A/N: I know a lot of people hate author's notes, but I'll be brief. I just want to take a minute to thank all of the people who have been reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing this story. It means a lot to me, and it's been such a confidence booster. I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story and read on until the end.

Hermione woke up feeling refreshed and in a better mood than she usually was when she woke up this early. She had just had the best night of her life, so why wouldn't she be in a good mood? It was certainly helping to forget all about the struggles with Umbridge and her reign of terror.

Well, you need to have a little fun when times get bad.

Since she had woken up so early, she opened the diary that had been slipped underneath her pillow last night and re-read her entries. It was fascinating, really, how quickly her thoughts of Draco had evolved. How did he go from being a stuck-up, evil brat to a sweet, misunderstood guy in just a matter of weeks?

"I guess you can't judge a book by its cover alone, nor a person by their deeds alone."

That entry had been made weeks ago and the message was still true. She felt like she was finally seeing the true Draco Malfoy, the one that no one else ever met. That felt special to her, like it was their little secret . . . and nobody would ever have to know.

She flipped through a couple more pages, her eyes landing on her entry from last night.

"I never thought that I would admit this, but I think I actually like Draco."

She felt her stomach do a little flip, and a wide grin forming on her face. She read the entry over and over again, finally registering that she did, indeed, have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

I guess this is what it feels like to be a teenaged girl that likes a teenaged boy.

Hermione had never really been one for crushes, and wasn't boy-crazy at all. Schoolwork mattered the most to her when she was younger, and friends were more interesting company. All in all, she had more things to worry about than what boys thought of her.

It wasn't that she never thought about how boys saw her, especially after that Yule Ball. She knew that she was getting stares from everyone, and although she was embarrassed at first, she had to admit that it did feel pretty nice to be the center of attention for once.

And that night, even the critical Draco Malfoy couldn't come up with an insult for her.

She reluctantly stopped her wandering thoughts, but hurried up anyway and got ready to head down to breakfast. She slipped her diary into her book bag, hoping that maybe today it would be a good luck charm for another exciting enough day, although last night would be pretty hard to top.

Hermione had walked alone down the corridors, her heavy bag slung across her shoulders, seeing as not too many people seemed to be up yet. She was often an early riser, so this wasn't too out of the ordinary. The hallways were fairly dark, so it was slightly difficult to see, but glancing to her side, she noticed a shock of platinum blonde hair by itself, not too far off.

She turned and hurried towards Draco, noticing that he was, indeed, alone. He evidently heard her footsteps, raising his head slightly to look at who it was that was so urgently running towards him, with that bushy mane of brunette curls flying behind her.

She stopped as soon as she was right in front of him; the pair stood right outside of the Great Hall's closed doors.

"Good morning," she said, somewhat breathless from the running.

He smiled lightly at her. "So this is how it's going to be, then?"

"Don't your friends say good morning to you?" Hermione asked.

"They have their own ways of saying it," he replied. "It's usually something like, 'Where were you, you said you'd help with that Potions essay,' or 'Hi sweetheart, last night was fantastic,' or 'I'm going to kick your ass for that remark yesterday at Quidditch practice.' What, do you not get questions like that?"

She giggled slightly, shaking her head. "No, not really."

"I'm sure they ask you for help with Potions essays, though," he said. "You know, they being Potty and Weasel."

"Don't call them that!" she playfully snapped, smacking him lightly on the arm.

"One night out and you're willingly touching me?" he said, smirking. "Wow, you move pretty fast, don't you?" He lightly slapped her face. "Well, two can play that game."

"It's not like a gentleman to slap a girl in the face," she said, taking the hand that slapped her and slapping him in the face with it. "It's not a very polite thing to do."

"I've never claimed to be a gentleman," he said, "and I've never promised that I'd be polite. You know me too well."

They laughed for a moment, both of them so happy with how easily they were able to communicate now . . . like friends.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and they both peered inside. Only a couple of teachers were there, and they both thanked their lucky stars that Umbridge wasn't one of them.

"May I escort you to your seat, Madame?" Draco asked, holding his arm out to his side.

"Yes, thank you very much, Sir," Hermione replied, taking his arm and standing as tall as possible.

Another flip in the stomach. Hermione had no idea where his high spirits were coming from this morning.

Maybe he enjoyed that night out just as much as I did.

She shoved the thought aside, because she knew that it would lead to thoughts about Draco possibly liking her, and she knew that it would be too unlikely. They were friends, and she just happened to have a little crush on him. That was normal.

"Here you are," said Draco, as they found a suitable spot at the Gryffindor table.

She slipped into her seat on the bench, somewhat reluctantly releasing her grasp on his arm. She was pouring herself a glass of orange juice when she fully registered that Draco was still standing there.

"What?" she asked, giggling slightly.

He smirked. "No tip?"

"You can sit here, if you want," she said, patting the spot on the bench next to her. "You know, for a while. It'd be awkward to be the only two students in the Great Hall and sit so far apart."

"That'd be enough, I think," he said, with a smile.

He sat down beside her, with his back to the table. He kept his head turned away from her, though; he was watching the door. Hermione shrugged to herself and turned her head towards the Staff table. Dumbledore was looking at the pair with an expression of mild interest. She couldn't help but smile at him as his words came flying back to her:

"And, who knows? You might actually befriend the boy . . ."

And her thoughts:

"'You might actually befriend the boy' . . . what a load of rubbish . . ."

She thought that she could just see a trace of a smile back from Dumbledore under his moustache before he turned back to his conversation.

Hermione now turned back to Draco, who also appeared to be eying her with a similar expression to Dumbledore's.

"Do you eat?" he said, grinning. "All you've done is poured yourself some juice."

She looked confused for a moment, but then her eyes widened. "Oh, yes, I was just thinking ―"

He pushed a plate of food towards her, which he had evidently made for her while she was looking away.

"Saved you some time," he said. "I'm pretty helpful, aren't I?"

"Thank you," she beamed, and nodded. "And yes, you're very helpful. . . . How did you know what I liked?"

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm a genius."

I've been watching you for years, you silly girl.

He turned towards the door again, hearing footsteps. A furious-looking Pansy was entering with her gang of Slytherin girls at her heels. Hermione heard Draco curse under his breath as Pansy stormed towards him and Hermione.

"What do you think you're doing?" Pansy asked, her hands on her hips in her signature pose.

"What do you think you're doing?" said Draco. "It took you long enough. How long did getting ready and recruiting a couple of girls take? I see that you take after me quite a bit, with the whole crony thing; maybe I'm rubbing off on you. Maybe my time-keeping will rub off, too, if you're lucky."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a giggle, and flushed red when she realized that it wasn't as well-hidden as she thought it was.

"So," said Pansy, turning her gaze towards Hermione, "you two being all chummy again?"

"We're just sitting down," Hermione replied.

"Since when do you sit together?" Pansy asked. "It's as if you want to sit together. . . . You know, Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've got quite a thing for Draco."

Hermione flushed even redder and opened her mouth to speak, but a blank-faced Draco held his hand up to silence her.

"I sat down here on my own," he said. "I don't have to have a million people around when I bully someone."

Hermione stared at him in awe, and turned to the Staff table. None of them seemed to be paying attention, as dozens of students had been entering the Great Hall as they spoke.

She couldn't understand what he meant. "But ―"

He turned towards her suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "What, do you think I'd rather hang out with you than Pansy?" he snapped.

Hermione's heart sank. "I just thought ―"

"Yeah, I bet you did," he said. "You thought you were better than her, didn't you?" He stood up and took Pansy's hand; she and her friends were looking very pleased with this. "You thought you could top her?"

Hermione blinked. "Last time I checked, lovely Miss Parkinson wasn't at the top of her class."

"I didn't mean by book smarts, you idiot," he hissed. "You know very well what I meant."

Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she cried, "If you think I like you, then you're very mistaken!"

He gaped at her for a second, his eyes darting around the room, hoping nobody had heard her outburst. Nobody knew what to say; the only sound was from all of the other students getting their food and having meaningless conversations.

"I ― I didn't think you did," he said slowly. "Evidently you didn't get what I meant."

He glanced at Pansy, who was staring Draco down, as if trying to read his mind and find out what he really did mean; she had interpreted his words the same way as Hermione did.

Hermione's face turned bright red. She stood up from the table, glaring at Draco and Pansy one last time, and stormed out of the Great Hall. She could hear a pair of footsteps behind her, so she stopped and barely turned around. Draco caught up with her very quickly and looked her straight in the eye.

"I can promise you that's not what I meant," he said. "You shouldn't have spoken."

"Oh, I shouldn't have spoken?" Hermione asked, now fully crying. "I shouldn't have spoken? I didn't even say a word!"

"You tried to contract me when I said that I was bullying you," he hissed. "You should've let it go, I would've handled it."

"But this is all a joke, isn't it?" she cried. "All you care about is popularity and looking good in front of people!"

She ran towards GryffindorTower before he could say anything else, and wondered how on Earth that good luck charm could've made things go so badly.

And to add insult to injury, she had a patrol to look forward to that night.

So this is what a crush feels like. One minute you want to just give him the world's biggest hug or snog his brains out and the next you want to strangle him or punch him in the face with everything you have. Of course, I've already tried that before. Maybe it'll make another appearance tonight.

Hermione had been fuming the whole day. How dare he insult her in front of all those people, right after they had decided they were friends? They were talking like everything was normal . . . maybe it was just another Malfoy trick.

And the fact that he was holding Pansy's hand and talking about her as if she was a queen? Disgusting, especially after she had found out how much he hated her a while ago.

It's so easy for him to jump from Girl A to Girl B like it's nothing. Then again, he's never promised that he likes me back. Still, that cow is repulsive. And maybe he deserves that.

Why was she getting so upset? They were just friends, right? He was just being a jerk again. That's what he does. That's how he's always been.

And yet, a few hours ago he was a sweet, sensitive guy.

"Slap me."

Hermione turned around, her gaze meeting the pair of grey eyes that were staring at her. He was only a couple of feet away from her; she wondered how he could be so quiet.

"I said, slap me."

Hermione blinked, confused. "What?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't punch me, because that could leave a nasty mark; I don't want a black eye and have people ask about it. So slap me."

She took a step forward. She thought that she must look ridiculous with her mouth open and her eyes so wide.

"Come on," he said. "It'll help you feel better. I've taken one of your hits before, I can do it again."

She was exactly one foot away from him, staring at him like he was an alien. "But ―"

"Just do it," he said.

He looked fairly contented, his expression somewhat blank. He blinked twice at her, and then watched her right hand ball into a fist and then release again.

Hermione watched him, and raised her open palm. She swung it back, and his eyes followed it as it travelled. It flew forward rather quickly towards his cheek, but stopped when it was close. Instead of slapping him across the face, she gently tapped him on the cheek and let her hand drop.

"I can't do it when you ask me to," she said.

He smiled softly at her. "I deserve it, though."

"Well, I deserved to be treated more nicely at breakfast," she said, "and I didn't get that, either."

"Touché," he said, smirking. "And yes, you did deserve that. I'm apologizing again. . . . You like when I apologize, right?"

"I prefer it to not apologizing," she said, feeling a smile form on her lips.

"You know I didn't mean any of that at breakfast," he said. "It wasn't your fault or anything. I hoped chasing after you would at least show you that I wanted to say something nice, but I couldn't, and all I got out of it was ― well, never mind that," he said, his eyes darting frantically around and his cheeks turning slightly pink. "That's not important. But, what is important is that I'm very sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me for being a self-centered, slimy little git so much."

"You're none of those things," Hermione assured him.

But you were ten minutes ago.

"So you accept my apology?" he asked.

"Of course."

He smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgment. "You know, I'm not surprised that Potter and Weasley are around you all the time."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You're just ― you ― you're a very understanding person," he said, rather quickly, as if it was slightly uncomfortable to say. "And it's nice to have friends that don't judge you. You're just a good friend, that's all ―"

He was cut off by a sensation that he never thought he'd get in a million years from Hermione Granger, no matter how many times he imagined it happening like an idiot; she had her arms wrapped around him in a very warm hug.

He prayed that she wouldn't feel just how fast his heart was beating, and pull away to see just how red he had flushed. Little did he know, she was thinking the same thing.

He managed to speak first, however shaky and awkward it must've sounded. "What ― ?"

"Friends hug each other," she said. "We're friends, and it seemed like the time for a hug."

"Oh ― okay."

It was a couple more moments before Hermione pulled away; both of them stared down at the other's shoes like they were the most interesting pair of shoes in the world. And as if they were completely in sync, they both mustered up the courage to meet each other's eyes at the same time.

Hermione noticed that he looked a bit . . . different. He looked as if he wanted to say something to her, but was in too much shock from the hug that he just couldn't say a word of it. She wondered if maybe the embrace had interrupted something important that he was trying to get to, and began to feel almost bad for doing so.

Draco, on the other hand, looked into her eyes and wanted to do back flips all the way to the Slytherin Dungeon. She'd never know it, but a hug like this was on what he liked to call his personal "Hermione Granger Checklist." Bonus points because she gave him one after a day of him being a jerk.

Yep, it's that Malfoy charm.

Hermione was the first to break eye contact. She looked around the corridors rather exaggeratedly, and then turned back to him.

"Well, I don't see anyone misbehaving around here," she said. "We could probably go back to our dormitories ―"

"Oh, yeah," he said quickly. "Of course, if there's no one out here then we don't need to be ―"

"Exactly," she said, just as fast. "So I'll be off, then ―"

"So will I ―"

"Have a nice night ―"

"You as well ―"

"Well, goodnight, Draco. . . ."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She walked as fast as she could towards GryffindorTower. Part of her wanted to scream out of joy and the other to scream out of sheer horror.

I just bloody hugged Draco Malfoy like it was normal . . . because a hug that lasts that long is completely casual and normal, by anyone's standards.

But he didn't pull away, did he? Maybe he liked hugs. He might be a huggy person on the inside.

Draco Malfoy, liking hugs? That's like Professor Snape suddenly finding werewolves to be beautiful and misunderstood creatures.

Either way, she was going to write about it. She had to now. It seemed like everything that involved interactions with Draco made its happy little way to her diary; that was pretty much all that was in there, anyway.

She made her way to her dormitory in no time, and plopped down on her bed. She looked under her pillow, where she had started to keep the diary, but couldn't find anything.

You put that little "good luck charm" in your bag, you idiot.

Rolling her eyes at her mistake ― but blaming it simply on her nerves ― she pulled her book bag onto her bed and rummaged through it. Her heartbeat stopped as she emptied the entire thing out and came to a horrific realization.

Oh my God, I've lost the diary.