff seventh year no doubt about some relative he'd taught before, to make his way to her side.

"Ah, Miss Granger, let's see how you faired."

He leaned over her cauldron, using his hand to bring up the smell to his nose, nodding appreciatively.

"Excellent, you added the wormwood at precisely the right time, my dear. The sheen is lovely…it's the tiniest shade too dark, but nothing that would affect the potion's potency."

A slight pang of concern tugged at her stomach but she ignored it as the Professor continued his critique of her work.

"I must say I am unsurprisingly impressed, my dear. Truly a work of art."

With a flourish of his wand a bottle from the front of the class glided over to his hand where he uncorked it and used his wand to bring much of the mixture into the vial.

"You may go ahead and begin to clear your area, Miss Granger. I believe most of your classmates have almost completed their…examples."

He glanced dubiously at Seamus's potion which had turned pea green and somehow emitted sparks.

Hermione puffed in triumph to herself, sitting patiently for Professor Slughorn to make his rounds to each student as they completed their potion.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, finished?"

Intent to not look and listen to what praises or critiques he would receive to compare to her own, Hermione mentally tuned out the pair and began to look over her schedule for the next week, penning in time to be able to review her Ancient Ruins while giving her a few minutes here and there to make notes of her new book's contents.

"Well, I believe everyone has finished their tasks," Professor Slughorn called out loudly over Seamus's now whistling cauldron that the professor pointed his wand at to whisk out of the room and into the hall, "and I have selected a winner! May I give my hearty congratulations to Mr. Malfoy for his excellently produced shrinking potion!"

The sounds around her muffled out as a ringing rose in her ears.

Wait…what? Malfoy?

Malfoy-Malfoy won?

What? WHAT?

Hermione's eyes snapped over to the bottles on the desk. Their samples sat side by side…and damn it all his was the exact perfect color of green. She knew it was as she'd made it just so this past weekend.

…Malfoy won the book.

She tried not to feel disheartened. After all, he won fair and square…maybe…and he did make a superior batch to her this time.

"Here you are sir," Professor Slughorn's voice brought her attention back to the front of the room where Malfoy had saunted up at the elder wizard's beckoning, "it is my pleasure to present you with this magnificent book. I hope you will enjoy it immensely."

Malfoy took the book, glanced at the title, thanked the Professor, and returned to his desk, the book dangling in his hand before he tossed it atop of the workbench tabletop.

Hermione physically shivered. What was he doing? Didn't he know how valuable thatwas? Evidently not because the bell sounded to mark the end of the school day and instead of lifting it carefully and carrying it with diffefference as she would've he simply slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed it by the spine, promptly dropped it, and haphazardly snatched it back up before wandering out of the room beside Zabini.

Hermione felt ill. Physically going to throw up ill.

Which is where she found herself now, glaring across the Great Hall at said blonde monster who'd arrived after Potions to eat the same time she had and tossed aside the book as if it were nothing but a damn generic copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'. She watched enviously as he chatted amongst his friends, completely ignoring the priceless item sitting beside him, dangerously near a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Oh, she couldn't stand it.

Suddenly determined like a charging centaur, Hermione made her way across the hall to stand behind the blonde haired man in question.

No one seemed to notice her at first until she coughed rather loudly. Eventually several Slytherin heads lifted from their banter to look up at her. It finally dawned on Malfoy that no one was talking as he turned around to see what had drawn their attention. He looked questioningly up at her with those bright blue eyes that made her gulp quietly.

"Granger, is there some reason you're standing behind me?"

'Right, the book. Focus Hermione,' she mentally lectured as she stood at full height, ready to face a dragon if need be to get a hold of the desired object.

"I would like that book, Malfoy. Name your price."

Malfoy snorted loudly, as did several others around him, making her cheeks tint a light pink with humiliation.

"Really, Granger? Offering me money when I have plenty of my own galleons and everything I could ever need in the world? Come back when you have something better to give." He replied dismissively.

She stood firm, refusing to move even when he tried to turn and ignore her.

"Malfoy you obviously aren't interested in the book," she gestured lovingly to the poor thing he'd tossed haphazardly aside so far from his seat that it almost landed in a bowl of gravy, "and I would very much like to come to an agreement so I may acquire it."

Malfoy's clever icy blue eyes returned to her face and stared hard at her, assessing the level of seriousness with which she spoke. Hermione held his gaze, intent for him to realize she was utterly dead set to have her way. A grin, mischievous and full of ill gotten gains, crept up his cheeks, giving him surprisingly two rather cute dimples she'd taken notice of one too many times before.

"Alright, I'm quite bored so I'll humor you. Care to make a wager, Granger?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip apprehensively. A wager with Malfoy? This could end disastrously but it seemed he wasn't interested in any fiduciary or tangible means of trade. A wager might be her only option in this situation.

"Perhaps I can be persuaded to indulge in a bit of fair sportsmanship gambling."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and Goyle chuckled stupidly next to him, probably unsure of what the word indulge even meant she thought bitterly. Malfoy's entire body moved, his long, black uniform trousers legs swung gracefully over the bench as he spun to fully face her. He'd always had nice legs she thought, most likely from all those hours spent on the quidditch pitch training. She'd be lying if she didn't admit it was actually one of the things she found to be his more attractive attributes.

Hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees, Malfoy regarded her with careful plotting, his thumb running along the bottom of his lip. For several minutes he made her stand there, shifting restlessly as the student body as a whole, including his own friends, began the herding process of removing themselves from the Great Hall toward their common rooms. Usually she'd be long gone by now, most likely to the library for a bit of time to work ahead on next month's reading. To her complete frustration they were now one of the last sets of students and still Malfoy made no move nor spoke of this wager.

Oh this was ridiculous tomfoolery.

As her mouth was about to fly open to scold him for this delay in her day his hands slapped down atop his knees.

"I've made my decision, which you will most certainly enjoy since it's so simple for you to win, Granger. If you can manage to fly up and throw a quaffle through one of the quidditch goal posts from at least ten meters away I'll give you the book."

She ruminated over his words with a bit of unease. Alright…

"What if I don't make it into the goal?"

"Then you'll clean my potion cauldron after class for the rest of the year." He countered with a glint in his smiling eyes.

Hermione grimaced. It might sound easy to do since she could use magic but cleaning cauldrons was far from easy. They required vigorous polishing and the scrubbing process could take hours depending on the potion they brewed. Some of the thick sludge actually took a scraping charm to meticulously remove each bit of dried potion leavenings from the pewter. It would take hours out of her precious schedule to have to clean his along with her own.

It was a steep price but she really wanted the book, desperately. However, as much as she wanted the rare piece of literature his offer simply wouldn't do. There was one glaringly obvious flaw in his scheme.

"You have an unfair advantage in this wager, Malfoy. I cannot possibly agree to the terms if we aren't on equal footing when we enter into the agreement."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh? What might that be, Granger?"

He knew. He damn well knew because his smug face was telling her he did but he wanted her to admit she, Hermione Jean Granger, wasn't superior to him at something. With a soft, grumbling voice she lowered her pride to admit the truth.

"Idon'tknowhowtofly."

"Beg your pardon? I couldn't hear you because you were mumbling." He said loudly, cupping his ear and leaning forward as if he couldn't hear her from where he sat now alone with her save a few house elves cleaning the Great Hall.

She huffed loudly.

"I don't know how to fly, Malfoy."

That wasn't exactly true. In theory and principle she knew exactly how to fly. She'd studied it as diligently as she did all things in the wizarding world. In practice though, well, she was subpar...awful...a downright travesty on a broomstick. If she got off the ground she'd be so surprised she'd promptly roll herself off.

Malfoy knew all this though and Hermione found it exceedingly unjust that he was purposefully trying to make this wager so unbalanced. His scheming almost made her tell him to forget it and storm off. Maybe she could find a second edition of the book. It would almost be as good as the first edition she glanced longingly at on the table.

"That's right, I had forgotten that Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch and gold-touched princess, can't even fly a broom."

Her eyes darted back up to find his gaze focused on her pouting lips before they met her frustrated glare with taunting delight.

"How about this, I'll give you a month. That will give you plenty of time to take flying lessons and at least figure out how to fly your broom up to the quidditch goal and how to balance on a broom while you throw. Those are the terms I'm willing to offer if you want the book as badly as you say you do."

Hermione's pout slid open slightly at his proposal.

"But-but who is going to teach me? And when? A month really isn't long enough, Malfoy. I have a very academically rigorous schedule, Malfoy."

Malfoy leaned back, his hands behind his head as he grinned broadly.

"Oh alright, three months since your swotty schedule doesn't allow for much room for change. As to who might teach you, I might be persuaded if you ask nicely, Granger, and keep your hands to yourself."

A rush of embarrassment flooded her stomach at his disgusting innuendo. Instead of engaging him as she would've done in years past when he acted immature and bratty, she tilted her chin up.

"No, I won't. If you want me to consider us on even standing you'd offer your lessons to me free of any strings attached to make it a fair playing field and know I would treat you as I would anyone else teaching me; respectfully."

Malfoy's eyebrow cocked up a little.

"So I'm your professor now? Intriguing proposition."

Hermione visibly flustered at his odd declaration.

"What? No! Malfoy, stop playing games. I will treat you with the same decorum as I would anyone furthering my education so long as you return the same level of respect I offer." Her eyes narrowed. "Including not saying things like-like that."

Malfoy sighed dramatically.

"Where is the fun in all that then, Granger? Fine, I will teach you how to fly if you call me Professor Malfoy when I do."

"No."

"How about Mr. Malfoy then? There has to be some level of respect diffidence between myself as a fellow student and when I'm teaching you. As a sign of esteem by at least calling me Mr. Malfoy that would fulfill your own requirements, wouldn't it, Granger?"

She puffed out an agitated noise at the way he was twisting her words. Was it really worth all this hassle? It was then he swiped the book carelessly into his knapsack and she winced physically at his thoughtless handling of the hundreds of years old pages.

Yes, yes it was.

"Alright, I accept your wager, Malfoy. Flying lessons for three months then if I make the quaffle shot you give me the book. If I don't make it I will clean your cauldron for the remainder of the year."

She offered her hand to him to shake on the deal and seal it between them. Malfoy rose to his feet then, sliding his robe garbed arm forward but paused in taking her hand. Her gaze lifted as his stature did, unable to stop looking at his eyes that pierced through hers right to her bloody thumping heart that needed to settle down.

"You must also call me Mr. Malfoy. Agree?"

She internally scoffed at him for catching her not adding that tidbit. Whatever, it was only for a few months during lessons. With a sharp nod her hand slid into his which grasped hers tightly. Without warning Malfoy leaned forward until his mouth was right next to her ear, almost grazing it like the blonde strands that tickled her cheek from their nearness.

"Meet me tonight at nine on the pitch, Miss Granger."

Unable to find the means to speak in reply, his hand slipped from hers, and he moved around her stilled form to leave her in a daze. Her hand hovered in the air where they had shook as it dawned on her exactly what she'd blindly agreed to and with the boy she secretly admired no less. Not only that but...

'Did he call me Miss Granger?'