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“Honey drop!” Hermione yelled the password to the Head dormitories and rushed inside. She made her way to the bathroom discarding her clothes as she went, not pausing to think that she may not be alone. Kicking off her shoes and pulling her tank top over her head she entered the bathroom and bent to reach for the cold water tap on the shower.

“Wha…Granger?!” said a surprised voice from a few feet away. Hermione’s head snapped up and she gasped, temporarily frozen in shock. Draco was standing in his boxers not three feet away from her, clearly getting ready to shower as Hermione had been. Looking down, Hermione saw she had only her pink lace bra and dance skirt on. She desperately grabbed for something to cover herself with. Snatching the nearest piece of clothing she could find and scrambling into it, she finally looked him in the face.

“I was just going to…uh, shower but y..you um…I can go its no…” she stammered.

“N-no, I mean you shouldn’t get the bra end-RAW end, I meant raw end of the deal. I’ll just use the prefects bathroom.” Draco blushed and started gathering his clothes. “Hey have you seen my shirt…oh.” Taking a closer look at the clothing she had grabbed to cover herself earlier, she realized it was his shirt she had put on.

“I’m sorry, here I’ll just…just let me get something else to…” she began searching for a towel so she could give him his shirt back.

“No, you can keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” Draco’s eyes went wide and he clapped his hand to his mouth, obviously not meaning to say that out loud. Without another word he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Hermione stood staring at the spot where he had been standing for a minute before turning back to the shower. “Cold water, defiantly cold water…” she mumbled softly.

~*~*~ on the other side of the door….*~*~*~*

He leaned against the closed door, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. “You dunderhead! Why did you say that out loud?” He thought angrily. “Now she’s going to think I fancy her because I gave her my shirt. Damn…I don’t fancy her though. Do I? No. Not possible. I don’t think.” Putting on his robes he headed out of the common room and down the corridor to the Slytherin prefect bathroom. Fortunately, there was no one to walk in on him this time. He finished bathing and went back to his room.

“Honey drop” he said. The portrait swung open and soft music filled his ears. He strained them trying to hear better; following the sound he found himself in front of Hermione’s half open door. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he peeked in and saw Hermione in baby blue boy shorts and his shirt. Ballet shoes strapped on her feet, she was struggling to keep her balance. He was about to go help steady her when he heard her speak.

“Come on Hermione, its not hard. You can do this. You need to be the best…” she was saying to herself. Letting her arms drop to her sides she flopped down on her bed, giving up for now. She still hadn’t noticed Draco standing in her doorway. Pushing her face into the nearest pillow she screamed, “I hate ballet!” But the sound was muffled.

“Funny,” Draco said, looking around the room at the lavender walls and matching bed coverings. “I never pictured you as a purple person.” Hermione jumped when he spoke.

“Draco...”

“The door was open.” She nodded in understanding. “You know, I always thought of you as a red or yellow kind of person.” He told her. She nodded again.

“Gryffindor colors.” She said in small voice. “I like purple.”

“Yes I can see that.” His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he was staring at his feet. He looked up at Hermione through his hair which was falling loosely in his face. He nervously ran his hand through his hair then said, “Hey Gra-Hermione, could I ask you something?” he asked gently. She took a deep breath before nodding her head.

“I hope I don’t regret this…” she thought as she patted the spot next to her on the bed. He hesitated, but walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, but not too close.

“I was wondering why you think you need to be the best at everything.”

She sighed again and mumbled something so quietly Draco hardly even heard it at all.

“What?” he asked.

“You. I said, you. Its people like you and your family who think that I’m dirt and don’t deserve to live, or that I’m just a waste of magical talent. I want to prove them all wrong, show them that I’m better than they will ever be. I want respect. I want people to look up to me, to be proud of me. I want to be accepted for something other than a mudblood bookworm.” When she finished her eyes were shining with tears that she was stubbornly refusing to shed.

“I am not my father Hermione. I’m not. I can’t apologize enough for hurting you these past years, but you are not dirt, and you are not a waste. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve been beating be in everything since 1st year, and most likely always will. You’re smarter, and a better dancer,” He confessed. “And my shirt really does look better on you.” He added. She couldn’t help it, she had to laugh. She looked down at the shirt she was wearing and smiled, but then blushed when she remembered how she got it in the first place.

“Draco, what are we?” Hermione asked looking into his blue eyes that for some reason weren’t cold anymore. She had been dying to know. Were they friends? Classmates? Enemies?

“I guess we’re friends…I mean, if we need to work together as Head Boy and Girl, and we are dance partners, it would be easier if we got along.” He answered slowly.

“I agree.” She nodded. “So…friends it is I guess.”

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