As Hermione and the rest of the students in the Great Hall watched the first years be sorted, Ron rested his arm on the table next to her and leaned over in her direction.

"So what did you want to know about this summer, 'Mione?" he began, somewhat awkwardly.

"Just…what were you doing all summer? Any leads? Anything that may be of any use for finding any of the Horcruxes?" she whispered back, determined not to let her resentment at her summer's situation present herself. It was over, and she had survived. She probably had been more use in the library, anyway, she told herself.

"Oh, well, we spent a lot of time in Romania. We really didn't find anything of any use," Hermione suppressed an eye roll at the presentation of the useless information she already knew, "but we did find this one area that was rumored to be haunted. We didn't get a chance to scope it out," he finished lamely. She crooked an eyebrow at this new information.

"Where exactly was it? How large of an 'area' are you talking about?" she enquired, scooting closer to Ron.

"Well, no one would, or could, tell us where exactly it was, just a general idea. No one seemed to know how big it was, either. We heard about it three days ago, and we had to return yesterday. We were hoping maybe you could find out some information? The townspeople all claimed there has been more 'hauntings' recently. Did you know that some muggles don't even believe in ghosts?"

"Yes, Ron, I grew up among them, remember? Some don't even believe in magic. Don't you pay attention in your muggle studies class?" Her voice was raising steadily—she knew the answer. At this point Harry, who had been listening, butted in.

"Anyways, you two," he said, trying to steer them back onto the right topic, "we'd like information on that castle as soon as possible, Hermione. Maybe you could check out the library sometime soon?"

"Well, I was going to head up there sometime this afternoon, anyways. The beginning of the year is always the best time because no one has removed any of the books, and no one ever goes before classes start." She ignored the annoyance that was edging into her chest, mad that Harry would give her a mission before having a proper conversation with her. Its for the Order, she thought, this is a little more important than manners. She took a swig of her pumpkin juice and made yet another a mental note, this one to look for books about places in Romania that were known to be places where dark magic bred, as well as ask for the librarian to find a muggle book on haunted locations in Romania. After she supervised the student's departure from the Great Hall, as well as making sure all students safely found their way into their dorms, she made her way over to the portrait that guarded the Head's dorm.

"Doxycide" she muttered to the portrait of a large black stallion proudly keeping guard over a small, new-looking pure white foal. At once, the horse dipped it's head and stamped it's hooves before the portrait swung forward, revealing a small doorway. Once inside, Hermione had to hold her hand out and catch the wall before her knees buckled underneath her.

Never before had she been able to call such a luxurious room hers, if only for one year. Though her family wasn't as poor as the Weasleys, she was not accustomed to the glamour that coated every square inch of the room. The ceiling was high and arched, pale stone carved into grand decorations high above her humble head. The walls were a rich, dark mauve with silver decorations snaking throughout, expertly mixing her house colors with Malfoy's. Large, comfy looking sofas nearty covered in a warm golden beige fabric sat on either end of the large room, dark wooden end tables sitting proudly at each armrest. A thick, dark green rug covered the floor, and a fire cackled merrily from a large grey-stoned fireplace. Although the room was decorated in reds, greens, golds, and silvers, 'Christmas' was very far from her mind. Instead of looking seasonal, the room just appeared grand and comfortable. It wasn't the kind of luxury that was look-don't-touch, but the kind that beckoned her into it's warm embrace. Floor to ceiling bookshelves caught her eye, and she ran her hands over the old leather spines, not 

daring to breathe just yet. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the room's easy, musty scent in, a smile creeping to her lips.

"Careful, Granger, I wouldn't want you to get too much pleasure out of those books," Malfoy's cold voice cut through the room's warm air and hit her ears with resounding force. Her eyes snapped opened and located him stretched casually on one of the plush chairs. Her mood plummeted.

"I suppose you aren't impressed by any of this, then," she shot.

"Not really. It's nearly as nice as my room at home. You might want to be careful opening your bedroom door, I wouldn't want to have to revive you after a fainting spell."

"I hope I never become like you, Malfoy," she said, not daring to avert her gaze first.

"What's that, Granger? Handsome? Well-liked?" Hermione scoffed, "Privileged? Envied? Powerful?—" he began to enumerate the list on his fingers.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, then, huh? That's not what I meant, not that you are any of those things. I meant jaded. I hope I never become too high and mighty to notice elegance and beauty. Real beauty. The day I can look out a window here and not have my breath taken away will be the day I loathe," she said, taking a step towards the window and looking out. "How can you just shrug such fine things off? I feel sorry for you."

"SORRY?!" He exploded, pale face coloring, "You feel SORRY for me? Of all the things you've said, Granger, that has got to be the stupidest. How could some mudbloodlike you feel sorry for someone like me?" He had taken several steps closer to her, and she was afraid he would grab her and throw her into the wall, but held her ground nonetheless.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Malfoy," she said resolutely. Her breathing had quickened and her chest rose and fell in the same frantic manner his did. Both students stood, wands at the ready, faces colored, staring determinedly at each other. Hermione dropped her gaze first. Her shoulders slumped and began walking towards the mahogany door with a proud lion burned into it's surface, with "Hermione" etched carefully into the wall next to it. Grasping the gold handle, she heard Malfoy move behind her.

"Not going to retort, Granger?" He laughed cruelly, under the impression that he had won. She paused, hand still on the doorknob.

"I have nothing else to say," she said simply, the tension she didn't realize she was holding melting from her shoulders.

"Ran out of words so quick?" he continued to bait her.

"Appears so," she turned to meet him face to face.

"Well, well, well…" he drawled, feeling superior.

"Not every fight is worth it," she straightened up, defiant.

"Lost your will to compete against me?" he took a step closer. She shuffled uncomfortably.

"Malfoy, we're Heads, why can't we be civil?" He laughed again. It was an unpleasant, teasing sound.

"Like I said, I don't owe such a thing to a mudblood" by now he wasn't angry, just attempting baiting her on, trying to get her to start yelling again so he would have something to do. His eyes danced maliciously in front of hers. She refused to respond in the way he wanted.

"Malfoy…" she began, then shook her head slowly and turned back to her door.

"Well just go ahead and run! You could never stand up to me." He said the last sentence in a deathly whisper. She turned around to face him. His blonde hair curtained his eyes but she could still feel their icy chill leaking into her chest, sending an unpleasant shiver up her spine; she could feel the wrath rolling off him in waves.

"I will not fight with you. Not anymore. Its our first day, for Merlin's sake." She closed the door against his enraged figure and surveyed her room. It was decorated in the same manner as the common room, but without the silver or green. A large four poster bed stood against one of the walls, lavish gold 

coating the mattress and a thick maroon dripped over the pillows. Her bed looked good enough to eat. Setting her wand on her bed table, she laid down on her bed to calm her nerves and think.

Several hours later, she shut Advanced Potions and Their Properties with a snap and rolled over onto her back, pausing a minute before heading off to the library. Aside from their chat during dinner, her two friends hadn't sought her out to talk to her. She knew it would have been hard for them to find her even if they had wanted because she had been cooped up in her room for the majority of the afternoon and all of the evening, but she still felt dismayed. Resolving to talk to them the next day, she made her way out of her room and into the common room. At first taken aback by the lack of Malfoy's presence, she realized he must be in his room or with his cronies. It was, after all, quarter to ten at night.

Once she reached the familiar doors of the library, she stepped inside and welcomed the accepting atmosphere of her favorite hideaway. She strode through the deserted room over to where she knew she could find a book regarding Romania, and began to scour the shelves for any helpful books. Soon after she located Romania's Famous Haunts, she heard shuffling from the corner of the library she had just been about to sit in to browse it for helpful information. Carefully, she slid the book off the shelf and silently made her way over to the end of the row of shelves. Peeking cautiously around the corner, she saw an empty green faded couch pushed against the wall in the corner. She crept along the wall until the sofa against the other wall became visible, and she gasped loudly, forgetting her stealthy façade, when she saw two students defiling her favorite studying place.

A boy's thin fingers were twisted through a girl's long, straight, dark hair as she straddled the blonde's lap, their faces connected at the mouth. At Hermione's sudden noise, the girl pulled herself away from the boy and turned around to look for the source of the intrusion; the boy lowered his lips to her neck.

"Oh!" the girl squeaked in surprise when she saw the Head Girl standing ten feet from them. The boy glanced up, and an equally shocked expression crossed over his face. Malfoy, however, had much practice at mastering his expression, and quickly set his features in a smug look. Hermione wondered whether she had indeed seen the shock on his face, or whether it had just been a passing shadow.

"Get off me," Draco said to the girl, roughly removing her hands from around his neck.

"But, Draco—" she whined, turning back to face him, whispering something in his ear before giggling moronically and biting her finger in what she supposed was a seductive manner.

"I said, get off," he said, more forcefully, clearly unimpressed with the words she so desperately hissed in his ear. He seized her around the waist, but she climbed inelegantly off his lap before he could push her to the ground. She gave him a pleading look before she saw his face set angrily on Hermione's and hastily scampered off, pulling her shirt down and avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"I should have expected you'd be here, even though its before classes start. Can't keep yourself from your only friends, can you, Granger?" he drawled lazily, undoubtedly impressed with himself.

"And you're the last person I'd expect to see here," she narrowed her eyes at him appraisingly.

"How do you think I get such high marks? I do spend some time here."

"Doesn't look like you were getting much work done there," Hermione replied smartly.

"Classes haven't started yet. What, may I ask, are you doing here?" His eyes were laughing, noticeably amused for catching her in what he saw as an embarrassing situation.

"There's other work besides classwork to be done, Malfoy," she explained in a bored tone. Malfoy was studying his perfectly manicured cuticles with disinterest.

"That was very rude of you to interrupt us," he said after a quiet moment, sneering up at her.

"It's the library. Its open to all students. You have a room, Malfoy. Some of us don't want to see such a disgusting display," she rolled her eyes and spoke as if explaining something to a very simple child.



"Well, if you weren't so prude it wouldn't be such a problem, now would it," he shot, still grinning at her in that condescending manner.

"Excuse me, but I don't think you should go around making assumptions like that when you don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth, probably more forcibly than she had intended. She was very aware of her goody-goody reputation, and although she wasn't ashamed of it, people's conjectures as to her life's activities did cause her vexation sometimes. He noticed he had touched a nerve, although she was trying hard to hide it. He laughed softly, teasingly. The sound sickened her.

"How many boys have you snogged, Granger? Any at all?" his eyes twinkled maliciously.

"Not that you would believe me. But, three." She had not been lying, but her hypothesis had been correct. He cackled in disbelief. Putting his hand on his chest and throwing his head back, he clearly had not thought she was telling the truth. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's good, Granger" he chuckled, wiping his eyes theatrically. Draco obliviously considered himself the most talented player on the stage. "How do you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, that doesn't matter, now does it?" she crossed her arms across her chest, deeply displeased.

"Why do you feel the need to lie to me? Are you trying to impress me?"

"Like I'd want to impress you, Malfoy."

"Now, Now. I can tell you're mad I don't believe you," he said in a condescendingly soothing voice.

"I am not. Don't be such a self satisfied prat." He chuckled again, delighting in her anger.

"There's no way for you to proove yourself, you're too much of a coward" he teased, silver eyes shining cruelly. Her eyebrows shot up.

Had Draco spent a week—instead of a day—living with Hermione, he probably would not have made that comment. He had not yet learned that she could not help herself but accept challenges, that she, above all else, hated being humiliated. Competitive to a fault, she could not just allow someone else to win. It was not in her DNA. While this came in very handy in the war against the Dark Lord, Malfoy had yet to learn this fact about her, unfortunately.

She stood there for a few seconds, a silent war taking place behind her chocolate eyes. At her silence, Malfoy suddenly grew afraid that she would accept his joke of a proposal, yet he could not back out now. He would always protect his image, no matter what. The Slytherin Prince never withdrew anything he said, and could not be frightened by any situation. But now, he was frightened.

"You're funny, Malfoy," she attempted a strained laugh, trying to throw the whole thing off as a joke. But Malfoy realized he couldn't withdraw his statement while keeping his pride intact.

"It's not a joke, Granger. I know you won't do it," he challenged, on edge as well.

Finally deciding to bravely swallow the bile rising in her throat, she closed the distance between her and him in three steps and stood over him for a second before sitting down on his right and swinging her legs daintily across her lap in a manner she hoped would appeared to him as confident and nonchalant. As if she did it every day of her life. The two sat, frozen for several moments with both of their faces neatly arranged to not betray the fearful anxiety they both felt.

Here Draco was, stuck in an uncomfortable situation with no way out. A mudblood had her legs draped so annoyingly, so casually across his lap, waiting for him to do something. He had never expected to find himself in such a mortifying position. Maybe he had taken the taunting thing too far, but he didn't think Granger would actually take him up on his offer. He assumed she would burn scarlet and scamper off. Yet here she was, chewing her lip anxiously and staring at him with wide eyes. She's scared, he noticed smugly. Yet he couldn't figure out where to put his hands, so they remained lamely at his sides.



Hermione didn't know how she got herself into the position. She knew she couldn't resist a challenge, but this had indeed gone too far. She would rather battle Voldemort again than face this boy's touch, his lips. Her insides were quivering with fear, her body paralyzed, and she found herself glad that his hands remained on the cushions next to him because if he touched her, he'd realize how tense she was. Its not like she had never kissed a boy. She had indeed kissed three. Why was this one so difficult? Because he's a dark wizard. He's your enemy. He stands for everything you want to purge from this world. He hates you because your parents aren't like him, and you hate him because he is just like his parents, a little voice in her head argued. She bit her lip. She scoured her mind for ways to escape with her dignity intact, yet her consideration yielded nothing. She finally seemed to realize how intimate their situation was, and her eyes grew wide with fear. She did not want his lips on hers.

Maybe I should just get it over with. Quick. Just to be able to get out of here, they thought in tandem. Finally, he leaned down over her, pressing his body against hers, both internally recoiling from the contact. His face was three inches from hers. Both were breathing shallowly, eyes locked, daring the other to back out. One heartbeat passed between their chests. He raised his hand and placed it on her hip. Her skin burned with angry outrage. TwoThree heartbeats raced back and forth. A curtain of hair fell from behind his ear. FourFive. He reached up with his other hand and brushed a piece of hair away from her mouth. It fell back into place. SixSevenEight. He leaned an inch closer, and she almost gagged upon feeling his warm breath on her face. NineTenEleven. Neither moved. TwelveThirteenFourteen. Both moved at the same time. She boldly reached a hand up and tucked it behind his neck, pulling him closer just as he began to shift on his own accord. Closing their eyes, their lips made the contact that their eyes could no longer share.

She couldn't breathe. His chest was on hers, their whole bodies, save for legs, were pressed against each other and her skin crawled against his touch. He had gone past merely touching her. Malfoy's lips were on hers. When he actually began to kiss her, she forced herself to follow suit, repeating practiced patterns as she forced herself to stop thinking.

He was revolted. Before, the thought of brushing against her had made him physically sick, and now she was underneath him, in a position so many girls had been in the past. His skin was ice where it touched her's; he could feel her tainted blood coursing through the blood vessels just millimeters from his own. With an internal start, he realized how lame he must seem, and instantly felt the need to conquer. He felt her gasp slightly when he thrust his tongue against her lips to demand access, but she opened her mouth automatically out of habit. Habit? He thought, I still can't believe she kissed any boy, not to mention THREE. Leave it up to the mudblood to lie to try and appear less pathetic than she really is.

She let him roughly explore her mouth for a moment before she fought back, their tongues wrestling. She twisted the hand that was resting on his neck up into his hair to give her some sense of control. He gripped onto her with the hand that he had laid on her hip, and pressed himself forward onto her. They were battling with all the force of their earlier yelling match, and neither would back down first. I was wrong. This girl clearly has kissed a boy. Quite a few times, in fact, he found himself thinking as she pushed into his mouth. He retaliated by using his free hand to wind into her hair and pull her head back, lowering his mouth now to her neck.

She fought, wanting power, command, but when he began to expertly lick and bite at her collarbone, she resignedly let her head fall freely back in his unforgiving grip, and contented herself with grasping his blonde hair tighter in her hand. Her other hand took up its partner's previous position on the back of his neck, and she guided him higher up her neck, where he bit with ferocity. She nearly gasped, not too sure she hated the sensation. He moved to directly beneath her ear and began to lick carefully until he was awarded with a tiny noise of approval. He snickered into her neck as he felt her grow warm with mortification. She guided him quickly back to her lips and they immediately began 

their private war again, grasping and biting and pushing for control. It was a kiss neither could get lost in; Hermione never felt the library dissolve around her and Malfoy was acutely aware of each second as it ticked slowly by. They were both conscious of the awkward angle at which Draco had bent her in order to press himself more firmly against her.

Eager to get back at Draco for eliciting such a positive sound from her mouth, she shifted her hips carefully around in his lap, seemingly to fix the awkward angle. Malfoy didn't miss this motion and he stopped moving for a moment, breath caught in his throat, concentrating on tangling his hand tighter into her hair to distract himself from the enticing movement in his lap. She took advantage of his lax guard and impishly bit his lower lip. He switched his concentration back to their duel immediately. Aware that no less than a quarter of an hour had passed since their combat began, Hermione grew restless for a way out. Finally deciding on the best possible choice, she smiled to herself as she let Malfoy press his torso into hers again, but this time she fought back with the most powerful weapon she posessed.

She arched her body up into his and tilted her head back while directing Malfoy's face to her neck. Letting out a soft, throaty moan into his nearly painful embrace, her skin fought back to stay away from any unnecessary touch. He drew back quickly, surprise quickly shifting through his eyes before he set his face into a arrogant expression, both opening their eyes for the first time. She smiled devilishly at him and unraveled her hand from his blonde hair before placing her hand on his lean chest and roughly pushing him back into the sofa. She climbed neatly off his lap and looked back down at him in time to see his face when he realized he hadn't honestly earned such a reaction from the girl, and that it was just her ploy to get him off her. Chasing the warm blush from his cheeks, he stood up and closed the distance between them. She realized how suddenly four inches seemed so far when, earlier in the day, she would have had the intense urge to take four steps back.

"Really, I don't see what the girls are so excited about," taunted Hermione mercilessly, trying to keep all traces that might indicate she was lying from her face.

"Really, I don't see how you could have possibly kissed three boys like you said you have," he shamelessly lied through gritted teeth.

"I'm just saying I wasn't astounded," she shrugged her shoulders and looked off, apparently bored.

"I'm just saying—wait, you think I was trying to impress you?" He seethed, reaching his hand up to her face and forcing her to look at him. Her startled eyes grew wide, but she recovered quickly.

"Funny, isn't that what I said earlier?" she said, eyes twinkling spitefully. He growled and dropped his hand as if her face was burning hot.

"I have nothing to prove to you," he snarled.

"I didn't say you did. I just said I don't understand the entire girl population at this school," she loved getting the best of him, "you're just…rough," she finished, running her fingers over the back of her neck where his had been a minute prior. He looked to the other end of the row of shelves, unable to meet her gaze. He prided himself on all his physical talents where girls were concerned, and having none other than Hermione Granger insult him was intolerable. His skin was still frigid from where it had come into contact with Granger, and he rubbed his arm absentmindedly. When he turned and started walking off with his warm green bed in mind, Hermione calling out his last name made him stop, but not turn around.

"Don't be stupid. We both have to back to the dorm. We might as well go together." He rolled his eyes at the empty space in front of him, but made no move to either turn around or continue. She walked up next to him, and they began to walk off towards their dorm together. "So, you know my number, how many girls have you kissed? Just so I know how many girls I kissed just now," she added, carefully watching the floor tiles pass beneath their hurrying feet. He smirked at the insinuation.



"I still find it very hard to believe your number," he was pleasantly greeted with her making an indignant noise before she could stop herself, "but I haven't kept track. Its not like I have a bloody list."

"So…too many to count?" she picked her words with awareness, suddenly feeling the urge to brush her teeth for about an hour.

"You expected a different answer? I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were pouring out our life's stories here," he drawled lazily, sliding his feet carelessly along the floor. Hermione recognized with propper embarrassment that she had left the library without her textbook. Feeling it would be pointless to go back now, she continued to walk with Malfoy in silence until they reached the painting of the two horses. She followed him through the portal and they parted without any parting words. Once in her room, she pulled out her muggle PJs, a white tank top and a soft pair of shorts printed with purple cartoon elephants. Grabbing her toothbrush, face wash, and hair brush, she changed into her PJs, leaving her shirt, skirt, robe and bra in a neat pile in her trunk. She pushed open the door that led to the bathroom and the elegance of the white terrazzo bathroom with dazzling silver fixtures caused her breath to catch in her throat.

The room was large and rectangular, save for the one wall that bowed out to complete the edge of one of the castle's many towers. A sink and toilet sat on her side of the bathroom, and a matching set stood on Darco's side. A large, circular bathtub sank into the floor against the curved wall, an opaque white curtain hung around on a shining circular golden rod was pushed aside to reveal a large and frosted pane of glass that overlooked the grounds, still the shower had a sense of privacy. A showerhead perched splendidly on the wall, a number of stylish knobs in place underneath it. The window was now letting in a view of the dark, star-spotted sky.

She took a moment to gaze out the window before returning to her sink and squeezing some toothpaste onto her toothbrush. Just when she began to polish her teeth, the door on Malfoy's side of the bathroom opened and he strutted in with a small black bag. In the mirror, she noticed he was wearing deep green sleep pants and nothing else, his hair slightly tousled from changing. Her eyes skated across his lean, pale chest and paused to linger over three shimmering white, lengthy scars that trailed across it. She raised her eyes to see that he was watching her, a self-satisfied smile firmly in place on his lips. She blushed a deep crimson—caught in the act.

"The scars…?" she questioned, so quiet she thought he mightn't have heard her.

"Are none of your business," he snapped. End of story. She glared back up at him, and saw his eyes shamelessly traveling down her bare legs (she shivered and shifted her weight), and up her back to her face's reflection in the mirror. She was suddenly wishing her tank top wasn't quite so sheer as she crossed her arms over her chest. He merely smirked at her, apparently satisfied. She spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and rinsed her mouth in the sink. Straightening up to brush her hair and pull it into a loose bun, she avoided making eye contact with Draco in the mirror.

"Well, uh…night," she muttered lamely after she toweled off her face. She glanced up to look at him and caught his reflection's gaze through their mirrors.

"Night," he replied, emotionlessly. She walked back to her room and shut the bathroom door behind her. She crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She was still revolted that she let herself get into such an unprofessional position with her co-Head, and her skin was still burning at the thought of Malfoy touching her in such an intimate way. Determined to act as if it had never happened, she rolled over and had to endure three excruciating hours of racing thoughts until sleep finally found her.