"What's wrong with you?"

Draco turned from Gregory who had asked the question, adjusting his pillow so that his neck was supported better. "Nothing," he answered indifferently.

"You're too quiet. I don't like that."

"Well, I don't like that you're too bloody noisy!" Draco retorted. He heard his friend sigh.

"Don't make me send Pansy in here to pull it out of you."

"Or," Draco started suggestingly. "You could just leave me alone."

"Is it the OWLs? Are you worried about the exams? You don't need to be. You're the smartest Fifth-year I know."

"No Gregory, now shut your fat hole!"

Draco heard the springs to Gregory's bed squeak and then footsteps descended out of the room. Draco was relieved by the fact that his friend finally took the hint.

He removed the letter from under his pillow, reading it over. The letter was his, the one he had found. For some reason, even though he was the one who wrote it, he felt the need to reread it. He didn't know why he kept the letter. By now, he knew Granger was a hot, bloody mess over the idea of him losing points. Draco felt it was only right that she stewed on that for a bit.

But he still hadn't decided whether to confront the Gryffindor about it or just simply pretend nothing had happened. On one hand, he didn't really want Granger to know that he was her owlpal, but on the other hand, her careless mistake lost him 200 points, and he felt she too should also lose those same points.

Something kept him from marching up to her and giving her a few words of what he thought about her leaving one of his most private letters laying around. He wasn't sure what it was though. At some point, he thought maybe he was just too chicken to admit that they had similar interests. It was completely embarrassing that he and a Gryffindor of her blood type could get along so well. Sadly, he couldn't deny this, no matter how much he shoved the thought aside into the depths of his mind.

She had also been a tremendous help with the studying for OWLs, suggesting book titles that Draco would have never thought of. He really didn't want that to end as it was extremely useful to his education. If she knew who he was, she would immediately cease all her help.

Even the thought of the Gryffindor house losing points for Granger finding out his identity wasn't enough to make a definite choice on the matter. He was torn between confronting her or keeping her, and it was wearing him down. He knew it, and unfortunately, his friends were now starting to notice it. His professors would be next, and then his parents would be alerted if he continued to act so strangely. Draco certainly didn't need his mother smothering him.

So what was he going to do? He couldn't keep this up. He had to decide, and he had to do it quickly before everyone thought he needed mental help.

"Hi."

Draco rolled his eyes at the sound of Pansy's quiet voice. Curse Gregory and his interfering with Draco's personal problems!

"What?" Draco suppressed a snarl. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?!

"Something is bothering you."

"Yes, well, state the obvious!" he muttered.

"Are you going to make me hex it out of you?"

Draco flipped over to send her a glare. "I'll hex you right back!"

She smiled. "There's your Malfoy flare! I was wondering where it went!" She pushed at his legs, a gesture that told him she wanted to sit at the edge of his bed. Draco huffed his opinion on that, but he complied, giving her room to do so.

"So? What's your story?"

"I really don't feel like talking about this," he told her.

"It can't be that embarrassing."

"How do you know it has anything at all to do with embarrassment?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, I've known you before we could even talk, it has everything to do with embarrassment with you! You're such a drama king!"

Draco sat up. He let out a deep sigh and held out his letter so that she could take it.

"This…?" Pansy asked in confusion after reading it over. "You wrote this. So?"

"My owlpal is a Gryffindor," he announced grimly. "She dropped it this morning in Potions, and I… picked it up…"

Pansy nodded slowly, and after a moment her eyes began to shine. "I understand now…"

"Do you?" Draco wondered doubtfully. He buried his hands into his face. "No. You don't understand at all. If you did, you'd be laughing at me."

"It is Granger, isn't it?"

Draco hands dropped into his lap. "How would you even know that?"

"Oh, Draco, don't patronize me." She handed him back the letter. "It's highly insulting!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" he snapped.

Pansy tilted her head, and with a slit to her eyes, she smirked. "You really don't know, do you? After all this time?"

Draco shook his head. "Care to explain to me what the bloody hell you're even talking about?!"

"You fancy Granger," Pansy said amusingly. "And you're just now realizing it!" She burst out into giggles. "Here, I just thought you were trying to hide it!"

Draco shot out of bed. "I do not!" he bellowed out in protest. "There is no absolute way I would fall for someone like… like her!"

"Are we talking about Granger again?" Blaise asked, slipping into the room.

"Pansy seems to think I fancy Granger!" Draco announced with a shudder.

Blaise and Pansy exchanged looks, and the corner of Blaise's mouth twitched. "Don't you?"

"No!" Draco snarled. "I just said that!"

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why haven't you told Granger that you're her owlpal— why haven't you made Gryffindor lose points when you've been given the opportunity to do so?"

Draco couldn't come up with a good excuse. He closed his mouth, swallowing hard. "I— I don't fancy her!" he repeated. His voice was gone now, only slightly above a whisper.

Blaise finally allowed himself to grin. "Keep saying it, mate. Maybe if you say it enough, it might actually come true."

Draco didn't sleep much that night. What his friends had said bothered him. They thought he was obsessed with Granger, but he didn't think so.

Then why haven't you told Granger that you're her owlpal? Pansy's question repeated in his mind.

Draco didn't like Granger. He refused to believe that. And even if he did, why were his friends okay with it? Granger was not acceptable blood, and she was a bloody Gryffindor. He was sure there was some law that kept Gryffindors and Slytherins from being anything more than enemies.

But this year could be different. With the whole House Unity rubbish, it could be the start of something different. Something new. Something that he wouldn't mind exploring… Maybe…?

No, he was crazy! He was absolutely crazy!

Wasn't he?

He didn't like her…!

Or did he...?

If he didn't like her, why was he continuously thinking about her?! Why hadn't he made her lose points? She certainly deserved to!

He tossed and turned in bed, finally waking up Gregory. "Would you just lay still!" the bigger boy grumbled.

Draco finally kicked the blanket off him and sat up at the side of his bed. He ran a hand through his tangled hair.

Damn you, Granger!

If he wasn't going to sleep, he may as well go down to the common room and study. He grabbed his books and headed out of the room.

"Draco!" Someone had a hold of his shoulder and was shaking him awake. Apparently, he had fallen asleep sometime in the night.

"Get off!" he muttered at Vincent who was the one giving him potential whip-lash. Draco rotated his neck, wincing at a pinched nerve from sleeping in an odd angle.

"Well?" Blaise asked of him. He had his hands on his hips.

Draco closed up the books that he had been reading hours before and stacked them up into a pile. "Well, what?"

"What are you going to do about your… bushy, little problem?"

Draco stood up and started bagging up his books. "What can I do—" he lowered his voice. "It's not like she'll be friends with me!"

Blaise shrugged. "She might. She takes the House Unity quite seriously."

"I have been harassing her since the day we met. We get under each other's skin too easily."

"Sounds like you get along well in your letters," Blaise pointed out.

Draco grunted. "That's because she doesn't know it's me!"

"Do you like writing to her?"

"Yeah," he admitted after a thought.

"And do you like receiving her letters?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"Then don't tell her who you are," Blaise suggested like it was the most obvious choice.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "Shouldn't you be upset that I…"

He refused to say that he liked her. He wasn't going to say it. He couldn't say it.

"Well… why aren't you upset with… this?"

"You're my friend, Draco, if that bushy-haired, know-it-all makes your heart flutter, what does it matter to me?"

"And Pansy? She thinks the same?"

Blaise laughed. He draped an arm over Draco's shoulder. "Pansy will follow you over a cliff if you lead her there."

Draco finally decided it then. With his friends' support, he'd continue on with the owlpals and wait to see if Granger wanted to keep the anonymity between them or if she wanted to meet instead.

That day, Draco had arranged to have his letter sent back to Granger by paying a First-year Slytherin to give it to a Ravenclaw in her own year, specifying stating that someone else had seen Hermione Granger drop it, and it needed to go back to her. The First-year didn't question him whatsoever, having little care in the world than the ten galleons Draco had offered her.

It took Granger nearly a week to decide on whether she wanted to meet him after the program was over or not.

Dear Owlpal

I've thoroughly given your proposition a thought. I really quite like what we've got going on here, but I'm afraid the curiosity may end up driving me mad. I think it would be best if we did meet. I'm going to be completely honest with you, I can only hold on to suspense for so long before I MUST know the details. So, I do apologize if this is not what you wanted to hear.

— Your Owlpal

Draco set the letter down.

Well, that's just lovely, Draco thought bitterly. Once she knew it was he who she had been writing to, this whole thing would be over. And he didn't want it to be over.

Up in the library, Draco found himself staring at Granger who was surrounded by her typical wall of books. Granger skimmed over one book to another, seemingly looking for something specific.

Granger didn't know he was watching her. He kept telling himself that he should stop this unhealthy activity and just find the book he needed, but he wanted to go up to her. He wanted to sit down next to her and ask her what she was looking for. He wanted to help Granger with her research.

Draco just didn't have the guts to do it. He didn't know where to even begin. And even if he did, she would immediately reject his presence. Draco wouldn't blame her a bit though. He had not been exactly friendly with her all these years.

His eyes widened as she got up and walked toward the shelf that he had been using to conceal himself behind. He backed up and frantically spun around, snatching a random book off the shelf to busy himself with.

His ears picked up on her footsteps which slowed when she noticed his presence.

"Malfoy?" she questioned, surprised to see him.

He looked up, unsure of how he should greet her, but he quickly came to his senses, giving her a single nod. "Granger," Draco acknowledged indifferently.

A tiny smile crept to Granger's lips, and she raised her eyebrows. Her gaze dropped to the book that he was holding. "Are you—" She stopped herself from continuing, shaking her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know." And he watched her turn around on her heel, marching back to the table. Her hair bounced with each step that she took.

He sighed, inwardly cursing himself for acting like such a git. He put the book back into its spot, catching sight of the title.

My Life as a Muggle

Draco pressed a palm to his forehead. No wonder Granger had looked so amused! How she had stopped herself from laughing, he'd never know.

He made a quick exit, having had spent enough time trying to come up with a way to talk to her.

*/*

"You'll never guess what I saw today!" Hermione said as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. "Malfoy was in the Muggle section of the library!"

"You're kidding!" Harry gasped while Ron's jaw dropped, showing a mess of food that he had been the previous chewing on.

"Ugh, disgusting!" Lavender shuddered when she had seen what Ron had done.

"What would Malfoy be doing in the Muggle section of the library?" Ron asked after he had managed to swallow his food.

"I'm not sure, but you should have seen the look on his face when I caught him. He couldn't even say anything. I found it amusing."

"What'd you say to him?" Harry asked.

"Well, I went to ask him about the book he was holding— My Life as a Muggle—" Hermione giggled. "It's so hard to believe he'd even touch a book written by a Muggle! Anyway, I decided that I'd just leave him be. He got out of there quickly after that."

"Wonder what his intentions were with it," Harry thought on it.

"Knowing Malfoy, probably not good ones," Ron added.

"He's in Muggle Studies this year," Timothy Craft announced from his spot next to Ginny. The two were in the same year and had gone to Hogsmeade a couple of times together.

"How would you know this?" Ginny asked him.

"Anthony told me," he answered, speaking about his older brother in Ravenclaw. "They are in the same class."

Several of the surrounding Gryffindors exchanged surprised looks.

"Doesn't sound like Draco Malfoy to me at all," Ginny voiced what everyone else was thinking.

"Suppose his parents found out?" Fay Dunbar wondered. "You think he'd be punished for it?"

"Probably," Ron muttered.

Harry turned around so that he could look over at Malfoy. The rest of the Gryffindors followed suit. The Slytherin was hunched over a book.

"Ever since you and Fred beat him into sludge, he's been… what's the word…? Not exactly decent, but…?"

"Tolerable," Harry filled in for Ron, furrowing his eyebrows. He still felt a bit guilty about attacking Malfoy the way he had. He had gotten a severe verbal lashing from each of his parents over that. He had not gotten kicked off the team, but that was his only warning.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, just now noticing that they were right. "In fact, Malfoy hasn't made fun of me once since that attack. And I can't remember the last time he's called me a Mudblood either!"

Timothy cringed at the word. If it were at all possible, he hated it more the Hermione did, and he wasn't even a Muggleborn.

"Maybe the beating was a good thing after all." Ron shrugged.

Harry turned back around and looked at his plate of unfinished food. "Don't tell anyone about this," he requested of the table. The others looked at him in confusion. "Malfoy shouldn't be punished for taking a class. Let him be if he wants to take Muggle Studies, perhaps it'll change his opinion about them."

Ron snorted in doubt, but he promised Harry he wouldn't say anything, as did the rest of Gryffindors.

Dear Owlpal,

This will be my last letter to you as your owlpal— and probably for the rest of our lives after we meet.

The days have passed by quicker than I would prefer. The Union Party is approaching, and I'm nervous about it. I know you seem alright with me now, but I'm fearing that your opinion of me will change. I don't want our friendship to end, but I must face the inevitable. Once we meet, this friendship that we have made will fade into the night, never to be seen again.

I'm sure you think differently at the moment. Just wait though. You'll see for yourself and change your mind when you see my face.

I want to say that I'm sorry now. For everything in the past, present and future. I deeply wish I could go back in time and change my life, but I cannot, so instead, I will accept the path that I have paved.

I want to thank you for your kindness. I didn't deserve it, but you are a generous person. You need to know that I'm trying to change my ways, and that is mostly because of you.

Farewell, kind owlpal of mine.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, perplexed by the final letter that she'd receive from her owlpal before the Unity Party the next night. Why would he think that she wouldn't want to be friends after they met? Of course, she'd continue to be his friend! He was smart and gave decent advice, even if he was awfully blunt about how he gave it. Hermione liked that he didn't beat around the bush. If she asked him a question, he would answer her outright.

He was also the only one that she knew who took her knowledge seriously, and not just use it to simply write an essay with it. He absorbed her knowledge. He wanted to learn.

Hermione didn't want to lose her new friend. He was the only one who could relate to her, and she felt that their intellectual minds were perfectly matched. She needed someone like that as a friend. She liked having someone to bounce ideas and theories off of. Her owlpal may not agree with everything she came up with, but he could contribute his own thought on the subjects. He knew what she was even talking about, and Hermione hardly had to explain anything to him.

Hermione wondered why he apologized to her in his letter too. If they hadn't even met, if they didn't know who the other was, why would he apologize to her?

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to write him back to reassure him that she wouldn't end their friendship after they met. Hermione would just prove it to him when the time came.

The Great Hall was decorated with the colours of all the houses. Assorted coloured balloons, candles and streamers floated around the room.

A group of Hufflepuffs in Third year had made a rainbow with arches that would fade in and out with all the different house colours. Hermione adored it, and she hoped it would be a piece of art that Hogwarts would keep around.

Dozens of small tables were sprawled about, and Hermione realized that they had been assigned to specific seats. Each table had eight separate place cards, two students from each house. She searched for hers and found out that she'd be sitting with Blaise Zabini— the only name she recognized at her table outside of the other Gryffindor.

"Hi, Hermione," a quiet voice greeted her.

"Hello, Walter," she returned. He was a Fourth-year Gryffindor. He'd occasionally ask her for help with his assignments.

"Looks like we'll be sitting together tonight," he noted. He was one of the shyer Gryffindors, and after thinking about it, Hermione had never really seen him with a group. He was often by himself.

"Looks like it," she agreed. She frowned when she noticed that Ron had gotten stuck at the same table as Pansy Parkinson had. The redhead wore the biggest scowl as he reluctantly sat down. Parkinson made a face at him, showing that she also wasn't too happy with the seating arrangement.

"Good evening," a Slytherin girl sat down next to Walter where her place card had been set. Amelia Hobbins was her name. Hermione only knew that because of her place card.

"Hello," both Walter and Hermione greeted her back.

"I see you in my Potions class," Amelia said to Walter.

He nodded. "Yep, I'm Walter."

"Nice to finally hear your voice. You don't talk much, do you?"

"Not really, no," he admitted with a shrug.

"Hey, guys. Guess we'll be dining together tonight," a Hufflepuff boy said as he sat down. "Name's Sam. I'm a Third year. Nice to meet you."

Everyone returned his greeting.

"Oh, good, I'm sitting with Megan," he spoke about the Ravenclaw girl that had yet to show up. "She's a master at gobstones!"

Zabini approached the table then. "Assigned seating," he announced indifferently, pulling a chair out. "I guess that makes sense. I'm Blaise Zabini. I'll be your male Slytherin tablemate for this evening."

"Hey, I like the sound of tablemates!" Sam chimed, and he introduced himself to Zabini.

"Anyone know when we get to find out about our owpals?" Zabini looked directly at Hermione, expecting her, out of them all, to know.

Hermione lifted her shoulders. "I don't know yet. I can hardly wait though!"

Zabini's eyes lit up. "Me neither," he said through a chuckle.

"What's got you so tickled?" Hermione asked, tilting her head.

Zabini shifted in his chair, displaying a wicked grin. "I just can't wait until the owlpals are finally revealed. I am sure there's going to be a lot of surprises tonight."

Hermione gave him a look. If she didn't know any better, she'd guess he was up to something. She would give him the benefit of the doubt though. She didn't comment further on the subject.

Snacks were served, and later, the professors had set up games for them to play, competing with the other tables. Hermione's table won first place, earning themselves each a gold ribbon with the words "House Unity 1995" on it.

"Good going, Granger," Zabini commented, as he proudly pinned his ribbon onto his Slytherin tie. She had won them all but one of the games— the game they had lost on was a quiz on Quidditch. She didn't know a whole lot about the sport.

"Good evening, students," Professor McGonagall spoke up a bit later. "If you will take your place card, you'll find that it is actually an envelope, and inside that envelope, is a pendant. You and your owlpals have matching pendants. You are now to find the person who has your matching pendant. Enjoy!"

All at once, everyone dug into their envelopes to get their pendant out. Hermione's pendant was made of silver. It had five charms that were linked together, each representing the five things that she and her owlpal had in common: a book, a cat, the sun (to represent the daytime), a pair of sunglasses (to represent the summer holiday) and a blue-coloured gemstone.

She smiled and held it up to her chest for a moment. She would treasure this item for years to come. It was a lovely souvenir.

The room was busy with students trying to find their owlpals, and Hermione stood up, holding hers out to those who seemed lost and not yet matched. She kept searching and searching, but no one held the same pendant as she.

Nearly half an hour passed before she sat down back at her table. He hadn't come, she realized. Her owlpal had not come to the party. He had never wanted to meet her. He had never the intention to meet her. He didn't care to meet.

Her eyes went out of focus, and she blinked back tears. Hermione knew he hadn't wanted to meet, but he hadn't implied that he would just leave her hanging!

"Oi."

Hermione looked up, shocked that anyone would notice her during the commotion. Everyone was paired up now. Harry had gotten some girl from Hufflepuff. Ron had actually gotten a Slytherin, and to Hermione's surprise, they were talking and not fighting!

Theodore Notts stood across from her, and he stood with Luna Lovegood, apparently, they had been matched up.

"Did he not show up?" the girl asked in her ever-so-soft voice.

Hermione shook her head. She placed a hand to her forehead as a wave of embarrassment flushed through her. She rose up from the table and made a run for the door.

*/*

Draco stared down at the pendant that he had been given. He hadn't spoken much at all that night. The only person he knew at the table that he had been assigned to was Ginny Weasley. She didn't seem too interested in talking directly to him (not that he blamed her, with all the cruel things he had said about her family). Instead, Weasley spent most the night talking with the Hufflepuff girl that had been assigned to their table.

When the tables emptied as the students searched for their owlpals, Draco slipped out of the room. He was too nervous to follow through. His gut stirred. He felt like he needed to hurl.

He stood out in the corridor, gulping in breaths of air in an effort to calm himself.

He paced the hall, back and forth, talking to himself, demanding that he get a grip and face the music. Could he ever do that though? He was never one to face his problems. It was easier to just run away.

He balled up his fists, angered at his cowardliness. Why couldn't he just walk in there and tell her?! It wasn't a hard task to physically do!

He pulled at his hair in frustration.

Coward! he scolded himself. You're a bloody coward that's why!

He heard the door to the Great Hall creak open and he hastily composed himself, stiffening up, facing away, unwilling for anyone to see him in his frantic state.

Then he heard an incredibly faint sob, and he turned his head to see her runoff.

Draco set his jaw. He knew why she was crying. He closed his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers into them. Merlin, he was a bloody prick!

*/*

Hermione stopped at the second floor to catch her breath. She threw herself into a room and sat down at a desk, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. She couldn't decide if she was angry with her owlpal or just disappointed, but whatever it was, she was upset!

Something out of the corner of her eye twitched, and she cocked her head to look, catching sight of the pendant that was the twin to her own.

And then she saw who was holding it, and her heart sunk, suddenly understanding exactly why he had been so reluctant with meeting her.

He was staring at her, and for a moment, there was a heavy, uncomfortable silence. She took that moment to wipe a stray tear with a single finger.

Hermione looked away, and she broke the silence, "You were right, I suppose."

"About?" His voice was faint and hoarse.

"That our friendship would end tonight."

Malfoy made no reply. She watched him lift his chin, and he gave her a single nod before he gracefully turned on his heel and silently walked out.

Tears stung her eyes. She told herself that Draco Malfoy was not worth it, but for some reason, she couldn't get herself to believe it.

She was going to deeply miss his letters.

The next afternoon, as Hermione was exiting the girl's laboratory, a hand crashed into her chest, knocking her back inside. Hermione rubbed at the spot, glaring at the person who stood before her.

"Get out," Pansy Parkinson snarled at a First-year Slytherin who made a fast getaway. Then she pointed a finger at Hermione. "You and I are going to have a little talk."

"Honestly, Parkinson, I don't have the time to squabble today, I have to return some—"

"It can wait." Parkinson's tone didn't change. "What did you say to Draco last night?"

Hermione brought her eyebrows together. "I didn't say anything really."

The Slytherin inhaled a slow breath. "My best friend has not left his room all day, and it is because of you, now what did you say to him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if I could do that to him. I'm just a filthy, little Mudblood to him!"

"What is it with you smart people? It's like you lack empathy or something! With all that intelligence in your head, how can you be so blind?!"

Hermione blinked, slightly insulted, but it wasn't like Parkinson had never said anything hateful to her. She huffed, growing annoyed. Parkinson stopped her from making an exit.

"Don't make me draw my wand," Hermione warned her, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

Parkinson squared off her shoulders. "I want you to talk to him."

"No thank you. He wouldn't waste his ruddy time with me, and frankly, I don't want to waste my time on him." Hermione was able to step around the Slytherin before Parkinson gripped her robes, stopping her.

"You're wrong about him, Granger."

Hermione studied her for a moment. Parkinson had no mischievous glint to her eyes. She had no hateful smirk clinging to her lips. She was deadly serious about her statement.

"What are you saying?"

Parkinson snorted. "Bloody git's liked you since—" she paused, thinking. " Let's see, when did you start being his number-one topic—"

Hermione laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, right!"

"Since mid-term First year," Parkinson announced without any humour to her voice. "Personally, I think his obsession over you isn't at all too healthy, but now that you rejected him—"

"Rejected? I didn't reject him! He rejected me! He would never want a Mudblood for a friend! He's Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!"

"Talk to him," Parkinson urged Hermione. "You'll learn differently."

Hermione shook her head, baffled with the Slytherin girl. "Why? Why should I even bother?"

"He's like a brother to me, Granger, and I'm concerned for him. He's no longer listening to me. You're the only one that can help him at this point." Parkinson sighed, and she softened her stance. "Please?" she asked, sounding pathetically desperate. "I know to you he seems like a complete twit, and believe me, he can act like it sometimes, but he's actually a good person. He only lets a few people see that side of him."

Hermione sighed, conflicted on what she should do.

"Do it for the unity rubbish that you believe in," Parkinson pushed, seemingly knowing Hermione would agree to that.

Hermione grunted. She was seriously contemplating giving up her prefect badge next year. It was exceedingly exhausting to put all her differences aside when it came to the Slytherins all because she felt the need to patch things up between the two rival houses for the sake of unity.

"Just think what the professors would think if you two were able to patch things up between our houses. It would probably make school history, no doubt."

"Now you're just being cruel!" Hermione grumbled.

"But you'll talk to him." It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a question because Parkinson knew what Hermione had finally decided.

"Password is cupcake icing," Parkinson simply supplied, and she exited the laboratory with a bounce to her steps.

Hermione tucked her tie into her robes. If she walked into the Slytherin common room with a Gryffindor tie, she was sure they'd pounce on her. She kept her head down and crossed the room. No one seemed to notice her at first, which was relieving, but then she heard,

"There you are, Granger."

And she jumped a little. Zabini stood at her left, and she assumed that he must have been waiting for her.

"Didn't think you'd come, really." Zabini gestured her to follow him.

"I'm not sure why I did. I suppose it's my duty as a prefect," she muttered.

"We appreciate your help whatever reason it may be," he told her truthfully.

Hermione nodded an acknowledgement and peered into the dorm room that Zabini stopped at. Their room didn't look any different than Ron and Harry's did, except for the colours— and it was tidier.

Zabini pointed to a bed that was closed off with its drapery, indicating which one was Malfoy's.

With a steady breath, Hermione approached the bed, clueless on what she should say to the boy who allegedly liked her but had yet to actually show it.

She looked back at the door after hearing it close with a soft click. They were alone.

"Malfoy," Hermione braved to call out his name, knowing that she had to start somewhere.

"Granger?!" The curtains snapped back revealing a very disorderly Malfoy with wide, puffy, darkened eyes. He wore a wrinkled two-piece satin pyjama set, and his hair looked a wreck. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?!"

"Your friends are worried about you," she stated stiffly. She could understand why, he was a complete disaster. "Parkinson said you have this thing for me?" she said it almost accusingly, but it did kind of irritate her that he had tormented her for several years. Hermione didn't understand why he would do that if he had really liked her.

But it was true. Draco Malfoy did like her! Hermione knew it as soon as his eyes broke contact with hers. He didn't sneer at her. He didn't snap an ungodly insult at her. He just sat there, looking like a pathetic, little child who was being scolded for something he had done wrong.

"It's true then," she whispered, slightly shocked.

"It's true," he finally confessed with a tiny squeak. Hermione lifted her eyebrows and watched him bury his face in his hands. "I'm just an arse!"

"I'm not going to disagree with you here."

He dropped his hands and sighed. "I've been trying to change."

Hermione nodded. His attempts had not gone unnoticed. It had been weeks since he had called her a horrible name. "If you liked me so much, why were you so mean to me?" she asked. Her chest suddenly felt heavy with emotion as she remembered just how much of an arse Malfoy really was.

Malfoy scoffed. "I didn't really know I liked you until recently… My friends kind of pointed it out to me, and they got me thinking, and… it hit me. Like a bloody brick! All those times I was horrible to you… I just didn't know how to show how I felt..." he trailed off. "Merlin, why are you even here? I don't deserve your forgiveness!"

"House Unity," she muttered, creasing her eyebrows in mild irritation for feeling that she had to do the right thing all the time.

"You still wanted to be friends, Malfoy?" she asked him urgently, getting straight down to the point.

"We're friends?" he questioned in confusion.

"Well, we were as owlpals," she pointed out. "We could continue in person, that was the whole idea of the owlpal program."

A small smile came across his lips. "Yeah," he agreed. "I want to continue as friends."

"Then it's settled! Get yourself dressed. I'll see you up at the library. Say forty minutes?"

He nodded, somewhat dumbfounded, and as she went to walk out of the room, he called out to her, "Granger?"

"We're friends now," Hermione corrected. "You can't call me by my surname anymore."

His smile widened, finding her teasing amusing, but then it faded, and his voice got really quiet. "I'm sorry for all the times that I made you cry, Hermione."

Hermione nearly melted in her spot by the door. His apology sounded so genuine, something that she had not seen from him ever before. Parkinson had been right, there was definitely a different side to Draco that he only allowed a select few to see.

And he was sharing it with her. A Mudblood. A Gryffindor Mudblood. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do to his parents. Hermione almost pitied him.

"And I'm sorry for all the broken noses that I gave you, Draco."

AN: And it's done! :)

Review Responses:

Bookworm21: Draco knew because out of the fifth-year Potion class, the Slytherins couldn't have been his owlpal, and Hermione was the ONLY Gryffindor )mind you, he knew his owlpal was female) who matched the knowledge of his owlpal. It was a simple process of elimination.