A few things I would like to clarify. :)

1) Draco is an ass. Very nicely observed. He'll get even worse. Yes, I'm aware that Hermione won't fall for him if he's too mean. No, that does not make me want to make him less mean. Where would the fun be in that? ;)

2) Hermione has said herself that she feels honor-bound by their bet. She will not try and wiggle out of it like some whimpering little Slytherin. She will stand her ground. Of course, occasionally, she might have her own interpretations of his orders.

3) Dumbledore is alive, yes. That was the very premise of this AU. He was even in the first chapter. ;)

4) Please don't try to dictate what kind of fic I should be writing. I appreciate that you like other fics I've written, but I like to branch out.

On to the story...


Hermione awoke in the dead of night and lay staring at the darkness for a minute, before she remembered what had woken her. It had just been a dream. She didn't even really remember it anymore and she had the distinct impression that she wouldn't want to. There had been too much on her mind as she went to sleep.

She couldn't decide what had been worst about the day before: The endless slew of absolutely pointless tasks that were quite possibly designed to do nothing but drive her mad, or the humiliation of having to stand to attention in the Slytherin common room. It had been so demeaning to have to endure their taunts and glares like that. When Malfoy had finally arrived, she had hoped that he'd finally have something, anything, for her that would allow her to go. Instead, he'd just ignored her, talking to Zabini about her as if she wasn't present. It had been lowering… but also rather enlightening, actually.

A shiver went through her and she peeked over at the heater. It hadn't gone out. The room was probably nice and toasty. She just hadn't been able to get properly warm since that devilspawn had forced her outside. She burrowed down under her comforter and reminded herself to thank Zabini for helping her get away from Malfoy, before he actually made her ill.


"She's not sick! Now get off my back, you poor excuse for a wizard, before I hex you into oblivion!"

"How do you know?" Blaise asked, not heeding the warning.

"I just do, all right?" Draco snarled. "Sheesh, you got a thing forher, too?"

They were having a free period that morning, and they hadn't gotten very far away from the classroom, before Blaise had gone on the attack. Draco had noticed that Granger had missed breakfast, but it wasn't as if girls didn't skip meals all the time. There could have been any number of reasons. He was pretty sure that she'd just wanted to sleep in, but Blaise kept trying to make him feel guilty. He was doomed to fail.

"I don't have a thing for anyone," Blaise bit off.

Draco rolled his eyes. When would the git stop lying to him about his relationship to Tracey?

"Forget it," Blaise growled. "Just… forget it! You want to be the one who took his petty little revenge too far and hurt the know-it-all Mudblood so badly that the Order refused to shelter his mother anymore? Be. My. Guest!"

Draco shook his head. "They wouldn't."

"And you're willing to bet your mother's life on that, are you?" Blaise asked, his eyes glinting angrily. "Gee, Draco, I always knew you were selfish…" His voice trailed off as he was violently pushed into the wall, Draco holding onto fistfuls of his robe.

"That's quite enough," Draco hissed at his dark Slytherin friend.

"Is it?" Blaise persisted. "Then let's talk about how you've been leading Pansy on instead. Everyone sees it but her. What do you plan to do about that?"

"Don't think you know me, Zabini," Draco hissed. "You don't know who I am or what I'm about."

Blaise sneered and with an effort, he pushed Draco away. "Do you?" he asked, and then he turned his back on him and left.


When lunchtime came about, Draco's mood had not improved in the least. Why had his friends decided to champion the worthless Mudblood? He hadn't even done anything to her yet! And the way things were going, he wouldn't really get a chance to, either.

He saw Hermione just outside of the Great Hall, as he was coming down the stairs to the entrance hall himself. He knew she'd seen him, but, nevertheless, she made a dash for it. He compressed his lips and fisted his hands in annoyance.

All her fault.

He summoned her. He wasn't really aware that he was going to do it, before he had already done it. She appeared before him only a few seconds later, having obviously turned straight around. His lips quirked. He might train her yet. He saw the annoyance and resignation in her eyes, but she stayed quiet.

It only fed his irritation that he wasn't given the chance to tell her to shut up.

"Mondays are boring," he said conversationally. "Don't you agree?"

"No," she replied.

Of course she didn't. He looked her over. "You don't look sick to me. Are you?"

She shook her head.

He snorted. "Of course you aren't. I'm going to rip the ears off that wanker."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Ah, the Mudblood disapproves. Look at me not caring."

"I could have been," she stated. "And then you'd be in trouble."

"From who?" he roughly asked. "You won't be telling anyone about this. Ever. If people would just mind their own business, I wouldn't be coddling you like this."

She didn't reply.

Draco gazed pensively towards the doors to the Great Hall. "Mondays are boring…" he mumbled. "Perhaps we should liven things a bit?"

She glanced apprehensively at the doors and then back to him.

He smirked.

"Yes…" he said. "How's your singing voice?"

Her eyes widened in a horrified stare.


Pleading had been futile, but Hermione had tried it anyway. She'd actually even grabbed a hold of Draco's arm, right there, in the middle of the entrance hall, in an effort to get his attention and to get him to change his mind. It had proven to be the wrong tactics. The smirk had slid from his face and he'd pushed her away with a sneer, telling her never to put her filthy Mudblood hands on him again or she would be truly sorry.

He could be so childish sometimes.

She had realized that there was no way she could change his mind. No way to get around this. No way to save her dignity or self-respect.

He'd told her to go do it right away.

She slowly walked into the Great Hall, hardly registering that he brushed past her, going to his own table. About halfway into the room, she stopped and looked up and down. Nobody was really noticing her. Everyone was eating, talking, laughing… Everyone. Over the weekend, people had been a bit lax with when they went to meals, as meal times were longer, but now it was a school day.

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably and she had to swallow.

'You will go in there and sing the school song. You will sing it loud and clear so everyone can hear you, from start to finish, and you won't rush it. Everyone deserves a chance to enjoy the Head Girl's solo, don't they? If you mess up, you will start over. Once you're done, you won't run away. You will go to your table, sit down, and have lunch, like a good little Gryffindor.'

She swallowed again. She did not like to be the center of attention like she was about to be. She would much prefer to stand out in the drizzle all day and all night, no matter what illnesses she came down with. Perhaps she should have told him that. Her eyes involuntarily flickered to where he was seated at the Slytherin table. His eyes were on her and he was looking impatient.

Hermione took a deep breath and opened her mouth, only to squeak. She closed her eyes.

Come on, Hermione. You can do this. Just get it over with. What's the worst that can happen?

Several images flashed through her head, all involving her losing Head Girl, not being able to take her NEWTs, being ostracized, and growing to be a strange old witch with only cats for company.

Perspective, Hermione!

Draco was now frowning and she knew she'd live to regret it if she didn't comply with his demands soon.

Just do it. Courage. You've faced Death Eaters; surely, you can face students at lunch?

But I didn't have to sing to the Death Eaters!

This time, when she opened her mouth, the first shaky lines of the school song left her lips. Malfoy was grinning maliciously, and she couldn't bear to look at him or anyone she ever had to look in the eye again, so she just stared ahead, her face scarlet and her eyes unseeing.

She heard the room go quiet, still as death, and felt everyone's eyes on her as she proceeded with the song. She tried to remain unfocused, but her traitorous eyes swung to her friends. They were staring at her just like everyone else. Ron had his mouth open and a piece of bread forgotten in one hand, Harry was looking perplexed, and Ginny was frowning thoughtfully.

Hermione's stomach clenched quite painfully again, and her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she was going to be sick.

Even the teachers were staring. Dumbledore himself was even present, his mild gaze never leaving her. Professor McGonagall looked as if she didn't know what to make of her star pupil. Her disapproving stare, more than anything, made Hermione want to go dig a hole to bury herself in. Snape's sneer was no more than what could be expected, and neither was any other reaction from any of the remaining teachers.

A slight movement at the Slytherin table caught her eye. It was Zabini leaning in to whisper something to Malfoy with a grin. Malfoy looked surprised, but pleased, as he replied something. Parkinson was sitting directly across from Malfoy, and she was looking morbidly fascinated. She, too, leaned towards Malfoy to whisper something. He leaned in to hear it, smiled in return, and nodded. She giggled.

Oh, grand. My humiliation is even scoring him points with his vile girlfriend!

The song didn't seem to want to end. At least she was able to remember the words – praise Merlin. She didn't know how she would deal with having to start over again. Her face flushed an even deeper scarlet, and her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest, as she imagined what would happen once the song was done. She couldn't do this. Suddenly, she was glad that the song hadn't ended yet. Being stuck in limbo was far better than what lay on the other side. Her voice wavered.

Her eyes fell on Nott, the only one at the Slytherin table who didn't look pleased at her humiliation. He was frowning in the general direction of Malfoy, but then he caught her eye and jerked his head slightly.

Hermione didn't understand. She shook her head almost imperceptively in response.

He did the movement again. Then, when she didn't react, he frowned, placed a finger under his chin and pushed it up.

Chin up.

Easy for him to say, but noticing that Draco had also become aware of what Nott was up to, and that he was frowning disapprovingly, she decided to follow the advice just to annoy him. To hell with it all. The damage was done; she might as well brazen it out.

Raising her chin – and getting an approving smile from Nott before he focused on his lunch again – Hermione finished the song in a strong and confident voice, before forcing herself to grin and curtsy to the room at large.

There was a silence for a second, as she turned for her table, willing her knees not to give out, and then… then there was a thundering applause and whistling and stomping of feet. Hermione whirled around to see that every table except the Slytherin was participating in this. Even Dumbledore had a benign smile on his face and was clapping.

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless – he looked just as stunned as she felt, and he quickly decided to blame Nott, pinning him with a death glare. Nott smirked at his plate. Zabini looked as if it was the best joke ever, and Parkinson looked fit to be tied.

When Hermione recovered enough, she felt her very own smirk spread across her features, as she curtsied again, before going to take her seat with long, confident strides.

She didn't know what the hell had just happened. All she knew was that she would probably pay for this in the end, but it was worth it.

"Bloody Hell," Ron mumbled as soon as she sat down. His bread was still hanging forgotten in his one hand, while his eyes stared ahead, somewhat unfocused.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Harry announced with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

"Neither did I," Hermione mumbled too low to be heard over the excited chatter and rustling of people resuming their meal.

"Bloody Hell," Ron repeated without making a move to gather his act.

"That was really brave, Hermione," Neville leaned over and said. "I'd never dare! Imagine if everyone just laughed at you!" He shuddered.

"Yeah, me neither," Seamus agreed.

Hermione looked up and blinked as she realized that all the Gryffindors in their year, as well as a few younger ones, had gathered around her.

"What was it like?" Parvati asked. "Wasn't it terrifying?"

"I—" Hermione began, not really sure what to reply, when she was cut off.

"Yeah, why did you do it?" Ginny asked. "I mean, you didn't just walk in and decide on a whim to sing, did you?" Her eyes were fixed on something over Hermione's shoulder, around the place where Malfoy was sitting, if Hermione wasn't much mistaken.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I did," Hermione replied. "After all, Mondays are boring, aren't they?"

There was a rush of awed mutters from everyone who heard her.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said again, now dropping the bread onto his plate.

Hermione smiled. This hadn't been so bad, after all.


"Zabini, can I talk to you for a second?"

The tall, black boy froze in his stride and half-turned to stare incredulously at the Mudblood, who had approached him in the hall between classes. The Gryffindor Mudblood. This had to be unprecedented.

"I don't have time for the likes of you, Granger," he coldly replied.

She grimaced at him. It was such a juvenile act that he could only raise an eyebrow at her.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she said. "So, there. Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, surreptitiously checking the hallway for other students. He still had an image to maintain.

"No one's going to come by," she informed him. "I figured you didn't want to be seen with me."

He nodded, accepting that she had thought of this. "So, why am I being singled out for the Mudblood Lover of the Year Award?" he asked again.

"For caring about my health," she replied.

His eyes grew shuttered. "You got that wrong, Granger. I do not care about your health." He began walking away from her.

She ignored the hint and followed him. "It doesn't matter why you did it; you made sure that Malfoy didn't end up making me sick. I owe you for that."

He snarled at her. He didn't like having a Mudblood feel indebted to him; it felt dirty. "I didn't do it for you," he said. "I did it for him."

He tried walking around her, but she got in his way. "Explain!"

Blaise sneered, but then his eyes fell to the bracelet she was wearing. Maybe it was better if she knew some things.

"It's easy to lose your soul when you hate," he said. "I'm trying to help him keep his."

If the so-called brightest witch of their age couldn't decipher that, it was not his problem. This time, he didn't let her stop him walking away.


In the next chapter, Draco has a nefarious scheme to destroy Hermione.

"Forget it, Granger," he interrupted. "You think I care what others think of you? You think I care about who you'd hoped would eventually date you? I hope it's someone in Gryffindor, because then they won't look at you twice, once I'm through with you."

And no, he's not in violation of the contract.