Infinite thanks to those of you who reviewed! And sorry for the mix up last chapter, I hope you've all seen the actual chapter twelve instead of what I posted first?

Hermione Granger, now Malfoy, had always been very fond of showers. That fondness had only grown more intense during her year on the run with Harry and Ron, and she'd spent the first week after the Battle of Hogwarts taking ridiculously long showers twice a day. There was only one problem, one possible objection that she could voice, one that became more apparent than ever on this early morning; taking a shower gave you far too much time to think.

By the time she was dressed, Hermione was in full freak-out mode. Unwilling to face her friends, she elected to skip breakfast in the Great Hall, and unwilling to face her husband, she figured that this was the perfect occasion to go down to the kitchens and greet the house-elves. She tiptoed past a still sleeping Draco and spent the time before her first class down in the kitchens.

Draco woke up just in time for classes. He was surprised that Hermione hadn't woken him, but figured she had probably wanted to go to the library before classes. He strutted to his arithmancy class, one he shared with the seventh years and therefore not with Hermione, and sat down in his usual seat next to Blaise.

"'Morning, mate," said Draco. Blaise looked up, and narrowed his eyes.

"You're far too happy for this early hour. What happened?"

Damn it, was he really that obvious? Arranging his features in a more neutral expression, he directed his most condescending look at his friend.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Did you figure out what got into Pansy yet?"

"No, she won't talk about it. All she said was 'blame Granger'. Your wife is a bit terrifying, isn't she?"

Draco actually had to put some effort into keeping his poker-face at the thought of Hermione, as he could feel his mouth wanting to curl up in a goofy grin, and was there anything more unbecoming of a Malfoy? Salazar help him, that witch would be the end of him.

He was still feeling pretty content with himself when he arrived in Potions and dropped into the seat next to his wife.

"So, how was your first class?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, it was fine, how was yours?" she answered, without meeting his eyes. He should have figured out that there was something amiss by then, really, but he was slightly too preoccupied with himself to notice.

It was only when they started their potion of the week that he began noticing Hermione's odd behavior. Two times she dropped what she was holding, and afterwards almost threw twice more beetle eyes in their cauldron than necessary. It was a good thing he had been staring at her at that exact moment, or they would have had an explosion worthy of Finnegan.

"Granger, what is up with you today? I know my presence can be quite distracting, but please refrain from killing us both, will you?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry!" said she, trying to get some rebellious hair out of her face. "How can you act so normally?"

"It's potions class, and it's a fairly easy potion. Either focus on the assignment or let me do the work, but don't ruin it all now. I'd like to keep my grades high, if you don't mind."

Hermione tried to stiffle the hurt she felt at his harsh tone, but she failed. Of course it was silly of her to expect him to act differently towards her only because they'd had sex. It was, after all, only sex. She had been aware of that when she'd kissed him back, and it had been what she wanted. She was just disoriënted.

Hermione liked rules. She liked things to be clear and organized, she liked things to be black and white. It had taken her a while to find her footing after the marriage, to fall back in a routine of studying and scolding her friends, but she'd never really fully acknowledged that she was in fact married, and that Draco would play an important part in the years to come one way or another. She'd been perfectly content living in denial until Draco had knocked her feet from under her with a few well-placed sentences and a breathtaking kiss.

But maybe that didn't have to be a bad thing, Hermione thought. Maybe it was time she faced the truth and learned to live with the strange man she accidentally married. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes; he was working diligently on cutting the ingrediënts just the right size, a look of intense concentration on his handsome face. There was still a lot to discover when it came to Draco Malfoy, and she couldn't deny he intrigued her. It was, perhaps, not usually enough as fondation to build a marriage on, but it was better than outright dislike, at least. And many arranged couples probably had less between them, and they too had little choice but to work it out.

"Alright," she said, having calmed her wandering thoughts. "I'm ready to focus. What do you want me to do?"

He looked at her for a few seconds before a charming little half-smile curled up the left side of his mouth.

"If you think you can get the rest of the ingrediënts without dropping them, that would be great."

She rolled her eyes at him but did as asked, taking great care not to let anything fall. She was pretty sure he'd never let her forget it if she did.

A little while later, when all they could do was wait while their potion simmered, Draco turned towards her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "What happened before?"

She smiled nervously, surprised that he had bothered to ask. "It was all becoming a bit overwhelming," she said. "I guess I needed to put my thoughts in order."

"Is this about us?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Yes, well, getting married is a rather significant event. I needed to come to terms with it, I suppose."

"Have you?"

"I think so. How about you?"

He smirked. "I'm slowly getting used to the idea." The tone of his voice left no doubts as to what he was thinking at the moment, and Hermione blushed furiously.

"Shut up," she said.

"I don't think I will. That colour on your face suits you."

Of course, this only caused her blush to deepen, so Hermione turned away from him and used her hair as a curtain between them.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, don't be like that," said he. "It was a compliment."

"You're terrible at giving compliments," she told him primly. "Do you want to skip dinner and meet me in our common room instead? I'm in no mood to see my friends and we need to talk."

"Talk, really? I was hoping we could do something more—"

"Do not finish that sentence," Hermione said, glaring at him. "And don't get any ideas. I said we need to talk, and I mean it."

That evening, while everyone else was having dinner, Hermione and Draco sat in their living room after eating a meal the house-elves had sent up for them.

"I still can't believe you called the poor elves up just for that," Hermione grumbled. "We could have gotten it ourselves easily."

Draco rolled his eyes. "They don't mind, I assure you. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Pick your battles, Hermione thought, taking a deep breath. This conversation woud be difficult enough as it was.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The silence between them became heavier with every passing moment, until Draco sighed deeply and sat down next to her on the couch (not the one they had... you know. The other one). "So, why did you want to miss dinner in the hall today? You're not ashamed of me, are you, Granger?" he said with a teasing tone to his voice. "There's really no point in that, you know. We're already married."

"I'm quite aware of that," she snapped. "How are you so calm about this?"

"About what? The sex? Let's face it, it was bound to happen at some point. Are you freaking out about it?"

"No, no of course not," she said. He gave her an unimpressed stare. "Fine, yeah, I'm freaking out a bit. I don't understand what's happening at all. We're supposed to hate each other, and yet here we are, married and having sober sex."

His expression shuttered then, becoming more closed-off and distant. "You regret it," said he.

He sounded... hurt, Hermione realized, and that emboldened her some. She put her hand on his arm. " I don't," she said honestly. "I'm just really confused, and terribly bad at handling situations such as these. There's not exactly a book on how to act when you have married your former nemesis."

He chuckled at that, the tension slipping out of his shoulders a bit. "No, I guess we're on new territory here."

"So how do we proceed?"

"One day at a time, Granger. We'll see what happens one day at a time."

They remained seated in silence, close but not touching, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"What do you think about me?" Hermione hated that she sounded so vulnerable at that moment, or how his entire body stiffened.

"I know you Gryffindors like to share everything with each other, but I'm not exactly the kind of person that talks about—"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Draco, I'm not asking you to reveal your innermost thoughts. I simply want to know where we stand!"

"Well why don't you start with telling me what you think of me?" he said childishly.

"I know what you're doing," she told him. "You're trying to provoke me into a fight so I'll forget about my question. It won't work, not this time."

Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at her.

"I don't hate you anymore," said Hermione, regarding him seriously. "But you probably knew that much already. You're still quite infuriating sometimes—" he lifted one of his eyebrows, "—fine, you're infuriating most of the time, but there are moments we actually get along. We work well together, I can appreciate your intelligence, at least when you bother to use it, and we have interesting discussions when we're not fighting."

"I'm not even sure whether to be insulted or flattered by this very analytic description of what you think of me, but you're forgetting one rather important fact," Draco drawled.

"Really? And what would that be?"

"You think I'm irrestibly attractive."

She snorted. "Right. I forgot to mention something else, too; I think your modesty is admirable."

He elbowed her. "Don't ruin the moment with sarcasm, Granger."

"You ruined it first. And you didn't let me finish."

"My apologies," said he. "Please, do go on."

Hermione took a fortifying breath. "Sometimes, I find myself liking you. A little bit. Occasionally. I think that, had we not always known each other as enemies, we might have ended up as friends."

He smirked at her clumsy words, but the warm feeling holding his chest hostage was making it difficult not to either smile genuinely or run away screaming. Neither of those options were very dignified, so he clung to his smirk and distracted himself with what he would answer her.

"You're not so bad either," he finally said.

As intended, Hermione was greatly offended. So offended, in fact, that it took her a few tries before she managed to articulate her thoughts.

"You have got to be kidding me, Malfoy! After everything I said, you're just going to say that? Argh, I don't even know why I bothered!" She ended her tirade with a few painful hits to his arm.

"Granger, stop it! Violence is not the... Aw, bloody hell, woman, you're bonkers!" He used a pillow as shield when she didn't stop, and hit her over the head with it as soon as he had an opportunity. She shrieked and tried to steal his pillow, but he held tight. They struggled until Draco managed to manoeuvre Hermione in a position that was remarkably similar to their position on the couch last night. He used his weight to pin her down and waited patiently until she stopped moving.

"Not fair," she huffed.

"Slytherin," he retorted. "Now if you're quiet I'll give you a real answer." He waited a few seconds to ascertain her agreement, and then continued. "You're the most frustrating and yet most intriguing person I've ever met, Hermione Malfoy, and you confuse me so much I fight a war in my own head almost every day. There are only two things I can say with any form of certainty at this point in time: one, that I do not hate you and the second being that I have no qualms telling you that I am very much attracted to you. Can we snog now?"

She laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling and her body shaking with it. It was a nice laugh, Draco thought. He had always enjoyed making her angry, enjoyed the way her hair would crackle and her face would redden and her eyes would spit fire, but now, he realized that making her laugh might be even better.

Okay, so maybe sometimes he liked her too. A little bit. Occasionally.