Three a.m. found Draco Malfoy unable to think, sleep, function. He couldn't even summon enough arrogance to express anger at those blood traitor Gryffindors winning yet another undeserved Quidditch cup, as the rest of Slytherin house had been doing. That stupid, know-it-all, mud- dammit, he couldn't even say mudblood, not now that she'd put her own spin on it. Draco was not amused.

Hermione Granger was- well, beautiful. And brilliant. And shit shit shit. This is impossible. His father would certainly not condone this sort of behavior. Draco sighed. His father. Look where prejudice had gotten him. Time in Azkaban, freed as the Dark Lord regained dementor allies, then killed in one of the many minor scuffles that had broken out after Dumbledore's death.

He scoffed. Lucius hadn't even had the sense to die doing something important. It had been a standard, regulation kill-some-Muggles trip, until Aurors arrived and Lucius was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Lust and anger, Draco's strongest emotions, had just entered his mind in rapid succession. He felt a strong urge to either hop on his Nimbus, open the window, and fly, or else wank off something fierce. He chose to fly.

Fresh air flooded his brain, and he found all thoughts of Granger leaving. He concentrated on the smell of the English countryside, remembering the first time he'd seen Hogwarts. Lost in his thoughts, Draco jumped, startled, when he realized he'd been flying past the same fifth-story tower window for two minutes.

She woe up, for the fifth time in the last hour. Glancing at the clock, she decided it would be too much of an effort to try to sleep right now, only to be reawakened. She got up and walked quietly past a sleeping Parvati to the window at the end of the dormitory. Hermione sighed, looking out at the lake. What was that thing with Malfoy earlier? He'd called her Hermione, she realized. Only so they wouldn't attract suspicion, but still…

She sighed again. Things were weird between her and Ron since he'd broken up with Lavender. Harry was constantly agitated about the fact that Voldemort was still at large, or distracted because of what appeared to be a monster crush (she could only hope it was on Ginny). And Ginny, her best girl friend, seemed to be steadily working her way through a list of every male at Hogwarts. That left her with no one to talk to, aside from her aggravatingly silly roommates. Glancing at Lavender, who was snoring from a wide-open mouth and wearing an eye-mask that read "Shh! The princess is sleeping!", Hermione snorted at the idea of sharing her personal feelings with any of the sixth-year Gryffindor girls.

She resumed staring into the lake's murky depths. It was so peaceful down there, and she would bet the merpeople wanted to listen to her story. It just looked so nice…

Hermione was shaken out of her quiet reverie by a figure flying past the window. Groggily, she looked out to try and see what it was. Nothing appeared out of place, but she was paying more attention and was able to see, when the figure flew by again, that it was Malfoy on a broom. She forgot her train of thought and fell into a trance, watching him fly back and forth slowly.

He snapped his head up and looked around. She ducked, hoping he hadn't seen her. Malfoy looked utterly bewildered, as though he hadn't the foggiest idea where he was, or why he was there. He saw the window and started toward it on his broom, as though the window would explain everything. Hermione was terrified of being seen, until she remembered from Hogwarts, A History that Headmaster Armando Dippet had had all the dormitory windows enchanted so they behaved like tinted glass. She could see Malfoy, but he couldn't see her.

She had to stifle a laugh; he was right in front of the window, still gazing into it like a crystal ball.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She opened the window. "Malfoy, you look absolutely ridiculous!" He looked up, startled, and slipped. Her chest caught, and she only realized that she was holding her breath when she saw him hanging on with both hands, safe.

"Shit, Granger!" What're you doing in there?" He swung himself back onto the broom nimbly.

"Trying to sleep!" she lied. "It's awfully difficult when there's some dung-for-brains repeatedly flying past your window. You should try it sometime!"

"Merlin, Granger. I nearly died!"

That pissed her off. "I know that, you stupid prat! I didn't do it on purpose!" He looked stunned. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be a complete, erm, witch," she said. "Can I do anything to make it up to you?"

Reviews would be lovely. Thanks a bunch.

xx Meg