I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself.

Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter Two.

Summer was lingering over Hogwarts. The sweltering, August heat pressed down upon the school, and despite the never-ending battle to stay cool, it had its benefits too. The grounds looked beautiful. Herbology was in full bloom, as was the area surrounding it. For Neville, he'd never been more positive and happy. The Black Lake was no longer the daunting shadow of itself. It was now an open invitation to submerge into it's cool, crystal gleaming tides, though students were wary not to go too far. Everyone could taste the sweet, summer vibes and feel the radiating happiness in their bones. There was not once a day when the Quidditch pitch was not occupied by teams, especially Hufflepuff and Slytherin as they had a daunting match approaching. If the students were not conversing about the beautiful weather, they were gossiping about the forthcoming match. This was evident in a Potions class, deep in the dungeons.

A very flushed Hermione Granger sat beside her assigned partner, Blaise Zabini. The dungeons were stuffy and hot, the last place the students wanted to be on a day like today. Hermione was finding it hard to contain the frizz that now resembled her hair. The humidity was Hermione's enemy, and as much as her olive skin would tan easily, she sometimes despised the sun and it's affect on her. Blaise found this quite amusing. Though he wasn't a pathetic bully much like his friends, he did have his moments in which he taunted Hermione.

"Tell me, Granger," he speculated, looking very relaxed and smug with his arm across the back of her chair as usual, "Just how long will it be until the small percentage of the school that is left, is tragically engulfed into that ever growing nest on that head of yours?"

Hermione turned to face the dark Slytherin, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. This was a face Hermione often found herself pulling when she was angry or annoyed. Regardless, it did no justice to her. It was the second lesson Hermione had spent with Blaise, and already she was starting to remember why exactly he had been sorted into Slytherin. However, his deep brown eyes gleamed with amusement, and he revealed a glowing, white grin accompanied by a deep chuckle. Hermione took a breath and kept her glare.

"That may have other girls swooning, but not me Zabini. And well done concerning your earlier joke, it was most amusing," she said sarcastically.

Blaise's smile faded and he replaced it with a frown.

"Who pissed in your pumpkin juice?" he asked.

Hermione was just about to reply when she felt something light hit the back of her head. She turned to see a screwed up piece of parchment resting on the bench beside her. Taking it gently in her hands, she looked up and searched the room for the sender. Her eyes instantly met a pair of intense, stormy-grey ones. She broke the gaze and rolled her eyes. Could Malfoy really stoop so low as to throw parchment at her?

"I was aiming at Zabini," he called, two rows behind, "In future keep that big, bushy head down, Granger."

Hermione scowled at the blonde, who merely raised his eyebrows in return, before she felt the ball of parchment being snatched from her hand. She turned sharply to see Blaise unfolding it. He looked at her as if to say 'What're you looking at now?' and she cleared her throat quickly, making the first remark to come into her head.

"The boy has ghastly aim."

Blaise shook his head in disbelief, before reading the creased note he held in his hands. Hermione couldn't help but be suspicious. With all the sneaking around Draco could be potentially doing, similarly to lastnight, and the fact the note had quite directly hit her head, she felt as though she had the right to know what was written on it. Blaise could sense her suspicion.

"Nothing interesting, Granger," he murmured, still paying full attention to the parchment, "Just wondering whether I'll fill in on the game tomorrow considering the team is a man down."

Hermione had almost forgotten about the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff game that took place tomorrow, though not completely as it was almost impossible to be oblivious due to the constant talk about it. Hermione then remembered a certain Hufflepuff captain, and her stomach flipped. She found herself smiling foolishly, and looked down at her work. Blaise's eyes flicked from the parchment to the Gryffindor's face. He noticed the blush play across her cheeks, and holding back the gag he found was begging to escape him, he broke the silence.

"If the image of me in a tight, Slytherin quidditch uniform has you blushing that much-"

Hermione snapped her head in his direction instantly,

"No!" She interrupted.

Blaise pulled a signature grin again, and Hermione felt stupid for getting so wound up over his taunting. She'd have to bare in mind not to do exactly that in future.

"I'm just playing with you Granger," Blaise held his hand up, "I know you prefer Hufflepuffs."

There was that blush again. This time out of sheer embarrassment. To add to the soaring heat, Hermione felt her body temperature inflate from head to toe. If Blaise Zabini, the most relaxed, inattentive and most unlikely to gossip, knew about her crush on Dean Thomas, then god knows who else knew. Hermione felt disconcerted, and was mentally running through her brain, searching for somewhat of an answer that wouldn't make her look completely foolish. Blaise folded away the parchment and placed it in his back pocket.

"That'll be our little secret," he said, and tapped his nose knowingly, "Now don't we have a library meet up rota to plan?"

The walk from inside Hogwarts to Hagrid's hut took about ten minutes. Ten minutes of sheer exhaustion and effort in the sweltering heat that was now gracing mid-day. Harry, Ron and Hermione were currently taking the opportunity to do just that, and visit Hagrid, who they had not seen in a long time. Hermione fanned herself with a spare piece of parchment. On that day, she wore her normal school skirt which was just above the knee, a short sleeve, fitted, school blouse that hung loosely out of her skirt, -correct uniform really wasn't an option in this weather-, and her tie loosely lying around her neck. Yet she was still to hot. Harry and Ron felt similar. Regardless, the three continued on to the hut with a positive attitude. That lasted shortly, for a certain red-head however.

Hermione noticed him right away.

"Is that Dean Thomas?" she said instantly, without really realizing what she was saying.

Her stomach tied knots in itself and forced her to take a breath. She found herself smiling as usual.

A group of tall, broad looking boys began jogging across the trio's path. The Gryffindors halted instantly, Hermione a bit earlier than the boys. Dean and his Hufflepuff team were taking advantage of the weather, training devotedly the day before the game. The group of about six or seven looked exhausted, apart from Dean. Hermione noticed his bulging muscles glistening with the beads of sweat that covered his torso. The team wore yellow, tight vests, which Hermione noticed complimented all of their muscular physiques, but none more so than their captain. As the boys stopped to stretch, a familiar pair of hazel eyes looked up and met Hermione's. Dean smiled when he saw the Gryffindor. Hermione's stomach possibly doubled over when she saw the way it lit up his face, and she smiled sheepishly back.

"Morning," he nodded, taking in the trio, noticeably pausing on Hermione.

"I see you're well prepared for the game," Harry commented, politely making conversation.

Dean's eyes snapped from Hermione's at Harry's comment. He looked at him, quite confused. Hermione thought he looked simply adorable.

"Erm, yeah," he caught on, a grin now playing across his face, "-After all, we have to impress, don't we?"

Dean took a long glance at Hermione, his grin now turning into more of a smirk. He examined her from head to toe, slowly. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable under his stare, and looked away. She could tell by the heat on her face, her cheeks must resemble something of a tomato. How she hated how much she blushed.

Ron watched from afar. His eyes flicked between the Hufflepuff and his friend. It'd become evident the past couple of days, just how badly Hermione had a crush on Dean, but despite being her friend, he was nothing close to being happy for her. Ron knew what Dean could be like. He wasn't as nice as he came across, in fact like many others, he questioned why exactly the boy had been placed in Hufflepuff. Dean was known for being a player, and a charmer with the ladies. It made Ron sick to think how he could be applying all of this to Hermione. He wasn't quite sure whether it was in a protective way due to her being like a sister to him, or whether there was something else. Ron went with the first option. He was stubborn, and would never admit to himself that there were feelings for Hermione somewhere deep inside of him. Watching the scene unfold, Ron found his fists clenched. He pursed his lips and frowned,

"Well then you'd better jog on and keep training," he said, the tone of his voice coming off rather more bitter than he'd hoped.

Dean and a few of the Hufflepuff team looked at him peculiarly. With a last nod at Hermione, Dean and the team continued on.

The latter, however, sent Ron a distasteful look as he passed. He was clearly marking his territory.

Hermione didn't speak to Ron for the rest of the walk. She looked at him incredulously after she watched him be so rude to Dean. The boy had an emotional range of a teaspoon. He didn't know quite how to control his small amount of feelings. Hermione was in disgust with his bitter attitude, and this was evident as the trio arrived at Hagrid's and sat down with a cool glass of Butterbeer. Harry positioned himself awkwardly between Hermione and Ron, and attempted to make conversation with the two. Hagrid frowned, he sensed something negative.

"Deary me," he shook his head, "Whats got into these two?"

Hermione looked at Ron, who merely looked the opposite way in a huff. He really was such a child at times.

"Ronald here was very rude previously," she remarked.

"-I was not!" The boy's face was as fiery as his hair.

Hermione scoffed,

"Blatantly dismissing our friend like that? It was practically barbaric!"

Ron was laughing this time. He shook his head and scowled at Hermione,

"I think the boy's got a little more than friendship on his mind."

Hagrid looked at Harry blankly, before he mouthed the words 'Dean Thomas' to clear up the confusion. Hagrid nodded knowingly in return, suddenly distracted by the argument that was now inflating.

"-Just because he treats me nicely unlike other boys!"

"-He's not nice, Hermione! He's a player and he's no good to you!"

Hermione flung her arms into the air and sighed,

"Merlin's bones, Ron, he's just a friend!"

"Friends don't look at friends like that," Ron mumbled.

Hermione grabbed her school bag and stood abruptly. She scowled at Ron as she felt the anger rising inside of her. She'd never been this angry at anyone, especially not someone she considered to be one of her best friends.

"You're right," her voice was shaky as tears began to well up in her eyes, "Because friends never pay attention to each other and respect what they have. Even if me and Dean were more than friends, it's none of your business anyway."

She forcefully pushed her chair under the makeshift table and hurried outside as quickly as possible. The tears began to fall.

Draco stared at the ceiling of his dorm. He lay on the soft, green silk of his bedding, with his school shirt three quarters unbuttoned. It was too hot, and this made Draco agitated. Crabbe and Goyle were sat to his left, playing a game of exploding snap. Their constant jeering and imbecile ways made Draco cringe. It would be silent for merely no less then a minute, before one of the two would idiotically groan or grunt. He contemplated why he ever became friends with the two. Draco's only real friend was Blaise, who was at his desk on the right of Draco. However, he was no better as the constant scratching of his quill on the parchment surface had Draco questioning his sanity. He looked at the dark wizard and frowned. Draco couldn't decide whether Blaise was suffering, or whether he was enthusiastic about his homework. The last option brought a certain know-it-all to mind.

"Honestly," Draco scoffed, resting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles, "I don't know who's worse, you or stupid Granger."

Blaise turned in his seat to face Malfoy. His expression was a mixture of disgust and amusement.

"If it helps me get pass my OWL's, and gets me through this essay in Potions, then I guess being like Granger isn't all that bad."

Draco rolled his eyes. He was sure that thanks to that comment, his sanity was now lost. Blaise turned back to his work momentarily, before facing the blonde once more.

"Speaking of Granger," Blaise continued, in return for a scowl for Malfoy, "I have to meet her at the library in around 10 minutes."

Blaise had known Draco a very long time, but never had he witnessed the expression the boy was now wearing in all of that time. Draco looked positively traumatized. His brow was furrowed to it's fullest extent, his eyes were wide in disbelief and his mouth curled into that which resembled eating something that was very much not palatable.

"Why the fuck are you doing that?!" he practically spat.

Blaise rolled his eyes. He knew Draco payed little attention to anyone else but himself, and so he expected this.

"Snape paired us up," Blaise explained, "I knew you were too busy with your own predicaments concerning Longbottom to notice."

Draco's eyes drifted from Blaise's to a spot on the floor. He looked deep in thought and Blaise realized this.

"Not to worry, though. We're just trying to get this essay done as soon as possible. That way the least time we have to spend with eachother."

This made Draco's mood no better. He sneered at Blaise once more.

"You too, huh?"

Blaise looked at the blonde blankly.

"If it's not you, it's Thomas who she's got under her wing. I don't know who she thinks she is but the mudblood needs putting in her place."

"We only got paired up," Blaise watched Draco, treading on egg shells when he was in a mood like this, "It wasn't voluntary."

"-Nothing's changed this year. But somehow goody-two-shoes Granger seems to think she's above everyone. She never was and she never will be. The quicker someone gives her a reality check, the quicker she comes crashing back down to earth."

Draco was possibly livid. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and sat up, leaning on his knees. His eyes were piercing, fully grey and colder than Blaise had witnessed in a long time. He wasn't quite sure how, but Draco could somehow manipulate and express infinite emotions through his eyes. The phrase 'the eyes are the gateway to the soul' quite literally applied to Draco. His breathing was uneven, not rapid but not normal either, and it seemed that all the muscles in his torso were tensed and strained. His left foot bounced continuously, the only part of his body that was showing the agitation deriving from his anger. Blaise leaned back in his chair, creating maximum space between him and the blonde. He was, however, not quite done with him. Blaise knew Draco's boundaries, and just how far to push them before they snapped. He'd never gone that far, and eyeing the Slytherin who was currently running his hands forcefully through his platinum hair, he would never attempt to either.

"Why're you so bothered man?" Blaise asked, attempting to keep his voice calm.

Draco's head snapped up. He looked at Blaise momentarily, as if the boy was beyond stupid. But in that moment, a small corner of Draco's mind nagged him. Similar to your conscience, always in the back of your mind, making you evaluate what you are doing, telling you the smart thing to do. But this time, that small part of his brain questioned him. He questioned himself. Why was he so bothered? Draco dismissed the thought instantly. The boy was not one to doubt himself, and nor did he often think about things that could confuse what he thought was right.

"Because," he paused, giving himself time to think, "-Because it only takes one pathetic girl like her, to think she's everything. To think her ego represents something of her intelligence and social status. But it doesn't. And it's only a matter of time before she thinks she can treat me the way she thinks she can treat you and Thomas. She'll think I'll fall into her trap like you imbeciles have. And then what will happen? All the filth and mudbloods will crawl out of the ninth ring of hell and follow suit. I don't know about you, see I've began doubting you since, but I don't want to live in a world where silly little girls like her think they're above us."

Draco hadn't planned on saying quite that much. He took a deep breath at the end of his speech, still retaining his scowl at Blaise. The latter seemed to be frowning at him much the same, but merely out of shock and disbelief than anger. Blaise was slightly ashamed. Draco could be so stuck in his ways. Blaise was never one to be in favour of the word 'Mudblood'. It did no justice to those of magical status who descended from a complete muggle family. He also didn't see the need for the prejudice the blood status caused. But regardless, he was a Slytherin, and he had to retain his optimistic points of view for his own welfare. Draco noticed his disappointment. He could sense it, it was almost like he was allergic to the feeling and emotion it held. Nothing angered him more than when people were disappointed in him.

"You know about mine and Dean's family," he finally said, laying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling, "I have my reasons."

Blaise nodded in understatement. He turned back to his homework and sighed. That was all that was said on the topic of Granger.

"You two are so lucky," Lavender moaned.

Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes in unison. The three girls sat on Hermione's bed. Though she hated Lavender, Hermione just had to deal with it as Lavender was a good friend of Ginny's and Hermione had no reason to disrupt that. However, she was finding it hard to enjoy the conversation that was taking place. The Gryffindor dorm was fervent, and the three girls wore merely vest tops, baggy t-shirts and pajama shorts. Hermione eyed Lavender's skimpy, spaghetti-strap tank that was far too small for her 'voluptuous' figure and grimaced. The girl was so desperate. This was reflected in their conversation.

"But you get to spend every day with him!" She continued, "-Ginny you literally spend nearly every second of your life in his presence!"

"-Trust me, being around Ron as much as I have been has well and truly scarred me for the rest of my life-"

"-I honestly don't see what you see in him," Hermione contributed, still angered with the incident earlier that day.

Lavender sighed. She was so cliché. The girl acted as if she was practically just pulled out of an American love-story. She sat upon Hermione's bed and hugged a pink, fluffy pillow that Hermione was glad Lavender called her own. Her eyes were twinkling and wide as if she'd never been so love-sick, and a small pout played across her glossy, pink lips as she sulked.

"He's so perfect," she began, "He's funny, and cute, and handsome, and muscly and his hair is such a brilliant shade of amber-"

Ginny and Hermione attempted to stifle their laughs, and their gagging.

"-Ginny! You must have seen him naked at some point. I mean, he must have a nice body right? Does he have a sixpack? Is he toned? Is he, you know, well equipt?"

Ginny held her hand up abruptly to stop Lavender.

"Lavender, that is verging on incest and that is just wrong," she said, "Please, stop before I make you."

Hermione smirked. Lavender blushed instantly and grew quiet. It was silent for a good few minutes. It was an awkward silence, but a silence all the same, and regardless, Hermione was thankful she was not listening to Lavender's squeaky voice.

"He totally has a thing for you, Hermione, anyway."

Spoke to soon.

"He does not!"

Ginny diverged the subject quickly to avoid complications. Lavender was eyeing Hermione distastefully, and Hermione didn't want to say something she'd later regret. Ginny of all people knew that the two Gryffindors were not the biggest fans of each other.

"Well that doesn't matter, because I saw you-know-who before, he was asking about you."

The redhead's eyes gleamed in excitement, as did Hermione's, and a small grin played upon her perfect features.

Hermione felt her stomach flip. She ignored the confused looking Lavender, who was practically craning forwards to hear into Ginny and Hermione's conversation.

"He didn't!" Hermione finally said.

Ginny nodded her head knowingly and continued,

"He asked where you were. He said he needed to talk to you about something."

A blush graced Hermione's cheeks, and she was sure it was not due to the heat of the room, which seemed to be rising in that moment. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who acknowledged it, along with the thousands of other thoughts currently racing through her head.

"What do you think it's about?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head and said she didn't know. Hermione supposed if she did, she would've told her anyway.

"But what I do know is that I for one need sleep."

Ginny pushed herself up off Hermione's bed, along with a pouting Lavender, who found the time to scowl at Hermione before strutting off to her bed. Hermione rolled her eyes and drew the curtains around her four-poster. She lay above the silk covers, it was far too hot to submerge beneath the infinite layers of duvets and sheets, and stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts were uncontrollable. Images flashed through her head of her and Ron's arguments. 'He's a player!' 'He's no good to you!' Hermione frowned. Dean wasn't like that. Hermione knew he was a nice person. He was placed in Hufflepuff not Slytherin for a reason, and he was different. After all, he took the time to find Ginny and ask her where exactly she was. He must care for her. Hermione smiled.

She thought about his smile. He was so adorable. Adorable.. Hermione thought, Adorable, cute, nice, cute.. But there was something missing. Something Hermione knew she hadn't found yet. In him, or in anyone. And she questioned whether she would. But she didn't know quite what it was she was craving. With an optimistic thought, she rolled onto her side and agreed that beggars cannot be choosers. She was happy Dean payed any attention to her.

But in that moment, a small corner of Hermione's mind nagged her. Similar to your conscience, always in the back of your mind, making you evaluate what you are doing, telling you the smart thing to do. But this time, that small part of her brain questioned him. She questioned herself. Was this right?

A/N: Hey guys! Well done, you reached the end! This chapter was just a fill in. It was so boring to write so apologies for the delay! I've been pretty busy too but I guess the next chapter will be up soon because I'm so excited to write it! There's a lot of tension and twists to come, I'm just so excited wow haha. Stay tuned!

Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing.

Thanks, Amelia x