A/N: I stress that this is NOT a Dean Thomas/Hermione story. You can breath out now...:p

Saturday morning came and Hermione awoke early to plan for her date with Dean. It was a little difficult to comprehend in her mind that she had to prepare for a trip to Hogsmeade. Normally, her time was always directed to school work and related duties, which caused for neglect in other aspects of her life, self grooming in particular. That is not to say she didn't look respectable. Hermione was the perfect student in all facets of the term, including immaculate presentation, save for her unruly hair and matters related to improving one self. She just had a set of priorities that warranted attention , being the weekend, she could finally focus on something other than the fundamentals that her life depended upon.

Her morning proceeded as follows: wash hair, leave conditioner in for at least 15 minutes for deep nourishing and detangling; pluck eyebrows; general hair removal; mini facial for better application of makeup. Indeed, Hermione was familiar with the grooming necessities of a teenage girl, and proceeded to pamper herself in preparation. She styled her hair to grace her shoulders in desirable soft curls, less the frizz, and applied the basic feature heightening mascara and light mineral foundation with a hint of blush. Finally, what to wear: this was a more difficult matter since her wardrobe mainly consisted of school uniform and basic casual attire. Yet, nothing seemed appropriate for a casual date. She decided to borrow something from Lavender, surely there was nothing that girl like more than to play the part of stylist. She walked through the common room, finding it empty, and headed for the Gryffindor Tower. It was amazing how few students were up on a Saturday morning, it was almost as if the schools had emptied for the weekend.

Reaching the portrait of the fat lady, she walked through and up to her old dorm room, knocking once before opening the door and peeking through. Lavender and Pavarti were sitting on their beds, awake and chatting half asleep.

"Hey guys, can I come in?"

"Sure! What brings you to our neck of the woods so early?" Lavender asked.

"I have a favour to ask?"

"Are you wearing makeup?" Pavarti squinted at her from her lying position.

"Uhm, a little?"

"Looks good. Date with Dean eh?"

"How'd you know?"

"Who doesn't?" Lavender interrupted.

"Right, well…yeah. Uhm, I was hoping you could lend me some jeans or something to wear?"

The response was a squeal of delight from both girls, who ran to Hermione, dragging her in from the doorway.

"I am so flattered you asked me! Here, these jeans are a great fit. And, perhaps this little chiffon French cut shirt to go with? It's very cute!" Hermione caught the clothes with surprise as Lavender pulled them from her wardrobe and flung them over her shoulder. Pavarti walked over and ran her fingers through Hermione's hair.

"What are you doing Pavarti?"

"You're hair actually looks and feels soft!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised with the texture. Hermione just rolled her eyes. "You should have it like that all the time," she continued, patting her hair as if she were a small animal. Hermione stepped away from her grasp, feeling rather strange by Pavarti's declaration. It didn't look that different did it?

"Thanks, Lavender, this looks good. I owe you one."

"Anytime, although I might hold you to that. Perhaps you can overlook a future out-past-curfew scenario?" she winked.

"Yeah fine, just keep it PG. Don't want to catch you in the act or anything remotely disturbing."

"No, I just might be coming back to the dorms a little late."

"I don't want to know. Do not disclose anything else. I am the Head Girl, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed.

"See you guys later. Probably run into you at Hogsmeade?"

"We'll be around, for sure."

Hermione made her way back to her dorm, delighted by her new outfit. The shirt was a little see-through but nothing like a black bra to make a statement about it. Hermione laughed at the idea of wearing something so risqué, but figured, 'why not'. After all, the common room looked like it belonged to a lollypop lady, but it was turning out to be quite a pleasant change. Slipping on her sequined silver ballet flats, Hermione gave herself the once over in her bathroom mirror, relatively pleased that it looked like she had made an effort with her appearance for a change.

The jeans sat nicely, tapering into a slim fit at ankle, the shirt had the right level of looseness, and her hair was playing nice. Hermione Looked at her watch: it read 8:50. Dean said he would swing by at 9am. Deciding to wait in the common room, she plonked herself onto one of the beanbags she had grown to love, staring up at the ceiling in a daze, half shutting her eyes for a quick snooze. Her amateur meditative state was interrupted by a loud knock at the portrait door. She lifted herself up and headed over to open it, expecting Dean to be waiting. It was 8:59.

The portrait swung open to reveal Zabini and Nott waiting on the other side. She thought Draco would have given away the password to his favourite buddies. Apparently not. She regarded them coolly, avoiding any politeness. They looked back, both somewhat confused by something. She figured she should speak up.

"You guys here for a reason?" She shifted her weight to one leg. She could see Zabini's eyes trailing down her torso which only made her scoff. Nott seemed to come to the rescue.

"Draco up yet?" he inquired with a non-committal regard for civility. She could not register any hint of morning pleasantry beyond his scrunched up face.

"How would I know?" she turned and walked back to the couches. They seemed to get the idea that they could enter. The portrait door remained open. She leaned back on the beanbag and continued to stare at the ceiling. She could see them in her periphery taking in the new furnishings with disbelief as they stood a few metres from her.

"What happened here?" Nott asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. She lowered her head to their level.

"Huh?" Nott reiterated with an arm gesture to the space around him with his eyebrows raised. Zabini was playing the part of the quiet friend this morning. She inwardly sniggered. "A bit of redecorating, it was getting stuffy in here," she chirped. "Malfoy's idea, actually," she added for the hell of it.

"Yeah, right," Nott mumbled. They both walked over to Malfoy's door. "Draco! You up?" they both knocked at once. A shuffling sound emerged from behind the closed door before it opened to reveal a sleepy, dishevelled, half naked Malfoy in the doorway.

"Mate, we going to Hogsmeade or what?" Zabini finally had found his voice.

"Fuck, what time is it?" Draco drawled, his voice heavily accented by his drowsiness.

"Nine, Everyone is leaving in fifteen minutes," Nott added. "Nice decorating skills by the way," he snickered.

"Don't mention it. I'm gonna kill Granger," he growled. That seemed to wake him up.

"I can hear you Malfoy," Hermione called out from her beanbag.

"Granger, it's too early to talk to you," he snapped back. She could hear Zabini clear his throat which made her turn her head to look in their direction. Draco was staring at her strangely, a sly look on his face as he had stepped out of his doorway. She was slightly taken aback by his bare torso, and glared at him for his lack of proprietary. He really was arrogance impersonated and it was too early for a staring contest. She shifted her attention to the portrait hole, wondering where the hell Dean was. Speak of the devil, a few moments later he stuck his head through the doorway, his face widening into a flashy smile as he caught her presence.

"Hermione! How you going? Ready to go?" He walked in looking every bit the attractive bad boy in his leather jacket, and jean clad self, topped off with a pair of ray bans resting on his head. His attention shifted to the Slytherins and his smile faded instantly. She shifted to stand. This was interesting. Malfoy and his entourage on one side, and, Gryffindor muggle Dean on the other, both now staring at her upright self.

"Wow, Hermione, you look great!" Dean exclaimed. She could see his eyes had lit up with a look that was foreign to her. She made a mental note to thank the girls later.

"Thanks, she mumbled apprehensively, not feeling very comfortable by compliments on appearance. Hermione could handle credit to her intellect but the former type was rather foreign to her. She turned to the Slytherins, waiting for a snide remark. Malfoy's eyes were on her chest, Nott was smirking, and Zabini looked dazed, like he had been stunned. She scolded herself for her see through shirt. Stupid Malfoy staring at her like that was not the result she was trying to achieve. She harrumphed at them and turned to walk toward Dean who had her attention once again.

"Like what you've done to the place," Dean said as they moved to exit the portrait hole. Her spirits were once again lifted, "It was Malfoy's idea." She caught the snicker and the sneer from behind her as they walked out, laughing.

Hermione's first date in Hogsmeade was going rather successfully as her and Dean sat in The Three Broomsticks sipping on a butterbeer chatting like it was any other day. They had spent the morning shopping about, enjoying the end of the warmer weather. Dean was every part the gentleman that she expected, although she did catch him staring at her rather intensely occasionally, when he thought she wasn't looking. The topic of Malfoy came up as they saw him enter with the rest of the rat pack. They were such a raucous bunch, acting like they owned the place which only made her grimace openly.

"It never ceases to amaze me how on earth he managed to secure the most responsible position in the school," Dean commented.

"It's beyond me," Hermione added. "It's not like he earns his grades honestly. Surely the professors can see through that."

"I like your cheeky change to the common room though," he winked at her.

"I am rather proud of it. You should see how pissed he was. Still is." Yes, Hermione certainly was patting herself on the back. Dean leaned over and grabbed her hand, much to her surprise.

"Hermione, you are amazing, you know that?" he leaned over and whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand gently. Her body shivered in reaction at his breath on her ear. She turned to look at him; his face was millimetres from hers, his dark eyes twinkled suggestively. He leaned closer and her eyes fell to his lips. Her heart began to race in anticipation, in fear, and she could feel her body betray her as her cheeks warmed. His lips formed into a smile at her reaction, she was nervous.

Before she could register, he had pressed his lips to hers, in an inviting kiss. Her mouth opened in surprise and suddenly she felt the slip of his tongue which sent a shock through her, as she instantly pulled away in surprise.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled at her retreat. She was embarrassed that she had reacted like that, her inexperience obvious.

"No, it's okay. I'm just not used to public affection," she lied. She wasn't used to any such affection. Hermione pulled her hand away and took a swig of her beer. As her head fell back her eyes averted to the table of the rat pack. Malfoy was staring at her, a devious smirk on his face. She choked on the contents in her mouth, coughing involuntarily as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Hermione, you okay?" Dean asked worriedly, his hand circling over her back soothingly.

"Yes -," she continued coughing, "- wrong pipe," she gestured as her eyes watered.

"Want me to get you anything?" She shook her head, clearing her throat of the last of the offending liquid.

"I'm fine," she smiled reassuringly. Dean seemed relieved and it seemed to extinguish the awkwardness after the kiss. She avoided looking at the culprit of her choking fit for the rest of the afternoon.

Everything had caught her off guard that afternoon. She went back to her common room feeling rather confused. Her date ended well, and despite the surprise eagerness of his kiss, she liked Dean all the more at the end of it.

"So, how'd the date go, Hermione?" Harry nudged at the dinner table that same evening. He was fishing for information. Hermione looked over to Dean at the other end who was busy chatting away with Seamus.

"Yeah, it was good," she replied.

"Just good?" Harry arched an eyebrow, fishing for more information. She could tell he wanted the dirt.

"Harry!" she admonished. He laughed as she blushed. Ron walked over and sat down next to her.

"So, Hermione, what's this I hear Lavender saw you kissing Dean in The Three Broomsticks?" he asked, a purposeful casualness to her tone. He knew she would be riled.

"Ron! Keep your voice down!" she seethed. Harry grinned.

"Thanks for clearing that up Ron," he managed between laughs.

"Anytime," Ron shrugged, grinning mischievously as he reached for the food. Hermione signed. If Lavender knew Dean had kissed her, then everyone did.

"So do you like him?" Ron asked between mouthfuls.

"Don't speak with your mouth open, Ron! And, I don't feel comfortable discussing this now," she clipped.

"Sorry," he grinned, his cheeks bloated from the food in his mouth. Hermione could not help but chuckle at the sight of him. He was too cute despite his lack of table manners.

Hermione spent Wednesday evening in her hideaway on the fourth floor. She had not make it a habit, otherwise Madame Pince and the rest of the school body who expected her to be in the library until closing would become suspicious. So, she settled on spending three nights a week there, and how glorious they were! She relied on Ron and Harry going to Quidditch practice to escape from the Gryffindor common room.

After finishing her homework, Hermione lay on the carpet, her back to the floor, as she flipped through one of the books of the room's private collection. It was from this particular book that had her attention, Managing you Enemies, that she had obtained much strategic insight on how to manage the Head Boy. Being an amateur, it was a work in progress; she certainly had a lot to learn.

It was one thing to keep your enemies closer in theory, but in practice she could not stand the sight of him. If he had been made of stone, then perhaps his physicality, without expression, would make a lovely decorative statue, yet, as reality would have it, his permanent sneer, irreverent nature and magnified conceit distinguished any physical attributes that one might consider easy on the eye.

Her eyes were becoming heavy-lidded as signs of darkness permeated through the windows, and the moonlight crept in. Hermione placed her book down, sighing. Her mind wandered to Dean. They had been sitting together in the classes they shared, he had laughed at her quick remarks, and everyone was eyeing them like fresh meat, wanting to know what was going on. It was all happening rather quickly for her. While a part of her wanted to have a chance at a relationship, she could not help but rationalise the pros and cons. Yes, she liked Dean, but did she like him enough? She could not help but contain her schoolgirl giddiness, being new at this, yet she was not completely comfortable with it. She blamed it on nerves and packed her things to head back to the Head's quarters.

Checking the marauder's map to ensure the hallway was clear, Hermione slipped out of the room, looking both ways before setting off. She had developed a severe anxiety that her sanctuary would be discovered by another, for she still had not worked out how one came to find the room. She had done so in haste, and could not find a warranted explanation as to why she could see the doorway, and Malfoy could not. Hermione entered the portrait hole, hey eyes shocked by the bright colours. It happened every time, and she chuckled at her surprise.

"Laughing with your imaginary friend, Granger? That can't be a good sign." She looked over to see Malfoy, lazing comfortably on one of the beanbags, his robes sprawled out around him. The contrast really was laughable, and she could not help but continue.

"If you must know Malfoy, I was reminding myself of my splendid re-decorating skills. We should make a submission to Witches Home magazine, you can even be in the photo," she replied sardonically, catching her breath.

"I am actually really enjoying these sitting contraptions. I've discovered the benefits of the moulding effects," he retorted, his voice dripping with cynicism. Hermione's face involuntarily scrunched up in disgust.

"They're called bean bags, you prat!" she yelled. "And, they're a muggle invention!" she threw in for effect. His look of contempt was priceless. Malfoy had just admitted to liking a muggle device.

Recovering from his realisation, Malfoy switched back to his haughty grin, "Well, I'm sure tosser Dean will want to try it out. He certainly seems eager." He looked down at his nails before continuing, "But little Miss Prude is so scared of a little kiss, he might not get to have fun on the bean bag." Hermione glared at him.

"That's none of your business. Just because I am not some slag who will jump into the sack with anyone, does not make me a prude!" she gritted. Why was she having this conversation with him?

"The evidence is against you, Granger," he tilted his head and taunted. "But, maybe I'm wrong. You've been missing a lot lately, perhaps you are fraternising with the wannabe bad boy. He should really leave that to the Slytherins, it's embarrassing how he tries."

"I really don't care what you think, Malfoy."

"Oh, but you will when you hear it through the grapevine, that you can't wait to pop your cherry with James Dean. I mean, kissing in public on a first date? That is a sure sign of being easy." Hermione was taken aback.

"You know who James Dean is?"

"Stay on topic, Granger," he scoffed with amusement. She narrowed her eyes, closing in on him, reaching for her wand. He saw her reach for her robe pocket and quickly armed himself with his wand. She pulled it out nonetheless, pointing it at his jugular.

"Malfoy, you really think that childish attempt at Chinese whispers will be believable?"

"Chinese whispers? What the fuck do the Chinese have to do with this?" he barked.

"Stay on topic, Malfoy!" she mocked. He stood up from the beanbag, with a bit of effort which made her smirk, towering over her as his fingers grasped her wand, pointing it away.

He leaned in, "Oh, but Granger, they will. Don't you know that everyone thrives on gossip? Especially about the Gryffindor prude that happens to be the Head Girl and the perfect example of a model student, virgin princess. And, it will be believable now that she has a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Oh, I see. You're just friends with benefits, then?" he quipped. Hermione could not believe she was privy to such a ridiculous conversation. She needed to shut him up.

"Malfoy, you start a rumour about me, I'll play your game and tell everyone that you're secretly in love with me but can't admit your feelings because you are too scared, but you love writing me poetry. I'm sure your rat pack friends will love your romantic side."

"Granger, Granger, Granger, you are such an amateur. No one in their right mind would ever think I would fall for you."

"Well, whether we put it to the test is entirely up to you," she threatened, knowing she was entering a devil's bargain. "I can play up to it. I am a great actress, you know," she added, turning to head to her room.

"Oh, but Granger," he raised his voice to match her pitch derisively. "I don't have as much to lose. Like my virginity, for example."

"I'm sure I'd weigh it on par with your reputation, Malfoy. An eye for an eye, isn't that what they say?" she chirped back, as she walked away. She would have loved to see the look on his face, as she slammed the door. It was the established sign of the end of their interactions.