A/N: I've been going through this story and updating random things such as the timeline—and like Hermione not being in Muggle Studies because she so clearly dropped it at the end of 3rd year and I'm a ditz that forgot. ;) Also, I invented the professor for Ancient Studies, Professor Priscilla Keane (Ancient Studies is the study of super old types of magic; there wasn't a known teacher for it canonically).

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of its subsidiaries. Even if I did, I would probably still be here writing fanfiction. Or would it be reality? I'm not sure I know which is which anyway.

Chapter One: Fed Up

Hermione lifted herself onto the empty teacher's desk and slouched in defeat. Stupid Ron. Stupid Lavender. How could Ron do this to her? She had been so sure that he knew how she felt, and then he just up and decided that Lavender Brown was a better girlfriend. It hurt. She pulled out her wand, half tempted to begin blasting apart the classroom furniture.

Instead, she simply muttered, "Avis."

Five tiny yellow birds shot out of her wand and began circling over her head, tweeting merrily. Of course the birds would be cheerful; it was an ironic twist on her dark mood.

The door opened slowly, and a familiar dark head peered into the room. "Hermione?"

She looked up. "Oh, hello, Harry." Her voice sounded strange in her ears. She noticed him examining the birds still flittering overhead. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah," he said, sounding horribly awkward. "They're—er—really good . . ."

"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations." Her voice, too high-pitched and reedy, was incredibly bitter. That utter prat.

"Er . . . does he?" Harry hedged.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," she snapped. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was—" She broke off as the door burst open again.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes when she saw Ron enter, Lavender just behind him, clinging to his hand and giggling like a twelve-year-old.

"Oh!" Ron stopped mid-step and immediately decided to stare at the floor rather than look her in the eye. So he did know. Bastard.

"Oops!" Lavender giggled again, then turned and left the room.

Hermione ignored the brainless girl and glared at Ron, willing him to look at her. He wouldn't. He definitely knew how she felt; apparently he no longer held any interest in her. It made her feel even more desolate than when she'd entered the abandoned classroom.

And then Ron spoke. "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!" He didn't bother acknowledging her at all.

Suddenly furious, she got back to her feet. Annoyingly, the birds followed her movements. She fought back the snarl that wanted to transform her features and whispered, "You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside; she'll wonder where you've gone."

Hermione walked past him, holding herself as high and proud as she could. When she opened the door, Lavender was leaning against the opposite wall, looking rather smug. Lavender gave her a little wave, and suddenly Hermione couldn't hold back her fury any longer. She spun back toward Ron.

"Oppugno!" She watched with little satisfaction as the birds sped at Ron and began attacking him.

"Gerremoffme!" Ron batted his hands around in the air, trying to swat the birds away.

And then she stormed out the door, failing to hold back a sob as it slammed behind her.

Ron spent the next several weeks essentially glued to Lavender's face. It made Hermione sick to her stomach. She tried to avoid him whenever possible. If she encountered Ron and Lavender walking down a corridor, staring lovey-eyes at each other, she would immediately turn and go in the opposite direction. If they were in a room she was entering, or if they entered a room she was already in, she would leave. But she couldn't avoid them everywhere. She still shared a dorm with Lavender, and she was still in almost every class with both of them.

Hermione's life sucked. The longer this thing with Lavender continued, though, the lower her regard for Ron became. By the end of November, she was pretty sure she hated him. By the start of December, she knew she did, and she wanted to do something to hurt him. Something that would wound him as deeply as he'd wounded her.

She briefly thought she'd got the best of him when she invited Cormac McLaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party, but that blew up in her face. McLaggen was even more insufferable than Ron. As soon as was possible, she ditched the horny teenage boy and returned to her sulking.

And aside from that, she wasn't really the type of person to want to hurt the people she cared about. It wasn't in her nature to be that way. After everyone returned from Christmas holiday, Hermione decided she was going to ignore Ron's atrocious behavior and Lavender's in-your-face-Hermione attitude. It wasn't worth her sanity.

Her resolve to be the better person vanished one morning, nearly two months after Ron had started dating Lavender. Hermione's grip on her emotions had been tenuous at the best of times, and it was growing more brittle by the day. So when she walked into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, only to see Ron and Lavender going at it yet again, she snapped.

That bastard was going to get his due. Right. Now. Hermione decided that she was going to snog the next boy to walk into the room—assuming he was of age, obviously. She waited just inside the doors for a boy to enter the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall, masculine figure strutting toward her. When he passed the threshold, she reached out and grabbed him by his tie, then yanked him towards her and planted her lips firmly against his.

The boy stiffened in surprise, his arms held awkwardly at his sides. He just stood there, frozen in place, his eyes wide and staring into hers. Grey eyes. Fathomless grey eyes that had only ever sent her looks of deepest loathing in the past.

And then she realized just who it was she had assaulted.

Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock—and the smallest bit of fright—until the perplexing Slytherin relaxed against her grip and began kissing her back. His eyes fluttered closed and he moved his mouth languidly against hers, even though he knew who he was kissing. That fact suddenly made it so . . . delightfully dangerous to continue snogging him.

The Great Hall grew silent around them, but Hermione no longer cared what anyone thought of her display. She released her grip on Draco's tie only to wind her arms around his neck and hold him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist, effectively closing any space that had been between their bodies before. Butterflies coursed through Hermione's stomach, and she couldn't for the life of her remember why she had hated this wonderful boy for so many years.

Draco turned slightly to pin her against the wall. He lifted her up the slightest bit, and she wrapped her legs around his waist for better leverage. He let out a small groan and deepened the kiss, thoroughly exploring her mouth and tongue with his own. She had never felt more alive.

Hermione would have happily continued snogging Draco had they not been rudely interrupted at that moment by an enraged redhead.

"Hermione, what the hell?!"

Ron grabbed Draco's shoulder and roughly pulled him away from the wall. Hermione released her grip on Draco, and he clumsily lowered her to her feet as he stumbled backwards. Then Ron spun Draco around and punched him squarely in the face.

Draco raised a hand to his jaw and rubbed it. "Is there a problem, Weasel?" he drawled.

"You're damn right there's a problem! Keep your ratty paws off of Hermione!"

Draco just raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't?"

Ron glowered at him. "I'll kill you, Ferret. Leave her alone."

Hermione finally found her voice. "Shut up, Ron. You're such a hypocrite. You don't get a say in who I can or can't kiss. Bugger off." She spun on her heel and marched out of the Great Hall, trying her best to ignore the rapidly spreading whispers that followed her.

She was halfway to the Grand Staircase when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Granger, wait!"

Hermione's eyes popped open in shock once more. Draco had followed her? She cautiously turned to face him. He slowed as he approached, and she gulped nervously.

"What was that, back there?" Draco asked softly.

"Er . . ." She had lost her voice once more. "I . . ."

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. "Spit it out already."

And the floodgates opened. Hermione suddenly spilled everything that had happened since that stupid Quidditch game in November; everything she'd felt or thought, all of it, in excruciating detail. She couldn't stop herself until the story had reached its end, with her last-second decision to snog whoever she next encountered. Then she waited apprehensively, certain that Draco would hex her or worse.

Instead, he grinned maliciously. "What do you say we mess with the weasel's head a bit?"

She felt an answering smirk come to life on her lips. "I thought you'd never ask."

Hermione and Draco quickly found an empty classroom on the fifth floor to discuss their plan. She began pacing in front of a desk nervously.

"So how are we going to do this?"

"Well, I see two possibilities, and each is equally plausible," he replied in a rather businesslike tone. "One, we can mimic Weasel's atrocious behavior and act like a lovesick couple. Or two, we can pretend to be using each other for . . . extracurricular companionship, if you get my meaning." He sat gracefully on a chair and nonchalantly crossed one leg over the other. It was rather sexy.

Simultaneously, both ideas attracted and repulsed her, and she dazedly sank into her own seat. But which idea would anger Ron the most?

"I think if we were to act like a lovesick couple, he would just think we'd been given a love potion or something. If we go with the second option, it will appear to be something I decided with a clear head. What do you think?"

Draco slowly nodded his head. "I see your point." He eyed her appreciatively for a moment. "However, should we follow plan one, Weasel would soon discover that there is no love potion involved, and therefore still something that you decided on your own."

Hermione's cheeks flushed hot as Draco continued letting his gaze roam over her body. Once again at a loss for words, she nodded slowly. Draco grinned suggestively.

"Perhaps you'd like to go with both plans at once?"

She gulped. "I—I don't know . . . maybe?"

"I'll let you think about it."

After a lengthy and somewhat uncomfortable pause, she asked, "So what's your motivation in doing this?"

"You mean besides seeing the weasel squirm?"

"Obviously."

Draco's devious expression quickly morphed to one of solemnity. In his eyes, Hermione could see that he was conflicted and . . . maybe a little scared?

"Let's just say I need a good distraction this year and leave it at that."

She could tell that pushing the subject right now would not work out in her favor, so she let it drop.

"When do you want to put our scheme into action?"

Once again, Draco's expression became heated as he let his gaze wander over her body. Hermione flushed again, whether in embarrassment or pleasure she wasn't sure.

"How about now?" he suggested.

"B-but nobody's around," she stuttered.

Draco got to his feet and sauntered toward her. "And?"

Hermione stood up so fast her chair toppled over. She began walking backwards as Draco got closer. "And . . . and why would we?"

He had finally backed her up against the wall and pinned her in place by putting one hand on either side of her head. He leaned in close until his lips brushed against her ear. "Just imagine if someone walked in and saw what we were doing," he whispered. The action was oddly seductive, and Hermione found it highly erotic. "Rumors would be sure to spread like wildfire."

Hermione looked up and met his intense gaze. The heat smoldering in his grey eyes was temptation enough, and she closed the distance between their lips hungrily. Draco stepped in closer and pressed his body against hers, devouring her lips like a starving man.

While their earlier snogging session had been intense and mind-blowing, this was ten times better. There was a barely restrained need behind Draco's movements, and it drew out of Hermione something she'd never felt before. She lifted her hands and ran her fingers through his hair, gently scraping his scalp with her fingernails. He growled low in his throat and lifted her by her hips to bring her level with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist once more, suddenly feeling like she would never get enough of Draco's brain-melting kisses. She truly had no coherent thoughts running through her mind; she was acting purely on instinct.

And just like before, they were interrupted—this time by the bell signaling that it was time for their first class of the day. Draco kissed her slowly one more time before setting her back on her feet.

"Shall I walk you to class?" he murmured.

Hermione struggled—yet again—to find words. She gulped and said, "Sure. Sounds good."

Draco smirked and took her hand before leading her from the classroom. "I was thinking . . . maybe I'll get really bored during Potions later today."

"Okay," she whispered. Her response just caused Draco's smirk to widen.

Hermione's heart was thumping furiously. She could hardly believe the turn that her day had taken already. She'd zealously snogged Draco Malfoy twice . . . and now she was holding his hand! She felt lightheaded for a moment. The logical side of her brain demanded that she think about what she was doing and insisted that it was incredibly stupid. The passionate side of her brushed those thoughts aside quickly and maintained that this thing—whatever it was—would turn out to be unforgettable.

True to his word, Draco walked her all the way to her Ancient Studies class. When they stopped outside the door, he looked at her intensely for a moment, then placed a soft kiss upon her lips. His free hand lifted to cup her cheek affectionately.

Hermione nearly swooned at the tenderness of the gesture.

"I'll see you later," Draco murmured before turning to walk away.

"See you," she said, her voice nearly inaudible. Her stomach was fluttering nervously.

Ignoring the stares of her fellow classmates, Hermione marched into the classroom with her head held high. If she wanted people to believe the performance, she had to act like it didn't affect her—the way it actually was at the moment. She put a brilliant smile on her face and sat at her usual desk. When Professor Keane's back was turned, the rest of the class would begin whispering behind their hands, and Hermione was well aware of it. She really couldn't have cared less.

What Hermione didn't expect was to find Draco waiting outside the classroom for her. She realized after a moment, though, that it made sense since they both had Arithmancy next. Draco once again took her hand, and they began the trek across the castle to their next class.

"How was Ancient Studies?" he asked conversationally.

Hermione reigned in her surprise, reminding herself that he was just acting—really well. "It was actually really interesting. We discussed the old types of curses used to protect Ancient Egyptian tombs. I can see why Bill Weasley became a Curse-Breaker after hearing about some of those spells."

Draco nodded. "Now I really wish I had dropped Divination to study something more worthwhile."

Hermione snorted. "Remind me to tell you the story of how I stormed out of Divination in third year."

He smirked. "Sounds like a good one."

She looked into his eyes. "Oh, it is."

"Hermione? What are you doing with him?"

She and Draco stopped in their tracks to see Ron and Lavender staring at them. It was Ron that had spoken.

Hermione put her free hand on her hip. "What, is it a crime to walk to class with my boyfriend now?"

Ron's face paled. "B-boyfriend?"

"Yes, Ronald. My boyfriend." She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Draco. We'll be late to class."

Draco kissed her cheek. "See you round, Weasel."

Hermione fought back laughter at the sounds of Ron's unintelligible sputtering behind them. When they were safely around the next corner, she said, "This is going to be so much fun."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."