She felt a hand wrap around her arm and before she knew what was happening, she was dragged into an empty classroom.

"Honestly, Granger," her attacker huffed. "You look an absolute mess. Who taught you how to tie a tie?" He loosened the knot slightly, readjusted the lengths of the hanging material without completely undoing the whole thing, then tugged it securely back in place.

"My father." She expected some quip about how useless muggles were, but it never came. He simply straightened her collar, and left her alone, utterly and completely flabbergasted by the unprecedented experience with, of all people, Draco Malfoy.

Two days later, Hermione spilled pumpkin juice on her uniform. A quick drying spell sopped up the liquid, but left a murky orange-ish stain. It wasn't terribly noticeable and if she had paid more attention to Mrs Weasley, she might have known how to rid that as well. No one seemed to mind though, if they even saw it. Or so she thought, until again the young witch found herself yanked out of the corridor and into a nearby classroom.

"Where is your jumper?"

"My jumper?" she asked dumbly. "Eh, in my room, I guess. Why?" She didn't understand what this was about, or why the pristine blonde appeared so agitated once more. "Malfoy, what are you doing?" He was pulling his outer layer off, leaving him in his white button-up and black tie. After sliding the satchel strap from her shoulder, he pulled the material over her head, encasing her in his warmth.

"There," he said. "I mean, you look ridiculous, but at least you're not walking around in sullied clothing for all to see."

Yes, and what a scandal that would have been.

Somehow, wearing an abundantly obvious Slytherin wizard's sweater seemed more conspicuous.

And so this continued, every few days Malfoy would find something objectively incorrect about what Hermione was wearing or how. At various points of the day, be it before breakfast, on her way back from the loo, or while she sat minding her own business in the library, she was accosted by the posh fruitcake.

By the end of November, she wasn't even reacting much to the abrupt derailment whenever she was pulled off course. This alcove, however, was far smaller than any of the classrooms, which meant the two were forced to stand significantly closer than ever before. From this distance, Hermione noted swirls of silver in his stormy eyes. "Malfoy!" He completely removed her tie and even unbuttoned her blouse to fiddle with her collar more easily. It was strangely intimate, despite her knowing that he was not, in fact, undressing her. "What are you doing?" She bit her lip when his fingers tickled her collarbone and his skin touched hers for the first time (barring third year, of course).

"How do you even get it so twisted?" He huffed in frustration, missing how she shivered. The warmth of his breath sent chills down her spine and goosebumps across her flesh when he bent over her. "It's like you do this on purpose."

She hadn't been… but that wasn't a bad idea.

Nearly five months go by. There was hardly a day during which Draco Malfoy did not find himself fixing one thing or another on Granger's person. It was usually, though not limited to, her tie. He didn't know what was going on with her. She was becoming more and more dishevelled by the day, it seemed. By the hour even! He could fix her tie after breakfast, then on the way to lunch, he would see how she mucked it up again.

"What has your wand in a knot?"

He needed to get out of the corridor and away from everyone, because anyone could suddenly turn into Hermione Granger and he simply was not in the mood to deal with her. Thankfully, there were only a few people in the common room, and thankfully, they were the few he would consider to be his friends. "Have you seen her today?" he asked in response to Zabini's question.

"Who?"

"Granger," Pansy answered with a theatrical eye roll.

"Yes! Exactly! How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"I mean, I know she didn't have the best upbringing-"

"Her parents are muggle teeth healers, or what have you," Blaise interrupted. "From what I hear, they're pretty wealthy, mate, and she has a better relationship with them than any of us have with our parents."

"How do you know that?" Pansy asked, blatantly disinterested in what Draco had been saying.

"I'm dating her best friend."

"Still with Weasley then? That's a new record for you."

"Sod off, Pans."

"No, I'm proud, Blaise. Really."

"Can we please focus on me? Merlin, it's like you guys don't even care! I can't concentrate when she's around. She's a bloody distracting mess! How does it not wear on your nerves."

"You wear on my nerves," Blaise quipped. "Granger's alright."

"Alright? Alright? What do you mean, she's alright?"

"She's alright! I don't know! What do you want me to say? The broad's alright! She helps me with my homework, and she's actually pretty funny despite what Ron and Harry think."

"Funny?" The blonde scoffed indignantly. "What's funny is her fashion sense."

Pansy scrunched her nose up at him. "We wear uniforms all day, you plonker."

"Well, she can barely do that! Have you seen her? She's in a constant state of total disarray."

"For Snape's sake, Draco! She's doing it on purpose!"

"Stop trying to make 'Snape's sake' happen, Pans," interjected Blaise. "It's never going to happen."

"It will. You'll see."

There was a long pause while the two allowed their distraught friend to process what was said. "Why would she purposely look a mess?"

"So that you can tidy her up, you ninny."

"That makes no sense."

"I agree. Hermione Granger, of all people, wanting anything to do with you makes absolutely no sense. But she does! It's so painfully obvious to the entire school. I mean, she still wears your jumper! How do you not see it?"

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because all you do is complain about her when it's obvious to literally everyone else that you're in love with her, so please go snog her or something and leave me the hell alone!"

"That's not- that doesn't even- she wouldn't- Blaise?"

He was able to successfully, though with great mental fortitude, avoid the witch that following day, then he proceeded to hole up the entire weekend until Monday's unavoidable first class. As he made his way toward potions, a class comprising all four houses due to the low number of qualified students, he seriously debated whether it might not have been best to turn around and skip until he was able to articulate all of the reasons why Pansy was so irrefutably wrong in her assessment of both his feelings as well as Granger's intentions.

The mass of 7th year students stood outside of the classroom and Draco was struck by the inter-house mingling that he hadn't before noticed. Pansy was talking to some strawberry blonde Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw twat. Blaise was looking particularly chummy with Potter's pet Weasel, which Draco found odd, but with Potter occupied by the youngest redhead's mouth, Weasley must have needed a diversion elsewhere. He wasn't sure how Blaise was tolerating the conversation though.

Once the door opened, everyone began filing in slowly. As the crowd dwindled, he saw her leaning against the far wall reading. She used a strip of yarn to hold her place before shutting the enormous book and grabbing her bag from the floor. That was when he recognised his jumper. It was so large that it nearly covered the entire length of her skirt. It looked like she was wearing nothing but his jumper.

He wanted her to wear nothing but his jumper… which was a startling realisation. One that paralyzed him for a couple of minutes.

He was the last to enter the lab and, much to his dismay, his so-called best mate hadn't considered saving him a seat and instead chose to sit next to the ginger doofus. The bespectacled witless-wonder was next to his girl-weasel, and Pansy with the Puffer. All of which strongly suggested that the only available spot was going to be exactly where he did not want to be stationed for the next several hours.

She didn't turn or say anything to him as he lowered himself onto the stool very close to her side. She only sat there; tie crooked, sleeves bunched up, curls everywhere. It was one thing for her to hold onto his jumper after he so generously and graciously offered it in her time of need, but to then ruin it by stretching the fibers around the cuffs was simply rude. It was a custom-made fanged-tricorn angora wool sweater, which she clearly did not appreciate. So soft, it was basically acromantula silk, but even he wouldn't spend that much on a sweater. Not for school anyway; he had six, but they stayed home and away from the grimey hands of his schoolmates.

She also missed a button which set off the top three of her blouse and was somehow visible from beneath the tie. Probably because it wasn't resting straight.

It was all very distracting for Draco.

"Your tie is crooked," he muttered under his breath ten minutes into the lesson.

Once it was safe to do so, she whispered back, "seems that way."

"Fix it."

"Don't know how."

Wench.

He tried to pay attention during the lecture, but she made it too bloody difficult. There was simply far too much polluting his mind to focus on what the old wanker was saying and it all stemmed back to the exhausting twit sitting next to him. First, was the memory of this petite witch drowning in his jumper. Then, Pansy and her nonsense, not that he believed a word of it. There was no way that Granger wanted anything to do with him. And thank Circe for that! Because he wanted nothing to do with her either. She was appalling. Everything about her was disgraceful and, and irritating. She had neither class nor taste, and didn't even seem like she felt ashamed of it either!

He looked over at her disdainfully to remind himself of how ghastly she looked, but the sight of her knee emerging from beneath the hem of something that had been on his body redirected his mind elsewhere. Every time the image of a naked Hermione Granger, covered only by one piece of clothing - his clothing - said piece became increasingly thinner, shorter… all-around smaller.

In an attempt to delude himself into believing that he was put out by this, he worked through a checklist of her less than favourable attributes. Which was only too easy.

Tie, crooked.

Collar, skewed.

Personality, irredeemable.

Hair, beastly.

Sure, she was intelligent, but that only made her pompous and dreadfully dull. And, yes, she was magically gifted, but that only made her act all the more entitled. Where did she get off being better at magic than he was anyway? It was downright inconsiderate. She was a nightmare! Plain and simple. A stubbornly sanctimonious, brilliantly talented, stunningly messy nightmare! In his ruined jumper. And not even actually naked.

He rested his hand on his thigh and took a deep, calming breath. When she swivelled slightly in her chair, the tip of his pinky grazed her exposed skin accidentally and he nearly fell from his seat.

After feigning composure momentarily, he banged his head against the tabletop, desperate to fade from existence.

Class finally ended and everyone was leaving for lunch. From his place deep within the table's surface, he heard her stand. He was waiting for her to leave, but she never did. Chancing a quick peak, he found her studying him.

"Are you alright?"

Ugh! Add nosy to the list of reasons to hate her.

His stool was so low that, once he sat upright again, they were almost the same height for the first time.

Eyes, warm.

Freckles, ample.

Lips, full.

Tie, still crooked.

He gave in with a dramatic sigh. It was useless. Draco turned in his place and pulled her to him so he could fix that blasted tie.

Nose.

Freckles.

Pout.

He swallowed loudly. "You should really learn how to do this yourself."

"Oh… No."

"Well, I can't keep cleaning you up every time I see you." All she did was shrug. Completely disregarding the impact she was having on his time and mental health. "You're infuriating."

"You're not exactly a charmer yourself, Malfoy."

He had been undoing the top three buttons of her blouse in order to set them right, but when he looked down, he realised he had unbuttoned the whole lot of them. The pink strip between her breasts had a small bow on it. "Oh, I didn't mean to-" He refastened two buttons again, then saw how her skirt was twisted and her shirt, which he opened unceremoniously, wasn't tucked in even before he had worked his way down it. "Merlin, you're a bloody mess." He grabbed the sides of her skirt and tugged in one direction. She squealed as she fell forward from the force and then giggled right in his face. "I'm not going to tuck in your shirt for you."

"Shame." She was still giggling.

He didn't quite know why, but his hands stopped everything they were doing and rested on her hips. After a moment of them standing there quietly, his hands, acting of their own accord, squeezed her and pulled from her a delicate whimper. He thought it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard. So he did it again, just to make sure. He kept them firmly on her sides, but once his thumb accidently swiped up, he couldn't stop them from caressing the skin right above the skirt. She was so soft, and much curvier than his massive sweater allowed for him to see. Her flesh was pliable beneath his grip, and the small moans that escaped her enticed him to continue. He suddenly couldn't get enough of her.

She was looking up at him expectantly, but without judgement and pressure. She was patient with him, while showing her openness, her readiness. Her willingness to wait if that was what he needed.

But he didn't want to wait. Now that he realised what he was feeling, what everyone else had apparently seen, he wanted it. Immediately. Wanted her.

He kissed her.

It was stupid, and impulsive, and he couldn't believe that, of all people, he was snogging Hermione Granger. But it was also perfect.

One of her tiny hands slipped under his collar and held the back of his neck, while the other wrapped around his tie, and she pulled him in deeper. "Don't mess up my tie! Just because you're content to look like a slob, doesn't mean everyone else is." She rolled her eyes and kissed him again. "And I want my jumper back."

"Absolutely not."