A/N: Welcome back to another chappie! The Head Boy and Girl are certainly running into all sorts of dilemmas. Some more revelations in store for Hermione. How will she handle one Draco Malfoy this time? Enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

Hermione ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, reaching the deserted hallway in record time. She walked to the end, turning off into the domain of her hideaway, and hurriedly moved passed the classroom that had become a Slytherin halfway house for the rat pack. It was unusually dark, the faint glimmer of the door handle to her private library guiding her along.

She felt responsible; her admission to Draco that morning had to have been the driving reason for him to react that way in front of the whole student body. She wondered if Blaise still intended to meet her after dinner? Surely the unexpected confrontation put a damper on things. Besides, the book was in her bedroom.

Hermione was mere feet from the door when she heard a rustling sound. She stopped, frozen in place as her head scanned the vicinity, her breaths short as she was still recovering from her sporadic burst of exercise. To be safe, she pulled out her wand, whispering, "lumos," to brighten her line of sight. Her periphery caught a small mouse scurrying across the hall as it disappeared into the blackness. She sighed upon detecting the source of the noise and brought her gaze up to the door, closing the distance. She reached out, placing her hand on the cool surface.

She pressed down, releasing the lock, and stepped into the room.

Eager for brightness, Hermione flicked her wand to light the lanterns around room, filling the space with a soothing hum as they sparked into life. Everything was just as she left it, yet she felt slightly unnerved by the isolation that the darker hallway surrounded her with.

The eeriness of the fourth floor had gotten to her.

Only then did she realise her tactlessness in switching the lighting on before shutting herself in. It was almost as if her subconscious was trying to alert her to something, for when she turned to shut the door, her stomach flipped and she almost swallowed her tongue in fear as a set of ice drawn eyes stared back at her, shaped by a silhouette of ash blond strands, appearing almost bodiless, as the black of his robes absorbed into the darkness surrounding him.

Her lungs deflated as she exhaled in defeat, too shocked for words.

His eyes remained fixed on her.

Her immediate reaction was to rid herself of those eyes by shutting the door.

A pale hand came up to stop her, the force pushing her back.

Without comment, he stepped inside.

The trespass killed her spirit.

The silence around them was interrupted by his voice, "Granger," he simply stated, his tone holding no sign of emotion. He stood under the doorway, scanning the room before resting his eyes on her once again. "Looks like we both have something to hide. In your case: somewhere."

Hermione remain quiet. He walked over to the arm chair and sat down; running his hands over the velvet arm rests. "It's no bean bag, but I can see the appeal," he observed casually, resting his head on the back of the chair, his stature relaxed. Hermione was beyond puzzled. Wasn't he about to perform an unforgivable on his own house mate only minutes earlier?

"You know, I could never work out why you came up here so much, and I can now see the reason you drank the potion to avoid sacrificing your secret. A good little secret Granger. One that a little bookworm like yourself would revel in. I mean, look at that, your own private library." He shook his head, grinning wolfishly back at her. She felt her eyes narrow.

"Now that's no way to treat a guest, Granger." He crossed one leg over the other, his growing comfort factor analogous to the grating effect he had on her on her nerves.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She finally bit out.

He ignored her. "You know, I felt you approach us in the Great Hall. Even with my back turned, I knew it was you," He offered vaguely, brandishing a hand as he spoke, his bare arm exposed as his robe sleeves bunched up.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Especially since your protective anger was so prominent, it was practically seeping from your pores. I'm sure Zabini appreciated your rescue," he spat out. "I can feel him react to you, too. The closer I am to you, the worse it is," he added with sudden resignation.

He was making no sense. "Malfoy, what are you –"

"I came up here to clear my head, Granger. The fourth floor has a desolate ambience that I have been drawn to lately. It seems to help… rid my mind of disturbing thoughts. Imagine my surprise when the very thing I am trying to escape from decides to creep right back in?" his tone becoming fiercer with every sentence.

Hermione took a step forward. "Don't. come. any. closer." He warned, his voice strained a slight alarm apparent in his eyes. She had hardly moved! What was his problem? Hermione was no longer angry.

"Malfoy, maybe you should go to the hospital wing?" she drew out slowly, tyring to mask the sudden concern she felt. He stood up abruptly.

"I can't!" he thundered, his fists clenched. She felt a wave of fear overcome her. He was too unpredictable for her to be able to anticipate his next move like she once could. Hermione raised her hands in half-hearted surrender.

"Malfoy, please…" she whispered.

"Granger, why won't you get out of my head?" He suddenly asked in earnest.

She was too stunned. Not only because of the nature of his admission, but because she felt the same way. He had plagued her mind since that day in the classroom. Perhaps even before that. He must have sensed the flicker of recognition in her eyes, as he smirked.

He walked over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles, "you too, huh?" he asked, his back to her. She shrugged lamely, knowing that he couldn't see.

"Granger, I think I'm going mad," he exhaled loudly in his admission, his shoulders slumped slightly.

Fair enough that thinking about her was highly unusual, but to attribute it to madness, slightly offended her. "And, what do you want me to do about it, Malfoy?" she snapped. He turned to face her, seemingly struggling with something. He walked over to her, tentatively, as if the closing distance brought him physical pain.

"I need you…to help me…forget," he finally let out as he stood right in front of her. She felt herself being inexplicably drawn to him once again, like they were magically bound by a rope, squeezing them closer at an exponential rate. It was so much worse than the last time. She could not look at face; instead, her eyes were fixed on his shirt collar that was now apparent through his robes.

"Granger," he practically growled. She covered her face with her hands.

"Malfoy, please leave," she was practically begging him, her voice muffled behind her hands as she exhaled, the steam of her breath warming her face behind them.

She felt a hand rest over hers; it made her shudder as he drew them away from her face. Her defences were crumbling as he brought her hands up to his shoulders and rested them there. A sigh of relief escaped his lips at the contact. She looked up at him, surprised, his eyes were shut, his lips parted slightly, as if her touch was healing.

From where she was standing, Malfoy had never appeared so vulnerable, his hair washing over his eyes, his expression candid. It was the strangest sensation, for she found herself mimicking his breathing pattern, feeling compelled to draw him closer.

Against all common sense, Hermione stepped in, pressing her body right up to his, drawing her arms around his neck, as she rested her head against his solid chest. She could hear Malfoy's heart rate speed up, as his hands came around to her waist, wrapping them tightly around her rather possessively.

If there was ever a sight to behold, it was Hermione and Malfoy hugging in the middle her private library. She could only imagine how Harry would react. Yet, the relief it brought was worth it; a hazy fog in her mind clearing at the contact. If it was anything to go by, she could only imagine the gravity of Draco's mental state.

A small laugh escaped her. She felt Malfoy stiffen.

"What?" The sound of his voice resonated through her body as she felt him speak.

"You really have gone mad." She replied matter-of-factly. He remained silent. "But then again, so have I," she finished. And with that, she brought her lips up to his neck, and kissed it, before gently sucking. She heard him groan in response, which only drove her to increase her pressure. She eventually pulled away, untangling her arms from his neck, and bringing them around behind her to loosen his hold. She stepped back, her arms at her sides, admiring her handiwork. Malfoy appeared genuinely bemused as he brought his hand up to cover the mark.

"What was that for?"

"Payback." He smirked before nodding. The next moment could not have been more awkward. Now that their senses had been tamed, the longevity of it unknown, they avoided each other's gazes.

"So, are you going to apologise to Blaise?" Hermione suddenly asked. He looked at her in surprise, almost as if had forgotten all about that.

"Shit," he muttered, as he combed his fingers through his hair.

"You reckon?" she mocked back.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he paced about the room in realisation. Hermione was feeling rather used to his sporadic loss of equanimity and merely shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, and another thing, please try not to moan my name when you're with another girl, it's highly disturbing." He stopped dead, and just stared at her agape.

"I did no such thing!" he thundered.

"Lisa Turpin seems to think you did." Hermione was really enjoying his reaction. He mumbled something but she couldn't make out his words. It was all very amusing despite its incongruous nature.

"You're just loving this, aren't you Granger?"

"That's no the way I would phrase it," she frowned. The prat was causing her all sorts of trouble. "Malfoy, there is nothing I would like more than for you to stay away from me." Did she really mean that? He grinned menacingly, she could see him formulating a response that would turn the tables.

"Really, Granger?" He stepped closer to her again. "What about now?" He took one step at a time, eyeing her expectantly. It was no use; she could feel the undeniable pull in her stomach escalating once more.

"Stop!" she yelled.

"I thought so," he tilted his head to one side, his voice husky. "Multiply that feeling, and you have one totally off the wall head boy who has no chance in hell at playing quidditch tomorrow, which was the instigator of all this crap in the first place." She felt a wave of pity for him. Clearly, a mere hug had very little impact.

"What happens if you don't play?"

"We forfeit, Potter wins. Bet he'd love that!"

She frowned, "Don't pretend to know what Harry likes. I think he would want you to give it your best in your last match against each other."

"Then you can't turn up to the match." Malfoy stated definitively.

"How do you suppose I pull that one off?"

"I don't know, fake an illness, hex yourself?" She glared back at him.

"This is all your fault. I am a victim here."

"Okay, I admit it was my idea to take the potion, but this extra baggage with you, never came until you drank it! How was I to know?"

"It's called doing your homework! Who else besides Blaise, has taken it? They'll probably be suffering a variation of the same effect."

"Nott." He exhaled.

Hermione pursed her lips.

"What?" he demanded. Hermione was afraid to mention it. "Don't tell me he's after you too now? Fucking hell, Granger, you are going to make an example of us all!"

She hardly knew what Nott's agenda was. "How dare you!" she practically shrieked back. She could feel the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "For a moment there I was willing to help you, just get out Malfoy."

"I don't think so, Granger. You can't just renege on your offer. That would be very Slytherin of you." She glared at him, and before she could realise, he had walked right up to her, had tucked a hand behind her neck and had bent down to kiss her squarely on the lips. This was so not what she had in mind as a means for aiding his problem. She gasped against his lips, which only gave him access to her mouth. His tongue in her mouth sent shivers down her spine, and before she could make sense of it all, Hermione was responding.

The hunger of his kisses made her legs weak. Hermione brought her hands up to his face, pulling him closer, as he brought one arm around her waist, tightening his hold on her. There they were once again, pressed up against each other, locked in a moment of unequivocal passion, one that was certainly unprecedented between two such unlikely individuals.

The dizzying effect he had on her left Hermione in an almost collapsed state against him, as Malfoy's hand wandered from her waist around to the front, slipping under her robes. She brought her own hands around to the base of his neck as she combed her fingers through his hair. It always surprised her how soft it was. She broke away for air, her lips tingling from the pressure. She was fearful of meeting his gaze, but he surprised her instead with kisses to her cheek, along her jaw line, down her neck.

"Malfoy," she whispered, trying to perhaps draw his attention to what was going on.

"Hmmm?" he murmured against her skin. She figured it was enough evidence that he was aware of his actions. She could feel his arousal against her lower abdomen, and she was instantly reminded of the bold exchange that had taken place in the dreaded classroom.

"Stop," she whispered. It just didn't feel right to be doing this in her private domain. It would forever be tainted. Malfoy pulled back, staring down at her.

"Don't get all prudish on me, Granger," he said, a hint of mirth present in his voice as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Shut-up, Malfoy," she retorted before smiling at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"Well, I was doing a good job of it until you interrupted me!" he teased. Hermione blushed. Malfoy really did have a split personality.

"Oh, and now you're acting all nice to me?" she retorted. "One minute, I'm making an example of you, and now you want to..." she waved her hands unable to finish the sentence.

Malfoy chuckled.

"Granger, surely you realise by now that the two don't go hand in hand. I don't have to like you to want you. Besides, I believe I am suffering from a severe side effect of a highly volatile potion, as you so eloquently put it."

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. She could not help but dwell on his admission of wanting her as she stared at the tall, broad shouldered, blond guy before her.

"So here is what I propose. Until we sort this whole ordeal out, and so I can successfully challenge Potter tomorrow, and also avoid rather uncharacteristic fits of rage in the Great Hall, or slips of the tongue while engaged with others, you and I come to an arrangement of sorts."

"I'm having a difficult time tyring to see how I can get out of this one," she snapped.

"Exactly," he nodded. "Besides, this helps you out too, Granger, even if it is just to save face." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Malfoy, as long as you don't step foot in here again."

"Fine, as long as you don't keep the door open so I can actually see it."

"Fine," she mentally berated herself for her own mistake.

Malfoy gestured her over to the desk where he promptly sad down on the armchair and leant over the desk. Hermione recalled the last time she had used the room, and in bold realisation, she rushed over and saw the piece of parchment on which she had written the pros and cons of one Draco Malfoy. He had not yet noticed it, and she hastily grabbed it from the table, distressed at the possibility of him seeing such pros as 'fortitude' which she had stupidly written.

"What's that?" He seemed interested by her panic stricken face. Hermione walked over to the bookshelf and promptly placed the parchment between two books.

"That, is none of your business." She turned around and stated sternly.

"Been writing love notes, Granger?" he mocked.

"Hardly," she snorted.

"Wow, Granger, you really are all class," he jibed, shaking his head, as he pulled out a piece of parchment and grabbed a quill – a green one at that. Hermione scowled.

"Just hurry up, Malfoy, I don't want to be here all night with you." He looked up at her and winked.

"Why, I could make it worth your while?"

"Ugh, you are such a skeaze!" She wasn't sure if he would understand the muggle slang she had picked up from her cousin last summer.

"A what?"

"Nevermind. Can we get on with it?" He just looked at her suggestively. "Seriously, Malfoy, I don't know what's more annoying, you teasing me and making my life difficult, or you acting all sleazy around me."

"I do both very well, Granger, so I can see your dilemma." He flicked the quill through his fingers. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Malfoy, what are your terms?" The room was rather cold, and she lit the fire, sitting on the plush rug sideways so that Malfoy was on her right, the fireplace on her left, her legs sprawled out, her hands splayed behind her to support her slanted posture. She could hear him scribing.

"Oh, the usual, contact with the woman I so desire, for reasons beyond my control, assistance in finding a cure, that you avoid Blaise and, to be safe, Nott, so that I don't get all possessive and suffer another jealous fit of rage, and that I see you before the quidditch match tomorrow." Hermione blanched. It was too much.

She took a deep breath and spoke, her eyes focused on the dancing flames. "These are conditional upon the following, that you stop taking the potion, that you exercise self control, you don't cause trouble when it comes to Head duties, you tell your goons to back off, you treat me with civility, you leave Blaise and Nott alone, I can't just stop talking to them but will keep it to a minimum, and that you stop when I want you to."

She exhaled, turning her head to look at Malfoy, who appeared to be writing all this down. The shadows inflicted from the fire fell over him, and her breath hitched as she considered it quite attractive. She definitely had a couple of loose wires of late.

Malfoy sat back, resting the quill on the desk, and looked up at her, catching her staring. She quickly looked back at the fire. How obvious! She internally groaned.

"Okay, Granger, wanna read over it before we sign it."

"Who said anything about signing anything?"

"I need to be sure that you won't renege."

"That's hardly necessary, Malfoy, after all I have conditions too."

"Just get over here and read it." Hermione stood up, brushing her robes and walked up to the desk, standing opposite the Head Boy. He looked at her, before flipping the parchment around so she could confirm its contents. Her eyes scanned over it.

"Can you take out, 'woman I so desire' and put my name. Who knows how many women you desire Malfoy." She cringed at the thought.

"Touché, Granger." He crossed it out dramatically.

"Perhaps we should address consent?"

"Granger, I don't run without consent. You of all people should know that." He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms defiantly. Hermione grabbed the quill and inserted 'upon consent'. "Just so you know Malfoy, this arrangement does not mean sex."

"Yeah, yeah, just acts of a sexual nature to appease our dilemma." His voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey, I haven't signed anything yet," she warned. "So, in case of breach, what should happen?"

"Hmmm, well do we keep this between us, or do we go public in our humiliation?"

"I'd prefer to keep this between us, and it has to be something that would be unfavourable for both of us, equally terrible." They pondered for a moment.

"The person in breach must step down from their Head position." Hermione stared at him, bug-eyed. That certainly was something they both treasured equally and unequivocally. She nodded slowly, accepting the idea.

"Okay," she agreed. Malfoy turned the parchment to face him, writing the dreaded line, 'non-performance of the agreement by either party shall result in the renouncement of Head position.' Hermione cringed at the words. Malfoy dipped the quill in ink once more and signed his name. He shifted the parchment back to her handing over the quill. She took it, and dutifully signed her name as well. She had never signed a magical contract, so she had no idea what came next. Malfoy took out his wand.

"Your wand, Granger," he prompted. She reached into her robe pocket and pulled it out. "Now, press the tip over your name and say serment. This seals the deal." She hesitated at first, but did as she was directed. He in turn did the same.

"Well that took a bit of courage," he said suddenly. Hermione scrunched up her face at his attempt to joke. "I'll see you later, Granger. Don't stay here too long." Draco stood up, fixed his robes and walked out, leaving one very flabbergasted Hermione in his wake.

A/N: Well, quite a few revelations from one Draco Malfoy! Is Hermione in too deep in her arrangment? What of Blaise, of Nott, of quidditch! :p