Author's Note: I own nothing, though I wish I did. Sorry I've been gone for so long. I'll have more free time soon so I'll hopefully update more often and hopefully finish this thing.

Draco

Hermione was late. Hermione was never late. Up until now, Draco had always assumed that she had never even learned the meaning of the word. She had always managed to be completely early to anything she had ever gone to. In all of his memory, she had never once been less than five minutes earlier than everyone else. He admired that part of her, because they shared that sense. He was never late by his own means, at least not that he could recall. If he was late anywhere, it was because he'd been involved with a nasty altercation; the latest of which usually included Potty and the Weasel. Someday, he swore to himself that he would be rid of the incomprehensible idiots. Apparently, though, he would end up waiting until he was on his deathbed.

So, he had arrived fifteen minutes early to the library, trusting that Hermione would make an appearance shortly thereafter. Exactly 16 minutes later and he was starting to worry. Sure, she was just a minute late, but he had already convinced himself she was at the bottom of the lake, or worse, with Potter. By the time the clock hit five after the hour, he had walked angrily to the front of the library, and had begun to pace at the entrance. How could she keep him waiting like this? There was no way for her to tell him she wasn't coming, and he didn't much like the idea of working on their project on his own. Who was going to be there to tell him he was wrong about how they should add the dragonroot elixir? How the bloody hell was he supposed to know how long to brew the potion? Hermione was the only one with that kind of information stored away in her small, bushy cranium. He didn't really want to, but if it came down to it, he would admit that he was nothing without her...at least when it came to Potions. Sure, he was brilliant, but compared to her, he was rubbish. With her, on the other hand, he felt like they were geniuses. So I need her, so what, he chided himself, trying to keep it together. It doesn't make me weaker, he insisted to his subconscious. But even his subconscious knew he was lying to himself.

Somehow, she had gotten under his skin and now, he needed her. He didn't know how she'd done it, and at this point, he hardly cared. He just wanted her to pay him the attention he needed, and he wanted her to get her little butt over to the library before he did something really irrational. And since Madam Pince was getting anxious from his incessant pacing, she had better get to the library soon or she'd have hell to pay for the disappointment boiling inside him.

And what did she expect from him? He depended on her, and expected her to be trustworthy. He was taking this way too personally, he knew, but as soon as he saw her bushy hair appear just around the corner, he was ready to jump her bones and chastise her like a child for being late. He was totally ready to, but the words caught in his mouth. He had to keep himself in check. He was supposed to lure her in, not become a pansy in the process, but based on her appearance, something was on her mind. When Hermione Granger had something preoccupying her she was both easier to prey on and more pitiful. It made Draco feel even more guilty. Today was the day he needed to seal the deal: in both senses of the words. She made her way over to the library entrance, and he composed himself, ready to take this meeting to another level.

"Do you have any idea how late you are?"

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Ten minutes, goodness Draco, you look like someone just killed your bird."

"It's not a bird, its an owl. O-w-l, remember those?" This time, he rolled his eyes at her nonsense. It felt good to tease her a little; it lightened the mood and gave him time to think clearly about how to approach the situation.

"I'm a cat person."

"Clearly," he replied, eyeing a piece of cat hair on her shoulder, and brushed away the urge to pick it off her robe. He knew she wouldn't like it without even asking her. "Anyway, I don't have all day, so next time, do our project a favor and don't be late."

"You know," she retorted, eyeing his unopened books sitting on the table once they reached it, "you could have done some work on your own. All you needed to do was copy the pages over."

Draco wanted to kick himself. He should have known she'd be mad. Her anger would make this all the more harder; if she riled him up, he'd blow it. Either that, or it would go unexpectedly well. Since he hadn't exactly chosen a side yet, he decided to play it casually by ear. He'd set up the bait and if she didn't take it tonight, then he had more time left. Or at least, he convinced himself that he did. He pushed down the urge to sneer, and instead, settled for an annoyed sigh. "But that's your job."

It came out more as a whine, and she chose to mimic him. "Then what do you plan to do tonight, hmm?"

Draco's mouth hung open. He didn't know how to reply.

"Cat got your tongue," she asked, smirking.

Did the conversation have to go back to cats? Well, I'll roll with it, Draco thought, processing a smart retort, but all that came to his mind turned out to be rather sexual, and he wasn't sure he dared go down that road yet. She was waiting for a response, so he bit his lip and smirked again. "Oh, I was thinking something only a twosome could manage..."

For a second, she looked confused, and then he watched her process his meaning. To his surprise, she slammed a large book shut, and grinned. "Not a threesome?" Her eyes batted innocently, and Draco secretly felt the urge to gag while something in him also stirred. He wanted to grab her and kiss her, and he had no idea why. His mind had gone blank with rational thought, and his mouth wanted to do anything but form words, so instead of stuttering, he grabbed the book from her hands.

"Don't tempt me, " he drawled, burying his face in the book. He heard her laugh then she planted herself into the seat across from him and dragged more books and scrolls from her bag. She kicked him a few times under the table, pretending to be having difficulty carrying the books up from her bag on the floor, but he kept to his reading, getting braver by the minute. Soon, he couldn't take any more of her teasing, and he handled it the best way he knew how: with more remarks. "Someone's a frisky kitty," he smirked, internally resenting the cat metaphor.

"Again with the cats?" Her remark agreed with his own mental disgust, and he instantly decided to speed this up.

The evening needed to go well, and based on their banter, it would go better than he planned. So, he dove head first into their assignment, copying as much as he could. They worked in near silence for two hours, exchanging nothing more than a few words when one asked the other for a book or a scroll, or to double check something they were scrawling all over the parchment in their hands. Finally, as the clock rang for 9:30, Draco set down his quill and stretched. His hand hurt, and his eyes were tired, but it was the kind of tired that he enjoyed. He felt accomplished, and based on the way Hermione had a smile at her lips, he could assume she was pleased as well.

"We're making excellent progress," she said, as she began to pack her things. "I'm sure this week we'll begin the brewing process."

"Oh? Are you sure," he asked.

"Oh yes! Aren't you glad we took the time to research how the first potions were made and such? It made the rest go so much faster."

Her bright smile filled her whole face with glowing happiness, and he couldn't help but catch it. "Easy for you to say, I did all the reading," he joked, packing away his things. Her eyes fell on him as she fell quiet, and he wondered what she was thinking. It was an interesting idea for him to be interested in someone else's thoughts, and it kind of scared him. He knew it meant he was getting too emotionally involved, and for his job, that wasn't a good thing. He didn't want to be doing this anymore, but he had no choice. But he felt guilty about feeding so much information into his mind for the sole sake of someone removing it for evil purposes; but he had nothing to save himself from it. So he did what any guy in his situation could do; he let the feelings in. He rationalized himself by assuring his mind that his heart would help him down the road, even if he knew it wasn't true. Sure, he'd get her to talk, but at what cost?

Perhaps it was the way Hermione looked in the moonlight coming through the windows, but as he walked her back towards the Gryffendor commons, Draco wanted to kiss her. Her hair glistened as the moonlight shined on it, and the darkness of the corridors made her long lashes look even blacker. He hadn't noticed at the start of the year, but more and more, she seemed to wear makeup. He loved the way she looked without just a little mascara curling her lashes and the palest hint of blush on her eyelids. It made her eyes look even larger, and now, they sparkled every time the light hit them. If he leaned in at any moment, he'd cross a line he couldn't recross. He'd be going somewhere into new territory that there would be no way out of. If he was going to do this, he'd have to do it soon; they were almost to the portrait. He knew he couldn't follow her any further, so he searched for something to stall the moment.

He was so scared to do this, but the corridor seemed deserted, so, he touched her elbow as she sped up. "Hey, hang on a minute."

She looked at him oddly, the wariness plain on her face. "What?"

"Look, I know this looks, and sounds weird, but just give me a second. I need to do something."

"Do something?"

As her eyebrow raised, Draco knew that had probably come out wrong. Still, he had to persevere; it was now or never. So, he looked down at her as she looked questioningly up at him, and took her chin in his hand as he leaned down to kiss her. When she didn't pull away the second his lips touched hers, he immediately felt relief wash through them. He pressed his lips softly to hers.

It was a chaste little kiss, unusual for him, but he had liked it nonetheless. It was meant to be that way. If he had done anything more, he probably would have scared her more than he had just managed to. She seemed frozen to the ground, staring up at him. Her utter shock was slowly morphing into confusion, so Draco chose now to be the time to run the other way. "Goodnight, Hermione, " he whispered while he was still in close proximity to her, and then turned on his heels and quickly walked away, leaving her right in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, her fingertips at her lips.

A/N: Okay so it's short, but its an update! Any suggestions?