“That Hermione Granger,” Lavender Brown began hesitantly, “She doesn’t like me, does she?”

I sure don’t, Hermione thought, watching the two of them surreptitiously with increasing annoyance.

“What gives you that idea?” Ron Weasley said, looking lazily at his lap, which had Lavender occupying it like a throne.

Lavender merely shrugged, and began to kiss him so ferociously that Hermione couldn’t stomach to watch the two of them pouncing around like wild animals.

“That’s what they call true lust,” Ginny said helpfully. She faced Hermione and added, “And you’re arrested development.”

“Arrested development?”

“You know�”somebody who is clearly better, more qualified or whatever, but life sucks for them anyways. You’re gypped. Kind of like Sirius is. I mean, was." A pause as she remembered that Sirius was dead. "Of course,” she said fairly, “you’re partly to blame, so in your case, I use the term loosely, once again exercising my free rein of the English language.”

“I know what arrested development means,” Hermione said, nettled. “I just don’t see how it has anything to do with me. And what’s all this partly-to-blame rubbish you’re spewing?”

“You’re to blame for what’s happening now, don’t you realize? I mean, if you hadn’t been such a�”” It was here Ginny paused, clearly trying to think of a word that perfectly conveyed what Hermione had been. “A coward. You’ve been a coward.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione said nastily, trying to turn her ears off to the sounds of smacking lips that was now permeating in the Gryffindor common room, which was no easy feat.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ginny persisted. “It’s plain to everyone that you and Ron are meant-to-be, but you let Lavender come in and ruin it all.”

“Meant-to-be?”

“Soul mates, star crossed lov�””

“�”ers. I know what meant-to-be means,” sighed Hermione. “But…”

“But what? You and Ron are the opposites attract thing. The brain meets offbeat humor. And don’t you dare deny it, because we both know it’s true.”

“I don't believe I've met anyone who uses so many overused phrases...and you really believe that?” Hermione said skeptically.

“I really do.”

“Well…tell that to Ron. He looks�”and sounds like he’s having the time of his life,” Hermione spat bitterly.

“Well, he is,” said Ginny bluntly. “Having the time of his life, that is. Like I said before, he’s never really been a hit with girls, so Lavender is the peak of his sad, sordid life so far. But you were afraid to take a chance, and now it’s too late,” she said with an awful finality and gave a melancholy exhale of regret.

“I really don’t see what the fuss is about. He can kiss any girl he likes. It’s nothing to do with me,” Hermione stated steadfastly. Glaring at nobody in particular, she began to focus on the flickering flames, mesmerized by the luminescence of the fire and the shadows it cast.

Lavender’s insistence on spending every spare second with Ron left little time for Hermione to talk to Ron, which was fine, because she was perfectly fine with their “relationship” together and didn’t want to interfere. Or at least, that was what she told Harry, who merely grunted and nodded but with no real reply to speak of, undoubtedly because he suspected the real truth: she was jealous.

Which was a ludicrous, although disconcertingly true thought. She was jealous. There were times when she thought Ron would look at her more when it was not wholly necessary to, but would look away guiltily and turn back to Lavender. Or was that just the tiny shred of hope remaining that suspected that? No. He definitely looked at her, and it was this thought that sustained her for the rest of the week, where she proceeded to complete her work, refuse to look over Harry’s work in the knowledge that he would let Ron copy him, and dutifully neglect any activities pertaining to watching Draco Malfoy.

Opposites attract…That was what Ginny had said about Ron and her, but despite their differences, she and Ron weren’t really opposites. There was nobody who was so blatantly opposite from her as Draco Malfoy. They were as yin and yang as the sun and moon. But she repressed this thought, because having such a thought disturbed her more than even Ron and Lavender’s passionately public kissing escapades.

During that brawl of a confrontation, there had been a moment of vulnerability, however brief, that Malfoy had seemed to be considering really telling her in spite of their complete loathing for each other. Confiding in her, opening up to her…But something had stopped him, and she had a strong feeling it was her responsibility to open him up, because this was one thing she couldn’t deny�”he was up to something, and whatever it was, it sounded dark or dangerous and it also sounded like it involved her. And having the Dark Mark? That was beyond fishy. It was...eerie.

But how best to approach him again? The same way Ron’s eyes followed her was the same for Hermione for Malfoy. Although the five years she’d been friends with Harry and Ron had practically given her an education for breaking rules and being something like a spy, she had the suspicion that Malfoy knew she was watching him, although he did nothing to dissuade nor acknowledge her. It was the lack of acknowledgment that burned her with resentment she couldn’t explain to herself.

What was so secretive of “the plan” that he couldn’t, wouldn’t tell her? She would ponder this for hours at a time before remembering that he had no obligation to�”he was a Slytherin, she a Gryffindor. He was a pureblood, she a Muggleborn. The parallels were clear, but were becoming less so, at least to her. And of course, they were rivals. There was no reason at all for him to confide in her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded at the unsettling sight of a tall and all too familiar figure that was Draco Malfoy. She was in the library, her usual choice of retreat, and blissfully away from Ron and Lavender. To avoid two, you get one who’s even worse. Even more unsettling was the fact that he had pulled out the seat directly in front of her.

“We’re in the library, Granger. Keep your voice in an indoor whisper,” Malfoy said, smirking in an even more familiar fashion that for some reason assured Hermione. Still more unsettling was his use of the word ‘we’re’. The pronoun wasn’t meant to imply anything, but she felt goosebumps form on her arms despite the cozy warmth of the library.

She could still remember the moment of understanding they’d reached in the abandoned corridor. He hadn’t been so confident and sneering in there like he was now, and it was this she thought of now.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated again, refusing to betray how confused she felt just at the mere thought, mere presence of him.

Malfoy appeared to ruminate the question. “I guess,” he began with sudden and lilting tentativeness that surprised her, “to find you.”

“To find me,” Hermione repeated, her resolve to conceal confusion dwindling as she felt more nonplussed than ever.

“What you saw the other day…did you tell anyone?” His tone was guarded but anxious.

Hermione considered. She hadn’t told anyone about Malfoy’s Dark Mark, but she saw her answer to be a potential weapon. The wicked impulse that struck her died when she looked in his eyes, which awaited her fateful reply. “Against my better nature, I haven’t, actually.”

His grey eyes, which were absent of their usual coldness, gazed at her intently for a moment, clearly trying to gauge she was telling the truth or not. Hermione blinked. The closeness between them just now reminded Hermione uncomfortably of their former encounter of closeness. The moment snapped, the inadvertent spell of closeness broken as fast as it had arisen uncertainly between the two of them like a Deflagration Deluxe set of fireworks.

“Guess you’re not as filthy as your blood would imply,” Malfoy finally spat malevolently.

Hermione had to admit she was surprised. Was he that eager to resume the familiar plane of hatred? She glared at him, loathing every fibre of his being, his existence. “Get out.”

“It’s not on your grounds to say that,” he drawled, still looking at her intently in that piercing manner. “I know you call this library home Granger, but home for you is in the Muggle world. That’s where you belong. Right now, you’re just a tourist in this world. If I were you, I’d take some pictures before I hopped back to Muggle London.”

“You really don’t have anything else to cast aspersions about on me, do you? Is that all you care about, Malfoy? How pure someone’s blood is? You’re beneath me.” The last three words had been unintentional, and she wasn’t sure what she meant by them as she stood up to leave, seeing as he wouldn’t.

“You think you’re better than me?” he said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know I am.”

“Your vilification knows no limits, Granger. I’m impressed.”

“What?” Unsettled once more, and even worse, he knew it. You’re not supposed to be impressed; you’re supposed to fire back with some snappy retort!

He grinned in undisguised amusement at her reaction. “You enjoy these rows, don’t you?”

She said nothing, her arms crossed, her posture rigidly rock-solid.

“What do they call it in the Muggle World�”debate club or something? That’s what this is for you. You like being in the presence of somebody bigger, somebody better�”somebody like me.”

Words caught up with her again, although the delivery wasn’t as cutting as she wanted in her slightly dazed state. “You’re beneath me.”

Still grinning, he stood up, towering over her and said, “That’s what you think, Granger. But you’ll be back.”

“Back for what?” she said, cursing herself for her curiosity.

“For…well, I think we both know what you want.”

She would have laughed at the ridiculous implications of his words if she hadn’t been trying so hard to identify what that stupid creeping feeling in her stomach was. Was there some truth in his words? Did she enjoy these rows? Did she enjoy the exchange of taunts between the two of them? Did she…enjoy his company?

No, I don’t, she thought furiously with the same conviction she’d had with her feelings on Ron and Lavender, which was to say, none at all.