(A/N: Hello again. This chapter may not be as good as I wanted it to be, but please read, review, and enjoy!)

Chapter 2: Confessions and Deep Treble

It's been almost two months since Draco Malfoy started crushing on Granger. Every day he would try to overcome these feelings by practicing Quidditch, reading books in the Malfoy Manor library, dating other girls, singing and playing his guitar, and going on vacations; but when he did these activities, his thoughts always went back to Hermione Granger.

After he came back from vacation, he stormed into his room and slammed his door shut. He took one look around his room and mentally said, It's good to be home. His room was both luxurious and spacious. The walls of his room were black, which adorned Slytherin house posters and Quidditch banners. The king-sized bed was covered in silky green and silver sheets and had six pillows. To the left of his bed was his black wooden desk, which had five drawers. The top of his desk had nothing but a quill holder and a copy of The Standard Book of Spells.

He set the trunk he had been carrying on his silk, black bed and without unpacking his belongings, began to pace his room.

"What the fuck is happening to me, I'm crushing on mudbloods. To make it even worse, it's Pothead and Weasel's mudblood," Malfoy emitted, pacing his luxurious room. The blond wizard hoped that the echoing sounds of his footsteps would help him think, but so far he had nothing. "I need to get over this stupid crush."

After ten minutes of pacing, Draco came up with a solution. "I'll seek the advice of an expert on these things," he resolved, dashing for his desk. The Slytherin Prince pulled out a fresh piece of parchment from one of the drawers of the desk and took the quill from its holder.

He began to write when he realized the quill had no ink. The pureblooded wizard reached into his black suit, pulled out his wand, and called, "Accio ink." Without delay, an ink pot found its way into Draco's hand.

Dear Blaise,

How's your summer so far? I'm sorry to bother you during holiday, but I need to confide in you about an issue that came up very suddenly. When I arrived at King's Cross Station after the end of the term, I was watching Granger from a distance and I felt something in my stomach. I think I'm starting to fancy the Mudblood. I need your help. Get over here, quickly. Use the Floo Network and I'll explain everything when you get here.

Your best mate,

Draco Malfoy

With the letter signed and sealed, Draco called for his owl. Seconds later, his owl flew through his window and landed on top of his desk.

"Horus, I need you to take this to Blaise Zabini, please," commanded Malfoy in a subjunctive tone.

Horus pecked Draco's hand affectionately and allowed his owner to tie the letter onto its leg. He gave an owl treat to Horus and watched him fly out of the window.

After his owl left, Draco went to the foot of his bed and sat down staring straight ahead at the fireplace.

"I hope you have been practicing your music, ladies because today is the start of choreography," voiced the choir director.

"Aren't you guys excited? We're finally piecing the performance together," squealed Hermione. The intelligent witch never thought she would be ecstatic over something other than reading.

"I guess, but aren't you more excited about your solo," asked Rachel, beaming at Hermione.

"Speaking of your solo, did you decide on your song? I'm dying to know what it is. Please tell us the song you're going to be singing," begged Giselle, with the puppy dog eyes.

Hermione never understood how people could give into such a childish expression. Being the headstrong girl that she was, she stood her ground and said, "I'm sorry, ladies, but I will not be revealing my song choice to anyone aside from the director before the concert," the witch laughed. "So you guys are going to have to wait." The bookworm mentally laughed maniacally. It was all in good fun.

"Alright ladies, meet your choreographer for this concert, Mr. Marc Anthony Chasez. This young man choreographed for many of the show choirs in the United Kingdom and up and down the Eastern Seaboard of the United States," boomed the voice of the director.

The entire choir took the time to take in of Marc Anthony's appearance. The man before them looked to be in his early twenties. He had a tan complexion with a face of a model. His face was made up with big, green, almond-shaped eyes, a flat nose, and a smolder that could make any girl's knees feel like jelly. The hair that inhabited his head was black and not very short as it was styled into a mohawk. The choreographer wore a white V-neck shirt with a black leather jacket over it and wore harem styled pants which were baggy on the thighs and became skinnier from the knees down. As expected from an all-girl choir, each girl stood dumbfounded staring at his good looks.

"Oi, ladies, I think my knickers have just disintegrated," whispered Giselle, with a lustful smirk. Hermione and Rachel giggled like school girls. The soft giggles of the teenage girls caught the attention of Marc Anthony. He winked at the giggling trio and turned his attention to the entire choir.

"Hello, ladies. Now before we begin, you guys can call me Marc Anthony or Marc; Mr. Chasez makes me feel old. I understand this is the intermediate all-girl choir, right," asked Marc. The entire choir snapped out of their daydreams and nodded in response. Then Marc Anthony turned to the choir director and asked, "How many girls are in the choir?"

"About 35," answered the director.

"Alright, I think I can work with that," guessed Marc. "Ladies, we are going to work on the 1963 hit 'I Only Want to be With You, by Dusty Springfield today. Why don't you ladies start stretching while I explain how I see this number."

The girls spread out from one another and each did their own individual stretches. Marc Anthony took off his leather jacket, tossed it aside, and commenced advocating his idea. "So this song is about an obsessive, desperate girl; she does not want to break up with her boyfriend. Every day, she tries to convince him to stay with her. So when their relationship finally ends she pretends they are still boyfriend and girlfriend by talking to a picture of the boy. With me so far," questioned Marc. The girls nodded in confirmation. With that, he continued, "For this song, you guys will be singing to a picture of any guy your pretty, little hearts' desire."

All the girls screamed as loud as a bullhorn to which the choreographer took as a sign of excitement. He loved the girls' enthusiasm and couldn't wait to start working with the girls. The choir director only smiled, nothing made her happier than a choir that was truly excited over choreographing a song.

"Oi, the lot o' ya, get your butts moving and grab a bunch of choral boxes, we got work to do," ordered Marc.

After what felt like an eternity, Blaise finally emerged from Draco's fireplace looking disheveled. The tan Italian's button-up shirt wasn't properly buttoned. The zipper of his pants was completely down. His lips were bruised as if he had been snogging someone. Zabini's hair on his head was sticking up in about eleven different directions. The blond-headed Slytherin stood up from his bed and put a silencing charm around his room to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"What's going on, mate," greeted Blaise.

When Malfoy took one look at the tanned Italian's appearance and couldn't help but smirk. "Have I interrupted one of your amorous conquests," Draco joked, waggling his eyebrows.

"As a matter a fact, you did. Mind you, she was pretty terrible. Thanks for interrupting, mate," sighed Blaise with a slight smile.

"Was she as bad as Pansy?"

"Worse," drawled Blaise. "I didn't think that was possible. Anyway, what's wrong?"

Draco's face contorted into a demeanor of disgust and shivered. Like his best friend, he did not think anyone can be as bad as Pansy in bed. "I'm crushing on the Mudblood, Granger. I need your help with getting over this crush. I'm a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't associate with Mudbloods let alone crush on them," raged Malfoy.

"Don't tell me you still believe in the 'muggleborns are filthier than the dirt beneath my shoes' crap," the Italian wizard wearied.

"I don't. I was only saying all that rubbish so my father thought I was still trying to uphold the family reputation with the Dark Lord," the blond acknowledged.

"Well, I don't think this is a big issue. Voldemort is dead. Your father is in Azkaban, never to see the light of day again and your mother would care if she's muggleborn. Unlike Lucius, she has a heart. So I really don't see what the problem is," said Blaise with a stern tone, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"I'm afraid if he finds out about this, he's going to find a way out of that hell hole and hurt her. She's been through enough with her crappy home life, the messed up shit with Voldemort, and the things I've done to her over the years. She doesn't need to get hurt because of me anymore. I'm done causing her pain," agonized Draco. The Slytherin sat back down on his bed, lowered his head onto his pale hands.

Sensing his best friend's distress, Blaise walked over to where Draco was sitting on the bed and placed his hand on his shoulder, hoping to console him. "I assure you, that arsehole will not find out, and he will definitely not escape. For once, stop worrying about Lucius; you've been living under his authoritarian chokehold long enough. Now that he's gone, go and enjoy life." comforted Zabini.

Blaise's words of wisdom comforted Draco. He stood up, looked at his friend in the eye, and thanked him. "Thanks, mate. I guess you're right. I'll start by being civil to Granger. You're the best friend any bloke could have." Draco's mouth formed into a genuine smile, as opposed to the smirk he was known for.

Blaise was glad he helped out his fellow Slytherin, and for that, he beamed. "No problem, Dray. Owl me or visit by Floo. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to kick out the daft bint in my house," said Blaise. The tan Slytherin stepped into Draco's fireplace, grabbed Floo powder, called out his home address, and disappeared behind the green flames.

For once in his life, Draco was content. He walked to his bathroom next to the fireplace, took a shower, brushed his teeth, and went to bed with a smile on his face.

"Good rehearsal today, ladies. Remember to practice your motions and keep in mind your positions throughout the dance. You guys sound ACA-AWESOME," Marc sang out. "Oh and don't forget to choose a picture of a guy, frame it, and bring it on Friday. 'Til next time, ladies." Marc Anthony put on his leather jacket and exited from the choir room.

While the girls were gathering their belongings the choir director stood at the front of the room and made an announcement. "Okay, girls, good work today. Next rehearsal there will be a seamstress who will get everyone's measurements for the dresses so don't skip practice," warned the choir director. "See you guys on Wednesday."

Hermione checked her watch and saw that she had some time to kill before her 11:30 curfew. "Hey, do you guys want to hang out, we can go to the mall and go out to eat," asked Hermione.

"I'm available," Giselle responded.

"Me too," added Rachel.

"Great, let's go!" declared Hermione. "We'll take my car." The girls dashed to the Gryffindor's car with Hermione in the driver's seat, Rachel in the passenger seat, and Giselle in the back. Hermione started the car, back out of the parking lot, and drove away. "Any idea of what shops you guys want to go to?"

"Anywhere as long as we check out Forever 21 and H&M," answered Giselle from the back of the car.

"Turn up the radio, it's too quiet in here," shouted Rachel.

Hermione turned on the radio and flipped channels until she found a song she liked. Much to her delight, the song just started. Soon Hermione's car was filled with the melodious voice of Ariana Grande singing "The Way."

"Holy shit, I love this song," Giselle blurted, swaying to the beat of the song.

"Me, too. Do you guys fancy harmonizing with dear sweet Ariana," inquired Rachel.

"Fuck yeah," shouted Giselle.

Hermione shook her head at her friends, but she couldn't help but smile. "If you guys are up for it, then why not," she giggled. The girls split into three singing parts to make the song sound much more riveting.

When the girls finished singing, they arrived at the mall. Hermione parked her car in the mall's parking lot and exited her car, along with Giselle and Rachel, and started walking towards the entrance.

"So what do you guys think of Marc," asked Hermione.

"Oh sweet Jesus he is so fucking hot," Rachel admitted with a gleam in her eye and a goofy grin on her face, which quickly changed into a libidinous smirk. "Do you think he's seeing anyone?"

"I hope he isn't," Giselle said with a look of hope.

Hermione giggled at the way her friends were conversing about their choreographer. "I was hoping to hear an answer regarding choreography. To answer your question, Rachel, I think he is seeing someone."

Rachel stopped walking and looked Hermione in the eye. "Are you trying to kill my dream of finding a good-looking bloke," Rachel asked with a stoic expression, clearly trying to make a joke.

The intelligent witch found her friends' antics hilarious and returned the look with an amused smirk on her face, causing both girls to laugh. The three friends continued walking and eventually walked into Forever 21.

"Thank goodness the place isn't crowded," sighed Giselle. "Let's look around together." Rachel and Hermione both nodded in agreement.

The three singers started made their way around the store. Subsequent to walking around the store, Rachel found a black bandeau, a blue denim jacket, and a ganado printed romper with a belt. Giselle found a striped sweater, a pair of aviators, and varsity letterman jacket. Unlike her friends, the feisty Gryffindor found nothing that sparked her interest. Giselle and Rachel shook their heads in disbelief, shocked that a girl like Hermione couldn't possibly find something that complemented her bubbly personality or her gorgeous face.

"Tsk tsk tsk. 'Mione do you not see the cute clothes right in front of you," questioned Rachel, gesturing to the clothes on the racks. "Come with us, we'll help you find something," she said, grasping Hermione's hand and leading her away.

Giselle and Rachel piled on the clothes that looked stunning into Hermione's arms until the pile resembled a mountain. After selecting the clothes, they made the insecure Gryffindor try on every article of clothing they picked out and wouldn't let her leave the store until she tried on everything they gave her, much to her dismay. After trying on a multitude of dresses, skirts, shorts, tank tops, she was really amazed that she found some of the clothes really elegant. After trying on the clothes, she decided to purchase the denim high-waisted shorts, a black high to low skirt, and a black floral dress with a braided belt.

The girls paid for their clothes and decided to go out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant, skipping H&M. Forcing Hermione to try on the clothes taken longer than the girls intended. Throughout dinner, the three friends conversed about the upcoming concert, the songs they've been working on, and of course, Marc Antony.

When the dinner ended. Hermione dropped off her friends at the choir facility's parking lot.

"Drive safely, guys. See you on Wednesday," called out Hermione as she drove away.

She checked the clock in her car. It read 11:14. Good, I still have time to get home, she said to herself. The witch drove her car on the vacant roads lit up by street lamps. She reached her driveway and got out of her car. Before locking the car, Hermione retrieved her shopping bag from the trunk. The brunette looked up at the house and noticed that the lights were off, mentally preparing herself for making as little noise as possible.

Hermione unlocked the front door, walked inside, and shut the door very silently. Suddenly, she heard a noise stir in the living room. Upon hearing the voice, she froze.

"And where the fuck have you been," drawled Mr. Granger maliciously, holding a bottle of whiskey.