Author's Note: Sorry the last chapter was really slow. I just felt I couldn't force myself to rush the story along to get to the good part. This chapter gets a little more exciting. Thanks for sticking with me!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter; I just play in it.

In Hermione's eagerness to evade Ron and Harry by avoiding the Great Hall during lunch, she didn't even pause to consider that Malfoy might also be returning to their dorm instead of joining his classmates for lunch. When the portrait door swung open and he strolled casually through, she had to hold back a moan of dismay. She had been slicing a loaf of bread in order to make toast to accompany the fried eggs she was preparing to make.

"Oh, lovely, Granger. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?" he sighed as he spotted her in the kitchen. He set his book bag next to the couch and sauntered over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the common room and swung himself into a seat, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm making lunch for myself. I thought that might be easy to deduce for a clever boy such as yourself," she spoke the last few words with extra malice as she cut off her second slice. Only a noncommittal grunt could be heard from Malfoy's direction. "What are you doing up here, anyways?" she inquired with arched eyebrows.

"Avoiding Pansy," he shivered slightly at the pronunciation of her name. Her eyes widened, surprised by his honesty.

"Do you want one slice of toast, or two?" she asked, peering over at him. At this, he raised his head from his hands, his turn to be surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What, you expect me to trust you to not poison my food? I'd rather have my food prepared by a house elf than a mudblood like yourself."

"There aren't any house elves here. It's either you eat my food or go without. Your choice." Her hands were on his hips now, knife glinting by her side. He considered her a moment, and sighed before dropping his head back into the cradle of his hands.

"Two," she heard him mumble. She brought the knife from her side and cleanly cut two more pieces of bread before carefully arranging them so they all fit in the countertop toaster oven. Then she went to the fridge to retrieve the carton of eggs. Placing a pan on the lit stove, she glanced over at the still form of Draco before walking over and poking him in the ribs. His head bolted up again.

"Oy, what was that for? Don't touch me," he spat. She rolled her eyes at him.

"How many eggs?"

"Oh. Two. But I was serious about the touching thing."

"What, worried you can't control yourself around me?" Hermione mimicked his annoyingly flirtatious tone of that morning. He gagged in response and she returned to the pan, lightly coating it in butter before dropping two eggs in. He was watching her carefully to make sure she wasn't adding any extra ingredients to his food. She simply let out a huff of breath and poked at the edge of the eggs to be sure they weren't sticking to the pan.

"Why do you cook like that?" He questioned, watching her bustle around the kitchen.

"Like what, Malfoy?" she responded, eyes narrowed in suspicion. They seemed to be stuck that way when she was around him.

"The muggle way." He spat out 'muggle' as if it were a word dirtier than 'mudblood.' She narrowly resisted the urge to throw the spatula at him.

"Because, darling, that's how my mother cooks," pronouncing 'darling' the same as he did 'muggle.'

"Why do you hold onto your muggle ways, Granger, don't you know you're a wizard and don't have to do things like an ordinary house elf?" Hermione caught the scorn in his voice, and responded angrily.

"Just because you have power doesn't mean you can abuse it—"

"How is cooking an egg with magic abusing your powers?" his voice was rising. He couldn't fathom how her mind could actually work the way hers did.



"—and cooking is artful, something only people with actual skill and talent can do well! Just because you have magic doesn't mean you should use it for every menial task that might require an ounce of effort!" Her voice, too, was increasing in volume.

"How can something like that—"

"DO YOU WANT YOUR BLOODY LUNCH OR NOT, MALFOY?!" she shrieked at him, wielding her spatula above her head in a frightening manner.

"Have the eggs cooked long eno—" he was interrupted by Hermione violently grabbing her wand and using it to open the toaster oven then turn towards the cabinets and two plates flung out at fatal speed before crashing into the counter. The butter exploded out of the fridge, plastered itself over the toast, which slammed into one of the plates and threw crumbs everywhere before the eggs shot out of the pan and landed with a splat next to the beaten toast. The plate skidded dangerously across the counter before stopping abruptly before a slightly taken aback Draco Malfoy. He merely blinked down at his crumbly toast and runny eggs which had indeed been removed from the pan too soon.

"Uh, I don't have…"

'WHAT, Malfoy, WHAT DON'T YOU HAVE?!" She yelled, slamming her wand onto the counter and grabbing the egg carton again, this time to make her own eggs.

"Er, I can get my own fork, thanks." He ducked quickly behind her to retrieve the utensil, and returned to the counter to eat his food.

Hermione placed both hands palm down on the counter and bowed her head, breathing slowly. A moment later, she picked her head back up and gingerly grabbed the eggs from their resting places before cracking them delicately into the pan. Malfoy gaped at her quick change in attitude. He could still feel the heat coursing through his body as he shoved the underdone eggs into his mouth grumpily. She quickly finished her meal and sat down next to him, cheerfully tucking into her perfectly cooked lunch as he was just finishing the last bite of his battered toast. He slid out of his chair without thanking her for the meal, and shuffled over to the couch where he pulled a book from his bag and plopped down, opening the textbook casually across his lap. They passed the rest of the afternoon angry silence.

That evening, Draco was restless. Uncharacteristically restless. He couldn't take out his agitated energy by picking a fight with the mudblood because she had fled the common room for the library about an hour earlier. With a roar of frustration, he swept through the portrait hole to search the halls for the only relief he knew he could count on.

When Hermione returned to the Heads' dorm around 9 that night, she was glad to see that the room was vacant. Not giving the slightest thought as to where Draco could have been, she entered her room and shut the door quietly behind her. She followed her bedtime routine, wishing to be swept away by sleep as soon as she could. Once she had neatly discarded her day clothes and pulled on her sleepwear, she skipped across the floor and danced into the bathroom. Quietly singing "Bad Education" by Tilly and the Wall, she turned several times in the mirror before shaking her hair into her face and raising her hands above her head. She dropped them as she hummed a musical interlude and spread toothpaste on her tooth brush, shoving it into her mouth as she continued to hum. She stopped hopping around as she became aware of a soft thumping noise coming from somewhere in the bathroom.

She spat out a mouthful of minty goop and padded across the bathroom, toothbrush wielded in her left hand, to search for the source of the noise. As she crept closer to the door that led to Malfoy's room, she realized that it was open and became worried someone who did not belong in the castle was rooting through his room. However, when she peeked through the small space between the frame and the door, she felt the urge to vomit.



Malfoy had a slim Slytherin girl trapped on top of his dresser with one hand holding her right thigh to his hip and the other clamped over her mouth, and he was rhythmically pounding her into the wall. She could still hear the girl's muffled noises through Draco's hand, and he had his head thrown back, apparently in ecstasy. Hermione didn't realize it was so that he wouldn't have to look at her. Thankfully, both were fully clothed save for some garments that had been merely pushed aside. Hermione heard a strange, out of place sound and nearly cried out in dismay when she realized that the toothbrush had slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She could have sworn she saw him pause ever so slightly in his movements, but another glance at the two assured her that they went undisturbed.

She snatched up her toothbrush, face burning with embarrassment, and rinsed it hurriedly before abandoning it next to the sink and rushing into her room and turning on rather loud music before shimmying under the covers. Appalled at the recklessness and horrible smuttiness of Draco's actions, it took her well over an hour to calm her outraged mind sufficiently before she could find any rest. He was soiling her livingquarters.

The next morning, when she sleepily stumbled into the common room to find some food for herself, Draco smirked up at her over his cup of tea. He was seated at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, so coming into close range of him was unavoidable if she wished to eat. She wasn't about to go down to the Great Hall so she could be treated like a subordinate by her two friends.

"I didn't know you were such a creep, Granger," he drawled once she had pulled the bacon out of the fridge.

"I'm sorry? I don't know what you're talking about," she kept her face hidden, afraid her cheeks would light up bright red again.

"Don't give me that, I heard you in the bathroom last night. You were watching us." His eyes glimmered nastily at her as she heated the pan on the stove and placed 6 slices of bacon in it.

"You're foul, that's what you are. Why would I want to watch that?"

"So you admit you saw us!" he exclaimed, victorious.

"You made sure of that, you filthy animal," she spat, not removing her eyes from the bacon in the pan.

"Oh, 'filthy animal', I didn't realize you liked that sort of thing, mudblood."

"I don't! You're disgusting, Malfoy. You can't keep things like that to yourself, can you?"

"Well, unlike other boys, I don't have to. Girls throw themselves at me rather willingly, to tell you the truth."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Why can't you keep it to yourselves? Why do you always have to broadcast it?"

"Excuse me, did I wake you up two nights ago? I don't believe so. So don't go accusing me and whomever I'm with of anything," his eyes narrowed at her as she pulled two plates from the cabinet and placed 3 strips of bacon on one, and the remaining three on the other. She put the uncooked bacon back in the fridge before cracking 4 eggs into the pan.

"Oh, well thank God for that" she said in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes as she pretended to be overjoyed she hadn't been ripped from sleep by Malfoy and 'whomever he was with' while stirring the egg whites and yolks together.

"You're the one who told me that I have a room for that sort of thing the first day in the library, anyways," he accused.

"But you still don't have to parade your sexual exploits around here."



"You're jealous!" He said, eyes wide with realization. She merely scoffed and repressed the vomit that bit angrily at the back of her throat. He was pretty far from the truth. She was repulsed. When she told him so, he merely shrugged and ate the two eggs she spooned onto his plate.

Honestly, Hermione spent more time thinking about the kiss than she would have liked. True, she would have considered one second too long, but the fact that she had been studying the way his hands gripped the spine of the book for the past two minutes revolted her. She had enjoyed having a body press against her own—it was a feeling she wanted again. Hating herself for feeling very much like a adolescent girl, she carefully avoided looking at his lips before returning to her own book. She decidedly hated that Malfoy, the single person she could not stand above any other student at Hogwarts, had to have been the one who turned her into the teenage girl, with desires and such. Now when she walked down the hallways and saw a particularly cute brunette or a boy with beautiful blue eyes, she couldn't help but imagine pinning him to the wall. It didn't happen often, these images, but she was unnerved when it did.

When there was a knock on the door later that afternoon, both students jumped slightly in their chairs. Hermione whipped her head around towards the portrait door, and Malfoy was already padding across the carpet to find out who had disturbed them. As he swung the door open, he scoffed loudly and his shoulders sunk slightly.

"Oh, it's only you two." Hermione's pulse quickened. She knew exactly which two he was talking about.

"Come off it, Ferret. Let us in. You know bloody well we aren't here to fawn all over you," she heard Harry's voice cut. Draco moved jerkily back, and when Hermione saw the outraged look on his face and Ron's own smug appearance, she guessed that the redhead had pushed him aside to stroll past. Malfoy grabbed Ron by the robes at his elbow and pulled him closer, his mouth about an inch from his ear.

"If you ever so much as touch me again, Weasel, you'll be waking up in the hospital wing two weeks later with no recollection of the past three years. Do you understand me?" he threatened in a deathly whisper.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, Malfoy. Could you maybe do something your own accord instead of mimicking your worthless father all the time?" Ron shot as he roughly snatched his robes away from the blonde and began walking towards Hermione. In a second, he was up against the wall with Draco's wand at his throat.

"Malfoy, stop it! Ron, why can't you just keep your mouth closed?" Hermione shrieked, across the room before she realized she had moved. Neither boy gave any indication they had heard her. She pressed herself between the two boys and found herself wedged between two hot, angry bodies, staring into Malfoy's malice-filled eyes. They stung at her like poison-tipped daggers.

She willed the heat from her face as she realized this is what she had been thinking about earlier—but this time, she was squished between two boy's bodies. She chased all seedlings of arousal as she placed her face once again with a determined composure. She hoped neither boy had felt or seen the half second laspe in character.

"Hermione—get off!" she heard Ron mutter from behind. Putting both her hands on Draco's chest, she had to push against him with her entire body as well in order to separate him from her friend and herself. He stumbled backwards a few feet, fury etched into his face.

"What did I say about touching me, mudblood?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"I don't bloody well care what you said, you prat! Why am I the only sensi—"

"TAKE IT BACK!" Ron roared, lunging past Hermione towards Malfoy with his fists clenched.



"NO!" Hermione screamed, catching Ron by both elbows and swinging him back behind her. "By all means, DON'T retaliate!"

"But if he's going to walk around here, calling you that—"
"I can deal with it myself, Ronald. Go wait for me in my room," but by now Ron was just as furious at Hermione for scolding him in front of his nemesis as he was at Malfoy to begin with.

"How dare you—" he seethed.

"I said GO! I will be there in a minute!" she didn't avert her challenging gaze from Malfoy's form, which was shaking slightly with rage.

"I bloody well refuse to wait for you so you can nag me and scold me more, mother," he spat, taking several steps back from her. "We just came for your research."

"Erm—Ron…" Harry began, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Two seconds ago he had been prepared to level Malfoy with a punch, but Ron's and Hermione's fight seemed to drain all the anger from him.

"NO, Harry," he warned, turning to face his friend.

"You want my research? Fine! There's a stack of paper on my dressing table. Take it and get out of my room." Ron didn't need to be told twice. He crossed the room, threw open her door and retrieved the papers before stomping out of the room and letting Harry and himself out of the portrait hole. Harry wouldn't even look at her as he ducked his head to get out the door.

"Aurg!" Hermione let out a violent sigh of frustration before spinning and letting herself fall onto the couch. By this time, Malfoy has collected himself and stored away his anger, arrogant ease smoothing over his face once again.

"Kind friends you have there, mudblood," he drawled in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"They'd be fine if you didn't provoke them," she countered, not once looking at him.

"Where's the fun in that? That Weasel sure has a temper, doesn't he? And how did Potty get such a glowing reputation if that's how he runs from fights?"

"I don't have to defend my friends to you, you little cockroach." He just chuckled quietly, turning from her to walk towards the door.

"I'm eating in the Hall tonight, I couldn't risk a repeat performance of this afternoon."

"Well have fun with your darling little Pansy!" Hermione called somewhat tersely at his retreating form. He returned to the room much later that night to find Hermione with a bowl of cold spaghetti cradled forgotten in her lap as she studied the text in yet another book. He shook his head sadly and continued to his bedroom, thinking only of the soft bed waiting for him.

Author's Note: Please please please don't forget to leave a review. I feed off them, and right now, I'm a starving little author.