Erm... I'm alive! (Cowers as people throw things at her) I know, I know, I'm horribly unreliable, but for some reason I was having MAJOR issues writing this story. I don't know why, but here it is!

AANNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDD, if you love me, you'll go read Cordelia Darcy's story for Thor as soon as she posts it (ahem... subtle hinting, Elizabeth). I've already read it and edited it and it's MEGA CUTE!

Disclaimer: I officially disclaim. Ya happy?

From that night on, Draco vows to himself to abandon his previous notion of "having no trouble" with Granger this year. He decides to take it upon himself to irritate her as much as possible, at every given opportunity. Not because he hates her (he thinks the only people he can ever truly hate are the Death Eaters he's counted among). He's doing this because of the light in her eyes when she screamed, when she yelled as loud as she could what she really felt. He's doing this because of the fire burning there that had been missing.

He's doing this because Granger isn't Granger unless she's fighting with Draco.

Draco refuses to admit the other reason to himself. He refuses to acknowledge that he found that light, that fire to be almost... beautiful. He realizes that he's never thought anything else in life to be truly beautiful. When he was little, he used to attribute the word to his mother. Her piercing grey eyes. The air of elegance about her. The mannerisms of a true pure-blood witch. All of these he considered to be beautiful. But as he grew older, as he began to see the war for what it really was, to see his life, his side of the war for what it really, truly was, he began to see his mother differently as well. She was a cold, prejudiced woman who was too weak to resist the cruelty of her husband.

His father had once told him their cause, their set of values, their part in the endeavor to purify the wizarding world was beautiful. Draco knew his father had lied the first time he was forced to torture an innocent woman. None of it was beautiful. None of it. It was twisted, and dark, and demented, and horrific.

But this witch, with an obsession with knowledge, and unruly hair, and the most infuriating need to always be right... she was beautiful. She was good, and light, and beautiful. (Annoying as hell, but nonetheless...)

And it was that fire that epitomized her beauty.

"Merlin, I'm going as mental as Lovegood."

"Well, they do say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

Draco's head snapped from where it had been staring at the empty fireplace to where Granger was standing in front of her closed bedroom door. He took a half a second to glance over her appearance. Her uniform was neatly pressed (as always), her curly hair was in a wild disarray (again... shocker), and the dark circles under her eyes told Draco she had gotten minimal sleep last night, if any.

"You should know, Granger. You've been certifiable for years. And somehow, it seems you've managed to make your hair reach a whole new level of frizzy. Congratulations."

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. It's too early for insults."

"Oh, alright then, Granger. What time would be best for you? I'm flexible."

She scowled at him before grabbing her bookbag off the countertop and shoving past him, making sure to bump shoulders with him and mutter a quick "ferret" as she went by.

Draco simply smirked and called out "know-it-all" as he followed her out the portrait hole.

They continued calling each other names for the entire walk down to the Great Hall for breakfast, never noticing the odd looks they were getting from the other students ("Is that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy... walking together?")

When they parted ways at the doorway, Draco headed to his seat at the Slytherin table with his trademark smirk planted firmly on his face.

This was going to be so much fun.

Does anyone else think this story sucks as much as I do? Feel free to correct me in a verbose review. :)

Aren't I just the queen of subtlety today?