Professor Vector was talking, but Hermione was only just barely listening. Ron had to go messing with her business, and now he wouldn't get out of her head, either. Well, maybe he was right. Malfoy had done nothing to deserve the privilege of her company, in fact he had done quite the opposite over the years. She felt some odd camaraderie with him over this valedictorian thing, but that was all the affection for him she would ever house. Yes, she would study with him this one time, just to honor the commitment, and that would be the end of it.
The rest of her life dealt with, she could now fully tune in to the lesson. Hermione was back to her usual self, volunteering to answer nearly every question. The period flew by in no time. When the bell rang, she gathered her things quickly. She could catch up to Ron and Harry if she hurried, and maybe this would be the year that they worked through their disagreements like adults, instead of not speaking to one another for days or even weeks at a time.
She saw Ron's familiar flaming hair across the entrance hall. He and Harry were carrying their brooms and heading for the door. She ran across the hall and tapped him on the shoulder. Catching her breath, she stood there beaming at him for a moment before he spoke.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" His lazy grin vanished when he saw her.
"I– Ron, it's just this once, it's not going to be–" But he was walking away. She turned to Harry, indignant. He shrugged at her sadly and went after Ron. Hermione stood there for a moment, stewing in her rage, until she realized she really did have somewhere to be. She hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder and stalked off to the library.
When Hermione walked through the doors, she immediately felt soothed. By the rows and rows of books, by the dust motes lazily floating in the rays of sunshine that streamed in through the high windows, by the heavy silence that seemed to press down on them, like air pressure itself. There was still ire within her, but the pot was at a gentle simmer now, whereas it had been at a rolling boil minutes before.
She scanned the room for a certain head of platinum-blond hair. Its owner was seated alone at the table farthest away from the desk of Madam Pince. Malfoy looked resolutely sullen. Like just being there was sucking the soul out of him. Maybe it was. This had all been a huge mistake. But she just couldn't stomach the prospect of Ron's smug I told you so, so she pressed forward. Walked over, pulled up a chair. She didn't say hello, but nodded her head, like she had some semblance of coolness. He nodded back. The gestures gave way to an awkward sort of presence, something almost tangible in the air between them, a blanket heavier than the quiet of the library.
Hermione opened her transfiguration book, and closed it again. She twirled her quill between her fingers. Apparently Malfoy noticed.
"What's up with you, Granger?" The way he spat her name, it was almost like a swear word. Anything that came out of his mouth could sound like an insult. She wondered if he was even capable of kind words towards her, and had to stop herself from imagining it. "Afraid I'll bite?" That was enough. That was it. The thing that was steaming inside of her boiled over, and, unfortunately for Malfoy, he was near enough to be scalded by the water.
"I am so fucking sick of this." She would have been shouting had they not been in the library. Even when she was losing her cool, Hermione did not dare disturb the library's quiet. "I have had enough. Enough of you, enough of Ron, enough of everyone thinking I'm weak. Because I'm a girl. Because I'm only a bloody teenager. Because I spend half my life with my head in a book. I don't know why. But I can take care of myself, damn Ron." Her voice was rising a little now, somewhat outside of her control. It was too much. It had all been bottled up for so long, and it had to come out. "He's mad, I swear. He so bleeding over-protective, when I told him I was coming to study with you, he practically went mental! I don't know what he thinks is going to happen, exactly, I'm not an idiot! I don't even know why we're friends. Without Harry, we would've had a massive row years ago, I mean even worse than we've had. Oooh, I can't stand him. Is it so much to ask? For him to fucking take me seriously? Can't I–"
Hermione was interrupted by a loud shhh. She blushed furiously, and turned around to find Madam Pince craning her long neck to glare at her. She sank low in her seat, not looking at Malfoy. The palpable tension had never really left, but it seemed to magnify in the minute before he spoke. He cleared his throat, a smirk playing across his lips.
"Well, this has been fun. See you in class, Granger." Her name sounded different on his tongue. Softer somehow. She desperately hoped it wasn't pity in his voice, although she didn't know what else it could be.
That had been, to say the least, quite embarrassing. Of all the people to be on the receiving end of her spilled guts, it had had to be Malfoy, and of the all the places it had had to be the library. But there was nothing to do but put it behind her. Now that he was gone, maybe she could do some actual studying. She opened her book again.
But she couldn't focus. It was Ron and Malfoy, pinging around her head. She was angry, and confused, and there was some other emotion in the mix, but she couldn't quite place it. It was rather unfamiliar, and that was rather worrying. She tried to focus on the section in the textbook on human transfiguration, but she just kept picturing Malfoy with pink hair. It was funny, that was the only reason she kept playing it over and over again in her mind's eye. Not because it was incredibly attractive. Well, perhaps there was no use skating around it. Perhaps she should just accept that Draco Malfoy was devilishly attractive, even if he was a class-A prick. There was nothing wrong with conceding that. In fact, she was positive that many girls, and a few boys, at the school would agree with her wholeheartedly. That set her mind at ease somewhat.
But the fact of Malfoy's good looks did not fully explain why she could not get him out of her head. There were plenty of attractive boys that she could think of, both at Hogwarts and in the muggle world. But they weren't relentlessly occupying her headspace. Well, Ron was doing that too, and he was certainly not an object of her fancy. Just thinking about him made her quake with anger again, and she decided not to forgive him, no matter how many pleading looks Harry gave her in the coming weeks, and no matter how juvenile they seemed. That seemed to satiate her mind somewhat, leaving only Malfoy on it. She still couldn't place the foreign feeling that she had thinking about him, and with this unsolved emotional mystery she couldn't seem to get any work done. She sighed and put away her books for the day. Good thing she had the whole weekend. It was a good thing she wouldn't be writing any essays for Ron this year, either. She would need all the time she could get.