"He's staring again." Ginny indicated to her left with her thumb.

Hermione glanced over to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy's icy gaze was indeed locked on her.

"Ugh. What's his problem?" She looked at Ginny, but Ginny only shrugged and proceeded to stuff a piece of toast into her mouth. She sighed; all Weasley's were the same; the had bottomless stomachs. She wondered how in the world Ginny stayed as thin as a broomstick when she ate as much as she did every day. Sometimes she wondered if she was worse than her brother. She glanced at Ron, who was currently trying to fit three pancakes into his mouth. Nope, he's got it down-pat. She huffed in irritation. She herself could barely eat half a plate of food at each meal before she was full.

"Well, I'm full. Nice to see all of you are enjoying your breakfast." She patted Ginny on the shoulder and waved a hand in front of Ron's face to divert his attention away from his food.

"I'll see you lot in class, I'm off to--"

"THE LIBRARY," six of her friends said in unison."Yes, we know." Harry then said, his eyes never leaving the the morning post.

"Bloody hell, you didn't need to all say it at once." Am I that bloody predictable?

She grabbed her bookbag, which by the way felt like it was fifty pounds weighing down on her shoulder, and proceeded to the great halls double doors on her way to the library. She got nearly halfway to the library when her bookbag split open and all of her books, quills, and parchment paper spilled out onto the floor. "Bloody effing hell!"

"Language, Granger. You wouldn't want others to think Ms. Prim and Proper had a dirty mouth now would you?" Malfoy's deep, seductive lilt came out from the shadows and enveloped her, igniting a fire in her stomach that grew every time he came near her.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to spew more insults at me? Because if so, I must say, they are getting old. I tire of your seemingly witty remarks." She huffed out, still kneeling on the floor in front of her now useless bookbag.

He gracefully bent down to her level, his face inches from hers, his personal aroma invading her senses, forcing her to hold her breath should she swoon at enduring his presence for too long.

"Actually, contrary to popular belief, my 'witty remarks', which i must say are indeed very well thought out, are a show I put on...just for you." He then picked up her books with ease, as if he were holding a feather in his arms and held his other arm out, no doubt intending for her to help herself up using it. She gave him a bewildered look, whilst using his arm as support for her to stand on her feet again.

"What exactly do you mean? For me?" She questioned him, not bothering to ask why he was helping her with her books. He turned slightly to look at her then, giving her the most dashing grin she had ever seen on any man she had ever met before and started to walk down the hall.

"Malfoy! Where are you going?!" She retrieved he quills and parchments and caught up to him, noticing they were headed for the head girl's dormitory. Her dormitory. He said nothing as they reached the portrait guarding her private quarters, an Italian rendering of Rapunzel. The foreign princess sat on a chiffon stool, brushing her endlessly gorgeous brown hair.

"Ah, mi Cara! And who is this ... your prince, no? Or perhaps a lover? Do tell!" The Italian Rapunzel was beautiful, of course, but she was the nosiest painting Hermione had ever met.

"No, he is most certainly none of the above! He is just a classmate." She could almost feel Malfoy's grin from behind her. She whispered the password and the princess huffed, used to being put off from Hermione and the aspects of her personal life. They stepped in to her common room, decorated with lush accents of maroon and gold, the Gryffindor house colors. "So, are you going to tell me why you are being nice to me?" She glared at Malfoy, expecting and answer out of the unusually silent slytherin.

His icy blue eyes roved her body, slowly moving from foot to head. She swallowed the saliva that had built up in her mouth, unable to move from her rooted spot. She didn't know when she had begun to crave him. His hair was slicked back as usual, one tendril resting on his right brow. His head was tilted to the side as if studying her, his gaze never wavering from hers. Her chest was now at a heavy rise, and she found herself almost shivering at the hungry look in his eyes.

He started to move toward her, and she unwittingly backed up, afraid of what he might do. He ended up backing her into a wall placing his hand on either side of her, trapping her beneath him. He closed his eyes and seemed to breathe her in, reveling in her earthly scent of fresh rain and roses. A small smile played on his lips and he expelled a breath he'd been holding.

"I've been waiting for this moment." And at that, he opened his eyes, took one last look into Hermione's hesitant cinnamon gaze, and his lips descended upon her own.

To be continued...

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