-O-

Turns out, Hermione Granger was quite the swot.

Draco knew this for many reasons.

One, she tried to answer every question asked in class, much to the amusement of the Slytherins. Draco always laughed along with them. They would notice if he didn't, and besides, it was rather funny.

Two, she'd constantly be in the library, it seemed. Granted, he was often there as well - the Hogwarts curriculum was tougher than his home lessons, and there was no way he wasn't getting the top grades of the year.

Three, she was a muggle born. This was a surprise to Draco, as he expected from her grades and her knowledge in class for her to be steeped in magic from a young age. Considering she'd only learned of her witch status a few months before, she was doing remarkably well in class.

Four, and most damning, Draco found himself watching her when he wasn't being careful. He saw that she took copious amounts of notes, hanging on every professor's word. She never needed to glance down at the text when quoting a passage in answer to a professor's question. She was seldom if ever wrong in her answers. And every assignment was turned in on time if not early, her neat script covering the parchment, usually much longer than the required minimum amount.

If he allowed his mind to wander even a bit, he'd without fail come back to himself finding his chin on his hand, openly staring at her. It was embarrassing. He'd caught Pansy and Blaise watching him a time or two, but hoped he'd covered his tracks well enough.

One method for covering his tracks was to pick on her housemates. He was still embarrassed about the whole rememberall thing. As he was holding it out, taunting Potter with it as they hovered over the group, he'd glanced down to find her staring up angrily at him. He'd been hoping to impress her with his superior flying, but apparently he'd failed at being the most talented on a broom once Wonder Boy Scar face showed up. He'd tossed it high and far then, angry at himself and at the whole situation. He thought he'd had the last laugh when Professor McGonagall stormed out like her hair was on fire, but that hadn't been the case. Of course not.

Next, he challenged Potter to a duel, knowing full well that he himself had never even fought so much as a Cornish pixie, much less a human. He counted on Potter have two brain cells to rub together and saying no, but his moron ginger friend jumped in and accepted. No way in hell was he showing up for that. He got them back, though, by sending word to the caretaker Argus Filch through a school elf that the nitwits were out after curfew. Knowing where they'd be, he'd snuck along the trophy room hall to hear them caught, only to overhear Hermione helping them. What the hell? She was risking her standing in the school to help these fools? Didn't she know that was a losing battle, tying herself to the anchor that was Ronald Weasley?

-O-

Halloween arrived, one of Draco's favourite holidays. His family often had a party for it, and he was hoping that the festive atmosphere would give him a chance to talk to Hermione casually, maybe save a little face over the whole rememberall/ dueling business.

Weasley had the crap sense to ruin it by insulting her in charms class that day. It wasn't some big mystery that Hermione was very swotty. Did he need to rub it in so much? She had run off after class, and Draco nearly said something to the git. After all, who treats their housemates that way? She'd gotten them out of that detention with the duel, didn't she deserve some good will?

As the two houses walked away from the Charms classroom, he made an excuse to his friends to double back, walking quietly along the corridor, looking inside empty classrooms in hopes of finding her there. He was nearly about to give up when a small sniffle caught his ear. He turned, finding a tapestry behind which lay a small alcove with a low bench along one side. She sat, her knees drawn up in front of her. She looked up swiftly, hair rising around her shoulders as though it, too, were surprised.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to finish the job? Got more insults for me?" Her eyes narrowed at him.

"What? No, Her- Granger, I don't. I-," he began, then stopped. He what? What was there to say? I want to be your friend? I like your hair? Looking at you makes my stomach both hurt and flip around like I'm riding a broom upside down? Real suave, you idiot, he thought.

"I just wanted to make sure things were good. With you," he answered lamely. Brilliant. Yeah, it looked like things were good, git, he thought to himself.

"I'm fine, Malfoy, just... Leave me alone please." She turned her body away from him and sniffled again.

"Well, if you need anything..." What could she possibly need from you, he asked himself. What, was he going to go beat up Weasley? It didn't sound like the worst idea, come to think of it.

Tears continued streaming down her face as she looked up at him in confusion.

Draco reached in his pocket, finding the folded handkerchief his mother insisted he carry around like a person in the old days. He'd always found the practice ridiculous, although it had come in handy a time or two. He held it out to her silently, meeting her eyes.

"What- Malfoy, why-" she started.

"Just- take it. It might come in handy." He stuffed the monogrammed square in her hand and backed out of the alcove, hurrying down the hall to the feast.

As the night went on and the Halloween Feast began, Draco watched the Gryffindor's table as well as he could, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she never showed. Once Professor Quirrell showed up and created a panic about a troll, Draco hurried off with the others, a frown marring his features. Where could she have gone? Perhaps she felt so bad after Weasley's rude words and Draco's botched attempt at comfort that she went to bed.

-O-

To his surprise, Hermione seemed not just normal, but happy in the days that followed. Apparently, the moronic duo of Potter and Weasley had managed to convince her to become their friend, and suddenly his annoyance towards Weasley and Potter grew to near outright anger. Had he been asked to define it, he'd have sputtered some nonsense about blood traitors like Lucius spoke of when talking about Ron's father at the Ministry of Magic. But in reality, that didn't seem like the biggest deal. There was just this undefinable sense of outrage, that the two of them could just become Hermione's friend so easily.

Watching her in class during the days that followed, it occurred to Draco that, with the gulf that separated his house from hers, as well as the difference between their blood statuses, the chances that he could simply become Hermione Granger's friend were very slim.

-O-