A/N: Hey everyone! :D I know I've said this a dozen times before, but thanks soooo much for your reviews and story alerts! I cannot stress how much they mean to me and how much they inspire me to keep writing. (: Y'all are the best!

Review reply for Kilila-Kun: No, I decided against using your idea in this chapter, but it might be a possibility for a different chapter. ;) Thanks for the idea, though!

Somewhat-Dramione moment in this chapter. :D

Sorry it's so short. . I got kinda rushed... There's a new Degrassi on tonight, and I cannot miss it! :D I promise I'll make the next one extra long to make up for it. (:

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.

You make your way in,
I resist you just like this,
You can't tell me to feel,
The truth never set me free,
So i did it myself.
~Careful by Paramore

Hermione woke to the sound of her alarm the next morning, and she groggily opened her eyes. She sat up and stretched, then checked the time on her clock. 5:45.

She threw off her covers, gathering her school robes and making her way to the large bathroom that was connected to her room. She placed her clothes on the shiny marble sink top and crossed over to the massive bathtub, turning the knob to hot and placing her feet delicately in the rising water.

Hermione slowly relaxed as she sank into the tub. A shaky sigh escaped her. She hadn't slept well last night; her mind was too occupied with Malfoy and his strange behaviors. When she did happen to fall asleep, however, her dreams were haunted by sad silver eyes and piano music: a riddle most unlike any she had ever faced.

Obviously, Malfoy didn't want Hermione's truce. He couldn't have made it clearer if he had slapped her. But how was she supposed to figure out this Slytherin mystery without learning more about him? And how could she learn more about him, without getting to know him better?

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She shouldn't think about this now; why, it was the first day of school! She should be thinking about how excited she was about her classes! She should be thinking about how much she couldn't wait to compare her schedule with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She shouldn't be thinking about that annoying ferret.

Whom, upon recent discovery, a tiny voice inside her head whispered, might not be all he's made up to be.

No! She silently screamed back. You will not think about Malfoy today.

She shook her head; her intention to take a relaxing bath was ruined. Way to be a killjoy, she growled to the part of her mind that refused to let go of Draco. She stepped out of the tub, reached for a towel, and dried herself in a weary fashion. Folding the towel carefully and placing it upon the shiny golden towel rack, she then dressed herself just as painfully slowly. She cast a small charm to get rid of the fog on the mirror and began to work on the disaster that was her hair.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione rushed down the stairs, the Slytherin forgotten and an excited smile on her face. Her expression faltered, however, when she saw what -or, in this case, who- was on the couch. Slytherin not forgotten.

Malfoy was sprawled there, his white button-up shirt stained with Merlin-knows-what. He reeked of firewhiskey, his hair was tossled about, and his mouth was hanging open rather stupidly. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked quite pitiful. Hermione found herself angry at the Slytherin for being so reckless and un-dutiful -he was, after all, supposed to be patrolling around this time-. And to get drunk? Merlin, he was only 17, it was against the law for him to drink!

Despite all this, however, Hermione found herself gently shaking the young Malfoy heir. "Malfoy," she said somewhat roughly. She was, after all, still angry. "Wake up!"

Suddenly, he jumped, his forehead smacking into Hermione's. Both cried out in surprise. Malfoy tried to stand, but ended up stumbling over Hermione's feet and tripping them both. Hermione fell back with an "oomph." Malfoy's legs, however, were still entangled in her own, and so she dragged him to the floor with her.

Hermione looked up at the Malfoy, who's face was merely inches from hers. His arms rested on either side of her, slender and toned, like a porcelain cage. She felt slightly claustrophobic: she had never been so close to the Slytherin in her life... Or any boy, for that matter. Goosebumps flirted against her arms were his long, skinny fingers met her sun-kissed skin. His breath, cold and ragged, tickled the skin on her neck, and she resisted the urge to shiver. She could see every pore in his skin, every shade of blonde in the individual strands that made up his pale hair. She choked, though she wasn't sure if it was from his proximity, or the overwhelming stench of alcohol that came with it. His eyes met hers for a second. Confusion resided in his expression, and she watched as it turned to shock and then to anger.

"What the hell, Granger?" Malfoy shouted as he jumped off of her.

"I-I'm sorry!" Hermione's words stumbled over each other, her apology out of mere habit and bewilderment. She hurried stand as well.

"What were you doing?" he continued, his voice rising above hers. "You clumsy mudblood, how dare-"

Hermione suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be mad at the Slytherin. "How dare me?" she screeched. "How dare me? How dare you! I was only being a friendly person and doing you a favor by waking your drunk arse up before you were late to class! You haven't even gone on patrol yet!"

"Late to class!" Malfoy echoed, seething, "Patrol! I was going to skip!"

"Skipping is against the rules!" Hermione yelled back.

"Like I give a damn!" he shot back. "I have a hangover, I need the rest!"

"You shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place!"

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do!" Malfoy shouted. On instinct, he withdrew his wand. Hermione, seeing him do so, withdrew her own.

Neither noticed the portrait on the wall as it rushed off.

"Don't point that thing at me!" Hermione cried.

"Don't point that thing at me!" Malfoy retorted.

"Like you have the guts to curse me," Hermione said.

"Try me!" Malfoy growled.

"Students!" Suddenly, McGonagall burst through the portrait door, surprising both of the Heads. They jumped and instantly put their wands aside. How did she know? Hermione wondered.

McGonagall glared at the two as she turned to the portrait above the fireplace. "Thank you for warning me," she said graciously.

"My pleasure, Headmistress," the portrait replied.

"You too," McGonagall said to the two young Hogwarts students. "My office. Now."

Great. Bloody great. Draco thought bitterly as he followed McGonagall to her office. First day of school, and I'm already in trouble. Thanks to the mudblood.

Granger's thoughts seemed to be identical to Draco's because she was looking at him with a glare that rivaled his own infamous one. He returned it gladly.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached McGonagall's office. "Sit," she commanded, in a none-too-friendly voice. As the two did as she told, Draco was surprised to see McGonagall's face break from anger to exhaustion, and she sank into her desk chair with a sigh.

"Is everything alright, Headmistress?" Granger asked. Draco shot her a look. Why did she have to be so bloody nosy?

McGonagall, however, seemed not to have heard her. "Oh, I was afraid of this..."

"Afraid of what?" Malfoy shot Granger another look. Would you shut up? he told her silently. She ignored it.

"I'm afraid," McGonagall said, looking up at the two, "that I will have to resort to plan B."

"What's plan B?" Granger asked. For once, Draco did not get annoyed at her nosiness. He wanted to know as well.

"Trust exercises." McGonagall said simply.

"What?" Draco shot out of his chair. "I will not take trust exercises with a mudblood!"

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "And do not call Miss Ganger a mudblood."

Draco, grumbling angrily, did as he was told, though he did not cease to glare at McGonagall. She chose to ignore it.

"Now," she said, "Once every Monday at five-thirty, I will have you meet with Professor Saravia in her classroom. She will put you though a series of bonding exercises that has been proven to work on the worst of people." She glanced at Draco when she said that. "Professor Saravia is highly experienced in treating old rivalries like yourselves."

"That's why you hired her, isn't it?" Granger asked. "Not because she's a good potions master, but to help the school get over their house rivalries?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, smiling fondly at her student. Draco sneered at the image.

"Now, return to the Great Hall. I imagine you have some time left before breakfast is over."

Both students stood up, mumbling, and turned to leave. "Remember," McGonagall called after them, "This is your warning. If I ever catch you two in a serious fight like that again, there will be consequences."

Draco said nothing. He was too caught up in his thoughts... Bonding exercises? With Granger? He couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Suddenly, he was having second thoughts about returning to Hogwarts.