Draco's heart was still beating furiously, long after Hermione had stormed out. As he stared at the closed door, the madness that had overcome him slowly faded, leaving nothing but a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. What he had said to her, what he had done, what he had confessed… He couldn't recognise his actions as his own, couldn't fathom what drove him to it. He realised with horror that he was filled with that all-too-familiar emotion… regret. Draco closed his eyes seeing Hermione's almond brown ones brimming with tears. Without wasting another moment he made for the door to go after her giving little thought to what he would say to excuse his actions.

But he never made it outside the room because as soon as he'd swung the door open, he was being shoved back inside.

"Well, well, well," chuckled Finnigan. "Look who we have here. We have a snake hiding out in his hole."

Thomas who was beside him didn't seem the least bit amused. "What were you doing with Hermione?" he demanded, concern written over his face.

Draco remained silent. What was he doing with her? He didn't know anymore. The two Gryffindor intruders assumed his lack of response was his way of being insolent rather than his own uncertainty. Finnigan grabbed him by his neck.

"I believe my friend asked you a question."

The threat of being pummelled was apparent but Draco's fear of a beating had been replaced by something far more dangerous; the feeling that he deserved one.

"Why don't you ask her?" he deflected. "She's the one who dragged me down here."

Finnigan's grip around his neck tightened. "Liar!" he hissed, his distance intimately close. "We've seen you, Malfoy," said Thomas from behind. "We've seen you watching her."

And suddenly Draco felt naked, exposed, till Finnigan added, "Looking to kill one last 'Mudblood' before going back to Azkaban, are you?"

Draco let out a small chuckle that grew louder as he thought about how ridiculous it all was. Thomas and Finnigan both looked like they wanted to beat Draco within an inch of his life but all Draco could do was laugh in relief. He'd rather them believe he wanted to kill Hermione than confess his hunger and muddled feelings toward her.

Finnigan's fingers dug into Draco's neck. "What the bloody hell is so funny?" he challenged angrily.

Draco gave a dark chuckle. "Me... I am." And he continued to laugh - hysterically. Because everyone else understood the way things were supposed to be. He was a Death Eater, not by force, but by choice. He'd taken the Dark Mark gladly. He'd been filled with pride, with a sense of purpose and importance. And look at him now… pining after the same Mudblood that had helped bring the regime he'd once belonged to, crashing down.

Finnigan shoved Draco back, finally putting an end to his laughter. And then Finnigan sucker-punched him.

Draco held his finger to his lip where it had split, searching for the same euphoric calm he'd felt when Hermione had cut him. It never came… "You know what," he murmured.

"Let me guess," spat Finnigan, "your father will hear about this."

Draco licked the blood off his lip. "Actually—" He charged Finnigan, throwing all his weight and wordless magic into the other boy, slamming him against the wall, his body making an awful thud sound. Thomas drew his wand but Draco swung fast and hard striking him square on the cheek before a spell could leave his lips. The Gryffindor fell with a heavy thump on the floor. In a furious rage, Draco kicked him in the ribs, again and again. "Don't. Ever. Bloody. Touch. Me." He shouted in between kicks while Thomas had his arms wrapped protectively around him. At some point Finnigan must've recovered because strong arms were grabbing Draco, pulling him back.

Draco swivelled around, his eyes frantic and wild.

"Stop it!" bellowed Theo, his hands holding him tightly. "That's enough."

Draco's breathing calmed as he realised who it was holding him and he brusquely shrugged Theo off.

"Get the hell out of here!" growled Theo to Thomas, "And take that wanker with you."

His friend pushed him out of the room, leaving Thomas and Finnigan to lick their wounds. Looking at him strangely, he began, "Draco, you okay mate?"

"Did you or did you not try to make a bet with Granger?" Draco asked abruptly.

Theo was taken aback. "Look," he tried explaining, "it wasn't my idea. We just thought—"

Draco stepped forward, his eyes cold as stone. "You're going to step down as Head Boy and recommend me instead."

"What?" exclaimed Theo looking affronted. "What's my being Head Boy got to do with anything?"

"I said do it." He snapped back.

Theo must've been too perturbed by what he'd just witnessed Draco do because he conceded quickly.

"Fine," he shrugged. "I don't give a fig about being Head Boy anyway, but why do you want it?"

Draco never gave Theo an answer.

Hermione had dropped her bag in her rush to get to Professor McGonagall's office. She'd received her Patronus in the middle of eating her lunch saying it was important that she report to her office immediately. Anxiously, Hermione stepped past the gargoyle, her cheeks flushed from running over. "Headmistress, you—" She stopped in her tracks when she saw a shock of blonde hair. Malfoy was sitting in the chair opposite Professor McGonagall's desk. Her eyes swung from Draco to the Professor beginning to fear the reason she'd been summoned. " –wanted to see me?" she finished.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, her tone clipped. "Mr. Malfoy's informed me of recent events. Suffice it to say, I'm a little concerned."

Hermione looked at Malfoy, filled with dread. His eyes gazed into hers, a silent threat veiled behind his stone grey irises. "Do you want to tell her," he said smoothly, "Or should I?"

She felt her throat bob. If McGonagall found out what she had done — attacked a student — she would be stripped of her title as Head girl, or worse… be expelled. Hermione opened her mouth to apologise for her behaviour. "Professor… I… well, you see—"

Malfoy chuckled; a conniving twinkle in his eye. "I think it's best I explain. Granger and I have agreed on a theme for the Christmas Ball. We'll be working on it together and have everything covered. No need to worry Headmistress."

"Oh good," said McGonagall. "Crisis averted then. I was a bit worried when Mr. Nott told me he was unable to carry out his Head Boy duties any longer but it's nice of you to have volunteered to step in Mr. Malfoy, especially at such short notice."

Hermione's mouth fell open a little. "The Christmas Ball," she murmured absently. No, no, no. "But Professor McGonagall—"

"I know, I know, there's a lot of work to do," sighed Malfoy getting up from his seat. "The food, the decorations, but I think we can cut it," he gave her another piercing glare, "don't you, Hermione?"

Hermione plastered a fake smile on her face and beamed back at him. "If anyone knows how to accessorize, it's you Malfoy."

He smirked at her. "Well let's just say I have an eye for beautiful things."

Her smile slipped a little before tittering out a fake laugh.

"Splendid," said Professor McGonagall with a tight smile. "If all goes well Mr Malfoy, perhaps I'll make it permanent. Mr. Nott did nominate you, after all."

Hermione's heart plummeted a little at hearing that, but she schooled her expression to give nothing away. Beneath she was simmering.

As soon as they had stepped outside into the corridor, Hermione rounded on him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Me?" he said, feigning innocence. "I'm helping you."

"Why isn't Nott Head boy anymore?"

"He stepped down. He's finding it hard to balance his responsibilities as Head boy with his academic workload… at least that's what I told him to say." Hermione huffed, her hands clenching. "Where are you going?"

"To tell Professor McGonagall that I'll do it alone."

"I wouldn't do that Granger, not unless you want me to tell McGonagall that you attacked me."

"She'd never believe you."

"It's easy enough to prove."

"So you're blackmailing me."

"No – oh, well, yes, I suppose I am."

"Why, what do you want?"

"To help you."

"I think I can plan a ball all by myself, thanks."

"I want to help you free your little house-elf friends."

"After what you said about Dobby, I seriously doubt that."

"I was out of line. I should've never said what I said. That's why I Owled my mother last night and told her to release all our house-elves. All eleven of them."

"You — what?"

Malfoy's voice dropped to a whisper. Leaning in he said, "And this morning. I Owled our family accountant and told him to create a trust for disenfranchised elves. See… I'll help you and in return, I simply ask that you reciprocate."

"Oh, I know!" she said in a clipped sarcastic tone. "I'll start a trust for disenfranchised Death Eaters!"

Draco cocked his head. "Cute, but I need something else. See I intend to win my bet, and in order to do that, you need to fall in love with me."

"Well, you better kiss whatever galleons you staked goodbye because we both know there will never be anything between us except pure, unadulterated, loathing!"

Malfoy practically snarled. "Which is why I'm simply asking you to pretend."

"And if I don't?" she challenged.

"Besides risking expulsion? You risk the chance to make a real difference. I can help you do that. Think Nott and Zabini have connections and deep pockets? Imagine what doors the Malfoy name can open for you."

"I don't think the Malfoy name has much clout anymore, not since daddy dearest went to Azkaban."

He merely scoffed at her rebuff. "Money talks Granger. Always has, always will."

Hermione's face twisted in disgust. "So typical of you to cheat and manipulate to get what you want."

"Well, has it worked?"

She took a deep breath and reluctantly admitted to herself that Malfoy was right. No family, ill-reputation or no, had the kind of influence they had. Lucius had just managed to reduce his lifetime prison sentence to ten years and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if he were able to worm his way out of that too. What harm could playing a little pretend do.

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "Fine… I'll do it."

Malfoy started to smile.

"But I want you to know something."

"And what's that?"

Raising her chin defiantly she said, "I want you to know how excited I am for you to become Quidditch Captain, Malfoy, because when you do, when you're about to have your moment of glory, I'll be there to make sure you fall off your broom."

She gasped as Malfoy grabbed her arm, pulling her in, her chest pasted against his. His eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't mind a little freefall, Granger, do you?"

Ignoring the pounding of her heart, she said in a steady voice. "I'll help you win your stupid bet, Malfoy. I'll smile, I'll hold your hand and gush. I'll give a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination…" she leaned in as if to kiss him and his eyes fell to her lips. "But beyond that, I give you nothing."

He drew his gaze back to meet her eyes. To her chagrin, Malfoy merely smirked; his face achingly handsome when he did so. "I would never dream of such a thing."

She shoved him away but the smug smile Hermione had wanted to erase was still there and he merely let out a playful laugh. As she watched him walk away, she thought she heard him mutter, "this ought to be fun."

Later that night, seated between a stack of books and a large window, Hermione was hiding out in the farthest corner of the Hogwarts library, silently crying. She'd been so immersed in her despondent thoughts that she barely noticed the blond-haired witch behind her.

"Hermione," said Luna startling her. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't very hungry," said Hermione making quick work to wipe her tears.

Luna frowned her expression one of deep concern. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," replied Hermione.

"May I ask you something?" whispered Luna quietly whilst pulling out a chair to sit next to her.

Hermione nodded.

"I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy at your birthday party, and then later on, nobody could find you and I just wondered—"

"So," said Hermione defensively. "What of it?"

"Well, I saw you dragging him down to the Slytherin dormitories. In fact, I think quite a few people did."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione muttered, "Great. Just what I need."

"Is he the reason you're upset? Did you two—?"

"Merlin, no!" she exclaimed quickly. "I just…I really thought that my last year at Hogwarts would be great, even without Harry and Ron. But Ron he…" Hermione shook her head. "And I just thought with Voldemort gone, with relative peace, things would be so much better and I would be able to tolerate seeing him. Seeing Malfoy.

"I knew he'd be here at Hogwarts and I didn't think anything of it, I didn't care. But… I hate him, Luna. I hate him so much, so much that sometimes I feel like—" Hermione paused, deflating.

"Like what?"

An errant tear rolled down Hermione's cheek. "I see him and all I remember is everything bad he's ever done. The slurs. Professor Dumbledore's death. Malfoy Manor. I wish he knew how it felt. How helpless and worthless I felt. I watched him, watch me. And that's all he did... was watch." She buried her head in her arms and in a muffled voice said, "He smiles and I hate him."

Luna nudged Hermione with her shoulder. "I think you should tell him."

Her head snapped up. "What?" she sniffled. "I'm fairly certain he already knows how much I despise him."

"No, I mean it might help to talk to Malfoy about that night and tell him how you feel."

"I don't want his apology," said Hermione empathetically as she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robes. "It wouldn't mean much to me anyway."

Luna shrugged. "Maybe, but at least you would've put it out there, and that way you might never have to think about it again."

"I guess…" admitted Hermione half-heartedly.

"Come on," coaxed Luna gently, "It's late and the library's about to close. I'll walk with you to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione was quiet all the way up, except for the occasional sniffle. Luna could no longer bear the bone-chilling silence. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady she asked, "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

"Thanks," smiled Hermione, "but I'll be alright."

"Password please," interrupted the Fat Lady.

Luna grinned. "Waterlilies."

The portrait swung open to allow them in. Her mouth slightly agape, Hermione asked surprised, "How do you know the password to the Gryffindor common room?"

Her friend simply winked in response and gave her a gentle hug goodbye.

"Night, night, don't let the flobberworms bite."

Hermione gave a soft laugh. Even though she had no clue as to what flobberworms were, she replied, "You too."

Afterwards, she dragged herself up to her bedroom, her feet moving like heavy lead on the stairs. All she wanted to do was fall onto her bed and sleep for days. But as she entered her room, she realised it wouldn't be possible that night; because strewn across her room were dozens and dozens of luxurious bouquets of flowers in rich golden vases… and sitting on her bed, huddled up together in tattered garments, were eleven house-elves looking quite lost.