"Well, that was a great success, congratulations, Draco." Sang Blaise, sarcastically.

Pansy Parkinson looked up from the book she had been reading, and pouted in what she must have thought was a pretty way. "What happened Draco?"

"Sir Draco failed miserably in his attempts to win fair mudblood over." Blaise teased, dancing around them happily. Draco smirked as he watched his friend twirl.

"I did not fail, I just got off to a bad start." He said, sitting down beside Pansy and allowing her to snuggle into his chest. He patted her on the head faintly. Her jet-black cropped hair tickled as she wriggled in his arms.

"My poor Draco." Pansy murmured, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time and stroking the exposed skin tenderly. "Having to get all cozy with the mudblood filth." Blaise raised his eyebrows at Draco, a silent question over whether he had permission to stay where he was while so much of Draco's flesh was becoming exposed. He shrugged. It was Blaise's choice.

"You're telling me, Petal." Draco sighed.

Pansy giggled at the nickname. "It's such a stupid bet, Blaise. It's disgusting. Why can't you call it off?" She batted her lashes at him imploringly, but it only made Blaise grin malevolently.

"I'm not calling it off! One hundred galleons are going to be mine, and I get to watch everything! It's one of the best bets I've ever made." Pansy patted the small empty space beside her on the battered dark green silk sofa and Blaise seated himself a little nervously. Pansy swiftly turned her attention from Draco's buttons to Blaise's. Blaise gulped.

Pansy smiled at him innocently. "I could make it worth your while." She breathed.

"Pansy, you're disgusting." Proclaimed Draco in amusement, and he stood up and began to dress himself once again.

"I'm just doing it for you." Pansy told him. "I would do anything for you."

Draco sneered. "Why don't I leave you to concentrate on amusing Blaise, whilst I go and seek out my filthy blooded prey?" He turned and sauntered out of the Slytherin common room, leaving Pansy straddling a very anxious Zabini.

Being a seventh year was great, Draco had found. Being a seventh year prefect was even better. He could basically do what the hell he liked, and nobody would contradict him, no one except Granger.

He strutted to the library only too aware of the darting glossy eyed look many of the girls gave him as he passed. Draco laughed evilly as one girl actually dropped her books as he walked by her. God, it was fun to be him.

He approached the library confidently. It was time to turn up the charm to its highest level. She would not be able to resist.

Draco spotted Hermione sat at a table on her own.

The setting sunlight poured in on her, making the curls of her hair shine prettily. Her face glowed with an angelic radiance. Draco shook himself furiously. What was he thinking?

Confidence severely shaken, he walked up to her. It was only when he was a foot from her that she looked up at him. Her face fell in disgust, and she turned straight back to the open book in front of her.

Taking it as a… sign of some sort. Draco sat himself down in the wooden seat opposite her. He watched as she tried to read agitatedly. Eventually she gave up, and slammed the book shut.

"What? What do you want?" She demanded.

Draco tried to fashion his face into a smile but her tone was not one he was used to. "Just wanted to talk, that's all."

"What about? I have nothing to say to you." She told him.

Draco tried to think fast. There really was nothing he could say he needed to talk to her about except, "Snape's homework!" He cried, probably a little too enthusiastically. "I could use some help with the potions homework."

Hermione raised her eyebrow suspiciously. "You're good at potions, better than I am…"

"There's really no need for flattery."

Hermione's nostrils flared in a way not dissimilar from Professor McGonagall. "I wasn't trying to flatter you, it's simply a fact. You are equal to if not better than me at potions." She said through gritted teeth.

Draco fought very hard to hide his irritation. "Well… I just wanted to make sure I was on the right lines, you know how it is, sometimes you can write the best piece of work but it's nothing like what the teacher wanted…?" His heart racing relaxed a little as he saw her expression soften just a bit.

"I can't say it's ever happened to me, but I see where you're coming from. Have you bought your work with you then?" She asked, eyeing him as if he were supposed to be able to make a roll of parchment materialize out of nowhere, which he could have, if there had been a roll of parchment with his potions work on it to summon.

"Uh, no, I thought we could just share ideas." He tried.

Hermione narrowed her dark eyes at him, and he clung on desperately to the smile he was still displaying. "Why can't you do this with Zabini or one of your other followers?"

Thinking on ones feet when being interrogated by someone as shrewd as Granger was not easy, even for someone with experience of interrogation by deatheaters. "I… They aren't as clever as you are, I thought I'd get a better idea of the task if I talked to you about it."

"Fine." Hermione said, finally giving in. So her plan to ignore him hadn't lasted long. What plan to blank somebody ever did? The more you want to avoid someone, the more they tended to seek you out.

As they sat and discussed the pros and cons of using sleeping solutions in everyday life, Draco began to realize something very strange. They were having a real conversation.

"But the after effects of the solution could be catastrophic in the long term." Hermione pointed out.

Draco arched his long fingers and rested his chin on them. "Maybe, but it's never been proven that it has any effect at all."

"Everybody who has used it on a day to day basis has died prematurely!" Hermione said, and she laughed, a real, natural laugh, and it made the hairs on the backs of Draco's hand prickle.

He cleared his throat. None of his friends were ever going to hear about that particular sensation. "But they never found the solution to be the cause, it could have just been coincidence that they all died early."

"Maybe, but it surely makes more sense to look at the statistics!" Hermione scoffed.

They continued to battle it out for another half an hour, and by the end of it, Draco's mind was buzzing with ideas. Though getting inspiration hadn't been his reason for going, the discussion with Hermione had suddenly made him feel he could write the best essay he'd ever written.

"Thank you." He said sincerely as he stood up to leave. "That um… really helped." He stuck his hand in the pockets of his robes.

She picked up her books and stuffed them haphazardly into her bag, he couldn't help but notice that she was blushing a little, and tried to hide his smirk as he realized that maybe his plan had worked after all.

It took only a millisecond for him to realize that the meeting was not yet over. She shrugged her bag over her shoulder, and they departed from the library together.

"So…" He started, not really knowing what to say.

"Why are you suddenly being nice to me?" She cut in. It was obviously a question she'd been dying to ask for sometime.

Draco felt his mouth open and close a few times before the sense to keep it shut set in. "I… you just interest me is all."

She stopped and looked at him. He backed up a few steps to look back. "I interest you? Does that mean I'm a target?"

"A target?" Draco asked, genuinely confused.

"I know you're a deatheater." She told him. "I saw the mark on your arm."

Draco couldn't help it, he sneered. "And you think we'd waste our time on mudbloods like you?" He saw her recoil, and, though he didn't understand why, he felt just a tremor of guilt.

"There was no need for that." She whispered, clearly hurt. She swept away, not waiting for him to keep up.

"Damn." Draco stamped his foot in frustration. He had been so close. He marched back towards his common room. He'd never admit it to anybody but himself, but there was more to his disappointment than mere association with the bet. He had lost control with her, and he had hurt her, and for some reason, this was more painful than the thought of losing a hundred galleons.

There had just been something about her. Something in the way she'd talked, the way she could hold up an argument with him when so few others could.

He pushed through the entrance to the common room to find a trail of clothes leading up to the dormitory he shared with Blaise.

"Great." He muttered. "Just sodding great." He picked up each article of clothing as he climbed the stairs, and prayed they'd be done when he opened the door.

Thankfully they were, curled around one another on Blaise's bed. Draco dumped the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed, and undressed.

"She's nothing but a mudblood know-it-all." He told himself over and over again as he lay in bed, mind racing with images of Hermione smile. "But she can handle you. You have to respect her for that." A tiny part of his brain argued. "I'm only doing this for a bet." The larger part of his brain pointed out. "Yes." The smaller part said. "And no. You have to admit, we're curious."

Curious. Was that all it was? He breathed a sigh of relief because, for a second he'd been scared it was attraction.

"Potions again?" Hermione growled down at her timetable as she sat at the Gryffindor table. "I hate only studying four subjects."

"You're only doing four?" Ron asked, spoon halfway to his mouth, dripping milk into his lap. "I'd have thought you'd be taking like ten and just not telling us about the others."

She gave him her most sarcastic look and turned to see Dean looking at her. She blinked a few times. "Yes, Dean?" She asked, starting to get unnerved.

He looked startled. "Oh, I'm… sorry." He said, turning his attention embarrassedly back to his cereal.

She refused to make the check over to the Slytherin table as she had done the day before. Instead she kept her eyes fixed firmly in front of her, and did not let them wonder. Hermione waited until Ron and Harry had finished and they departed together for their first classes. She left them as she turned off towards the dungeons while they ascended the stairs on their way to defense against the dark arts.

She muttered darkly to herself as she approached the potions classroom and saw Malfoy stood there alone. Waiting for her. Her pace instinctively slowed.

He waved at her a little shyly. Shyness was not something one commonly saw on Malfoy, and it made Hermione think twice before she ignored him.

Hermione stayed on the other side of the door to Malfoy, and refused to look his way, even when he began to speak to her.

"Listen." He began, and cleared his throat noisily, trying to make her look at him. "I'm sorry for what I said last night..."

"Don't be. You just confirmed everything I always believed about you, that you're nothing but heartless deatheater scum." His mouth dropped open.

"Cheap shot." He muttered.

"But it's true." She pointed out, finally turning to face him. "I mean, why? Why is it that right when I start to believe maybe there is a glimmer of hope for you, you go and wreck it?"

He shrugged. "Don't know." Draco spotted his friends coming towards them and stepped up to Hermione. She backed against the wall, eyes widening in fear. "So, um. Glad we got that sorted." He said huskily. She looked up at him, confused, but it had satisfied his friends. They gave a shout of wolf whistles and applause and went into the classroom.

Thank you for the lovely reviews, as always. Anna, you are such a good reviewer, I love getting them! So join the craze everybody and get reviewing!

JustADoll

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