Hermione Granger had agrivated Draco Malfoy from the very first class they had together. She sat all the way toward the front and raised her arm to answer every question posed before the professor could finish asking it. She was irritating, common, annoying, and always managed to earn higher marks than Draco. It wasn't until second year, after living through a summer of his father's disapproving glares and criticism, did he finally have something to use against her.

He smirked triumphantly as the fire left her eyes when he called her a mudblood for the very first time. Even her heroic friends were unable to take that sting away. It would be the only weapon he really had for years to come. He wasn't a better spell caster in any area. And even now, six years later, she still brewed the best potions (save for the fluke Potter was the year before).

Draco had always been second to her, and how she had found him that night, asleep and vulnerable, only chalked up to another example of her superiority.

By the time he and Pansy had returned to the dungeons, quietly agreeing to never buy another Weasley Wizard Weezes product, Draco had suppressed his embarrassment. Along with it, he forced the new memory of the bushy haired witch standing over him and docking points to the recesses of his mind. All that remained was a need for revenge.

Both of their lusty desires significantly diminished, he and Pansy had bid each other good night and went to their respective dorms. Draco tossed about in his bed, still mulling over Granger and how he might go about setting her mane of hair on fire when he finally drifted off. He fully expected his dreams to continue along the lines of his plotting, but they took a sudden turn for the worse after catching her alone in the dungeons.

Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps fate or karma, but Draco steps out of the Slytherin common room just in time to see Hermione round a corner at the end of the corridor. There is nothing but empty classrooms and cluttered store cupboards down there. Excited to catch her up to no good for once, Draco takes up the chase.

His feet move silently while Hermione's dainty ones pitter-patter along, seemingly leaving him a trail to follow. She gives no sign that she knows he is nearby and simply wanders for the sake of exploring.

Every once in a while she stops, opens a door, peers inside, shakes her head, and then keeps moving. Eventually Draco closes the large distance that had been between them.

"What are you after, Granger?" He finally asks. Gone is his desire to embarrass or hurt her. Now, he is just damn curious of her behavior.

Hermione turns to look at him and smiles, clearly not at all disturbed by Draco's sudden presence. He sees her many white, straight teeth and recalls that he is the cause of that slight improvement.

"Draco…" The sound of his name on her lips is both exciting and soothing. He feels his temperature rise despite the chill of the stone dungeons. He is so confused in that moment that he doesn't notice her step closer. Her hands find the edge of his shirt and lift it slowly.

"Don't touch me!" he warns, knowing that that there is clearly something wrong. Perhaps she is bewitched. Had Pansy done this, or someone else as a sick joke?

Hermione doesn't listen. Instead her fingers trail along the top of his pants until they find the front. In one swift movement his trousers are unbuttoned, unzipped, and falling to his ankles. All the while they stare and one another; her face serene and relaxed as though this happens every day; Draco's confused. But he seems unable to control his own body anymore. He stands terrified with the realization that he can't make his legs flee or his suddenly erect penis return to its previous position.

Taking advantage of both, Hermione sinks smoothly to her knees. Draco's voice abandons him. Her face moves slowly closer, and Draco can't help but anticipate the feeling of her small pink lips.

She's less than an inch away; he can feel her warm breath on the tip. From her position, she looks up. Her eyes, shining and filled with lust, bore into Draco's, startling him awake…

For all the emotions of hatred and embarrassment he had ever felt toward or because of that Gryffindor, it was nothing compared to the humiliation he faced when he woke up. None of his dorm mates were the wiser, but a sickening feeling pooled in his stomach. It had only been a dream, but for those brief moments of fantasy, he had actually found the witch attractive. His face suddenly contorted with rage and he threw back his bedding. If plotting his revenge against Granger was going to cause her to flit through his dreams, he'd be damned if he even thought of her again.

Pansy's dreams also featured a certain bookworm. What had started out as a cat fight in a corridor resulted in the two snogging against the closest wall.

Pansy is mystified and, shocking herself, pleased to discover Granger's sudden interest in women, specifically her. Pansy knows the stream of taunts that will surely come her way if they are caught. Her arms refuse to push the Gryffindor away though.

"Pansy…"

Hermione's voice isn't mocking or full of anger. The light breathiness of it sends chills down the Slytherin's back and causes her to get a firmer grip of Hermione's bottom and pull her close. The cotton fabric isn't thick enough to keep in the heat of their bodies but it's a barrier that irritates both women. Hermione backs up with her eyes on Pansy's chest. She has only a moment to wonder what Hermione's next move will be before her shirt is torn open. Three buttons fly away and bounce on the floor.

Hermione's hands flatten on Pansy's tummy and glide up over the bra before digging in for their prizes. The malleable flesh spills over the lacy garment and thumbs brush against tightened buds; Pansy's head falls back when Hermione's mouth latches on to the left breast.

A low sound rolls out from the heavy depths of Pansy's throat as her hands cling to the surprisingly soft hair that she had always hated. It is unexpectedly soft and Pansy is lost in the mixture of its gentleness and Hermione's greedy mouth. She glances down and her eyes lock on to the dark and excited twin orbs of Grangers…

Startled, Pansy sat upright in her bed, her silk nightie rose and fell with her heaving chest that seemed a world too small for her erratic heart. The thrill of the dream melted into terror and, eventually, disgust. She looked around at her bed and found a dark imprint of her body where sweat had seeped into the sheets.

Staying quiet for a moment, she strained her ears to discover if anyone had heard her; either her sudden awakening or anything that may have slipped out of her mouth during her dream. Nightmare! she told herself firmly, partially relieved to hear nothing but the heavy snores of her fellow seventh years.

Taking a deep breath, Pansy fell back into her bedding, which were once again inviting when she noticed how cold the room actually was. She kept her eyelids closed and determinedly thought of only Slytherin males until she knew it was about time for the sun to come up. Once an alarm went off on the far side of the room, she quickly threw back her blankets, gathered a clean uniform, and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She would behave as if her mind had never become a perverse traitor in the night, and she certainly would never tell a soul.