A/N: Hello all! I had noticed that a few reviews of the prologue particularly mentioned wanting to know more about Ron and Hermione's relationship, so I added a flashback in this chapter to help give you Ron's side of the story. It's in all italics, so I hope you'll recognize it when you see it. Also, I'm sure you've been eager to see Hermione's first interaction with Draco since Graduation Eve, so without further ado, I give you...

~~~\~~~

Step 2: Deny, Deny, Deny

Once you have a history with the Malfoy, and have secured a place in the long-term Important Person category, the hunt can begin. Malfoy men are hunters by nature, and proud ones at that. Now that you are a fixture in his world, his pride will drive him to be a fixture in yours. Deny any and all connections you have with him. Normal men who want to date you will ask you out on a date. Malfoy men will deny their attraction/affection for you until it drives them to the edge of insanity, the oblivious prats. You need to help push him to that edge if you ever want the relationship to go anywhere meaningful. That is why you play the part of the prey. Deny everything, and he will do everything in his power to prove to you that you feel the exact same way as he does. Because, naturally, if a Malfoy feels anything for you, then obviously you must feel the same, because the world would end if a Malfoy harbored unrequited feelings. While you are the prey, do not make yourself scarce yet. At this point you need to do what you can to secure that he will do whatever it takes to find you when you do make yourself scarce. But that is later. Right now, focus on making him want you to acknowledge his presence in your life.

Note: If the Malfoy does not actually have any interest in you, this will push him farther away and he will completely ignore you. This is why it is imperative that you only do this once you have secured his interest in you. If he is not interested in you it is either because you moved too fast or he simply does not deem you worthy of the effort involved, you clingy tart.

~~~\~~~

Hermione woke up in a foul mood the next morning. Professor Morgana had kindly notified her the previous night, after Hermione had to ask, that her great-nephew would be arriving the following day, which was today. She had spent all night dreaming of the night before Graduation. Her mind replayed what happened and came up with a version of what could have happened if she hadn't left when she did. Oh, yes, Hermione's mood was foul.

Not only did she despise the fact that the dream itself was absolutely pleasant, but it had been so vivid that she just knew the second she saw Malfoy's face again, it would all come flooding back. She was going to flush as red as a tomato and he would notice. And he'd laugh at her. And it would be just like school, all over again, for a whole two months, except now he'd torment her in her sleep, too. Even her subconscious was conspiring against her.

She supposed she ought to be thankful that she had managed to avoid him for a whole eight months, even while working for six of those months with his godfather, Severus Snape. She was fortunate that Snape and his godson only kept in touch through letters about three times a year, but unfortunately she and Snape had never really managed to completely forgive each other for everything they knew about the other. Snape had made her best friend's life harder than it needed to be while he was trying to save the world, and Hermione had broken more rules than most Hogwarts students in their entire lifetimes and rarely got punished for it. She still considered him a ruthless, selfish git, and he still considered her a pampered, annoying, know-it-all. Despite their considerable will to remain professional (for they grudgingly admired the other's abilities), they hadn't been able to suppress their mutual loathing forever, so they had decided to call it quits. As proof of how unfortunate it was, Snape had referred her to Professor Morgana, and Hermione had gratefully accepted the help. She grew to greatly respect her new mentor, too, and without any bad memories. It had been a win-win situation for both of them, since Hermione had promised to give due credit to Snape when she published her finished recipe.

Hermione debated whether she should venture down into the dining room for breakfast. It was nine in the morning. Had Malfoy already arrived? Maybe she didn't have to see him at all? Her stomach rumbled, so she decided that she could be stealthy about it, just in case.

When she was fully dressed and freshened up, she cautiously opened her bedroom door, peeking both ways down the long hallway. It was silent, as always in the mornings, so she crept down the hallway, ears straining for any tell-tale sound of his presence or imminent arrival.

She slowly tip-toed down the main staircase leading down to the main floor. As her foot stepped down onto the main floor, she looked both ways and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw nothing peculiar. She walked normally all the way to the dining room. The dining room doors were open, per usual, but she stopped dead anyway.

To the left, Professor Morgana was sitting at the head of the table, and to her left sat Draco Malfoy. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the memories and dreams flooded her mental vision, even more intensely than she had guessed. She was going to start hyperventilating any second now, so she did what any sane girl would do.

She ran.

Hermione dashed back down the hall, whipped around the corner, back up the stairs to the second floor, down to her room, and burst open the door, but tried to close it as quietly as she could. Her heart was racing now, and she knew it wasn't just from the physical exertion.

There was sudden knock on her door, and Hermione let out a small yelp in fear. She stared at the door in terror. Had Malfoy seen and followed her? Or worse, was it Professor Morgana?

"Miss Hermione!" a small voice squeaked through the door. Hermione let go of her breath and clutched her chest in relief. It was only one of the house elves. She took a deep, calming breath and opened the door.

She smiled as she recognized the elf. "Yes, Dopey?"

Dopey grinned toothily back at her. "Mistress requesteds your presence in the dining room when you is awakes."

Hermione's face fell and she internally started panicking again. There was no way she could go down and face him. Enough time hadn't passed yet. She forced a smile back onto her face.

"Dopey, could you please inform Mistress Morwena that I'm feeling quite ill this morning? I wouldn't want to infect our guest with whatever I have so I will take my breakfast in my room and spend the day in the laboratory."

Dopey frowned at the news. "Dopey hopes you feels better Miss Hermione! Dopey will delivers your message rights aways!"

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Dopey."

Dopey grinned back and disapparated, so Hermione closed the door. She shuffled over and fell face first on her bed. This is going to be so much harder than I thought. I can't pretend I'm sick for two whole months!

Hermione didn't bother to fight the memories anymore. They were going to overwhelm her one way or the other, so her best hope was to select them one at a time, and stuff them back into the locked cage they belonged in.

The first memory that overpowered the others was of Malfoy using his body to trap her against the wall of the Astronomy Tower that night. She instantly felt warm, remembering the heat of their fronts pressed together and his breath on her neck. She shivered.

The next was of her blinking and suddenly he was before her, naked as a pre-fig leaf marble statue. His obvious erection stood out clearly because she hadn't been able to look away for several moments. She hadn't been able to stop herself from comparing him to Ron.

Ron. She groaned as a fresh wave of guilt washed over her. He still didn't know what had happened that night, thank Merlin. For some reason, Malfoy had kept his irritating gob shut. As far as she knew, he hadn't told a soul, which was rather uncharacteristic of him, unless he had more to gain from keeping it quiet.

Then again, it might not have mattered if he hadn't. They had still broken up, anyway.

~~~\~~~

"Hermione!" Ron said, strangely surprised. They had planned to meet in his bedroom that night, since Harry and Ginny had planned to spend the night at Grimmauld Place. Hardly anyone stayed at the Burrow these days, as they were all grown up and busy with their own lives. She was a little early, sure, but he looked as scared as if she had announced she was going to buy him a pet Acromantula.

"Ron?" she asked, hardly needing to say anything else. Her inquisitive expression said it all.

He fumbled, putting away his broom servicing kit before rubbing his palms against his trousers. She shut the door and sat down on the now-cleared spot on his bed. He was as jumpy and nervous as she had ever seen him. It made her frown.

He refused to look at her, and she knew this was it. They were calling it quits after a whole month of awkward fumblings and embarrassed silences. They had snogged a few times, and only tried to go further once before he pulled back with a guilty look on his face. At the time, she had assumed it was because she had told him she wasn't in the mood for sex (though he didn't know it was because of the near-disaster with Malfoy), but now she wasn't so sure.

"Talk to me, Ron," she said softly, watching him stare at the floor.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione!" he blurted out, clutching the cloth of his trousers in his fists. He breathed deeply. "I...I can't do it anymore. I can't pretend."

Hermione felt the words pierce her heart, but it didn't hurt nearly as badly as knowing she didn't deserve any sort of apology. He was the one who deserved a gigantic apology.

He swallowed loudly. "I...snogged Lavender. That night of the party, the night before Graduation. I shouldn't have. You were right. I should have left with you, or gone to bed, but I couldn't help it. It was so nice to be...free, you know? No...Voldemort, no tests, no stress, just for a bit. We had our whole lives planned out, so what could one night of fun do? I've tried to ignore it, 'cause I've been too scared to tell you. You're going to yell and cry and, bloody hell, hate me. I know you've always been jealous of her and I'm so sorry, 'Mione. She was there and nearly naked, and she was so out of it she just fell on top of me and started snogging me, and it felt so good...it felt..." He paused, searching for the right word.

"Not like us," she supplied sadly.

He nodded. "Not like us."

She licked her lips and swallowed nervously. That was exactly how she had felt with Malfoy. It had been all heat, and passion, and wanting to feel skin on skin...nothing like the safe contentment she had felt with Ron. She felt tears of relief and guilt build up in her eyes.

She took a shaky breath and stared at the floor, too. "If we're honest, this was a long time coming," she commented.

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder with you," he confessed, "but I just...Merlin, 'Mione. You just don't give me anything. I still can't figure out what you're thinking when I kiss you. I can't tell if you're thinking about how to kiss me back, or the next book you'll be reading when I leave. You're more passionate about Spew than you ever were with me. I feel like you just kiss me because I want you to, not because you want to."

That stung enough to make her wince. The worst part was the truth of it. Ron had never incited passion in her unless it was yelling at him for being dense. The wave of guilt paralyzed her voice, making her unable to correct him even about S.P.E.W.

"With Lavender...even pissed out of my mind, I could tell. She wanted me like you never did. It's no excuse, I know, but I just can't go back and pretend it's the same anymore. It won't ever be the same."

Hermione nearly cried at that. No, it wouldn't ever be the same. All because of stupid Malfoy and his stupid, soft lips and that silver, lying, forked tongue of his that had slithered its way into her brain and dug in like a second home. Before kissing him, she hadn't known for sure that there was no chemistry with Ron. But after kissing Malfoy like he was her only supply of oxygen, she couldn't go back and pretend she didn't know, either.

A full minute stretched out. "Please say something, 'Mione. Yell at me or lecture me. Do something," Ron pleaded, finally looking at her.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she managed, taking another deep and shaky breath. "I don't know what else to say."

She couldn't yell at him if her life depended on it. The guilt of letting Malfoy touch her so intimately, of giving him more of her passion than she had ever given Ron...it was so, so wrong and the guilt drowned her. She contemplated coming clean, too, but Ron wasn't level-headed like she was. Even now, just the word 'Malfoy' would send him into a rage that wouldn't end well for anybody. She knew him too well. She would rather suffer in silence than send Ron off to track Malfoy down and pick a fight with him. Maybe one day she could tell him, in five or ten years, but now was far too soon, the wounds of their failure too fresh.

They spent the following day grieving for their dead and battered romantic relationship, and the day after that, they agreed to try to get back to where they were, platonic friends.

~~~\~~~

Hermione hadn't moved from her spot on the bed, her panic turning the growling of her stomach into a rather strong nausea. She seriously considered just climbing back under the covers and hiding until the afternoon. Surely Malfoy would be in some other room with his aunt, so she could sneak around unimpeded? Her thoughts were disturbed by another knock. Assuming it was Dopey again, asking what she wanted for breakfast, she skipped right to the part where she opened the door.

For the first time in eight months she was face to face with Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Definitely too soon. He looked as sexy and cold as ever, and her mind immediately replayed that night, particularly the moments when he had stripped himself naked and crawled over to her, which made her blush. Her hand clutched the door tighter as she mentally shoved the thoughts back to the cage they had burst out of.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You don't look sick to me," he commented bluntly, leaning sideways against the doorframe with his hands casually resting in his trouser pockets.

She glared at him, arms crossed over her chest protectively. "Come closer so I can spit on you. Wait a few days for the infection to spread and then tell me I'm not sick."

He smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I knew you couldn't get enough of me."

"What do you want, Malfoy? I have better things to do than talk to you - like vomit," she replied harshly.

He rolled his eyes. "My lovely aunt sent me to check on you to see if you were really sick."

"Yes, I'm really sick. Now go away," she said shortly, starting to close the door in his face.

Malfoy thrust out a hand, stopping the door, and then pushing it back open. "Why bother lying, Granger? You clearly aren't."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Fine. You caught me. I lied so I didn't have to stare at your ugly mug and be nauseated all throughout breakfast. But, apparently, I have to suffer your presence anyway."

Malfoy grinned wickedly. "I knew it. You didn't want to risk being in the same room with me, lest you finish what we started the night before Graduation."

She inhaled sharply and sent him a death glare. "Don't you dare mention that night aloud," she growled. "As far as anyone is concerned it never happened. And just in case you get any stupid ideas, I can assure you personally that it will never happen again. So you best label it as a bizarre dream and forget about it, Malfoy. I already have."

He leaned forward and laughed as she recoiled backward. "Sure, Granger. Keep telling yourself that. Do you even have a new boyfriend?"

Ah. So The Daily Prophet, the magical tabloid she refused to read out of sheer principle, continued to keep tabs on their romantic lives, then. She hadn't dated anyone since she and Ron had broken up a month after Graduation, instead throwing herself into her potions research. They hadn't told anyone except their closest friends about the breakup, so naturally Malfoy found out through a Prophet article.

She eyed him suspiciously. "What concern is that of yours?"

He grinned seductively. "Face it, Granger. You can't bear the thought of another man touching you after me. They just can't compete with the pleasure I gave you."

Through sheer will alone Hermione stopped her body from reacting the way he wanted it to. She glared. "Or maybe I just got sick of men in general, and decided to stop dating because they're all selfish pricks. My life does not revolve around you, Malfoy. If I had my way, which the universe apparently loves to ignore, I would never see you or hear about you ever again. So, terribly sorry to burst your bubble, but I loathe you to the point where I'm just going to start pretending you don't exist anymore. Goodbye, Malfoy." She slammed the door in his face and erected as many locking and warding charms on the door as she could recall.

~~~\~~~

For the rest of the week, Hermione avoided staying in the same room as Malfoy at all times. She practically lived in the laboratory, and fortunately for her, Professor Morgana didn't mind her absence because she and Malfoy were busy with the "private business" he was helping her with. Hermione thanked Merlin for small miracles. Malfoy was going to hang that night over her head until one of them died, so there was no way she could go back to being civil with him. But she couldn't be proper enemies with him, either, because his mere presence reminded her of that night, and just thinking about the way he had made her feel sent a flare of lust throughout her entire body. She just couldn't tolerate his presence anymore, so avoiding him was the only option.

The following Monday, Professor Morgana informed Hermione that she would be going out for the day and it was up to her to entertain her great-nephew. Not bloody likely, Hermione responded mentally, even while nodding and smiling.

And then the Fates threw her for another loop. "And just to make sure you don't go running yourself ragged on that potion, I've warded the laboratory door. You've been in there all week, girl, and you haven't made any progress. I'm telling you to stop thinking about it so much. The answer will come when you least expect it."

Hermione mentally glared at the meddling woman's back as it retreated down the stairs. Her mentor sounded more like her babysitter. Now what was she going to do? The library's always a good place to start. But that made her think of the book her mentor had written. Professor Morgana had apparently noticed Hermione had not taken the book with her, so she had sent a house elf to place it on her bed. Hermione had immediately shoved it in some drawer somewhere that she never used, hoping to forget about it. Of course, she didn't forget about it. Just like she couldn't forget about Malfoy either.

Speak of the devil. Just as she approached the top of the main staircase, she noticed Malfoy approaching from the other end of the hallway, apparently also planning to go downstairs. She huffed and faced forward, proceeding as if she hadn't noticed him.

Suddenly they were in the middle of the staircase, which appeared to stretch for kilometers both ways.

She heard Malfoy sigh next to her. "Bloody fantastic," he muttered.

She glared at him. "What did you do, Malfoy?" she accused.

He rolled his eyes at her. "I didn't do anything. My lovely aunt's house has a sick sense of humor. It senses we dislike each other, so it's forcing us to talk or else we'll never get off the staircase. The same thing happened last summer when she and I had a disagreement."

Apparently he was right. It already seemed shorter than when they had been silent, but it was still too far away. She huffed. Even the bloody house was against her.

"Fine, so let's talk."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "About?"

She rolled her eyes at him. Couldn't he do anything for himself? He couldn't even come up with a conversation topic? Honestly!

"I don't know... food. What sorts of food do you like?"

"Food, Granger?" he laughed at her.

"Oh, do you have a better topic?" she fumed. "At least I'm trying to get off this bloody staircase that hates me. If you just sit there and scoff at everything I say, we're not going to get anywhere, remember?"

Suddenly he seemed a lot closer than he had been a second before, and she realized the staircase decided to shrink to one-third its original width.

"See?" She pointed at the change in width. "You're not helping! So just answer the bloody question!" she growled at him.

"Language, Granger," he tutted.

"Malfoy!" she reprimanded, frustrated.

"Sure, like that. Except a little more moan, and drawn out, like you're enjoying it."

Hermione blinked. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" She stepped back to put more room between them, but the staircase moved him right back in front of her, closer than before.

He smirked. "That's my favorite food...for thought."

Hermione frowned. "How did you jump from food to moan-" She abruptly stopped herself. "You know what? I don't want to know." She shook her head and walked down more stairs, not caring that she wasn't getting any closer to the end. She just needed space to breathe, away from him.

"Alright, new topic." he volunteered, walking behind her. "How are you going to entertain me today?"

"I'm not," she responded. "You're a big boy. I'm sure you can find something to do." Thank Merlin, it's almost short enough to reach.

"Like you?"

In order to keep herself from turning around and slapping him for the third time in her life, she kept walking and took deep breaths to calm her rage. Almost there. It'll be okay.

"No," she replied shortly.

And then they went silent, so the staircase lengthened again. Hermione let loose a string of curses that surprised even herself.

She whipped around. "Malfoy, would it honestly kill you to stop being such a bloody prick for five minutes? It's all I ask! I just want to get off this bloody staircase and get away from you, but you're making it absolutely impossible!" She stomped her foot for good measure.

It infuriated her even more that he just looked amused. "Granger, you need to stop taking things so seriously. I only do it because it annoys you, you know."

"Well, stop!" she whined petulantly. She threw up her hands and sat down on the step, burying her face in her arms. She was exhausted. Only Malfoy could get under her skin so deep she would flay herself alive just to be rid of him. If it had been anyone else, she would have ignored the comments and just rambled on about something. But it was Malfoy. He had the power to annoy her like no one else. For the life of her she couldn't just ignore his comments because she knew he'd juststand there and smirk at her, thinking he was right. So really, it all had to do with pride. Her head snapped up at the realization. She was too proud to let him think he had won. That's why she couldn't let it be.

She suddenly noticed Malfoy sitting right next to her. She glared at him. "This is all your fault, you know," she accused. As soon as she said it, the stairs started shaking, knocking the two of them into each other. Hermione yelped and held onto the railing to prevent her body from being thrown into Malfoy, but it was unnecessarily slippery.

"Make it stop!" she yelled at him.

He laughed, clutching his own side of the railing. "You make it stop! You're the one that lied!"

Her hands finally slipped completely off, so the next tremor threw her entire body into Malfoy, who caught her waist just in time so they didn't go rolling down the never-ending stairs. She clutched his shoulders.

"Okay! Okay! I lied! It's not just his fault!" she yelled to the stairs. The tremors lessened in intensity, but still threatened to dislodge them. She glared at Malfoy for giving her bad advice.

He chuckled. "You have to apologize to me, Granger," he whispered into her ear.

Her eyes involuntarily closed as her entire body shivered at the near contact. She opened them and glared at him for a whole other reason. "I'm sorry," she said loudly.

The tremors got worse than before and she screamed, clutching him tighter in fear. "It didn't work!"

He growled, frustrated. "You have to mean it, Granger! Now hurry up before it kills us both!"

She bent her head down onto his shoulder, shut her eyes, and hung on to him tightly. "Okay! Alright! I'm sorry, Draco, I was wrong! Please! I don't want to die! I apologize!" she rambled, yelling.

Finally the staircase stilled. When Hermione opened her eyes, she and Malfoy were sitting on the floor at the base of the staircase, still clinging to each other. They both looked at their intertwined bodies and then up at each other. The next moment they scrambled apart and stood up, dusting themselves off.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Okay, so new rule: We never use that staircase at the same time ever again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he drawled.

They stood for another moment before Hermione nodded and then started walking away. Out of habit, she made her way toward the dungeons. She didn't notice he was walking with her until he spoke.

"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.

She gave him an annoyed look. "To the laboratory. Where else?"

"My lovely aunt locked that up, remember?" he reminded her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione stopped and frowned. "Oh, right." She gnawed on her lip. Right. The library. That's where I was heading. She turned around and started walking the other way. Malfoy followed, but he kept quiet for the first ten seconds, so she didn't say anything either.

"So," he eventually started, "where are we going now?"

She threw him a glare. "I am going to the library. You are going somewhere else."

He looked surprised. "Oh? Where?"

"Somewhere far away from me," she ground out. Predictably, when she glanced at him again, his trademark smirk was plastered across his face. Bloody annoying git. Only he can make me curse so much.

"I've been thinking," he started again.

"I bet that hurt," she muttered.

He shot her a glare, which she returned. Instantly he was smirking again. "We should have sex."

Hermione halted at the sudden reminder of their past. She expected her anger to flare up like it always did, but this time she was just tired of getting angry at him.

"I disagree," she replied, sighing. Merlin. Is this how he felt when Pansy Parkinson hung all over him all the time? It's bloody irritating. No wonder he always scowled at her.

Malfoy frowned. "What, no comeback? No glare? Are you well?" He held a hand up to her forehead and she smacked it away. He grinned in satisfaction. "Reckon so."

Hermione closed her eyes, taking deep, cleansing breaths. "Okay, Malfoy. Name your price. What do I have to do to get rid of you?"

He smirked. "I've already told you."

She glared. "I am not having sex with you."

He shrugged. "Then you're not getting rid of me."

She let out a frustrated growl. "Why, Malfoy? Why can't you just leave me alone? I didn't do anything to deserve this kind of torment! You're bloody everywhere! I had eight semi-blissful Malfoy-free months and now it feels like I'll never be rid of you! And it's only been one week! How in Merlin's name do you expect me to deal with you for seven more weeks without resorting to homicide?"

His smirk was back. "You know the answer, Granger."

Her glare was, too. "No, I don't. I know I want to kill you, but that's it. It would be nice to do it slowly and painfully, but that would give you time to escape, so I promise I'll make it quick and painless just to make sure you're dead."

He mock-clutched his heart. "Granger, you wound me!"

"Good. I hope it gets infected and festers into a rot that can't be stopped until you stop breathing," she snapped viciously.

He laughed. "Ouch! How harsh!"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you find my homicidal tendencies toward you funny?"

"Because you don't mean them, obviously," he replied haughtily.

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed against her chest defiantly. "And if I do?"

He shook his head, amused. "You don't, Granger. You're just taking out your sexual frustration on me. Which is quite silly, by the way, seeing as I'm generously offering to solve that problem for you."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "You? HA! You are not generous in any sense of the word! 'Generous' implies sharing what you have for no personal gain whatsoever. You only help people out when it suits you. That's not the same thing."

When she finally looked at him again, Malfoy was circling her, patently staring at her body. "I disagree." His lips appeared right next to her ear. "I'd call what I did for you in the Astronomy Tower 'generous'."

Hermione stiffened and scowled at him. "I wouldn't. You thought you were going to get sex as a result, so that's personal gain."

"Oh, Hermione," he tutted, coming back around to face her again. She was disturbed by the velvety way her name rolled off his tongue. "Why don't you just give up now and save yourself the embarrassment? It's going to happen again. I know that you know it, too. You're just trying to hold off until I give up. But here's the thing." He leaned forward, locking eyes with her. "I won't give up. I can be patient."

She narrowed her eyes at him as he started moving again. "Malfoy, did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, the only reason I let you touch me in the first place was that I was upset and not thinking clearly? What makes you think that I even want you to touch me again? If you need an analogy, here's a good one. You know that saying about how when you're drunk, even ugly girls look pretty? Well, when I'm depressed, even annoying gits like you seem tolerable. So, now that I don't plan on ever being around you while I'm depressed, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. That is why I am denying you. Not because I want you, but because I don't want you."

He chuckled. "You know, you almost had me convinced for a moment there. But there's one problem with your explanation, Granger."

She huffed. "And that is?"

Malfoy stopped directly behind her. He leaned in and lightly brushed her neck with his lips. She inhaled sharply. "As much as you try to hide it, your body gives you away every time. You never stop me from touching you in the first place, Granger. You allow it to happen and then you push me away. 'The lady doth protest too much methinks,'" he quoted.

And now she was furious again, partly because he was only doing it to rile her up and partly because he hadn't lied. Just when she thought she'd had enough of staying angry at him, he found a new way to aggravate her. Was it possible to be angry to death? She growled and stomped her way to the library, recognizing that her hand was itching to whip out her wand and hex him into silence and utter grotesqueness. She hoped that if he weren't such a pretty boy anymore, he'd do everyone a favor and lock himself up in a tower for the rest of his life. Then some other girl could go find him and reverse the spell, and they'd live happily ever after, far, far away from her. Not that she wanted him to be happy, but if he was happy then he wouldn't bother to continue haunting her.

Of course, within moments Malfoy was back by her side. She cursed the fact that she was at least a full head shorter than him, and thus his legs were longer and could travel faster. Fortunately, they were close enough to the library that he didn't feel the need to say anything.

As soon as Hermione opened the library doors, the familiar scent of the room wafted around her, giving her some modicum of comfort despite Malfoy's presence. She went straight for the History section and hid herself between the stacks. If anything could make her forget about Malfoy, it would be a history book.

***/***

Draco had chuckled victoriously when Granger had stomped away from him. One of his favorite pastimes was riling her up. It gave him a thrill like nothing else, knowing that he was getting under her skin just as much as she got under his. So when his lovely aunt had told him that she would be going out for the day and that she had barred access to the laboratory, he knew exactly how to pass the time, and set off to find Granger.

The staircase incident had been quite amusing overall, but at the end there he had been worried that Granger might have hated him enough to allow the staircase to throw them off rather than apologize. Fortunately, her fear got the best of her. Unfortunately, she fit far too comfortably in his arms for his liking. She was warm and soft, just as he remembered her from that night before Graduation, and it stirred up some...unresolved inclinations toward her he'd rather forget. He had no problem lusting after her. Now that he knew what kind of figure she had under all those clothes, his lust for her didn't surprise him at all. No, what really unsettled him was the minute tenderness he had for her. It was just a twinge, really, here and there. Back then, that night, he had been genuinely concerned about her mental state. Today, he had been genuinely concerned for her physical state. Of course, he only wanted to make sure she didn't injure herself, because sex tended to be difficult with large bruises and broken bones. So when she did finally give into him, he wanted her to be physically well, so he wouldn't have to restrain himself. But the fact that he had worried at all made him uncomfortable. So he did what any male in his right mind would do. He shoved it back to the recesses of his mind to be forgotten.

It honestly surprised him that she was openly denying her attraction for him, though. It was one thing to say it didn't matter, but another entirely to pretend it wasn't there. So, naturally, he set about proving her wrong. The best part was that the more undeniable evidence he provided of its existence, the more riled up she became, therefore accomplishing both of his goals at the same time. Merlin, she was easy to manipulate. It pleased him to no end. He only stopped, really, because he saw her wand hand twitching, and he knew that if he pushed her too far, he'd provoke a duel.

He wasn't afraid of her, of course. He was confident of his own abilities, but he was also smart enough to not underestimate hers. He had watched her wandwork carefully over the years at school. She was quick and efficient with every swish and flick, so he knew she would be a formidable opponent in a duel. She also had size going for her, too. She was petite, so dodging would be a lot easier for her than it would be for him, giving her the advantage. He would have to rely on his speed, but she was quick, too. So, overall, he judged that a duel between the two of them would end either in a stalemate or a catastrophe. Either every spell would be countered, or they'd sacrifice countering for doing as much damage as possible, resulting in both of them living in St. Mungo's for weeks. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation for both of them, and therefore pointless to provoke.

When they reached the library, he didn't miss how much her face changed. One moment she was scowling, the next she was breathing deeply and smiling brightly. She dashed right in and weaved herself between the shelves, happy to be in her natural element: the bookworm. He felt one of those twinges again, but this time it was more of contentment than of worry. He scowled at the thought and shoved it away. He took a seat at the nearest table and waited. Now that her mood was back up again, all he had to do was wait until she started reading so he could bug her all over again. He smirked in anticipation of the thrill returning.

***/***

Hermione selected a decently heavy biography of a wizard known as Edward the Odd. He was a talented assassin who had preferred using two enchanted daggers rather than a wand to kill, and his signet ring was rumored to have significant magical properties.

She checked the time and sighed. Professor Morgana had only been gone for about two hours. Hopefully Malfoy would pick a book and they could read away the rest of the day.

But of course, that was too much to ask. Hermione sat down at a different table and started reading. It hadn't been a full two minutes before Malfoy sat down across from her and started drumming his fingers on the table.

He did that for five minutes. Straight. Finally she closed her book and glared at him. He smirked back.

"What, Malfoy?"

"You're supposed to be entertaining me," he reminded her haughtily. "Watching you read is not entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "Then go get your own book to read. I assume you actually can read, can't you? Or do you have house elves read for you?"

He scoffed. "Of course I can read. Besides, most house elves can't read. I thought you knew that when you were on your little house elf tirade. What was it? Spittle? No, Spew! That was it."

"It was S.P.E.W.," she ground out.

He grinned. " Right, Spew," he agreed.

She huffed at him and opened her book, fully determined to ignore him. Ten minutes later she thought she had finally gotten the message across, so she started to really relax. She leaned back into her chair and repositioned herself so her left ankle was tucked under her right thigh. She slouched down and absent-mindedly curled a strand of hair around her pointer finger. This is how she had spent hours reading ever since she was little. Her bent left leg made a nice, flat surface for the book to rest on, and the book helped insulate her leg so it wouldn't get cold, especially when she wore shorts or a skirt. Usually her hair-twirling was enough to keep her body from becoming restless, though sometimes she swung her right leg back and forth when she had the extra energy. It was her most relaxed state other than sleeping, and she had managed to forget all about Malfoy's presence.

Naturally, Malfoy didn't let her relax for long. She was well into the fifth chapter, and thus completely engrossed in the book, when she felt something stroke her right knee through her jeans. Her whole body jerked upward, so her knee slammed into the underside of the table. She gasped from the pain, shoved her chair backward, and then stood up, causing the book to fall onto the floor.

She whipped her head up to glare at Malfoy, but realized he had moved to sit on the right side of her instead of across from her. Definitely him. He was smirking at her in his usual way, highly pleased with himself. She rubbed her knee to help soothe the pain for a few moments and then grabbed the book off the floor. She placed the book on the table and pushed the chair back in place so the seat was under the tabletop. Then she snatched the book back up and sent one last death glare before silently stalking past him, fuming.

The second she heard his footsteps behind her, she whipped around and pointed her wand right at his heart. He halted abruptly, and she inwardly smirked at the flash of surprise on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I am taking this book up to my room. You are going to entertain yourself with something else that does not involve me. If you follow me back to my room, Malfoy, I swear on every textbook that I own, I will hex you so thoroughly, you will be on mandatory bed rest in St. Mungo's for an entire month. Got it?" she spat viciously.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but jerked his chin down in a silent nod. She glared at him for another five seconds before whipping back around and stomping out of the library.