Chapter 4

The first day of term was relatively uneventful for Draco. The days events seemed to pale in comparison after his brief encounter with Hermione at breakfast. She seemed to have that effect on him, making the world around him seem to dim whenever she left his side. It was just before sunset when Draco fell onto his sofa after a particularly brutal Quidditch practice. The first match was just two days away, and the team needed much more practice if they had a chance against Gryffindor. Now that he was captain, the pressure was on him to turn his team's excess violence into grace and skill. All he had wanted to do was return to his dorm, get himself a cold one and pass out on the sofa. However, a loud roar of frustration and a thump against the wall behind him told him that only one of those things were to happen. Scanning the walls, he searched for the door that would connect him to Hermione, something he had missed in his rush in and out of the room previously. He realized he had yet to unpack, or really look around, but decided that too could wait. Finally, he found the door, and with his scotch in one hand, pushed it open.

Hermione sat in the middle of her floor, in gray joggers and a pale blue t shirt. She looked positively disheveled, her ill-fitting shirt bunched flirtatiously above her hipbones, giving Draco the smallest peak at creamy skin beneath it. She had yet to notice him, and stomped to her feet in frustration. Her hair, having grown considerably over the summer, she had tossed into a messy braid, where it now lay down her back. Draco thought she looked beautiful.

"And where in the FUCK are my books!?" she screamed.

"Probably not in my room," Draco said, causing her to jump. "But judging by the considerable hole you've put in my wall they very well could be."

"What are you doing in here?" she angrily asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"I was enjoying some peace and quiet," he gestured to his glass. "Till I was rudely interrupted by a screaming lunatic."

"I'm trying to unpack, and I can't find the box with my books," she meekly explained. She began to pace, searching each and every box frantically. She became a whirlwind around him, flitting from one box to the next.

"Accio books."

Draco performed the spell as a box of books, wedged under the sofa, skidded across the floorboards and landed in front of her. "Oh, yes. I forgot."

"That you were a witch? Yes Granger, it would appear so."

It was just now she really looked at him, leaning against their connecting doorjam cockily. He looked devilishly fit, sweaty and grass stained in his Quidditch uniform. Hermione blushed as he ran a hand through his hair. She gulped loudly. "I suppose now would be a good a time as ever to have our meeting."

"Right." Draco chugged his glass, which was nearly full to begin with, and slammed it down on her bookshelf. "Right after I take a shower." He nodded and set off in pursuit of her washroom.

Hermione, still a tad dazed over Draco's appearance, didn't quite pick up on what he was doing. "What? Wait, WAIT!" she ran after him down the hallway. "What are you doing!? Shower in your own room!"

"Oh but it's so faaar!" Draco whined from farther down the hall. Using his much longer legs, he reached the bathroom before her and cracked the door enough to see her face. "I'll just be a second!" and shut the door on her. Laughing to himself as she banged on the door, he stripped down and turned the water on.

After a few minutes, Hermione gave up on coaxing him out, and sat down to ponder the night's turn of event's.

"Okay," she whispered. "Draco Malfoy has seen me in my pajamas. He has barged into my filthy room. Malfoy is in my bath. Malfoy is in my bath." She buried her face in her hands, wondering why she was acting like a flustered school girl. Oh, right, she thought. She grabbed her wand and put everything left out on the floor in it's place, and hid the rest in her closet. She lit a few of her candles and set about making a pot of tea.

A few minutes later, as she was bringing the tea into the little living room, she nearly fainted. For, sitting on her sofa, was Malfoy, lounging in nothing more than one of her towels. "Granger, I must say I love what you've done with the place."