A/N: Again, thanks for the *fab* reviews! You guys are doing a great job! This isn't really one of my best chapters, but nonetheless, hope you enjoy it ^_^

--------------------------------------------------------------EMOTION---------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up early the next morning. I wanted to pay a visit to Ronald. I crawled out of bed, had a quick shower, and ran a brush through my untamed hair. Draco wouldn't be up now, it was too early. My footsteps made sharp contact with the corridor as I hurried towards Gryffindor Tower. The portrait swung open for me.

A roll of nostalgia swept over me as I glanced around my former Common Room. Six years I had spent in this tower ... I shrugged off the memories, and raced up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. I found Ron and Harry's shared room. Even better, I found the boy that has been the main cause of Draco's problems. His body was in the position of a ballerina on his bed, and he was snoring loudly, his mouth was wide open. I marched towards his bed, and shook his shoulders none too gently.

"Wha-Hermione!" Ronald said, waking up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover his body. "What are you doing here?" He was trying to shout, but his sleepiness prevented that. "You're not supposed to be in here! This is the boys' dormitory!"

I narrowed my eyes. "You're one to talk about rules! Done any curse-casting recently, Ronald?"

Ronald's face turned a deep shade of red. "Don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, averting his eyes.

I towered over him. "You know very well what I'm talking about, Ronald Weasley! And don't you dare try to deny it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated.

I pinched his arm, and he let out a yelp. "Hermione! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

I pretended to ponder this, "Hmmm, let me see. Perhaps the fact that you cursed the Head Boy? Or maybe it's the fact that you cursed someone at all!"

I wasn't doing a good job of keeping my voice down.

A drowsy voice floated from the other side of the room, "Hermione? Is everything okay?"

"No, Harry, everything is not okay."

"Oh, uh..." Harry obviously didn't know what to say.

"Why don't you ask our dear friend Ronald?" I asked.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron said, "Look, Hermione, I didn't like the way he was treating you - "

"Treating me! And how, exactly, was he treating me?"

Ronald looked uncomfortable. "Well, for starters, he was being very nice to you, and he wouldn't stop smiling and - "

"Since when has being nice and smiling attribute towards the unfair treating of people?" I exploded.

"But this is Malfoy, Hermione. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word nice."

Harry's head was bouncing between the two of us, like watching a game of tennis, but I paid no attention to him.

"People change, Ronald!" I said, fighting the urge to hit him.

"Are you ... Are you on his side?"

"Wow, you're like a mini Einstein!" I exclaimed sarcastically.

Ron looked baffled. "Sorry, who?"

I threw my hands up into the air. "Never mind! Look, Ronald, the point is that what you did was very wrong, and you need to apologize to him, because he is suffering -"

Ronald guffawed.

"It's not funny, Ron!"

He rolled his eyes.

By now, I couldn't stand his nonchalant attitude. I swooped down upon him, and punched his arm. Once my fist made contact with his arm, he let out a wolf-like yelp. I was smug as I saw him try to stifle a wince. Wisely, he chose not too say anything.

I looked at Harry, silently urging him to say something. Harry, however, was still trying to make sense of the conversation.

"Hang on," he said, sitting up properly in his bed. He put on his glasses and turned towards Ron. "You mean, this is Operation Bumfluff?"

"Operation Bumfluff Two, mate," Ron grinned. I so badly wanted to wipe that grin off his face. I hadn't the faintest idea what Operation Bumfluff even was, but I wasn't done with Ron yet.

"You tell the Head Boy you're sorry-"Ron rolled his eyes,"-or else..." I trailed off, thinking.

Ron rolled his eyes again. "Or else, what, Hermione? You're going to take ten points from Gryffindor?"

The answer popped into my head and I grinned triumphantly. "Or else, I shall tell Lavender about your true intentions for her."

Ron's eyes widened. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

I merely looked at him. He heaved a sigh, and said resignedly, "Fine, I'll do it." He sounded like a child whose favourite toy had been stolen from him.

He sat up in his bed. "Why do you care so much anyway? You never liked him remember?"

"People change, Ron," I repeated. "And Draco did. He's... nice, he means what he says, he keeps his promises, and he's sincere ... People change." I thought back to all the things that Draco had done since the end of the war, the way he acted.

A few moments had passed until I noticed that there was a palpable silence hanging in the air. I looked at Ron, whose mouth had dropped open, and then over to Harry whose eyebrows were raised slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Harry asked quietly.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not. And love is a strong word."

"But you had this look in your eyes when you said his name," Ron said.

"Ronald, grow up. And go apologize to him." This earned an incoherent grumble from him.

I left shortly after that, making my way to the Heads' Tower. I thought back to what Harry had said. Was I really in love with Draco?

Surely I didn't know him well enough to fall in love with him? There are many things about him that I love, though ... The way he scratches his nose when he's thinking, the way he speaks really quickly when he's nervous, the way he impatiently tries to repeatedly brush away the blonde lock of hair that always falls into his eyes ... I stopped myself short. What was I even saying?

I hadn't realized that I was standing outside our portrait hole. I muttered the password, and it swung open so that I could go inside.

I spotted him sitting on the two-seater, a book propped open on his lap.

"I spoke to Ronald," I declared, as the portrait door swung shut behind me.

He didn't bother looking up, but he acknowledged what I said by letting out a small "humph."

I walked towards the place he sat, "Well, at least I got it done. He should come apologize to you, and when he does, try to act mature," I said teasingly.

He merely laughed at what I said, his teeth flashing a pearly white. The sound surprised both of us, and it made my senses tingle. It sounded so perfect. I giggled nervously, and tried to cover up by saying, "So how's the research going?"

He shrugged.

I threw him a worried look. "Not good, huh? Well, I said I'd help you, so let me help you," I said. His mouth turned down on one side, and I had a pretty good idea that he was reacting to something that I'd said. I rolled my eyes. Boys and their pride. "Not help, per se. I'd just like to assist you with a job that you just happen to be hopelessly failing at." At that, he let out a soft laugh, and the sound affected me marvellously.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you here?" I asked tentatively, motioning towards the empty space on his left-hand side. I wasn't too sure whether he'd shoo me away. He looked up at me and simply nodded. I let out the breath of air I hadn't realized that I'd been holding, and settled myself, keeping a safe distance between us - well as far of a distance I could allow, given the fact that it was two-seater.

"So, where are the rest of the books?" I asked, glancing around, my eyes coming up with nothing.

He had resumed with his reading, so he vaguely motioned to someplace on my left. I looked to my left, on the arm of the chair, and found nothing. "Er, sorry, where?"

He sighed impatiently, and before I knew it, he reached right over me to grab the pile of books at the foot of couch that I hadn't noticed. I felt the heat rush to my face, as well as the heat that he was emanating. And my heart pounded. While he was bending over, the loose shirt that he was wearing had fallen slightly away from his chest ... and the sight that greeted my eyes made me catch my breath. His body, from what I could see, was incredibly well-defined. The years of Quidditch training were too generous. And his scent ... he smelt ... clean; no hint of anything artificial, just the subtle smell of his shampoo lingered. He smelt pure. I couldn't think of another word to describe his scent. Could I have really been in love with him?

To my dismay, he started straightening up. Whether he noticed my stiff composure whilst he was bending over me, or the sad sigh that escaped my lips when he straightened back up, he didn't comment. Instead, he handed me the books that he had already looked through. He looked at me as if to say, Good luck finding anything.

I lifted my chin stubbornly in the air as I said, "Who's to say that I might find something you missed?" He scoffed, and I smiled. But my smile turned to a confused frown as I recalled my earlier question. Am I in love with Draco Malfoy?

-----------------------------------------------------------to be continued----------------------------------------------------------

Review please! Please please! *she said, trying not to sound way too desperate*