Chapter 1

Hermione woke the next morning with a soft smile on her face, feeling content.

That smile quickly faded as she remembered the events of only hours prior.

"Oh, bloody hell. What was I thinking?" she whispered in disbelief, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "I can't believe I did something so utterly and completely…" she stopped and the smile returned to her lips as a thought jumped to the forefront of her mind. "…not me."

She lay in bed for several minutes, luxuriating in the memory of the previous night.

Even if he had just been playing to her fantasy, she had seen a side of Draco Malfoy she had never thought existed.

He had been kind, gentle, and thoughtful.

Hermione was sure he would deny any comments to that nature, but that didn't change what she now knew about him.

As she climbed out of bed, she was slightly sad to think they, more than likely, would never share a night like that again.

But that was fine. That had been her condition to herself, and she was sure he had made the same vow.

Collecting her toiletries, she started down the hall toward the prefect bathroom, hobbling slightly due to the soreness the previous night had inflicted upon her.

She started to think of how she was going to keep from being guilty about her night, and, more importantly, keep from telling Harry and Ron.

Then, their argument flashed into her mind.

And this brought her near to tears.

Ron was her first real boyfriend. Victor hadn't counted, as sweet as he was. He had been too old for her, and was too busy with his fame to really have any time for a relationship.

Yes, they had kissed a time or two, but they both knew there was really no spark there.

There had been a spark with Ron however.

Alright, raging inferno would be more apt, she thought, a soft smile gracing her lips.

But, the inferno was more about the thrill they got from arguing with each other.

Last night, however, had left her with no thrill. Their argument had turned her cold, and it had hurt.

As she stepped into the prefect's bathroom at a little before seven o'clock, the thought struck her that she and Ron were no longer together.

The tears started to fall.

Draco Malfoy awoke in an intensely foul mood just after seven o'clock.

He had been dreaming about her all night – or at least the last four hours of it – and it was frustrating.

Why the hell should I give half a bloody damn about her? he thought as he stormed to the prefects' bathroom, trying to be angry with himself, but failing miserably. She's nothing but a Mudblood; just another notch in my belt.

But damn, was she good, he grinned as he shook his head. Never again, huh Granger? Well, one night was definitely worth it.

He reached the entrance to the prefect's bathroom and walked directly into the painting, falling backwards and landing directly on his arse.

"What the hell?" he shouted in surprise.

The mermaid from the painting inside the bathroom suddenly popped into the picture and smiled at him. "Oooh, hi Draco… Sorry, but there's already a girl in here. You'll have to wait."

Rolling his eyes, he stood and walked toward the painting, stopping just inches from it. "And who is the lucky girl that gets to share her bath time with Draco Malfoy, hmmm?"

The mermaid giggled at his flirting. "Hermione Granger."

An evil smile spread across the Slytherin's face.

"If you let me in, you'll be in for a hell of a show," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She tittered again before responding. "Okay, but if anyone finds out, you forced me to do it, alright?"

The portrait swung open and Draco stepped into the bathroom.

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" he called.

There was a gasp and a splash before Granger replied. "Get out you slimy git! I'm not dressed."

Draco's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile as he circled the Olympic-sized bathtub. "Please, Granger," he started as he took his shirt off. "It's nothing I haven't seen in the last six hours or so," here, he dropped his pants. "And you know, its not like you'll be the only one naked in here." Now, he was standing in front of her. She was hiding beneath the bubbles, only visible from the neck up.

With a wink, he dropped his boxers and jumped into the pool next to her.

He couldn't help laughing at the scandalized look on her face.

She narrowed her eyes, and, before he could react, Draco had a face full of water and bubbles.

"You just splashed me!" he cried indignantly.

In response, she blew a rather forceful raspberry at him, which earned her the water and bubbles treatment.

Before either teenager knew what was going on, they were chasing, splashing and dunking each other.

Finally, Draco caught her and pinned her against the side of the pool-bath, not even thinking of the position it put them in.

He looked down at her, and realized her very naked body was pressed up against his. This caused an immediate reaction from him, and he felt his loins spring to life.

Granger must have noticed as well, because her breathing began to quicken, and she looked up into his silver orbs.

Her eyes were different from last night.

They were sad. Like she had lost something; like this was the last place she wanted to be.

I'll have to change that, he thought, licking his lips.

"No, Malfoy," she whispered as he leaned in to kiss her.

He stopped and pulled back. "Why?"

Shaking her head, she pushed him away lightly, and climbed out of the bath, walking over to where her towel was.

He followed, quiet, determined not to repeat his question, but just as determined to get an answer.

After drying themselves off, the two teenagers sat on one of the benches surrounding the bath and remained quiet.

Nothing happened.

There was silence.

Still, nothing happened.

And, there was silence.

After several more minutes of this, there was still a large lack of anything happening.

Then, more silence crept over the old silence and made all of the silence feel pretty uncomfortable.

Especially for Draco, considering he had been the last to speak.

Finally, Granger heaved a large sigh and looked at him. "This isn't really us, is it?"

"No, its not," he replied without thinking. "Here we are, two people who couldn't have hated each other more only twenty-four hours ago, and now we're prancing around in the bath together like a couple of love struck fools."

The irony of the situation hit them both, causing them to look at each other and smile.

"And anyways, if there was anything between us, its not like it could ever work out," he started.

"Right," she continued, picking up on his train of thought. "I mean, we're just too different."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. You're a goody-two-shoes, model citizen, smartest-witch-in-a-century, Gryffindor…"

"… And you're a downright smarmy, arrogant, evil, Slytherin git who enjoys picking on first years," she finished, obviously feeling as if she had one-upped him.

Draco mimicked indignation. "Moi, pick on first years? Please, second-years are so much more entertaining," he grinned. "They understand why they should fear me."

Granger smacked him lightly on the arm and laughed. "You're horrible."

"I think that's the point," he retorted, grinning.

Her face fell at his comment, and for an instant, he worried he might have ruined the moment somehow.

Then he remembered he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger.

There weren't supposed to be any moments like this.

"You just realized it too, didn't you?" she asked softly.

With a sigh, he nodded. "Yeah… I have to go," he said softly as he stood up to dress. Both teenagers were quiet as he collected his things and made for the door.

Reaching the portrait, he stopped, trying to collect his thoughts.

Trying to rein in his wayward emotions.

"This may have changed everything," he said finally, still facing the door, not quite wanting to leave yet. "But it doesn't change anything."

"I know," she whispered from her spot on the bench.

With a nod, Draco stepped through the door and became Malfoy once again.

The final two weeks of school passed rather quickly for Hermione. She spent most of the time reading, and spending time with Harry – when he wasn't with Ron, that is.

Harry had done an admirable job of balancing time between his now estranged best friends, and the young witch was extremely grateful to him for it, seeing how very few people spoke to her nowadays.

Ron, from what she had overheard, was sulking around and trying to spread his altogether foul mood on anyone unlucky enough to be in his vicinity.

She felt horrible for what she had said that night, but he was in the wrong more than she was, and it was his responsibility to apologize first.

That's what she kept telling herself, at least.

She tried very hard not to think about the fact she had slept with Draco Malfoy mere hours after her and Ron's relationship ended.

Hermione knew very well why she wasn't taking Harry's advice and just talking to Ron, and it wasn't because he was a 'hard-headed, hot-tempered git that needs to learn to appreciate what he has,' as she often told anyone who asked – mainly Harry.

Aside from the Boy-Who-Lived, no one spoke to her. Not out of spite, or fear, or anything like that, but because they really didn't know what to say.

Ginny couldn't talk to her – after all, Ron was family.

Lavender and Parvati talked to her just about as much as they had before the entire fiasco, which amounted to 'good morning' and 'good night.'

Malfoy had avoided her like the plague.

Every time they walked down the same hall, he would suddenly find somewhere else to be, and quickly.

It hurt, slightly, but she understood.

She couldn't think about him without feeling this odd sense of right and wrong warring inside her.

For better or worse, there would be nothing else between them.

This was her last thought as she stepped out of the carriage that brought her to the Hogwarts Express, ready for the return trip to London.

She turned and looked up one last time at the towering spires of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Except for a few staff members who called the castle their home, everyone was leaving for the summer – some for good.

The chestnut-haired witch wondered briefly if Malfoy was one of those who wouldn't return, if his darker calling would manifest over the summer.

She shuddered at the idea and quickly pushed it out of her mind.

What will be, will be, she thought as she climbed aboard and began looking for a relatively empty compartment.

There were few things Draco despised more than being forced to sit through someone else's account of what they were going to do over summer break.

Being told what to do, being sick, and Harry Potter were about it.

So, Pansy's incessant account of what her summer was going to consist of was generally the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to the blond Slytherin.

Now, Pansy was an altogether reasonable girl, and they had been friends for quite some time. In fact, they were betrothed, and, all things considered, Draco could have a worse person for his wife.

Millicent Bulstrode for example.

Draco shuddered at the thought.

Over the past couple of years, however, Pansy had become more and more possessive of him. She grew angry whenever he tried talking to another girl, or, for that matter, paying attention to anyone other than her.

So, at the beginning of the year, Draco had sat her down and told her, plain and simply, that until they were married, they were just friends.

Not 'friends with benefits,' but simply friends.

She hadn't liked that idea too much.

When he explained to her how she was acting, and how completely irritated it was making him, she relented. She didn't want to jeopardize her future marriage, after all.

So, she had taken to being his friend, and, as her friend, Draco was now subjected to the torture of her talking.

Having been through several of these sessions, he had developed a highly advanced case of selective hearing, picking up on the key words so he could drop the appropriate responses when and where they were required.

Staring out the window of the rapidly moving train, his mind began to wander in the odd way it does when boredom reaches a new level.

I wonder if she thinks before she speaks, or if the words just come tumbling out.

A few minutes of inane rambling flowed over him after this thought.

I wonder just how long she can hold her breath. Her lungs get enough of a workout from all the hot air that passes through her lips. A small smile spread over his lips as the picture of Pansy holding her breath popped into his head. He could just see her floating away because of the backup of hot air.

After this amusing thread ran out, he was left in a deeper boredom than before.

I wish there was some intelligent conversation on this train.

This innocent thought caused his mind to enter the arena he had been carefully avoiding for several weeks now.

I need someone to talk to about more than who likes whom and 'What is, like, so in right now.'

I wonder what Granger thinks about that essay on the healing properties of mandrake and nightshade. Probably thinks it's a complete –

He stopped and sat bolt upright as he realized what – or rather who – he had been thinking about.

This earned an odd look from Pansy, who had apparently been in the middle of a riveting account of what clothing stores she would be visiting while in Paris.

"Are you okay, Draco?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

Shaking his head, the blond stood. "I haven't seen Crabbe or Goyle," he half-lied. He had specifically told them to get lost, so as to give him this exact excuse to escape. "I need to make sure they made it onto the train alright."

"But, Draco…" Pansy whined in her scratchy soprano voice. "What am I going to do?"

I am a fucking babysitter, he thought irritably, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know, and I don't care, Pansy. You are a semi-intelligent person, why don't you think of something."

Slumping in her seat, the Slytherin girl pouted, but nodded in submission. "Fine."

Without replying, Draco walked out of the compartment and directly into the person he had been trying to avoid.

Harry stopped short as the tangle of bodies went down in front of him.

Here he was, trying to spend some time with Hermione, and away from the moping, sulking and just generally brooding Ron, when Malfoy decides to pop out of his evil little compartment and ruin his already sour day.

Yes, the compartment was evil because it had housed Malfoy.

No, you weren't going to convince Harry otherwise.

"Get off of me, you smarmy git!" Hermione yelled from below Malfoy, her face red in anger.

Malfoy sneered as he quickly stood. "Oh, please Granger, its not as if you've never been under me before," he snapped.

Hermione's face grew even redder now, and Harry could tell it was from embarrassment, not anger.

Stepping in, Harry shoved Malfoy back through the door he had just emerged from, whereupon he tripped over the feet of a very surprised Pansy Parkinson.

"Like Hermione would ever voluntary touch a maggot like you, Malfoy," the he spat at the prone Slytherin.

A sly smile spread across the lips of his rival, giving Harry a very bad feeling about the direction this conversation was taking.

"Why don't you ask –" he stopped short and frowned, his eyes narrowing at the witch behind Harry.

Turing to her, he saw her shaking her head as she pointed her wand at him, her features livid.

"Another word," she growled. "One more lying word and I will hex you so bad that your own mother wouldn't recognize you."

This seemed to sufficiently cow the blond, but didn't remove the scowl from his features.

"Come on, Harry."

Harry looked back and forth between his friend and the Slytherin on the ground, trying to figure out what had just transpired.

Normally, Malfoy wouldn't have stopped his snide comments to Hermione, no matter the threat to himself.

But he had done just that. He had stopped.

Harry had to run to catch up to Hermione, who had left him in her wake.

He didn't even call her a Mudblood, he thought, none of the pieces of this strange event fitting together.

Draco stormed through the train, furious, lashing out at anyone foolish enough to stand in his way.

Fucking bloody Potter, always so damn righteous. Always has to get in the middle of things! Why can't that good-for-nothing, piece of dragon dung, perfect little saint just die already!

Okay, so furious didn't quite describe how angry he was.

During his tirade, he happened upon Crabbe and Goyle harassing the trolley lady, and, amusing as it was, decided to rescue her. He was now walking down the hallway of the train putting the fear of Slytherin into anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

This continued on for some time, until he happened upon a compartment with its door cracked, and a few familiar voices flowing from it.

Perfect, he thought as a cruel smile started to play across his features.

"Well, well, well," he said as he slid open the compartment door. "What a sad collection of students we have here."

Huddled in the compartment were Loony Lovegood, the twit Longbottom, the littlest Weasley, and, his favorite target, the Weasel King himself.

"What do you want Malfoy?" the female Weasley asked, not bothering to conceal her irritation at his presence.

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if any of you knew where Granger is?" he asked, his mind throwing an evil plan together in a matter of seconds. "She and I have unfinished business to… discuss," he smirked, choosing his wording so the meaning behind it would not be lost on anyone present.

The Weasel was out of his seat before Draco could blink, and, had it not been for Longbottom's quick reflexes, the Slytherin would have had a large gangly fist connect with his jaw.

Crabbe and Goyle stepped up behind Draco, cracking their knuckles as they did, trying to be as intimidating as possible.

"Now, now, boys. There's no need for violence this early in the day," he said mockingly, quite aware that the Weasel would like nothing more than to prove him wrong on that point.

Goyle, understanding the irony of the comment, chuckled lightly.

Crabbe, on the other hand, looked back in forth in confusion before saying anything. "Why not?"

Pausing in his gloating over the struggling Weasel, who was now being restrained by his sister as well, he turned to his dim friend, an exasperated look on his face.

He looked to Goyle for help, not quite sure how to respond, only to receive more laughter from him in response. Rolling his eyes, he patted the smaller of the two large boys on the shoulder and shook his head, trying not to laugh as well. "Don't worry about it Cra-"

There was a loud crack against the back of his head, and Draco's world went dark.

"Fight!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks as the shout rang throughout the halls of the Hogwarts Express. She looked back to Harry, who had a pensive look on his face, looking in the direction the yell came from.

Her brow crinkled in confusion at his expression. "Harry?"

Without an answer, the Boy-Who-Lived took off like a shot, leaving a bewildered Hermione, with her much shorter legs, to try to catch up with him.

Finally coming upon a large press of bodies, the witch forced her way through her peers, trying to make use of the wake Harry had created when he pushed through.

She managed to reach the edge of the ring just after Harry, and stopped cold for the second time.

Harry had just jumped into the fight, taking over for Neville, who had been knocked unconscious just as Hermione had reached them.

Ron's face was broken and bloody, but he continued to trade blows with Crabbe, who was in just as bad of shape.

Goyle, on the other hand, was manhandling Harry, just as he had done with Neville. The large boy's nose was broken, and he had a cut on one of his cheeks, but other than that, he wasn't any worse for wear.

Harry, however, had already had his glasses broken, and blood was pouring from a cut over his eye, just below his famous scar, and Hermione had just heard a snap from a punch that had landed in his midsection.

Not quite sure what to do, Hermione whipped out her wand and stunned all the participants with several rapid stupefy charms.

Looking down on all the bodies, she realized she had not seen the Slytherin ringleader – an odd thing, considering the fighters involved.

"Where's Malfoy?" she asked a third-year standing close by as she rushed to check on Harry.

Before the young boy had a chance to reply, Ginny stuck her head out of the compartment nearby. "He's in here and he's not moving," she said in a rush, her voice panicked. "He's not moving! I don't know what happened!"

Chocolate eyes widened in alarm as Hermione rushed into the room. Quickly remembering everything she had read in medical journals and emergency pamphlets, she set her hand on his heart and one finger under his nose.

She sighed in relief as she felt a fairly strong pulse and a steady stream of air coming from his nose. Reaching behind his head, Hermione's heart stopped when her fingers came in contact with something warm and wet. Pulling her hand back, she had to stop herself from vomiting at the amount of blood now covering it.

"Ginny, go get a professor," she said quietly, her voice dead serious.

When the redheaded girl didn't move, Hermione turned to her. She was sitting there, wide-eyed, staring at Hermione's hand.

"NOW!" she yelled, scaring her friend out of her stupor.

With a quick nod, the youngest Weasley took off in search of an adult.

Hang in there, Malfoy. Just hang in there.

Draco was aware of a dull ring coming from somewhere, and he wished someone would just break whatever was making the noise so he could go back to sleep. He had a bad enough headache as it was.

He heard someone talking, but he couldn't tell if they were right next to him or in another room, because the words were all muffled.

He was pretty sure they were talking about him, though. So, painful as it was, he forced himself to waked up and listen in.

"…sion. He's going to have severe headaches and dizziness for quite some time, because of the severity."

Draco couldn't be sure, but he thought the voice belonged to Madam Pomfrey.

"But, he's going to be alright, right?"

This was Granger, he knew.

Who's going to be alright? Me?

What the hell happ-

Draco stopped thinking as he remembered.

Weasley.

Opening his eyes, the blond had to blink several times to try to relieve the pain this simple act caused.

"Yes, he'll be okay. He just needs to rest," the voice he thought was Madam Pomfrey answered. "Thought I am curious as to why you are so concerned about Mr. Malfoy's well-being."

Without missing a beat, the younger witch made up a very plausible lie. "I was the only prefect present during the altercation, and Professors Snape and McGonagall both want a report on it, so the can mete out punishment where necessary" she sighed.

"What … happened …" he croaked out, each word causing his head to begin pounding anew.

Madam Pomfrey rushed over at the sound of his voice and helped him to a sitting position.

You suffered a severe concussion, Mr. Malfoy. I must say, I am impressed you woke this quickly. Some of us were afraid you had gone comatose," she said, worry lines standing out on her face.

"What … about … the … Weasel?" he ground out, doing his best to overcome the pain and vertigo he was feeling.

Granger stepped forward here, a serious look on her face. "Just rest Malfoy. He's not your concern right now," she said softly.

Rest sounded like a very good idea at the moment. He made to lie back down, but was stopped by Madam Pomfrey.

"You can rest, but no sleep for at least 12 hours. We need to make sure your head is okay before you can sleep, because if we don't you might not wake up again."

Feeling that it would be dangerous to nod, Draco grunted in response.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow to take you home," Pomfrey continued.

That was when Draco realized he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

Figures.

He looked up to see that Granger was still there, while Pomfrey was walking away.

"Something you … wanted … Granger?" he asked slowly, still struggling with his words.

She was silent for a moment before nodding. "Have a good summer," she said simply before turning on her heel and walking away.

Stupid Mudblood, he thought as he watched her leave.

All in all, things could have been worse, Harry mused as he sat in his bed at St. Mungo's. Ron had ended up with a broken orbital bone, a broken nose, and a broken arm. Neville had a light concussion, as well as a broken foot and wrist.

Harry had sustained three broken ribs, with a fourth having a hairline fracture. The cut above his eye had needed stitches – some charm Goyle had on his fists wouldn't let the wounds be healed by magical means - and Harry didn't want to think about what people would make of his new scar.

That was all he needed, more damn publicity.

Crabbe had fared about as well as Ron had, but Goyle had been a miracle. He had broken his nose while giving Neville a head butt, and sprained a finger when punching Harry.

He had done the most damage and come out with the least.

It was ridiculous.

So, here Harry was, Ron snoring on his left, Neville trying to sleep on his right, and Harry sitting here wondering where Malfoy had found a monster like that to protect him.

What a wonderful start to the summer, he thought bitterly.

Malfoy had been taken back to Hogwarts, "for his own protection," Harry had been told. A few Aurors had questioned Ron, but in end, the altercation had been chalked up to stupid teenage aggression, and not anything more sinister.

Shaking his head, Harry leaned back and stared at the ceiling, wondering why Hermione had been more concerned about Malfoy than any of them.

Yeah, because I needed another mystery in my life, he thought as he closed his eyes, deciding to figure out the puzzle in the morning.

The last thought he had before he fell into slumber would later be filed under 'Completely Random, but True.'

I need a hobby.

Author's Note

Review and let me know what you think.