I am exceptionally pleased with the number of people who have reviewed or favorite, so thank you to you all! I apologize for the shortness of chapters, as I have been trying to update as soon as possible and therefore sacrificing length of content. As for any plot-related concerns, you'll just have to wait and see! ;)

Draco flopped unceremoniously onto the downy king-sized mattress. He stared listlessly up at the heavy green canopy. The room was bedecked in Slytherin paraphernalia and a fire crackled in the hearth. His gaze was glassy, his arms haphazardly arrayed over his head. He kicked his shoes off with a grunt but didn't move to get under the blankets. He just stayed there, arms splayed over the bed, fully clothed. What low had he fallen to? It was already halfway through the winter months and the Slytherin Prince was in bed, fully clothed, alone?

In a flash, he was on his feet and pacing before the fire. His eyes flashed with every turn he made on his heel, his hair in disarray as he raked his fingers through it. His jaw was tense, the angled planes of his face cast into sharp relief by the flickering flames. He let out an inarticulate growl and struck the nearest object, which happened to be the edge of the small table beside the fireplace. It fell over with a bang, sending the decorative candles some house elf had left there skittering across the floor. He swore loudly and kept pacing. Frustration burned through his veins like acid. It was all that bloody Granger's fault. She was to blame for his… his slump. She was to blame. That perfect little Gryffindor. She always seemed to be looking down on him, always. If he even looked at a girl, she acted disgusted all day. They never spoke, but he knew she thought ill of him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, per say, after all, it was what they wanted. She was just jealous. Yes, that was it. Then why was it that he still didn't have her?! He kicked the table ferociously and it banged across the room and crashed into the wall. He swore loudly and repeatedly. His door flew open.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name is going on in here?" Hermione stood in his doorway, wand in hand. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. "You are aware that it's late, aren't you?" She was panting lightly, chest rising and falling steadily. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." She pushed her hair out of her face and straightened her tee shirt before clearing her throat. "Now are you going to answer me?"

He didn't answer immediately, studying her. Her hair was tousled, but he wanted to muss it himself. She slept in a plain white tee shirt that clung to her frame tightly and- He averted his eyes to the fire. She didn't wear a bra to bed.

"Malfoy, I asked you a question!"

"Well, Granger, I obviously had a row with that end table." His voice dripped with sarcasm and it was no wasted on the young witch.

"You really are an arse, Malfoy," she grumbled, "You create this insufferable racket in the middle of the night, then become a complete git when someone gets upset. Why in the world are you even creating such a racket, anyway?"

"Such language from Gryffindor's Princess," he sneered, brow arching as he risked a glance at her. She made a face at him.

"Fuck you."

His eyes widened a bit and he grinned, turning toward her slowly.

"My dear Hermione Granger! You seem testy. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. Her gaze was level and almost uncaring.

"I'm just surprised you even know my first name, Draco," she replied acerbically, "And I'm 'testy' because it's two in the bloody morning and you woke me up with no purpose other than to be a complete arse. Have you even slept yet?"

"Actually, I didn't wake you on purpose. I'm an arse because you burst into my room. Uninvited, I might add." He chuckled and shrugged. "Guess your curiosity got the better of you. Wanted to see the infamous bedroom of Draco Malfoy?"

Her cheeks colored and she tensed.

"Piss off, I thought maybe… I don't know, something had happened."

He laughed, nonchalantly removing his tie and untucking his shirt. He shoved his hands in his pockets\, watching her.

"So you say. I just think you got tired of being so close yet… so very far away. Or maybe you're just tired of being the only girl in seventh year who hasn't…" he trailed off with a smirk as her cheeks flushed darker.

"I don't have to listen to this." She turned quickly and briskly walked back toward her room. He took one step outside his room, watching her walk away in her short sleep shorts.

"So that's it. You're jealous. You're jealous because your virgin-self is the only seventh year girl I haven't slept with. It bothers you." He chuckled. "Does it keep you awake at night?"

She had stopped halfway across the common area between their rooms. Her shoulders were tense and her fists clenched. She was stalking back toward him across the room before he had another chance to laugh.

"You disgusting, obnoxious, vile, despicable cretin. You… you appalling, insolent, scurrilous Neanderthal!" Her face was inches from his and her wand pressed to his chest. "Don't you ever think of me as one of your derisive little 'accomplishments'. Because I am not some easy little little… trollop in a back alley. Am I being clear?" She turned away again. "I'm sure even a nitwit prick like you has a sense of self-preservation, Malfoy." Her stride was quick as she half ran to her room. Her hand was poised to open the door when he spoke again.

"Can't say I'm surprised you've never had sex, Granger. You're far too prude-ish for that. Wouldn't want to sully your reputation and all that shit. Shame really."

Her hand was on the door, but he could see that it was taking all her will power not to jinx him into next week. She finally turned back to him.

"And why is that such a shame, Malfoy?"

Her reply shocked him for a moment, but his smirk slid back into place. He leaned against the doorframe casually.

"Because the way you and I fight, you seem like you'd be one hell of a shag."

He saw her blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. He could see her try to breathe calmly through her nose. But best of all, he could see the wheels turning in her head, and he knew she was thinking about it, imagining it. Imagining their bodies, clothes forgotten; imagining his hands touching her everywhere, making her scream in absolute delight; imagining what it was like to have those walls torn down by none than he. Her lips parted slightly and he watched her nipples harden under the thin cotton of her tee shirt. His smirk widened and mischief glinted in his eye. She floundered for words for a moment before she turned and bolted into her room, slamming the door behind her.

He chuckled darkly, stepping back into his own room and closing the door quietly. Maybe now she knew what he thought every time he saw her.