Hey, dearies. I wasn't being harassed about chapter length at all. Was just responding to some general queries instead of having to type it out another 3,000 times ;)

There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead

When she was good

She was very, very good

But when she was bad, she was horrid!


Hermione was standing in the same spot as usual, fidgeting. It was funny how used she was already getting to this. Funny and frightening. This was only her fifth day of wearing the bracelet, and it seemed so long ago that she didn't wear it. She was anxiously waiting for Malfoy to come back to his room, which really was a new turn of events. She usually preferred it when he wasn't around. It was just… the way he and Nott had looked as she left the office; it was killing her to not know what had happened.

It had been much too long, but perhaps he hadn't spent all that time with Nott. He'd probably gone to dinner, the git. She had missed lunch because of one of his whims and now she had missed dinner too. She just knew that he would torment her about her rumbling stomach when he finally got here.

When the door finally opened, Hermione almost jumped, but she didn't dare say anything as Draco dumped a bag on his desk and sat down in his chair to stare at her. She didn't like it one bit, it made it obvious that Nott had said something and that he was now trying to make it fit. If Nott had said anything nice, he wouldn't be able to make it fit and he'd probably lose his temper. Hermione swallowed.

Draco got to his feet and walked closer to her, still studying her, even going as far as slightly squinting his eyes. She didn't like it. She really, really didn't like it.

"No, I still don't get it," she heard him mumble, before he said, "All right, Granger, your holiday is over – get down on your knees."

Hermione's eyes bulged. What?

"You heard me," he harshly said before she could say anything. "Obey!"

She immediately fell to her knees, shrinking back a little as he was standing much too close for this position to be comfortable in any way.

"No," he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Don't fall back on your thighs. I want you to rest on your knees. There we go…"

Hermione did as instructed and glared up at him. He merely raised an eyebrow at her, before turning his back on her to go back to take his seat.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, reaching into the bag. "Theo made me almost miss dinner. I was lucky to get these things before the tables were cleared." He fished out an apple, and Hermione congratulated herself on being right earlier.

He bit into the fruit, slowly savoring the juices, and Hermione looked away, willing her stomach not to growl. Being starved and on her knees while being forced to watch Malfoy eat was really not her idea of fun.

"Look at me," he commanded.

She obeyed and as she did so, her stomach growled quite loudly.

He smirked. "Hungry?" He took another leisurely bite.

"I'm on a diet," she bit out, refusing to let him win.

He snorted with laughter, almost choking on his apple, and sending him into a bit of a coughing fit. She wondered what she'd have to say to actually make him choke. It was a nice fantasy.

"Girls like Pansy diet," he said after he'd finally stopped coughing. "Girls like you… don't."

There wasn't really much she could answer to that.

"Now answer me," he demanded. "Are you hungry?"

She scowled. "You know I am."

He tutted. "Such cheek from one who can ill afford it." He threw his half-eaten apple in the dustbin.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You enjoy this too much."

"You think so?" he asked. "From the way you're still using that filthy mouth of yours, I'd say I'm not enjoying this enough."

"I hate you." It simply slipped out, venom drenching every word. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she realized what she'd said, but then she made an effort to get herself under control. It wasn't as if it could come as a big surprise to him. Not after everything he'd put her through.

He wasn't surprised. Not in the least. "Tell me something I don't know," he said in a bored voice.

"I never hated you before," she volunteered.

This seemed to take him aback. "What?"

Hermione took a deep breath for courage and shifted a bit. Her knees were beginning to ache. He absent-mindedly motioned for her to stand again, and she did so, carefully. "I never hated you before," she quietly said, looking down, once she finally stood. "You never really did anything worth hating. Your pranks were often childish and mean, and your insults were full of spite, but you weren't really cruel and nothing you did was so bad that it couldn't be undone."

She looked up at Draco, who was just staring mutely at her.

"Even when you let the Death Eaters in, those of us, who knew about it, knew that you were being heavily coerced and we mostly blamed you for not seeking help, but it was still somewhat understandable." She paused and something tightened in her jaw and around her lips. "But all of this? Humiliating me at every chance you get; abusing me, threatening me, and even starving me. Ruining my reputation; getting in the way of my school, my duties and my friendships. It hasn't even been a week yet, but you have managed to convince me that you truly do deserve my hate and that you will never be any better than your father, preying on those who can't fend for themselves. I used to think that there was a chance that one day you might open your eyes and realize that your father was wrong, but now I know that you will never change. You will never be anything but another abusive pureblood prat. You will never, ever be redeemable. I never used to hate you, but, now, hating you is easy."

Draco had slowly been going more and more white as she went on, whether from shock or anger or both, Hermione couldn't really tell. As she finished her tirade, he had gotten to his feet, now clearly fighting to keep his temper in check.

"Don't think you know me," he growled.

"I know just how cruel you can be to other human beings," she countered. "I know that you have no pity, no matter how one pleads with you. I don't need to know anything other than that."

His fists were clenched and his jaw was working. She was a little surprised that he would care enough about her words to get this angry, but then again – he always did have a short fuse when she dared to talk back.

"Well, in that case," he said, shoving the bag from his desk into the dust bin, where it hit the bottom heavily before disappearing. "You don't eat tonight, after all. I don't think irredeemable people bring their slaves food."

She didn't believe for a second that he'd gotten her food. "There was never anything in there for me," she said as calmly as she could in the face of his anger.

"Yeah?" he asked, walking up close to her, towering over her, looking furious. "Well, you'll never really know now, will you? Dismissed."

She nervously edged her way around him to the door and then hurried out. She should never have been so blunt… but in a strange way it felt good. She had spoken nothing but the truth as she saw it.

"See you at breakfast," he called after her, his voice mocking, as she closed the door behind her.


Draco paced his room like a caged animal. He was not upset that Granger hated him. The fact that she should hate him was part of the foundation that he based his very existence on. It was a given. To actually feel this hate flowing at him, however, and to hear her say that he would never become anything that was better or more decent than his father… it had stung him on a level that it shouldn't.

He had felt the truth of her words. Not that they were true, but she felt they were. And she was right that he could and would do a whole lot of things to her without feeling any remorse, although starving her hadn't actually been one of them. No matter how little he approved, he couldn't starve the girl that Theo liked. Well, he supposed that now he was doing it anyway, but damn it, her words had rivaled any insult he'd ever thrown at her!

He knew that she had forgotten. She had actually forgotten. She was the only one who knew why he hadn't killed Dumbledore, because she had forced the secret out of him.

He was old and defenseless in that moment, and he's always been kind to me in spite of my family's reputation.

But this exhibit of pity from his side was not a part of her careful analysis, because she had simply forgotten about it.

And it stung.


"Hey, Hermione!" Ginny called out, catching up with the older girl. "Do you think I could have my book back?"

"What book?" Hermione asked, ducking through the portrait hole. She had a free period before lunch and she had every intention of using it to study.

Ginny followed. "The one about Great Witches Through The Ages that you borrowed from me a month ago?"

"Oh. That book." Hermione blushed a little. She didn't usually forget a book, but this one had been a little… bland. "Of course. We can get it now."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Ginny chirped, following Hermione to her room.

While Hermione rummaged around, trying to recall where she'd placed the book – honestly, normally she was much more organized than this – Ginny took her time in inspecting the Head Girl's quarters, since she'd never actually been there before.

"It should be around here somewhere," Hermione mumbled, going through a chest of books. "It'll just take a second."

"Uh, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Just a second."

"Forget the book. What's this?"

Hermione turned to find Ginny crouching near the bed, picking up something half-hidden. As Ginny straightened, Hermione immediately recognized it and had to suppress a groan. Ginny was holding a large, green sock.

"Even if we pretend that I didn't notice this very particular shade of green," Ginny conversationally said. "It's made of very expensive material and much too big for you, or, let's face it, any girl in this dorm. Which brings me to think about which males can access these dormitories, and I'm back to noticing this very particular shade of green. Then there's the traumatizing fact that I'm actually rooting for one, because I really don't want it to be the other."

Hermione quickly took a few steps closer to Ginny and snatched the sock from her hands. "It is not what you think."

"It isn't?" Ginny asked. "Because I'm thinking that I just found a Slytherin's sock on your floor."

Hermione wearily rubbed her temple. "Ok, then it is what you think."

"Are the rumors really true?" Ginny quietly asked.

Hermione wanted to shout "NO!" but she was powerless to refute the rumors that Draco had started. "Believe me, nobody's been here," she said instead. "I had to borrow these and I forgot to return them."

"Why did you have to borrow socks from… either of them?"

"I was… summoned to the dungeons very late one night, it was an emergency and I ran all the way barefoot. It gets cold in the dungeons, so he told me to be more careful and wear socks next time if I didn't want to get sick." This was actually really close to the truth. Hermione was surprised she could give this much out, but then again, it could sound like a Head Girl emergency.

Ginny sighed. "At least that rules out Malfoy," she mumbled. "He'd be ecstatic if you got sick, wouldn't he?"

Hermione made a non-committing sound.

"I'm just relieved that's all it is," Ginny continued. "You really had me scared for a second."

"It really is nothing," Hermione assured her. "But could you not tell anyone, just the same? There's already these rumors…"

Ginny shrugged. "There's nothing to tell, is there? Did you find my book?"


Potions, Thursday afternoon. Not a very big class at all. Four Ravenclaws, four Slytherins, three Gryffindors and one Hufflepuff. They were all subject to Slughorn's strange ways twice a week, but it didn't exactly create a bond.

Draco Malfoy was among the Slytherins, but, fortunately, so was Theodore Nott, so they sort of cancelled each other out. The other two Slytherins were Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. Zabini was looking immensely bored and Davis seemed like she really didn't want to be there. Hermione always thought it was funny how female Slytherins were either like Parkinson or Davis. Either they were constantly trying to elevate their own social status, or they were just… trying to survive. She hardly understood what Davis was doing in Slytherin, but she supposed it must somehow be the ambition clause that got her there.

The Ravenclaws were Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, Lisa Turpin and Morag McDougal. They were all excitedly playing some game that involved a piece of parchment, while they were waiting for Slughorn. It looked interesting. More interesting than what the Gryffindors were doing, anyway, which was staring blankly into space.

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron and then Ernie Macmillan, who did a fairly good imitation of the two of them. She groaned. This would be a long, long class. She nudged Harry.

"Hm?" he groggily said.

"Talk to me?" she ventured.

He nodded. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something… after class?"

Classes ended at 3.30pm. There was no time, she had to hurry up to her room and then be back in the dungeons by four. "I don't have time," she mumbled. "Can't you say it now?"

"I thought you promised Ron you'd take more time," Harry said, low enough for only her to hear.

"I did, but I can't. It's only for a few weeks…"

"Is it true what they're saying?" Harry asked. "That you're spending all of your time with the Slytherins?"

"I can't talk about it." Hermione plucked a bit at her quill. "Just trust me, please."

Harry frowned slightly. "I've heard that Theodore Nott is actually half-decent for a Slytherin and I suppose he's the Head Boy, so I shouldn't mind if you're friends with him."

"But you do?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He sighed and shook his head as if to clear it. "I can't help it, Hermione. I know that it's not very open-minded of me, but I can't like any of them. I have yet to see one, who is worth liking. I would like to see just one Slytherin, one time, who isn't up to no good."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a second. "I don't really think Nott is up to anything," she said. "Or, maybe he is, but he doesn't seem like he's up to anything bad."

"So, you like him, then?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes," she replied, frowning. "He's not done anything not to like. I mean, he's aloof and hard to get to know, but I don't think he's… you know, like them." She meant Death Eaters, of course, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say it.

"I just wish you'd tell me more about what it is you're doing down in the dungeons, so I can stop worrying."

"I know, but it's not possible for me to—" At that point Slughorn chose to enter, cutting off all conversation.

Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table, cursing Malfoy for doing this to her. He didn't seem to notice. He was busy kicking a scowling Zabini under the table and leering at him, causing him to snarl. Davis was timidly edging further and further away.

Shaking her head in incomprehension, Hermione directed her attention back to the teacher.


Are we overdue for some smoochies? I think we are... Time to slowly begin the smooch fest, methinks, hehe.

She didn't reply. Instead she moved her hands up in his hair and held him still for a deep, hungry kiss. His hands went to her waist and he pulled her closer, a soft groan escaping his lips. She was so tempting.

She lifted her head slightly and smirked at him. "No, you don't seem very satisfied."