3 months later.
Draco and Hermione had studiously avoided each other ever since that marked day when they had come oh so close to being caught in the most compromising positions of their lives. His pride and her fastidious primness had caused each to repel the other like polar forces and it was a school joke that they could almost always be found that the exact opposite ends of every room. Avoiding one another was not difficult – the Hogwarts beaurocracy ensured that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin had about as much chance of ending up alone in a room together as Snape had of directing the annual spring musical (this year "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat," with a befuddled Seamus Finnegan displaying a curious natural aptitude for song in the role of Elvis).
What the Hogwarts beauracracy had not counted on – had never even considered – was that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor would have such a hard time keeping their eyes off each other. Hogwarts student body had also become used to this as the days went on, although surprisingly few jokes were made. It was not something anyone wanted to mess with, nor did anyone care to risk the consequences of Draco's wrath or Hermione's reproachful gaze.
Then there was the whole "dark versus light" issue, but that was really sidebar. There were plenty of reasons Draco and Hermione would never work without bringing the whole he-wants-to-kill-every-one-of-your-kind aspect of it. She was generally regarded as a civil and even elegant human being, whereas even the Slytherins avoided Draco like the plague ever since he'd made it very apparent that he was privy to more information than anyone at Hogwarts regarding the activities of the Death Eaters. Slytherins knew when to look out for Number One.
Alone in her bed at night, Hermione had gone over the details of their encounter so many times that by rights they should have been flat and stale in her mind. Yet the images refused to fade into mundane memories and every time she allowed her mind to wander in their direction she got a whirling, soaring feeling in her stomach, then a sinking sensation like an elevator rapidly descending, goose bumps up and down her arms followed by a wave of heat and a strong desire to storm up to him at breakfast and – and…well…slap him. Or kiss him. The one she picked usually depended on the night and what kind of day she'd had.
She wasn't sure now who had initiated the not-talking-not-acknowledging-not-even-insulting one another behavior that they were currently rutted in. It had been tacit and mutual and now it seemed to them the only possible way in which they could co-exist. She still caught him looking at her, but he was much more careful now. She supposed he would be, he was a Death Eater's heir apparent, after all. The thought made her cringe and pull the sheets over her head.
Harry and Ron had never mentioned the encounter again, as though hoping it would go away if they didn't talk about it. And it had, for all intents and purposes. It might as well never have happened. And the thought of that made her groan and throw the sheets off. She'd spent many nights tossing and turning like this before sleep came. Now she was used to casting a Refresh Charm on her face before heading down to breakfast with her usual armload of books.
A/N: Sorry this has been so long in coming – no excuses! I know this one is short(er) than the others, but I had to get something up here…reviews are loved and appreciated, and constructive criticism even more so!