Hermione sagged against a wall and took a deep breath. "Why in the world did I tell him that?" She asked herself.
When Malfoy looked at her that way, with those gray eyes that seemed to darken with his mood, she was unable to lie. She had told him what she hadn't told anyone else, she had almost let him die, done something that she would think only dark wizards would do. And now Malfoy knew.
Hermione let her bag drop to the ground and then sank to sit besides it. She let her dark hair fall into her face as she pulled her knees up and let her forehead rest against them. Things would be perfect right now if it wasn't for him. The little that she had accomplished in the library that evening had been very interesting. Hermione knew that she could easily lose herself up in that room. She loved Arithmancy; it was so ordered and structured. But no, how could she lose herself with Malfoy glaring at her? It made her so angry to think about him, that smug look, that malicious smirk. All he did was make trouble.
"And he thinks that he's handsome just because his eyes sparkle sometimes." Hermione grumbled and then stopped, "What am I thinking? If his eyes sparkle it's only because he's thinking something evil."
"Hermione? What're you doing?"
Hermione jerked up to find Dean Thomas staring down at her,
"Hello Dean," she said smiling at him.
"Are you all right Hermione?" Dean looked fairly concerned about finding the young Gryffindor alone in a dark corridor.
"I'm fine, just thinking about how much I hate Malfoy." Hermione glared around at nothing in particular.
"Oh, and here I thought that something was bothering you." Dean broke out in a large, easy grin. "Now if you didn't hate Malfoy, then we'd start to worry."
Hermione felt herself relax and she took the hand that Dean offered her. He easily pulled her to her feet.
They walked back to the Gryffindor common room together. As they leisurely strolled along, Hermione spoke non-stop about what Malfoy and her were doing up in the little chamber off the library. They stepped threw the portrait hole and the image of Malfoy's face faded completely from Hermione's mind. She had always found the common room to be warm and soothing, at least, when it wasn't being used for as a testing zone for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The evening's Quidditch practice had obviously just come to an end because the whole of Gryffindor's team was standing near the doorway, covered head to foot in mud, and discussing strategy. Hermione waved at Ron and Harry, stifled a yawn, and then started up to the girl's dormitory. Lavendar and Parvarti were whispering merrily to each other over a divination book entitled Palmistry of Love, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and stowed books under her bed. She pulled on her pajamas and crawled thankfully into bed. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was "I hate Draco Malfoy."
"C'mon Hermione, how long does it take you to eat a bowl of porridge anyway?" Ron was impatiently pushing a few raisins around his plate with a fork.
"Well it is Saturday. I'm not exactly in a rush you know." Hermione told him as she refilled her glass of pumpkin juice. As she told him this, the owls swept in through the high windows. As usual, a brown owl deposited the Daily Prophet in front of Hermione. But before the first owl could take off again, another owl had landed next to it. This owl was a little larger than the delivery owl and a grayish color. A letter was tied to the foot that it extended over Hermione's bowl.
"Who's that from Hermione?" Harry asked as he watched Hedwig who flew down to deposit a note from Hagrid into his lap.
Hermione looked up in time to notice Malfoy's eagle owl land at the Slytherin table. "It's from Viktor." She told them.
