A/N: Sorry for the slightly delayed update, been so busy this week. Thank you everyone who's reviewed, and special thank-yous to OuiSexSi, galaapple12, Fanpire'2, jeny3329 and Consulting-Prussian for reviewing more than once and supporting this story. (Also to any of you guest reviewers who may have reviewed more than once).

Just a note, where the page break is, the two parts may not necessarily flow with one another as each half focuses on different characters and I'm sorry for that but if I moved sections around with later chapters I would have ended up with one 7K word chapter and a 1K one so this seemed the best way.

As always, happy reading!:)

The Broom Cupboard

8 days until the Yule Ball - Part 1

"Lemme get this straight. You think that Hermione, Hermione Granger, is going to the Ball with that no-good, smarmy, ferret-y bastard, Draco Malfoy?" Ron exclaimed incredulously as Harry disclosed his thoughts based on what he heard and witnessed the previous night.

The two boys were sat in the common room, and Harry willed Ron to keep his voice down – mainly because he still wasn't a hundred per cent sure and he didn't want the entirety of Gryffindor house to overhear. After all, he had been wrong about things before in the past… Hell, he wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw for good reason!

"Yes, but-" Harry said.

"And you are calm about it?!"

"Yes –"

"And you're willingly letting Daphne Greengrass help you prepare for the Tournament over Hermione tonight?!"

"Bloody hell, Ron, will you be quiet!" Harry snapped.

Ron clenched his jaws together and scowled at Harry. He was completely still, as if waiting for his friend to dare to explain himself. He didn't move for a good thirty seconds or so, barely even blinking in fact. Harry began to wonder if Ron was even remembering to breathe.

He clapped Ron on the back just to be sure and the redhead expelled a breath. Harry thought it best to jump in before Ron could regain his composure.

"Okay, you weren't there: you don't know how bloody strange Malfoy and Hermione were being together, so please try and trust my judgement. At least for now," Harry implored his friend, knowing him well enough to know that unless he made such a request, Ron would be protesting and refuting practically everything Harry said on the subject.

Ron shrugged and grumbled inaudibly. Harry decided to take this as him agreeing to what he had said, "Great," Harry commented in a monotone voice. He decided to check to see if there was anybody lurking around who could potentially eavesdrop, but the other groups of students in the room were otherwise engaged in their own conversations, and the hum of chatter was enough to prevent attention being drawn to the discussion he was currently having with Ron.

Satisfied, Harry began, "Honestly, I got the impression of the Hermione-going-with-Malfoy thing pretty much as soon as I arrived at the library,"

"Why?" Ron couldn't help but cut in.

"I was getting to that," Harry said a little tensely, "just remember to keep your voice down."

"Mate, I'm imagining all sorts here, just tell me!"

"They were holding hands," Harry explained bluntly. There was no way of sugar coating that particular scene he witnessed.

"You what?" Ron spluttered.

"For Merlin's sake, shush! Do you want me to put a silencing charm on you?" Harry warned. Ron didn't need to know that he didn't actually know how to perform such a spell yet…

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, "did Hermione say why?" He couldn't even begin to imagine such a thing happening. It had to be a lie. Harry must have overlooked something.

"Apparently Malfoy hurt his hand and she was healing it for him with magic."

"That sounds even more stupid!" Ron couldn't help but exclaim incredulously from the shock he felt. Several people looked in their direction but he was past the point of caring, "Why would she do that just out of the blue? What the bloody hell has that git done to deserve her sympathy?"

"He asked for a truce with her…" Harry's voice trailed off and he removed his glasses to rub his eyes. This sounded ten times more ridiculous spoken out loud than in his head. Harry was actually there when everything came out but in that moment he didn't even believe his own memory.

"When?"

"Yesterday. That's why she came back late from Charms. To tell the truth I reckon that's when Malfoy asked her to the Ball. Hermione's been going on about how he's been acting strange. She was wrong about the Moody thing so it's logical that Malfoy's behaviour was his way of weakening Hermione's defences so he could reach out to her and ask her out."

Ron's expression was reminiscent of how it usually looked when he read the first question of every exam they had taken so far at Hogwarts.

"You know what you're saying, right? Do you need your ears cleaning out?" Ron joked, trying to coax Harry out of his own prank that he was evidently pulling on him, "Because I could help if you do. Dad collects these Muggle things called cotton buds that are used for clearing out earwax. Bloody disgusting if you ask me, but Fred and George found the brilliance in it, decided to Spellotape loads together to tickle the ghoul in my attic through the holes in my ceiling…"

"Ron this isn't a joke," Harry said seriously, though he made a mental note to ask Ron to continue his story at some point later. Ron's face fell and he cleared his throat to speak.

"Actually now you come to mention it, this doesn't mean that Hermione actually wanted to go with him. We both had a feeling that she was lying that day when we were talking about the Ball and she got all huffy and told us that she already had a date. Maybe we were right and she was just so desperate to cover the lie up that she agreed to go with Malfoy." Ron spoke his thoughts aloud, and by the end was pretty certain that he had found a logical solution.

"As much as I want to believe that theory, I don't," Harry sighed, "I walked in on them holding hands remember?"

"Well if what you say about the truce thing was right, then that kinda makes the whole healing thing more believable…"

"Hm. Only Malfoy's hand looked fine which means they were still holding hands after she healed him."

"Bloody hell," Ron said, scratching his head, "are you sure this wasn't some weird Hermione clone or something?"

"If only," Harry mumbled.

"Why are you so calm about this?" Ron asked, sitting forwards and propping his elbows on his lap.

"Honestly, I was just about as shocked and pissed as you were last night, but you've got to admit that Malfoy hasn't been as annoying over the last week or so, to Hermione at least. What I mean is, maybe it's a good thing that he and Hermione have called a truce: she could keep him in check for one thing, and weirdly enough they seemed to be getting on just fine yesterday. Maybe spending a couple of minutes as a ferret gave Malfoy a reality check and made him grow up a little."

"Has it ever occurred to you that this could all be a trick to humiliate Hermione? You know what the bloody Slytherins are like!" Ron couldn't believe what Harry was saying, what was happening to everybody? Had the world finally gone mad?

"If it was all a trick do you really think Hermione's embarrassment would be enough incentive for Malfoy to hold hands with a 'filthy Mudblood' as he has often called her?" Harry shot back. And no, I don't know what the Slytherins are like... I thought I did…

"Well no but… Merlin, Harry. Are you telling me that Malfoy might like her, like fancy her?"

"I don't know. But I think Hermione likes him."

"What?!"

Harry really didn't want to reveal more details, but he wanted Ron to accept it to a degree, if only if it was for an ulterior motive of Harry's. Malfoy wasn't the only Slytherin to have apparently simmered down recently. Daphne had too. And Harry had grown a soft spot for her, even though she was still a little rough around the edges. This is why he was so accepting; it was possible that Hermione was experiencing the same thing with Malfoy, and Harry found this comforting to know. It made him feel slightly less insane that he wasn't the only one being taken in by the Slytherins.

"Don't you think Hermione would have been able to see right through him if he was playing games? Anyway," Harry took a deep breath, "there's something else."

"Oh bloody hell I don't like the sound of this," Ron ran his hands down his face. He braced himself and listened to Harry.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable about having to retell this story, Harry explained the bizarre scene of Malfoy's stretching, Hermione's unexpected reaction and the blond's reasons for doing so (as implied by Daphne), as succinctly as possible.

"That's how Malfoy flirts? And Hermione fell for it?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, "Still don't believe me that he could be Hermione's date?"

"Bloody hell."

"Hear, hear," Harry laughed humorlessly.

"I still don't want to believe it, but I s'pose I'll go with it for now," Harry sighed in relief at Ron's words, and the redhead continued, "doesn't mean I'm happy about it, mind you. Frankly I don't trust Malfoy, or any of the Slytherins for that matter,"

"You can't deny that he and Daphne have been slightly more civil to us."

"Hm. You know I kind of want to confront Hermione about this. See what she's playing at."

"Don't," Harry warned, "Hermione's rattled enough about the whole date thing as it is, and like I said, there's still no solid proof that she's going to the Ball with Malfoy."

Ron seemed to reluctantly accept that he wouldn't be getting any straight answers that easily, and said no more on the subject.

"Oh yeah, so why are you letting Greengrass tutor you tonight?" Ron quizzed.

"I don't want to witness a repeat of what happened last night, Daphne didn't either, she offered to help instead," Harry summed up evasively. He could tell that his judgement would now be in Ron's firing line over Hermione's.

Ron raised his eyebrows, "And aren't you a little worried that she'd somehow mess with you and teach you bloody useless spells to use in the Tournament. Sorry mate, but it sounds like you've got a death wish to me," Ron saw Harry visibly tense at the last comment and hastily added, "sorry. I'm just confused."

"Me too," Harry said wearily, "it's completely nuts, but Daphne was pretty nice to me when we talked about this last night. I don't know, I just, kind of understand if Hermione has a thing for Malfoy. Merlin, I must sound completely insane. I can't explain it, but…" His words hung in the air. Harry was at a loss at what to say.

At that moment, Fred and George appeared.

"What are you two talking about?" Fred raised an eyebrow. His tone gave away the fact that he and George already knew the answer to the question.

"Doesn't matter," Ron mumbled.

"Nothing," Harry said at the same time.

"Really?" George laughed, "Because from what our impeccable hearing gathered, little brother, your friends are smitten with the snakes."

Harry turned red, as did Ron's ears.

"Oh and I suppose that you two geniuses know of a possible explanation?" Ron said sarcastically, utterly thrown as to why even Fred and George weren't completely repulsed by their observation.

"As a matter of fact-" George started.

"We do," Fred finished for him.

"Go on then, let's hear it," Ron sighed.

"Hormones," the twins said together.

Ron flushed. He was never comfortable with this particular subject, and hadn't been since his parents had given him 'the talk' in the summer.

"What?" Harry asked. This subject was totally new to him.

"Allow us to educate you, young Gryffindors," Fred grinned. The twins squashed up beside Ron on the sofa.

"Correct us if we're wrong, but the upcoming Yule Ball is making you notice the alien species of girls," he continued. Harry and Ron shared uncomfortable expressions, and George cut in.

"I think we'll take that as a yes, Freddie."

"Righty-O George," Fred laughed, "now you two are fourteen now. Awkward, lanky, speccy teenagers."

"HEY!" Ron and Harry exclaimed at the same time.

"Point is," Fred continued, "your brain goes mental at that age. Suddenly girls are attractive, and don't have germs like you always thought they did when you were a kid."

"Yeah and girls start changing," George winked, holding his hands against his chest in a slightly arched shape. Fred snickered but Harry and Ron just blushed and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Are you getting to this 'hormones' stuff or what?" Ron said, willing this conversation to be over.

"Patience," the twins glared slightly at Ron.

Fred spoke again, "at the same time your brain goes mental, your hormones start going loopy as well."

"Makes you think you're going mad, completely throws off your sane judgement," George continued.

"Makes you get weird crushes on people. They could have the worst personality on earth but your hormones cloud your rational thinking and can make anyone seem attractive."

Ron was gaping at his brothers, "I don't think I like you two being smart like this… it's scary."

"We have our moments," George grinned, "but it's no picnic learning this stuff sometimes. You've had it easy, Ron. Bill learnt the hard way."

"Yeah, when Mum was pregnant with Ginny," Fred added.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron buried his face in his hands. Across from him, Harry would have loved nothing more than to run away to class, which was saying a lot.

"Pregnant women get hormonal too," Fred explained.

"And it's not pretty," George remarked, "Bill was in his early years at Hogwarts, only to be taught by a certain Professor whom Mum had a not-so-secret hormone-induced crush on."

"Who?" Ron knew that in the next ten seconds he would regret asking.

"Only the best-known Gryffindor-hating, greasy, beaky teacher here," Fred said.

"SNAPE?" Harry and Ron spluttered.

"The very same," George shuddered in his seat, "but that's hormones for you."

"And from what Harry said earlier about Hermione staring at Malfoy, I'd say she is suffering from the same thing, so don't be too hard on her if it turns out she does fancy him, Ron," Fred said, clapping his little brother on the back and using him as support so he could get up from the sofa.

"Yeah, she'll soon get over it. She'll be back to hating his guts and hexing his ferret-y backside in no time," George laughed and the twins started to walk off.

Harry felt a little more comfortable with the strange Daphne situation after that little impromptu life lesson. Yes, hormones, that had to be it…

"Of course we could be wrong," the twins winked and walked through the portrait hole.

Shit. Harry thought to himself. Talk about a false sense of security.

"'Well that was bloody anti-climactic," Ron commented, "Do you think they were having us on?"

"No, I think we should take their word for it, it seems to explain things that aren't adding up: Hermione not being able to see through Malfoy's game for one thing, if he's even playing one," Harry said quickly, "anyway, I think we have more pressing things to worry about. Like finding our own dates to the Ball."

"You know, after that little chat I think I've gone off girls," Ron joked.

"Same here," Harry lied, "but seriously, I think we should act fast before all the girls get dates."

"I s'pose but, it's like, how do you even ask them? They're always walking round with their mates."

"I know but we're just going to have to go for it," Harry said. His words were supposed to be motivational but he felt more terrified than anything else, "how about we do it today? We'll both have a date by tonight, agreed?"

"Oh bloody hell all right then," Ron replied. He rose from his seat and grabbed his school bag off the floor, gesturing to Harry that they should get to lesson, "mind you, I don't know who to ask, do you have any ideas?"

"None at all," Harry lied again. In actual fact, he had a very good idea of who to ask to the Ball… he just didn't know if it was because of hormones, or because he was just plain mental.

Harry's gut was telling him that it was the latter.

The boys left Gryffindor tower discussing potential dates and really just making any conversation that would divert their minds from the fact that Molly Weasley at one point had a crush on Snape.

Meanwhile, inside the tower, one Gryffindor emerged from their hiding place. Fred and George weren't the only two people who had been eavesdropping on Harry and Ron's conversation.

An Hour Later...

When first lesson was over, Hermione stepped out into the corridor with Harry and Ron, and was greeted with several odd looks and pointed fingers from other students. Several people kept glancing in her direction and whispering to one another in hushed tones as they walked through.

"What's going on?" she asked her friends, who both shrugged. They looked about as puzzled as she felt.

"Oi you," Ron said to a small and nervous looking Hufflepuff girl, who had been gossiping with her friends, "Why's everyone staring at Hermione like that?"

"I can speak for myself, Ron," Hermione hissed from his side. Ron ignored her and kept his attention on the girl.

"Apparently she's going with Draco Malfoy to the Yule Ball," the girl said to Ron, "can you believe that? I thought they hated each other."

"Who told you this?" Ron asked, through gritted teeth, his earlier conversation with Harry was still fresh in his mind.

The girl shrugged, "everyone's talking about it."

Hermione tensed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Hermione!" Draco called to her, having overheard everything the girl said. Overheard… pfft, he was eavesdropping.

Hermione groaned, and turned around. Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"'Mione, we've got to get to class," Harry told her before Ron could jump in with a lengthy interrogation.

"You two go on, I'll catch up," Hermione replied without looking at him. The boys retreated, leaving Hermione alone with Draco in a corridor full of gossiping students.

"Bugger off you lot," Draco snapped, glaring at the crowd. He could sense Hermione's discomfort and so thought it best to get rid of a few people, which was a shame since he would have found an audience to be rather useful, especially since they all thought Hermione was going to the Ball with him. He ought to thank the mystery person who started the rumour, though he had a sneaky suspicion it was Parkinson's doing.

When nobody moved, Hermione squeaked in annoyance and dragged Draco by the tie into a broom cupboard that lead off from the corridor, slamming the door behind them.

"You know, that probably wasn't a wise move considering that lot already think we're going to the Ball together. I can only imagine the stuff they'll come up with now they know we're alone in a broom cupboard. That Skeeter woman would have a field day," Draco smirked, but Hermione didn't see as she was still facing the door.

Hermione spun around and squeaked again, this time out of surprise, when she whipped Draco in the shoulder with her hair. Merlin, he was so close! Surely it wasn't practical for broom cupboards to be so tiny…

For a second she forgot what she was about to say, for she realised just how close she was standing to Draco. She could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, and she could see the long honey-coloured lashed that framed his eyes. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath to regain her senses, but as she did so her nostrils were filled with pleasant scents of peppermint and vanilla. At first, she thought it was just the smell of the cupboard, but when she opened her eyes, she realised that what she smelt was Draco, and not the cupboard. Dammit, why did he have to smell as good as he looked? It just wasn't fair…

"You all right?" Draco asked uncertainly when Hermione hadn't spoken for a while.

His voice made Hermione's inner babble come to a halt, and she remembered why she had dragged him in here.

"I suppose you think this is funny, do you?" she said firmly, trying to ignore the minty-vanilla-y scent that lingered around them.

"A little, I mean it's not everyday you get dragged into a cupboard by a frizzy-haired little Gryffindor," he replied, smirking again.

Hermione thumped Draco's chest, "Not that you git, the rumours. It was you, wasn't it?"

"Bloody hell Granger, again with the violence?" Draco rubbed his chest, feeling very irritated and confused at the same time, "it wasn't me! Do you honestly think I would have tried to send those people away if I started the rumour? Besides, when, do you suppose I managed to spread it throughout the school? I mean I was just in first lesson with you. Honestly, it's flattering that you think I could have pulled off such a stunt but you really overestimate me."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Truthfully, it had been her first instinct that Draco had started the rumours up as his way of humiliating her. She thought that he set this whole thing up ages ago and used the ploy of a truce to throw her off guard. But then it occurred to her that Draco had always been rather tactless by spurting off juvenile insults to get a rise from her.

"Sorry," she said, though there was a slight edge to her voice.

"I should think so," Draco said in an overly exaggerated hurt tone, "you wound me Granger, and not just in a physical way. But in all seriousness what reason could I possibly have for spreading that rumour? It's at my own expense as well as yours."

Hermione chewed her lip in thought and Draco rolled his eyes. She did that a lot. It must be a habit of hers; after all, wouldn't she always have accidentally caught her lip when she had those hideous buckteeth? She looked much better without them. Draco scrutinised her whilst he waited for a response. She wasn't bad looking. He wouldn't stretch as far as pretty but she wasn't ugly by a long chalk. Then again, she would probably benefit from making friends with hair conditioner and clothes that fit her better…

"Draco?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts. A light blush tinted her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. Damn, she had caught him looking.

"Hm?" He answered.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked, sounding a little scared. Hermione wasn't sure why he was looking at her, but it was the same kind of scrutiny he had put her under that day outside Charms when he had apologised to her. She still wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

"Ever heard of hair conditioner, Hermione? I was just thinking it could tame your frizz," Draco improvised. He didn't feel comfortable answering her question; to be honest he didn't even know the answer. What was that Potter and Weasel were muttering about in last lesson? Oh yes, hormones. That must be it. Granger's a girl, whom I'm in close proximity to. Her infuriating personality aside, it's only logical that I notice her, isn't it?

His answer had obviously added fuel to Hermione's fire, "I've more important things to be worrying about, I'll have you know. I'm not some shallow, self-centred person whose looks are the top priority."

"Are you insinuating that I am those things? Actually don't answer that," Draco said wearily, "just answer my original question so we can get to class; you're giving me a headache."

"Oh well excuse me for having doubts that you were lying to me when you asked for a truce, and set up this whole rumour to embarrass me and-"

"And excuse me for thinking that you'd actually want to put these childish spats behind us by accepting the truce. But yet, here we are. You know what, I don't know why I even bothered," Draco sneered at her and did his best to manoeuvre around her. It was true, he didn't know why he bothered: there was no way Hermione would agree to go to the Ball with him for real when she wanted to pick a fight from every sarcastic remark he made. He also had to admit, if only to himself, that the truce was a good idea. It was bloody exhausting having to insult Hermione and her friends every time they so much as looked at each other.

Draco had his hand on the door handle but Hermione surprised them both by grabbing his free hand to pull him back. She had underestimated her own strength because Draco ended up falling into her, causing Hermione to fall into the wall. It knocked the wind out of both of them, and Hermione hastily tried to shove Draco's entire body weight off her.

"A little help?" she panted as she struggled to budge him, "kind of suffocating over here."

Draco snorted, "you're on your own Granger. You got yourself into this."

"Ha. And here I was thinking you'd finally grown up," Hermione remarked in laboured breaths.

Draco said nothing but allowed the girl a sense of triumph by rocking forwards on his heels as she pushed against his back, setting them both right once more.

"Well for a small person, that was impressive," he smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at him, "thanks, I think."

There was a moment of silence. Hermione was still panting from the effort of pushing Draco up and Draco was scrutinising her again; lost in thought.

"Did you mean what you said?" Draco spoke first.

"What about?"

"About me growing up."

"Well, yes. I know you must have felt uncomfortable with the apology at least, what with me being, well, what I am, and you being… you. I thought it was a mature thing to do." Hermione answered, looking up at him.

Draco was surprised. He felt a rare pang of guilt that this girl had given him the benefit of the doubt and had apparently come to respect him over something he did just to win a bet.

Well wasn't this an interesting turn of events? He was actually learning from this!

He didn't particularly like the sappy feelings it brought out in him, though, and there was no way another soul would ever know of it. Ever. Especially Greengrass,

"You still need to answer my question, Granger. Why would I spread that rumour?" He drawled calmly.

"Oh! Yes," Hermione said, "well if what Daphne said last night about you doing that little display of yours to hit on girls was true, then I'd say that's your answer right there."

"You honestly believe I would want to go to the Ball with you?" Draco's tone was neither snarky nor serious. It was simply curiosity. Apparently this bet was affecting Granger and messing with her head just as much as it was to him.

"We should probably get to class," Hermione said, opening the door and stepping into the corridor. She didn't quite know how Draco's question was intended, so she didn't answer.

Draco sighed and followed her. They started walking side-by-side but not directly next to one another. Draco felt slightly disappointed that they had lost the close proximity that the broom cupboard offered, though for a different reason to what one would first think.

The cupboard gave him a sense of security of not having to put on a persona for the judgemental eyes of the students that were everywhere around the open castle grounds. He knew he still had a bet to worry about, but being in the cupboard with just Hermione allowed him to gain some perspective on the situation: neither party had their friends with them to cloud judgement on the other, and the closeness almost forced them to bear one another's presence. It made them communicate, but being loose in the grounds gave both of them the option to run away if needed, and with it, Draco felt scared to break out of his comfort zone by being cordial to Hermione in public. In the cupboard he felt like he could be anyone he wanted to be, which was saying something considering his only company was the most irritating witch in the school. It had felt the same in the library the previous day. At least, before Potter and Greengrass turned up.

Beside him, Hermione was having similar thoughts, though neither communicated their individual insights to the other.

"So, how many girls have you used your 'move' on, exactly?" Hermione asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Draco rolled his eyes and thrust his hands into his pockets as they continued to walk, "really Granger? You're going to barrage me with questions again? I will get my own back for this."

"That's not fair!" Hermione protested, "we were just talking about that, I'm just continuing the conversation."

"What a pathetic excuse," Draco smirked and nudged Hermione in the arm with his elbow, "and I don't think that's any of your business. Why are you so interested? Actually don't answer that; I know it's because you're a nosy little bookworm."

Hermione bristled but didn't comment on Draco's last statement, "it's just that Daphne implied that you've used it on a lot of people, that's all."

"Oh so you automatically believe what Greengrass implies but don't hesitate to accuse me of spreading rumours about us?" Draco sniffed in annoyance.

"No, it's not like that –"

"Then tell me, what is it like exactly?" Draco suddenly saw red. "Because from my point of view, it doesn't seem to matter how much effort I put in to be civil to you because you are always going to poke your nose around to try and find a reason not to trust me."

Draco's outburst caught Hermione completely off guard. She didn't feel comfortable explaining herself now that he was so worked up. He wouldn't listen or take her seriously now. His earlier question to her about whether she believed he would want to go to the Ball with her had got her thinking. She only wanted to see if he had a reputation of his own; Viktor's was still an issue for her. Apparently the cupboard was also useful for clouding her judgement, because Draco just demonstrated that he hadn't changed, not really. Serves her right for ogling him the previous day; she couldn't believe she had actually been considering asking him to the Ball.

"You know what, just forget I ever asked. In fact, just forget about the bloody truce altogether. It's not like it was doing much good anyway." Hermione would have flounced away from him if they hadn't arrived at Charms, their second lesson of the day.

Draco growled and clenched his fists. He knew he would regret getting into a fight when there was still a danger that he wouldn't win the bet, but in that moment he really couldn't have cared less. If Granger wanted to be an immature snob then so be it.

Hermione and Draco both tried to enter the room at the same time, squashing and barging each other against the doorframes. Luckily, the class was engaged in a practical session so not too many people looked their way. Unfortunately, Professor Flitwick noticed.

"Where have you been?" He snapped, though his squeaky voice removed pretty much all of the annoyance from his words.

"In a cupboard with a Mudblood," Draco muttered under his breath, but Hermione coughed loudly to drown him out.

"Just got held up, Professor. I'm sorry," she said, trying to calm herself down.

"Maybe so, but that still doesn't excuse tardiness. Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and I'd give you two a detention, but weren't you going to tutor Mr Malfoy again tonight, Miss Granger?"

"I was," Hermione muttered. Draco clenched his jaw as he stood beside her. His blood was still boiling.

The Professor didn't seem to pick up on the tension between them, and pressed on, "Splendid! So you can do your tuition in this classroom tonight whilst I grade some essays. I'd say that would class as a detention, so I expect to see both of you here at seven o'clock."

Hermione groaned. Great. Just great. A whole hour of Draco's company after what had just happened… that wouldn't be awkward at all! And that included the cupboard incident as well as their disagreement just now.

Draco's thoughts pretty much echoed Hermione's. They merely grunted their acknowledgements to Professor Flitwick and briefly locked eyes before they headed to their seats. Draco plastered a glare on his face to match the one he expected to get from Hermione; however she didn't look angry, she looked almost sad – talk about mood swings. He swallowed hard and relaxed his mouth, his expression now showing confusion.

Hermione shook her head briefly and she tore her gaze away from him, leaving Draco to wonder what on earth that gesture meant.

To be continued...

A/N: Didn't want to leave it there but like I said, this was the best way of spreading the chapters out. Quite a lot happened in this part so hopefully that makes up for the slight update delay :) I hope you guys enjoyed reading! Please review on your way out