There had only ever been a handful of times that Hermione found herself truly and utterly shocked; frightened plenty, angry some, but shocked…

Rarely.

She can honestly say she hadn't seen it coming; hadn't been able to quite process the words on the small parchment. Her heart had skipped a beat on every single syllable. Mortified, was what she felt, a state of complete paralysis for two and a half seconds, and then her head swivelled around to find the culprit who'd sent it to her.

Hermione caught Malfoy glancing away quickly, his lips pursed, his cheeks red — no doubt trying to stifle his laughter. Zabini and Nott both seemed innocent… far too innocent. She couldn't remember a time when they'd looked so interested in what Slughorn had to say. Turning her eyes back to the front of class she hoped for the flush to leave her cheeks so they wouldn't see how much their words had affected her.

Unfortunately, Luna had noticed Hermione's agitation, the way she'd started squirming in her seat wishing to leave. She slid the note on the desk toward her friend who leaned in to read it. Luna's gentle eyes lifted, questioningly. She jerked her head to the left to Malfoy, her hair jerking with her. Luna looked toward him, her expression reproachful. Then Hermione flicked her quill to the back to where Nott and Zabini were sitting.

"Was probably Blaise's idea," said Luna softly. "Remember what Susan told us? They're not worth it, don't worry."

Hermione's indignation rose as she remembered the lewd comment Blaise had whispered in Susan Bone's ear during the Yule Ball. With as much self-restraint as she could muster she folded the paper and slipped it into her back pocket. She wouldn't hex them, but she was feeling vindictive enough to turn the note in to McGonagall. Let the three Slytherins answer to the Headmaster.

Taking a deep breath she tried concentrating on the rest of the lesson, but her eyes kept darting back to Malfoy who kept stealing glances at her, prolonging her discomfort. Her fingers itched to grab her wand but Luna was right. They weren't worth it, especially not Malfoy. She'd barely deigned to so much as look at him since their arrival at Hogwarts; uncaring and unbothered by his presence. But she'd admit — the note had bothered her. She wished it had said something expected, a generic insult, a cruel joke… but instead, it sexualized her. It made her feel small in a way Hermione had never felt before, not even when she'd been called a Mudblood. It reminded her that not only was she a Muggle-born, but that she was also a girl.

So when Malfoy had found her later in the afternoon at the back of the library, she'd braced herself for a smirk, a witty barb but his timid and almost vulnerable tone as he'd asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him had jarred her… more than the note, more than any crude remark or insult.

Hermione felt the full force of her anger for having even asked her. The incredulity of why he believed she would want to have anything to do with him after his aunt had tortured her on their drawing room floor made her seethe.

She'd lost her temper and she didn't care. Malfoy deserved the handprint on his cheek, he deserved her animosity but what she was also sure of was that he had not been the one to kill Collin Creevey; so it was strange and sad when he suddenly claimed he hadn't. And there was something devastatingly desperate in his eyes as though the castle would catch fire if no one believed him.

Sighing she sank onto her soft bed; the girls' dormitory dark and still. As always, she'd come in late, studying in the library till closing time as to avoid returning to an empty room. Ginny was on her way to becoming a famous Quidditch player, Parvati had decided to stay with Padma this year in the Ravenclaw dormitories and Lavender… Hermione had been too late to save her.

Cradling her head in her hands Hermione shut those dark thoughts away; the ones that threatened to haunt her in the night. Instead, she opened the drawer of her bedside table. It was also empty save for a letter. This piece of correspondence she'd received yesterday by owl, and it didn't hold a single vulgar comment, yet it had devastated her.

Hermione blinked down at it wondering why she had kept it and that she really ought to have balled it in her fist and set fire to the damn thing. But the devastation she felt was numbing. There was no anger behind it, only unbound disappointment.

Her disappointment began when she learned that the oblivate she'd cast on her parents could not be corrected by a simple reversal charm. It had worsened when Harry and Ron had decided not to return to Hogwarts with her to complete their N.E.W.T's. All three had been invited to join the Auror Program. Hermione had been alone in turning it down. And now…

Now she was single again. Only just when she'd started to feel that things could return to normal, he'd pulled the rug from under her. Despite what Ron had said in the letter, it was obvious what the true reason was for their break up…

Hermione shut the drawer closed with a sharp bang. She bent down hauling her heavy school bag onto the duvet. Her hand dove in search of the only thing that seemed to comfort her these days but it came out empty-handed. She frowned to herself wondering if she'd left it in the library but distinctly remembered taking everything when she'd finally cooled down and returned to her table. Hermione took a moment to retrace her steps. She'd definitely had it with her during lunch; she'd read a little and placed it back in her bag. Then she'd attended her classes as usual and headed to the library during free period, so…

Her eyes pressed shut in realization.

Malfoy.

Draco-bloody-Malfoy. Merlin, how she hated him — and she never had before, had always pitied him, but he'd taken her book — her book — the only one that mattered to her anymore. A strange strangled sound choked from her throat declaring war. Grabbing her wand, she jumped out of bed. As she marched out of the common room, her feet cold and bare, her frustration rose with each step; all the way out of Gryffindor tower, down the moving stairs and into the dungeons, that when she finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, she was fuming.

Hermione had been so angry that it hadn't occurred to her what she'd do once she'd got there, or that it was after hours, that she wasn't wearing shoes, that she was clad in her nightdress, and more importantly, didn't know the password. Practically huffing, her angry expression directed toward the bare stretch of stone wall, she started spitting out words, guessing at random.

"Mudblood — pureblood — ferret — obnoxious — evil twats!" She banged her closed fists onto the stone, hurting herself more than the wall. "Snakes — prejudice arse—!" Her eyes blinked with disbelief as the wall made a grinding sound as though waking up. The stones shifted, much like the wall in Diagon alley, and the hole widened till it became a door large enough for two to step through. Hermione peered in, her eyes taking in the room before her. It had nothing of the warm comforting welcome that Gryffindor tower had. It was all emerald green and eerie shadows. One side of the room was all glass, the lake's water too green and too dark to clearly see what was on the other side. A fireplace far opposite, plush armchairs, mahogany wood, and expensive-looking, frivolous things and…

"How did you get in here?"

Hermione startled whipping around, her wand out and her other hand to her heart to still the sudden terror that had seized her. Theodore Nott was seated in one of the large armchairs reading a tome. He was smirking, looking mildly amused. She wasn't certain if it was safe to lower her wand or not; she was in enemy territory after all.

"Password is prejudice, is it not?"

Nott closed the tome slowly, his smile fading. "Yes," he conceded, "but how do you know?"

"Would you believe me if I said I guessed it?"

He stared at her, his expression blank and unreadable. "I suppose not," he drawled. "Not that I really care, just curious is all. Why are you here?"

Lowering her wand, she told him, "I'm looking for Malfoy."

His eyebrows rose. "Oh." He sucked his cheeks in. "I think I know what this is about," he sighed coming to stand. "Give me a minute." Hermione watched him descend a staircase that was half-obscured by a plush velvet emerald curtain. Had she not seen Nott go down them, she wouldn't have noticed it there. She waited, trying to stay composed but the spooky waters behind the glass coupled with the cold damp in the dungeons made the hairs on her arm stand up. Her anger had faded a little and she realized, with some measure of embarrassment, that her nipples had grown hard too. Using her wand, she quickly cast a warming charm, wrapping her arms around her. Just get the book, and get out, she told herself.

A moment or two later, she heard soft footfalls and quiet murmurs on the stairs. Nott emerged first but it wasn't Malfoy who followed.

"Not Zabini," she huffed, fighting the urge to stamp her foot. "Go get Malfoy."

"Malfoy's asleep," grumbled Zabini, "as was I. Now listen, Granger, I'll make this quick, if you've come to pick a fight with him about that note. Well…" Zabini paused, gulping, "well it obviously wasn't meant for you. So just forget about it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on the two Slytherins before her. "You're lying. I know it was you three, but that's not—"

"Oh come on!" scoffed Zabini running his hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. "You don't think we consider you…" He looked to Nott as if asking for help. Theo cleared his throat, his eyes brightening with comprehension.

"Right," drawled Nott, sharing a look with his friend. "It's nothing about you being a Muggle-born or anything, it's just… the note was meant for Luna—"

"Obviously! Bad decorum and all that, our apologies. I've sort of had a mad crush on her for a while."

She blinked in response, looking to each of them. "That's not really why I'm—"

"Suppose you just wanted to believe the note was meant for you," interrupted Zabini gently. "What with all that bad business between you and Weasley. Bit of flattery always cushions the ego—"

"No matter how crass."

Her eyebrows drew together. They couldn't possibly know, not even her own friends knew, it was impossible. She'd only received the letter yesterday. "Bad business, between Ron and I? I don't…" She cleared her throat. "Don't know what you mean."

Zabini shrugged. "Sure, you know. He broke it off with you, didn't he?"

Her jaw tightened as her stomach roiled, suddenly feeling sick but she managed to keep her composure. "And what makes you think that?" she asked calmly.

"Well isn't Weasley with Potter over at the Ministry of Magic doing his training to become an Auror?"

"That's right."

Nott cleared his throat, his hand coming gently to Hermione's arm guiding her over to a large armchair by the fireplace. She sat down, feeling a little numb. A drink was being pushed into her hand. Looking up, she saw that Zabini had conjured up three fire whiskeys, one for each of them.

"I got a cousin who works at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He's seen Weasley over there with another Auror, looking quite comfy, so I just assumed… didn't know it was a secret."

Hermione gave them weak shrug, her chest tightening. "We weren't together-together," she offered feebly, taking a gulp of the drink. "Not really." The alcohol burned her throat.

"Ask me, he did you a favour," laughed Nott. "Don't know why a witch like you would ever go for a bloke like him. Right, mate?"

Nott gave Zabini a nudge. "Right! Honestly speaking, I bet you could probably get whichever wizard you wanted. You're drop-dead gorgeous."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief looking up at the two of them hovering over her. "I — er — thanks," she blushed, taking another sip of her drink. "I think." Despite it coming from an unexpected place — from Slytherins no less — the compliment from two handsome wizards felt more than comforting.

"Probably not any wizard," added Nott abruptly, directing his statement to Zabini rather than to her. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Zabini turned to face Nott, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "What?" he challenged. "Krum took a fancy to her. McLaggen too. Both eligible bachelors, aren't they mate?"

"I'm not denying that Granger is gorgeous, but she can't get her hands on any wizard she wants to have."

"Care to make a wager?" Zabini smirked cocking his eyebrow.

Nott returned the smug smile. "Well, if Granger's up for it." They both turned back to face her. "Come on Granger, what say you?"

She blinked, her mouth falling open again for the second time that night; and for the first time in her life, she felt stupid, downright dumb. "I really don't understand what you're asking me. I just came to get my book."

Zabini rubbed his chin in thought. "You drive a hard bargain Granger, but I'll tell you what, if you win, I'll give you funding for the elves, Spiv isn't it?"

"And I'll help you pass that creatures bill you've been working on," added Nott enthusiastically.

Hermione jumped to her feet, feeling a little dizzy. "Wait — really, you would do that, the both of you? I didn't even think… I didn't think you liked me."

Zabini waved her comment away as if it was ridiculous.

Nott shrugged. "Like I said, I have a cousin in that department. He knows all about you and the work you do. You're one hell of a witch, you'd think with Voldemort dead you'd take a breather, but not you eh Granger? You got right to work."

"And I got plenty of galleons, Granger. You win and I'll write you a blank cheque."

Something within her was stirring. Perhaps it was her confidence and self-worth, two things Ron's letter had stripped her of. Or it was much more than that… it was the idea of her dream within close grasp, close enough for her fingers to reach out and touch it.

Hermione smiled beaming. "What do I have to do exactly?"

"Well Zabini here," said Nott, pointing with his glass, "thinks you can land any bloke in Wizarding Britain while I disagree. You merely have to help us settle an argument."

"So what do I have to do?" she pressed.

Zabini looked to Nott. "Will a simple kiss suffice?"

"Yes," he answered, his eyes lighting up. "A kiss at the Christmas Ball."

"So all I have to do is get a wizard to kiss me at the Christmas Ball?"

The Slytherins nodded eagerly. "A wizard of Nott's choosing. It's quite simple really. If you win, then I win my wager and we'll help you with your bill and Spiv."

"It's S.P.E.W, Society for the — oh, never mind, it doesn't matter, I'll do it. A date," she laughed nervously. "A date and a kiss at the Christmas Ball. That sounds easy enough."

Zabini raised his glass, Nott following. "A toast," he drawled. Hermione raised hers too, euphoric with the prospect of finally making a difference in the world, helping others and promoting creature rights. Her head was filled with possibilities… and to think her day had started off horribly and to have it end on such an unexpected note. She was ecstatic. "To all the things we can achieve when we work together," he grinned.

"Cheers!"

The boys drained their glasses, looking quite pleased with themselves. Hermione took a generous gulp but placed the balance on a table nearby. Nott proposed a handshake between the three of them to seal the deal. Hermione offered her hand quickly. The worst that could happen was that she lost the bet and her ego was bruised by being unable to find herself a date. It's not as if she had high stakes in this; the two Slytherins had much more to lose.

"So," grinned Zabini once they released hands. "Who's the wizard you have in mind?"

Nott sighed, taking his time to choose. Hermione was frantically thinking through the potentials; there was Dean, Michael, Neville, Seamus, Marcus —

"Draco," he said suddenly. "I choose Draco."