Friends,

I realize I tend to move things along slowly... but I do plan to quicken the pace and get things turning soon. I haven't written in a long while so these beginning chapters are sort of my way of getting back into the game. This chapter is a bit short, but its also my second posting of the day. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I'm currently trying to think of a good twist to really ruffle their feathers... ideas? More smuttiness? Angst? Fighting? Also I'm not sure if you guys prefer third person, or switching the point of view around between me, Draco and Hermione... Hmm...

Love,

SweetSlytherinPrincess

Honey-brown eyes flashed open, flecks of brilliant gold dancing in the soft candlelight gleaming from the corner of the room. It was morning, she could tell. Soft light peeked into existence from behind the heavy crimson curtains and there was the unmistakable song of the early morning chirpings, calling her to be awake. She moved from her resting place and quickly went through the motions. She bathed, put on her uniform, checked her face with a soft smile and was out the door before many students even had the inkling to wake.

Hermione almost always woke early on days like these. Sleeping to late wasted the day. Wasted her time. Time she could spend in the library, in class, studying. Anything else really, other than sleep. She valued its sweetness of course, but she was a determined young woman. Making her way through the winding corridors and stairways, she found herself in the Library, a wide smile on her face.

It was here that she set up post. She had a few hours before her classes started, and there wasn't much activity here this early. Picking up a book from the shelves she knew so well, her nose immediately met the paper and she was lost. So lost in fact that she didn't register the chair before slowly slide back to receive a presence.

Malfoy watched with an annoyed look on his face. Sitting there patiently as he watched Hermione's eyes dart back and forth across the pages, her knee bobbing slightly as she went – focused. Time ticked away, and he simply sat. His hands folded properly on the table, his posture upright and perfect.

"Granger." He spoke softly. Her knee suddenly froze, but her eyes did not leave the paper. It was clear however, that she had been startled. Especially when she glanced up quickly, only to dramatically roll her eyes.

"Yes?" She grumbled under her breath. "What can I help you with now?"

"Well, Granger," he began, resisting his signature smirk. "Have you forgotten so quickly? There will soon be snow on the ground. Isn't it our duty to plan events? As studious as you make yourself out to be, you've done very little work in preparation of the upcoming months." He said flatly. She groaned, slamming her book shut.

"Oh piss off Malfoy. I know very well you have no interest in planning anything of the sort. You are here to torment me. Tease me. Whatever you want to label it." She spat it a hushed voice, glaring at him haughtily. He grinned back at her, his eyes a picture of nonchalance.

"Oh please Granger, don't give yourself that much credit. You've filled out in recent years, sure." He lifted his chin and eyes her over. "But you're nothing special." The corners of his mouth turned up at the sight of her anger. Something about her fuming attitude really pleased him. He nearly lived to see her get worked up. The flush on her face alluring and beautiful.

Beautiful?

He frowned slightly. Had that word really crossed his mind? The mudblood could be attractive, she could be tempting. Anything! But beautiful….. He couldn't allow himself to think this way. 'Beautiful' was an attribute prescribed by a romantic lover. Which he could never be, even if he took her as his own…. Lovers they could never be.

"Oh really?" She straightened in her seat, shaking her curls from her face. "Is that so? Why then, have you been pestering me so frequently?" She tilted her head with a mocking smile. "Malfoy, we have never been friends. Or anything similar. And I doubt we ever will be. Since the beginning you have been my enemy. A blistering idiot and a man with an ulterior agenda." She suddenly felt nervous, working to keep her gaze fixed on him. But his stare was so burningly intense that she could barely keep her head from bowing.

"What are your motives exactly Malfoy? The school might have let you back in… but I know who you are. What you are." She looked him up and down. "And I will not stand for this. For whatever reason, we have to work in close quarters… but that does not mean I have forgotten. Nothing has changed." She stood suddenly, feeling the desire to flee. His face was calm, and he stood with her.

"Don't." He spoke. But at the sound of his voice she made a motion to flee. His hand raised and grasped her wrist firmly, jerking her close, his face morphing to a picture of anger and spite.

"Do you have ears that can hear Granger?" He pushed her backwards, her back pressing against a shelf, his body covering hers. She was trapped, and the closeness of their bodies sent her heart racing. Warmth coming over her lower belly. "You'd learn well to keep your mouth shut when you know not of what you speak." His words came harshly in her ear, and her breaths came in shaky gasps.

"You will never know what I have experienced. The pain, the regret." His voice softened, as did his grip on her wrist. She looked up at him with a softness in her face, her bottom lip quivering. When his eyes met hers, he sighed and pushed away, cursing as he stepped off.

"Go back to reading Granger." He said over his shoulder. "And for the record… we may have never been friends. But I sure as hell never meant you to be my enemy."

He walked away from her coldly. His own words feeling slightly untrue, and very much a horrid confusing confession. He had worked to kill Potter. Worked doing the Dark Lord's bidding. But in the face of it all, he had been a coward. No – not a coward. He had felt empathy. Sympathy. He unfortunately had a blasted thing called a heart. In the face of it all he couldn't have done it.

Hermione blinked as Malfoy retreated, her heart beating wildly. Why was it that despite all they had been through… despite the distaste she had of him… there was something within her that longed for him in a way she had never felt before. Different from the way she wanted Ronald, or that Ronald wanted her. It was something much more primal.

It was hard for her to admit, but she could see though the evil shell he wore. She recalled the night her arm was carved into. The night Malfoy pretended not to recognize Harry. All the moments when in a moment of evil, she could read fear in his eyes. She stood alone now, eyes watering as more and more people filtered into the old library. Her head hung slightly and she wished only to forget.

Suddenly there was a chime of a grandfather clock, and Hermione was on her way. She did her best to rid the negativity from her mind, for it was time for Defense against the Dark Arts, a class that had turned out to be quite interesting with the new professor, Stellamordis. And today's lesson: Dueling.