Chapter 1

Newfound Companions and Conspiring Slytherins

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" – Seneca, 1st century A.D. Roman philosopher

To say that life was perfect was not necessarily speaking the truth. To say that their love was absolute was not false. But to say that it would be accepted by all was something that remained undetermined and in doubt. It was difficult to say anything concrete about their relationship; to some, it was a beautiful, wondrous thing, and to others, it was forbidden and worthy of the most horrendous possible consequences.

To them, it was perfect, it was absolute, and, so long as they had each other, it did not matter what everyone else would think. However, it had to remain as such; to them, for them, and with them. Nobody else could know about their secret life and love, they were Romeo and Juliet, from two different classes, two different social groups, and neither group could be aware of their feelings.

Unless they wanted a war to break out.

It had been a full week, one full week since they had admitted their love and consummated it. One full week where life was pleasant and enjoyable, where they could enjoy each other in the silence of their Tower, in secret on the grounds, and in plain view when nobody was around. They didn't have to worry about being caught; those who knew kept it secret, and those who were curious were doubtful and just that; curious and nothing else.

Nobody questioned them, nobody asked them what they thought, and everybody remained in the dark.

They knew that it couldn't go on like this; that eventually, once the flood of students returned to the school; they would have to confront the situation, to confront their friends and classmates. A war would break out, between those who were unforgiving and those who loved no matter what.

For now, they revelled in the peace and quiet of their world, enjoyed every lasting minute of the silence before the storm.

At least, there used to be silence…

"Do I really have to go?"

"Yes! I told you, we got an invite and it would be rude not to accept!"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly!"

"But I don't want to!!"

"Draco Malfoy, you will go to the Gryffindor New Year's Party and you will enjoy yourself!"

"Can Blaise come?"

"Seamus already invited him."

"Maybe."

Hermione Granger ran a hand through her mussed hair, unable to contain her irritation for much longer. She stood in the kitchen, looking more than flustered as her lover, a certain blond-haired git, huffed and puffed by the living room.

"For goodness sake!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air. "You received an invite, an extension of inter-house unity, and you're bitching because it's a Gryffindor party? You've been sitting at the Gryffindor table for the past week! You're an immature git!

"Am not," he whined, pouting as he crossed his arms. "I don't want to go because that Creevey kid will be there taking pictures!"

"So? It's a party! We're supposed to enjoy ourselves! Dennis is allowed to take as many pictures as he wants!"

"Well…I'm still not going," Draco snapped, moving to collapse on the couch, picking up a book and opening it as though he had just spoken the final, concluding words.

Sighing heavily, she grabbed a nearby wooden spoon and made her way over to the couch, ready to use the utensil as a weapon. "In the name of Merlin and every other great wizard in the world, you will go to this party, or so help you God, I will harm you."

The jerk didn't even lower his book, hell, he didn't even chance a glance in her direction. "No."

"Why?" she shouted, waving the spoon around erratically, unable to contain her frustration.

"I thought you didn't like parties."

"Don't avoid the subject," she snapped, tapping him on the head with the spoon. "I'm going because you're going and it will promote inter-house unity. Besides, it would look suspicious if we both spent New Year's alone in the Tower."

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing his head as he jerked the book around, intending to use it as both a shield and a weapon. "What was that for?"

"For being a prat," she replied, glaring at him. "Now give me the real answer or I'm using this on your precious mini-Malfoy."

He literally lowered the book to his crotch, tenting it so that it would provide some protection against the evil banshee standing in front of him. Pouting, he looked at the fire and avoided her gaze as he mumbled out; "Because I won't be able to kiss you."

Her eyes softened at his words, and she couldn't help but reach out and pinch his cheek as his cheeks mottled from embarrassment.

"Don't," he grumbled, pushing her hand away.

Pushing his book aside as she placed the spoon on the coffee table, she slowly crawled on top of him to rest her head on his chest. Tilting slightly, she looked up at his surprised gaze and grinned broadly.

"You can be so cute at times."

"Cute?" he spluttered, debating whether he should shove her off or not as punishment for her choice of words. "Malfoys are not cute! We are fierce, we are powerful, we are sexy and handsome, are anything but cute!"

She rolled her eyes and let out a loud sigh. "Draco, honestly, cute isn't an insult in any way or form."

"Cute means adorable. Men are not adorable. I am not adorable. I am a man, and men are powerful and strong and handsome and not cute."

"I get it," she huffed, digging her elbow into his ribs. "But, cute doesn't mean you're weak."

"Teddy bears are cute. Girls are cute. Kittens and puppy dogs and things weak and cuddly are cute. I am not weak or cuddly, so I am not cute," he said rather loudly, crossing his arms over his chest, blocking her view of his indignant expression.

"No, you are someone who gets pathetically insulted over every little thing I say," she sighed, reaching over to pick up the spoon from the table.

"What are you doing?'

"Nothing."

"I hate that sickly sweet voice you use…it's creepy."

"I hate that you refuse to go to the New Year's party just because its hosted by Gryffindors."

Rubbing his face, he rolled his eyes heavenwards and let out a loud breath. "Back to this again, are we? I told you, I'm not going because I won't be able to kiss you and I'm afraid of getting Gryffindor cooties."

"Cooties are a myth told to little boys so that they don't touch little girls inappropriately," Hermione pointed out, sitting back to rest her bum on his shins. "And you will go to this party. As you said, I usually don't go, but it would be nice to get out of this stuffy room. Besides, you're the one who's been telling me to 'let loose' and relax."

"I'm not going and that's final."

Whack!

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouted, grabbing his right knee that had just been beat with the spoon.

"For being a senseless git," she snapped. "Now stop being such a child and go to the damn party. We're wasting more time listening to you whine than we are thinking of what we could bring!"

"Bring? What the hell are we supposed to bring?"

"Seamus and Dean said that we could bring food or drinks if we want, since we have more access to the kitchens than other students. I think what they mean is that they want a lot of Firewhiskey," she finished with a sigh and roll of her eyes.

"Well, they can get their own Firewhiskey because I'm not going," he snapped, just managing to dodge the next swing of the spoon. "Stop that!"

"No!" she shouted, pressing more of her weight down on his legs to stop him from moving. "Not until you grow up and agree to go to this damn party. Hell, Blaise is going! Stop acting like Ron and quit your whining."

"I am nothing like that ginger Weasel," he pouted, letting out a loud curse as the spoon hit his thigh. "Fuck! Stop it!!"

"Or what? I won't stop until you agree to go; you have no choice. You either get beaten to death by my wooden spoon or you go to the damn party."

"I love it when you swear and threaten me," he purred trying for another tactic at distracting her.

This earned him another smack with the spoon, but a lot closer to his most precious body part.

"STOP!"

"Go to the party!"

"No!"

"I'm going to hit your balls and you will not be happy!" she growled, raising the spoon.

"No! I refuse!"

She began to lower the spoon.

"Wait! Wait! Fuck…I'll go. On one condition."

She paused mid-swing and looked down at him. "What's that?"

"You let me see your old dorm."

"Pervert."

"I know."

It wasn't fair. Hell, nothing was fair. Why was he stuck here, with his bloody family, when she was at school, so far away? Why was he being forced to endure such pain? Couldn't they see that they belonged together? That he couldn't stand being away from her for much longer?

Ron stomped around his room, cursing softly under his breath.

She had refused him.

That meant she chose the Death Eater over him, didn't it?

Digging his fingers into his scalp, he stopped in front of his window, watching as George, Bill, Charlie, Sarafina, Angelina, and Tonks were engaged in an all-out snowball war.

What did it mean?

She said that she wasn't ready, said something that if she was ready, she'd let him know.

What did it mean?

Did it…could it mean that she was seeing someone else and she was lying to him? Did it mean what exactly as she said? Or was she just pulling him along, making false promises only to laugh at him in the end?

Everyone liked to laugh at him…

They used to laugh at him so much, whenever he was angry, irritated, embarrassed…in any way or form with any and all reasons. They liked to laugh at him.

Well, Hermione wouldn't laugh at him.

Rubbing his face, he sighed loudly and turned away from the festive scene outside, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

He had to stop this madness; he was thinking such foul thoughts of a woman who had been nothing but kind to him. Maybe…maybe he'd been too forward. He had probably pushed too much…

Damn it, it was probably his fault that she was avoiding him; he was trying to force her into a relationship when she wasn't ready!

Cursing, he stood back up and began to pace anew, hating himself for being unable to control his actions and emotions. Hating himself for being such a git.

Something had to change, he realized. Something…it would probably have to begin with him, right? He would have to change something about himself so that he was more attractive to her. He couldn't just force himself on her; she was delicate, too kind for that, too weak to withstand him. She tried, he knew that she tried, but he saw her confusion, her fading confidence, and her inner debates in her eyes. He saw that she was almost ready to give up, to just throw herself into his arms and profess her love for him.

He just had to give her a good reason to throw all worries to the wind, that's all. She was a logical person, right? She needed a logical reason for being with him, that's all. He had to give her that reason, had to improve on his tactics.

She would see…in the end, he would show her that it was the right thing being with him. It would be the proper thing, the correct thing.

She would make the right choice in the end.

Throughout their lives at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger was the person everyone least expected to show up to parties. She certainly received the invites; they were never lost on the way nor did she neglect to respond, but she was always the first to refuse.

So, to say that her fellow classmates were flabbergasted that she, of all people, would be coming to the Gryffindor New Year's party was an understatement.

The words 'floored,' 'shocked,' and 'hell hath officially frozen over' filled the minds of the Gryffindors who had heard the news.

Hermione, on the other hand, simply could not understand why everyone was overreacting.

"I just agreed to go to a party," she sighed over breakfast in the Great Hall. "I don't understand what the big deal is."

Seamus rolled his eyes at her naivety, while Dean chuckled through a mouthful of breakfast sausage. Draco and Blaise, who had officially installed themselves at the Gryffindor table for the remainder of the holidays – despite some grumbling from a few Slytherins and Gryffindors who did not approve –, were almost as oblivious as Hermione. They, however, understood one thing that she did not.

"Rumour has it that you never go to parties," Blaise pointed out as he dumped various foods onto his plate. He seemed to have a fondness for scrambled eggs.

"And?" Hermione asked, ignoring her cooling porridge. "I don't understand. What does me not going to any parties have anything to do with this? Is it really such a big deal?"

"A huge deal," Seamus said, thankfully swallowing his food before speaking. "Ye see, ye always refused 'cause ye were too busy studying and focusing on school work. Now, out of the blue, ye're agreeing to go to a party. It's fishy."

"It's not fishy," she sighed, twirling her spoon around. "I'm allowed to go a party; it's not the end of the world."

"We're not saying that you can't go to a party," Dean explained, "we're saying that you never went to a party. You always refused every single invitation, and even if you did go, you were always in that damn corner reading a book."

Draco glared across the table at Hermione, making sure that she saw the seriousness in his eyes. "If you go into a damn corner and read a book, I swear, I will do something that will make you regret it. You cannot possibly leave me alone with these Gryffindors."

"Don't worry, mate," Seamus said. "I may have hated ye for a few years, but I did hear the stories about ye during the war."

Frowning over his toast, Draco glanced over to the Irish boy with a questioning gaze. "What stories?"

"That ye saved my mum from some Death Eaters." Seamus spoke the words with sincere gratitude and a thick layer of pride. "I heard a few other things, too, how ye rebelled against ye're father and family, how ye fought with the Order in secret. For some people, it might not take back all of the things ye've done in the past, but for me, it makes ye acceptable as a human being."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Some people might ignore the deeds you've done, they might think that you're the same old Malfoy, but we know the truth. I know you refused to tell Bellatrix who Hermione, Harry and Ron really were. You never said a thing. That makes you more of a hero than most people are nowadays. Definitely more of a hero than I am."

Draco didn't know whether he wanted to smile or smack the two boys. He had to admit, hearing them say that, hearing Gryffindors, the sworn enemies of Slytherins, say such things, made his heart leap with joy. Maybe there were people who would accept his relationship with Hermione, people who would finally accept him for who he was, not who he was.

In the end, however, he couldn't just break down and cry in front of them; it was unseemly and unmanly. But he wanted to hug them, in spite of their past differences, and thank them for being so accepting.

Sighing softly, he looked at the two with a smile in his eyes. "I hate to admit," he began, "but it means a lot for people like you to say such things. I know that I haven't always been on the front for setting up inter-house relations, hell, I've been the major forerunner for destroying them, but…people change. I'm not the boy I used to be, and some people don't even care to think about it. So, I suppose the best thing to say, although it's really corny is…thanks." He then added a shrug and his grin broadened. "You guys aren't bad, for a couple of Gryffindors."

Hermione swore that her eyes swam with tears; things were speeding up so quickly, everyone was so much more accepting. She hadn't believed that such a thing would happen, never once fathomed the idea that Seamus, one of the most stubborn boys in their year, would actually accept two Slytherins. Especially Draco.

It was beyond wonderful.

"What about me?"

Everyone glanced towards Blaise, who was giving the boys a look that said he expected them to say amazing, beautiful things about him.

Hermione bit back a chuckle at Blaise's expectant gaze and waited on a bated breath for Seamus and Dean's reaction.

"You were alright to begin with," Dean admitted. "Never said anything, was never rude, but you were never polite either. You were kind of…neutral. Now that I think of it, I don't think I have ever had any reason to hate you aside from the fact that you're a Slytherin."

"Dean's right," piped up Seamus, "ye were always the quiet Slytherin who avoided the fights. We just hated ye 'cause ye were Slytherin. But, ye'll still have to be initiated."

"Initiated?" came three voices, and the Gryffindor boys looked over to Hermione in amazement.

"Yes, we have to initiate the two of them into the Gryffindor House," Dean answered. "We'll pound the Gryffindor pride into their heads so much that they'd rather die before insulting our blood again." He turned to Draco and Blaise, who were looking rather pale at the idea of being beaten. "Don't worry, you'll be waving the red and gold flags soon enough."

"Dean…Seamus…I, uh…you know, even if they weren't always very nice, they never actually physically attacked us, besides from Harry and Ron, but you know…in most of those situations Harry and Ron started it but…" Hermione stammered, praying that they weren't using inter-house unity as an excuse to beat the shit out of Blaise and Draco. "Really…they only said things…I mean, Draco wasn't very nice for a long period but don't you think that rebelling against his family is more than enough payment? I mean, hell, he even fought alongside Harry and I against a few Death Eaters…I mean, I really don't see the point to…initiating them…"

The Gryffindor boys burst into laughter, watching as she fumbled for words that might redeem the Slytherin men.

"Hermione," Dean laughed out, "we're not going to be hurting them! We'll just be embarrassing them a little, singing a few Quidditch songs here, wearing the Gryffindor colours there, just a little bit of this and that."

"Ye don't have ta worry," Seamus said through his laughter. "We don't actually wanna hurt 'em."

Blinking rapidly at her housemates, she watched as some colour returned to the faces of her newfound friend and lover, and debated over whether she should believe Seamus and Dean or not.

"You promise you won't physically harm them in any way or form?"

"We know that you won't stand by even if we tried," Dean replied. "You're Head Girl, we can't expect you to just sit back and watch us hurt people. Besides, we don't plan on hurting them anyway."

Gnawing on her lip hesitantly, she debated briefly as to whether or not she should trust them, before letting out a sigh of resignation. "Okay. I trust you two."

Seamus grinned a thanks her way before digging back into his breakfast, wanting to finish it before it disappeared. Dean sent her a wink before re-establishing his conversation with Blaise.

Draco, sitting across from Hermione, smiled at her as he reached down to his plate, picking up a ripe strawberry. He continued to grin at her as he placed the strawberry into his mouth, biting into the sweet fruit as she watched on. The way he ate it, she swore she tasted the fruit in her mouth, the delightful sweetness, with a tang of bitterness, that was a strawberry, the way it felt soft and yet hard against her teeth, how it broke with ease and seemed to melt on her tongue.

Swallowing thickly, she trying returning her attention to her porridge, but her spoon fell with a loud clatter as she felt a foot trailing up her leg to rub against her thigh.

Lifting her eyes, she sent a glare in Draco's direction, wishing that she could rub the Cheshire cat-like smile off of his face. He simply shrugged his shoulders, sending a knowing look her way, before picking up a piece of bacon.

"Y'all right, 'Mione?"

She didn't even turn to face Seamus; Draco had somehow removed his shoe and was rubbing his foot along the inside of her thigh, toes just tickling her center each time his foot passed by. Shivers went racing down her spine as liquid heat poured between her thighs, threatening to overflow at the mere look the blond was giving her.

"Just dropped my spoon," she replied, thanking whatever reigning entity there was for allowing her voice to remain strong.

Nodding, the redhead turned to start a conversation with Gryffindor fifth year, leaving Hermione to focus entirely on Draco's ministrations.

She wanted to ask him what had gotten into him, why he was doing this all of a sudden, but all she could think about was the way his foot rubbed against her and how much she suddenly wanted to feel him all over her, flesh on flesh, caught into a moment of pure ecstasy.

She was vividly aware of the students surrounding them, acutely aware of their voices as they filled the halls, but she could not hear a singling thing they said. Each time his toes rubbed against her center, all sound became a loud buzzing noise, an irritating background sound that she wanted to get rid of just as much as she wanted to leap across the table, jump on Draco, and ride him until she was consumed by the fire of pleasure.

He was smiling that smug smile of his, grinning at her as he ate, knowing fully well just what his touch was doing to her, just how it was affecting her senses. And he, being the bastard he was, just kept doing it, wishing that it could be her bare flesh he was touching.

Suddenly, her face changed, almost morphing right before his very eyes. One minute, she was a woman fighting back pleasure, trying to hide the glazing of her eyes, and the next, her eyes half-shuttered, lips curling into a sultry smile that caused his hardened cock to twitch excitedly. Need rushed through his veins and he found himself hurrying to slide his foot back into his shoe.

Licking her lips, enjoying the faint flavour of porridge on them, she watched as his patience switched into impatience, a feverish look sliding into his eyes as he scrambled to get to his feet and out of the Great Hall as soon as possible.

Clearing his throat, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt and slowly stood up, sending her a knowing look. "I'm afraid that Hermione and I have some Head duties to attend to," he said to their companions.

Seamus waved them off as Dean nodded. "It's okay," the Irish boy replied. "Go off and yell at some little kids."

Nodding, Draco left before he could examine the knowing look Blaise was sending him, along with the faint smile that flitted across the man's lips. He didn't want to know what else Blaise knew.

Hermione took one last sip of her juice, needing to moisten her parched throat, before nodding in agreement. Scrambling to her feet, she said her goodbyes to the others and hurried out of the hall after Draco.

She had barely made it out of the hallway before her back was shoved against a hard, cold surface, lips crushing down on hers. Her mind went haywire as his flavour filled her mouth, a delicious mixture of strawberries, slightly salty bacon, and a minty taste that was oh-so Draco. His hands gripped her face, lips practically crushing hers as he kissed her into insanity.

They regretted it the instant they pulled away, wishing that they could lose themselves in each other at that very moment, heedless of what the others might do if they walked out and found them snogging each other senseless. He wanted to keep tasting her, to keep delving his tongue into her mouth and licking at her, unable to get enough of the delicious flavour that was Hermione.

"Tower?" she gasped out, reaching forward to pull his bottom lip into her mouth, suckling on it. Her abdomen clenched in response as he let out a groan of pleasure.

"First damn closet we find," he hissed back, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the staircase.

They couldn't help it; they just couldn't get enough of each other. It was, Hermione realized far later, going to be very difficult once everyone got back. She knew, just as he did, that, no matter what life threw in their way, they would push back and survive.

She could not believe what she was seeing; first, there was Christmas Day. Those two idiots had actually had the gall to sit with the Gryffindors. Now…now they were actually eating breakfast with them. Not only that, but they had spent the entire past week at the table, striking conversations with those Muggle-lovers. What in the world was going on? What had happened in the past month that suddenly turned them into open-minded, happy-go-lucky Gryffindors?

Astoria Greengrass simply could not grasp the situation that was at hand. What was going on in the worlds of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy?

Were they even aware of what they were doing? Did they even understand the implications of their actions? They were going against everything a Slytherin was supposed to believe in. They were trying to join the Gryffindors. Hell, she realized that she had barely seen Draco at all in the Slytherin House of late. Yes, she understood that he was Head Boy and that, perhaps, his Tower was far better furnished than the dungeons, but he was supposed to be a Slytherin.

She had heard the rumours from the war, had heard about how he had stood up against his father and Voldemort, how he had defended the Order in secret, while pretending to be a Death Eater. She may have not been a Death Eater, but she had not been too happy at his actions, either.

He had, essentially, told the world that he was not a Slytherin at heart; he wasn't a Pureblood.

Didn't he understand? Didn't he want to protect the things his father had given his life for? Didn't he want to keep the Pureblood tradition strong?

"Astoria?"

She turned to look at a fellow sixth year Slytherin girl, Maryse Felborne, and arched a brow in response. "Yeah?"

"Did you hear what I was saying?" the girl asked, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear.

"Not really," Astoria admitted, still watching as Blaise conversed with Seamus and Dean, Draco and the Gryffindor Princess long gone. If only she could hear what they were saying…

"I knew that sitting at the Gryffindor table was a bad idea," Maryse said, twirling her fork through her beans. "I tried to tell Blaise, tried to warn him that they were no good, but he didn't listen."

"I always knew that he was neutral," Astoria admitted, finally tearing her gaze away from the boys, "but I never expected him to come out and play with the Gryffindors."

"I'm more shocked by Draco," the blonde girl answered. "Before the war, he was so…like us. And now, he's so different. All he does is spend his time with the Mudblood Granger and now he's ditching the Slytherin table for Gryffindor. There's something up here."

Astoria looked at the girl, pink lips frowning as she saw the wheels working behind the green eyes of her friend. "What are you thinking?"

"Things aren't fitting; they don't make sense," Maryse said after a moment's thought. "I think the Mudblood is up to something."

"Do you think she put a spell on him or slipped him a potion?"

"It's possible."

Turning away from her friend, she ran a hand through her short black hair as she pondered over her toast. "We have to do something about this."

"I know. But what can we do?"

"We have to get him away from the Mudblood," Astoria answered after a moment. "We have to get Draco back and turn him back into the Slytherin he is."

"How? We don't have access to the Heads' Tower. If she's slipping him the potion there, then we can't possibly put an end to it," Maryse pointed out.

"I'll find a way. You forget who you're talking to; I have friends in high places. Once Pansy and my sister are back, it'll be a lot easier convincing Draco that what he's doing is wrong. Remember," she gestured with her fork, "he's heads over tails for Pansy."

Maryse frowned at the brunette's words, hardly convinced. "What about the fight they had just before vacation?"

Astoria shrugged it off as her appetite slowly returned. "It was just a lover's quarrel, I'm sure of it. You'll see, once they come back, Draco will accept her with open arms. The seduction will be easy."

"I hope that you're right," the blonde said, staring off to watch Blaise interact with the Gryffindors. "We need our Slytherin Prince back in his rightful place; we can't possibly give the title to someone like Goyle, what with Blaise gone, too."

"Daphne will get Blaise, don't worry. We'll get our Princes back, no matter what."

Maryse wasn't sure, she thought as she watched Astoria eat with vigour, whether this would turn out successful or not. Hell, she hated to admit it but…she was already getting a bad feeling about it.

Her Christmas went horribly wrong in all ways possible. First off, she got the worst sunburn in the name of all sunburns, she got horrendous gifts, and, worst of all, she did not receive a single gift or word of kindness and love from the one person she wanted one from most of all.

Now, on New Year's Eve, Pansy Parkinson could easily be labelled as one of the most pissed off witches in all of the Caribbean, where her family and Daphne had decided to vacation.

Daphne was seated on her bed, flipping through a copy of Witch's Fancy, a magazine that focused on anything related to a witch's, well, fancy, from dresses to attractive wizards. Pansy, all the while, was standing in a string bikini, constantly fretting at her reflection in the full-length mirror near the foot of the bed.

"Is it that bad?" she whined, not even looking at her friend.

Daphne sighed heavily and pushed several long, brown strands out of her eyes. "To be honest, it's horrendous. I can't believe you actually fell asleep while sun bathing."

"It's not my fault," the other girl replied, voice growing higher in pitch the more she whined and fretted about her burnt body. "I look like a bloody tomato!"

She flipped to the next page, looking at the variety of new dresses that would be coming into fashion for spring. "I told you," Daphne sighed, "that it wasn't a good idea to fall asleep. I warned you, told you to use a timer or an alarm, but no, you said you wouldn't fall asleep."

"It's no time to pester me," Pansy snapped, tugging at the cups of her bikini to grimace at the contrast between her pale breasts and the bright orange-red-brown of her skin. "I'm extremely pissed off at this moment."

Clambering onto the bed, lying on her side to be more comfortable as she read, Daphne arched a brow and eyed her friend. "Now, be honest, is it more because of the sunburn or is there something else that's adding to your foul mood?"

Pansy's eyes flashed with irritation and she spun around to face her friend. "You know the answer to that question, so why bother asking it?"

"Because it's fun watching you go mental," the girl replied, lowering her blue eyes back to the magazine. "Damn, brown's the new in-colour. Why couldn't it be something nicer, like green or purple? I hate brown."

"Stop looking at that damn magazine! If you know the answer, then why don't you help me find a solution?" Pansy cried, moving to her dresser to pick up her wand. "Stop wasting good thinking time staring at a magazine."

"You're just upset because Draco doesn't love you."

"Don't say that!" Pansy shrieked, sparks flying out of the tip of her wand. "Don't you dare say those words!"

Sighing softly, Daphne dog-eared the page and looked up at her friend. She hated to admit it, but Pansy was a rather comical sight to behold; the reddish-brown skin, her short black hair almost-straw like from abuse due to the sun and chlorine-filled water, her hands waving about in various gestures…it was almost enough to make Daphne laugh. If it weren't for the fact that Pansy was holding a wand and Daphne's was on her dresser across the room.

"Pansy," she said softly, tucking more hair behind her ears, "you have to realize that Draco just might not feel the same way as you. I hate to say it, but it's probably why he didn't send you a present."

"It's not that at all and you know it," Pansy snapped, waving her wand. Her skin began to lighten in colour and pain faded, but it wasn't instantaneous, nor did it return to its normal colour in one shot; she would have to repeat the same anti-burn spell a few more times over the next couple of days.

"Then what's the reason? Why would he not give you a present, after you just had a huge row before leaving for vacation?" For Daphne, it was clear as day; Draco simply wasn't interested in Pansy, and his friendship with Hermione Granger, as well as Pansy's incessant Purist ideals, was definitely putting a damper on their relationship.

It had to be said; Pansy was ruining everything all on her accord.

Daphne used to have been a Purist, she used to believe that all witches and wizards ought to be Pureblooded and that not a single Muggle-Born or Half-blood should have been granted access to Hogwarts. But things change. She hated to admit it, but her ideals changed, first and foremost, out of selfishness. When she realized that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were fighting a losing battle, she feared that she would be hunted down and executed for her beliefs. She immediately switched them and, unbeknownst to Pansy and the other Slytherins, started feeding some basic information to the Order.

She remained an anonymous spy to this day; she knew that a few Death Eaters were still in hiding and although they posed little threat, she did not want to take the chance. She let everyone assume that she was still a believer of Voldemort's ways, that she still idealized a Pureblooded magical society, and she was gradually letting them know that she was less and less of a fascist.

It would take some time, and quite some skill on her part, but she would be able to eventually come out and let everyone know of her feats and decisions.

For now, however, she had to try and placate Pansy enough so that they were able to enjoy themselves that night.

"He won't give me…wait a minute. Do you remember what our row was about?" Pansy spun around, having been staring at her reflection, eyes glowing with excitement.

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and decided to amuse her friend. "To be honest, I have no clue because I wasn't present at the time; I was with my sister, shopping for our parents' gift."

Pansy waved it off as though the words were of no meaning. "It was about Granger."

"Granger? Hermione Granger?" Daphne feigned ignorance; she couldn't let Pansy know that she knew a little more than she was letting on. She had heard rumours, mainly through letters from her sister, of Draco's constant devotion to his friendship with Hermione Granger. She hadn't told Pansy a single word in fear of ruining their vacation and had destroyed the letters the second she received them. If there was no proof, then Pansy wouldn't have any reason to go mental. Right?

"Yes, that stupid, foul Mudblood Granger," Pansy spat, opening the drawers to her dresser with barely contained rage. "That stupid little chit somehow got into his head; he yelled at me – yelled – because I called the slag a Mudblood. Can you believe it?"

Daphne could, but she wasn't about to let Pansy know that. If Draco had, indeed, been forming a relationship with Granger, whether it been platonic or otherwise, he would do anything to gain her trust, even if it meant pushing away his old friends. Not that she ever believed Draco had considered Pansy to be a friend, more along the lines of a…what did the Americans call them? Fuck buddy? Something along those lines.

"What's the big deal?" she asked, shifting to lie back on the bed, crossing her legs as she watched Pansy yank out various articles of clothes. "Maybe he just wants to get a cleaner vocabulary."

"You know as well as I do that he doesn't," the girl snapped, untying her bikini top. She didn't care who was in the room; she flaunted her nudity, was not at all embarrassed to be naked in front of any individual so long as they weren't a member of her family.

Sighing and turning her gaze away as her friend dressed, Daphne reached over to the bedside table and picked up a bottle of forest green nail polish. "Then why do you think he acted in such a way?" She uncapped the bottle and examined her fingers, waiting patiently for Pansy's response.

"Because the chit has put a spell on him!" Pansy cried, hissing when her bra strap snapped against her skin. "She must have slipped him some kind of potion or put him under the Imperius Curse, that's why he's acting so kind to her!"

'Do you honestly believe this insane theory, Pansy?' Daphne thought, arching a brow as she painted a nail. "Why would she do something like that?"

Pansy flustered for a moment, pausing as she tugged a tank top over her head as she pondered, searching for a valid-sounding response. Just as she yanked off her bikini bottom, she lifted a hand and pointed it directly at Daphne. "Because she's in love with him!"

Lifting her eyes to give Pansy a pointed gaze, she arched both brows, disbelief clearly written on her features. "Where's the proof?"

"She practically lives with him!" Pansy shouted, dressing the lower half of her body. "He's the most handsome, attractive, kind, intelligent man in all of Hogwarts. She was bound to fall in love with him."

"Do you honestly believe this?" Daphne asked, lowering her gaze to examine one completed hand. "Doesn't it sound a little farfetched to you?"

"Not at all! She set up their rounds together, she sleeps just next door to him, she has practically every class with him, and I'm willing to bet anything that she has seen him naked! I bet," she turned to face Daphne, "that she had tried other ways of getting him to fall for her but none of them work, because he's smarter than that."

"So she had to resort to spells and potions?" She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice and it was quite a difficult task.

"Exactly!"

'Pansy, you have gone completely mental.' "Are you sure we can find proof of this?"

"When we go back to Hogwarts, we'll get him alone! We'll figure out what kind of potion she's been feeding him and make the antidote."

'You're not that great at making potions, Pans.'

"And you will help me! We'll make him see the error of his ways, we'll free him from her spell! And then he will go back to being mine."

'You sound like one of those crazy American killers from really bad horror movies.'

"When we get back, we'll make sure she pays for what she's done to Draco."

'Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?'

Wow. This was, to be honest, the most difficult beginning chapter I have ever written. I suppose because it's a sequel of sorts…I'm not sure.

So, what do you think Pansy and Daphne are going to do? What about Maryse and Astoria? It seems like the Slytherin girls really don't like the idea of Draco being friendly to the Gryffindors.

What about Ron? What is he going to do when he gets back to school? What's going to happen when Hermione tells him the truth?

How will the New Year's Party go?

So many questions to be answered, and if you keep reading, you will get those answers!!

And guys, I must thank you all! You have gifted me with over 800 reviews for Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy. You have no idea how happy it makes me!!! Thank you all!

Review overview!

Adoration/love – very much appreciated. It helps me write faster whenever I get an ego boost.

Critical criticism/editing – even more appreciated. If you have any suggestions on how I could improve my writing, please say so. If you have noticed any silly spelling/grammar mistakes that I missed, please let me know where and what they are.

Flames – well, according to one person, the prequel was long and tedious and boring (although, said person would write fics about 300 words long, so I can see a multi-chaptered story with over 100, 000 words being 'long' to them.) But, you know, every flame or 'mean' comment will simply be tossed into the fire and used to increase the passion between Hermione and Draco.

Thank you!

I might, like the last story, post recipes for each chapter. I'm debating, much I'm not sure. Please let me know if you want me to, because I have several recipes I would love to share.

Thank you for reading, now please click on that button and review!!!