Author's Note: My first fic (ever) and a pretty successful effort in procrastination from studying, if I do say so myself. Since it's my first, I make no promises about actually finishing this fic. I just want to contribute more canon to the universe.

Disclaimer – I own nothing. I don't even really know where this story is going.

The library was not wholly unpleasant, Draco mused. In fact, the rows of mahogany rather reminded him of the library at the Manor. Shelves spanned the room, and each section overflowed with books sorted by genre: Charms, Potions, Herbology. The librarian, Madam Pince, stood at one end of the room, carefully sorting through and inspecting a high stack of tomes. With each flick of her wand, another book floated through the air to its proper resting place. Although every now and then a book seemed to land on its respective shelf with a dull thud, leaving a soft cloud of dust in its wake.

It was Draco's second week at Hogwarts. So far he remained unimpressed overall. With the exception of a few familiar faces- Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Professor Snape- Draco hadn't found anyone worth associating with. The professors were… eccentric at best. The students seemed to strive for mediocrity.

There were a few considerations, of course. Draco had extended his hand to Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and Potter had outright rejected Draco's offer. In front of their entire class too! A blush started to return to Draco's face at the memory. He had yet to divulge the incident to his mother and father. "Malfoys don't welcome embarrassment," Father would say. Instead, Potter had aligned himself with a Weasley. A Weasley! A tattered, dirty, poor weasel. That family had more freckles between them than they had galleons. Draco had even tried to warn Potter about Weasley and that witless giant Hagrid after Potter had snubbed him, and Potter had gone and sicced a rat on them! Granted, he might have slipped in a comment about Potter's parents, but he was doing him a favor. A favor Potter didn't seem to recognize, apparently. The rumors had to be true then; Harry Potter had been raised by muggles. That was, of course, the only possible explanation for Potter's complete lack of distinction between wizarding class. There could be no other reason why Potter preferred the company of rodents to purebloods. Draco shuddered with disgust and quickly shoved the thought out of his mind.

He was also keen to acquaint himself with one Marcus Flint. He had caught Flint leaving the Slytherin common room last week in his quidditch gear. It was easy to spot him. Flint had all but shoved a few first years on his way out the door. With some effort, perhaps he could convince Flint to invite him onto the Slytherin team next year. He could imagine himself in the green and silver robes now, snitch already in his hand. Seeker was his preferred position, of course; maximum glory with minimal effort. All he'd have to do is focus on catching the snitch. Plus, it helped that he was slightly smaller in stature than his housemates, and that he was practically a natural with a broom. He had been flying on Comets since before he could walk. Between Draco's skill and his father's persuasion, there was no way Flint could reject him the way Potter had.

Yes, Draco had spent his first week observing and acquainting himself with Hogwarts and its inhabitants. After all, Father had instilled in him the importance of one's network (Malfoys only associate themselves with the best). Over the past few days, Draco had been sorted into the best house, identified the best Slytherins, and now he was on a quest for the best study location. The table he chose would be where he'd spend the next seven years studying. Malfoys loved tradition, after all.

As Draco stepped further into the library, he closely inspected the tables. Across from Madam Pince sat a Hufflepuff couple passing notes to each other and giggling. Madam Pince shot a sharp shush in their direction. No, he didn't want anything near the front of the room… too much foot traffic. Draco ventured forth and noticed an empty table off to the side that looked promising, but unfortunately it was poorly lit. That wouldn't do. He was heading into the Magical Creatures section now, and noticed a faint smell of dung that clung to those shelves. Draco wrinkled his nose and walked a little faster. To his left was a flock of girls huddled at the tables by Divination. That would get annoying fast. No, he needed an area that would be practically silent. He considered his classes from the week. Professor Binns had nearly put him to sleep, so the History section would be his best bet. He took a sharp right, mentally noting the Restricted Section roped off in the distance. He'd have to try to sneak a book from there in the future. Something about the Dark Arts that he could show off to Crabbe and Goyle later.

In his beeline for History, Draco had almost missed Ancient Runes. And there he saw it. Up ahead was the perfect table. His table. Half of it was hidden by the end of a bookcase, so it was hard to spot. No students. No smell. And positioned near a window. The shelves here seemed to stand slightly closer together than in the rest of the library, so it resembled a kind of narrow storage area. This was likely what deterred students from studying here. It was just cramped enough and almost completely surrounded by books, so there was no way to get distracted. Draco loved it.

Draco approached the table in earnest. Just as he was tugging his bookbag off to mark his territory, he spotted a bird's nest on the table. No, not a nest. A girl. With absolutely atrocious hair. Draco fumed internally. This witch had apparently claimed his beloved table before he did. How dare she.

He could tell from her robes that she was a Gryffindor. He'd expect a Ravenclaw to find his desk, sure, but a Gryffindor? Surely all of them were outside running amok and creating chaos. Yet, this witch, defiant in her presence, sat hunched so far over her book that she didn't even notice him.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat pointedly. Maybe she would take a hint and notice his green robes. With any luck, she'd run off in fear and he could settle into his desk in peace.

She continued reading, completely unfazed.

Draco paused a moment to consider his options. Perhaps he could find another table? No. He knew there wouldn't be another desk in such a prime location. Maybe he could study in the common room for the time being. Draco rejected that idea immediately. No. This was his table. His table. She would just have to leave.

"Ahem," he attempted again. The young witch looked up at him, and he was momentarily caught off guard by the shade of her eyes. They were rather light, weren't they? A bit brighter than chocolate. Maybe closer to amber. Or even a honey. He squinted slightly to make out a bit more detail from where he stood. Yes, her eyes were closer to honey, with what looked like rings of autumn flecks. They were fairly striking, actually. Just below her eyes sat a dainty little nose and a set of full pink lips. Her skin looked so smooth and soft, not a blemish in sight. Her face was… rather pretty. All of this was, of course, half obscured by an obscene mass of frizz that threatened to consume her entire head. Not to mention she was a Gryffindor. The pretty thing likely had cobwebs where her brain should be. Cobwebs, Draco noted, that clearly erupted from her skull and had come alive in the form of that offensive hair.

"Yes?" She asked, and Draco realized he had been staring at her for several seconds. Just as he found his voice again to tell her to sod off, she continued. "I'm reading, can't you see? It's a rather interesting book too: Magical Theory. I'm getting ahead a bit, but I'd like to read in peace if you don't mind."

Ah. He recognized her now. She was the girl that had practically leapt from her seat in Potions on Friday. How annoying. What was her name again? Garron? Grandy? Regardless, she was looking at him rather expectantly and Draco knew he had to respond lest he come across like a… well, like a Hufflepuff. "I'd like to sit here," he managed to get out. Brilliant. Well, at least he got his point across.

Her face scrunched ever so slightly, so the tiniest crease appeared between her furrowed brows. "Okay…" and she motioned to the seat across from her. "But I really am trying to study quietly."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. Did she really expect him to sit with her? And what did that comment mean? She was the one prattling on incessantly, not him. He looked at the chair in front of him. He supposed he could sit here. It's not like he was planning to study loudly, and based on the way she had been engrossed in her textbook, he doubted she'd make much noise either. Plus, she seemed like the know-it-all type. Perhaps he could copy off her when she wasn't looking. It's not like she'd notice anyway; her nose had already returned to the center binding of her textbook.

With some reluctance, Draco dropped his bookbag on the floor next to the chair, and dragged the chair out so he could sit, making sure to scratch the floor with a long scrrrrrreeeechh in protest. She tensed briefly, almost imperceptibly, and Draco felt smug. He pulled his books out of his bag and set them on the desk one at a time, taking his time so she knew she wasn't welcome.

She pushed her chair back and got up quickly, and Draco felt her shoot a quick look at him before she walked away and into the depths of the shelves. A victorious sigh escaped from him. The girl had taken the hint. Finally, he could get on with studying without any distractions. The picture of her honey gaze entered his mind for a brief second before Draco flipped open his Potions textbook. An enjoyable subject would help shift his attention.

The witch returned with an even heavier book (what was that, a cinder block?) and dropped it on their table with a loud THUD. Draco glared at her, and she returned his expression with a sickly-sweet smile. Her eyes twinkled with triumph, and Merlin, Draco, could you stop looking at her eyes? A damn siren, that one. Draco returned to his book, scowling to himself for several moments while trying to plot ways to subtly torment her. It occurred to him, then, that he had spent quite a bit of time not studying, and if he retaliated now she would likely return the favor. No, it would be better to put a pin in this for now so he could study, and then he could get back at her later.

She sat down again and opened her tome, and Draco silently wished her hair would engulf her face and suffocate her. After several minutes in mutual silence, however, Draco's annoyance began to dissipate, and soon he barely registered her presence. He knew she was there, of course, as she would regularly turn her page (sometimes rather excitedly). And of course, she would unknowingly mutter the occasional hm and ah. But these ambient sounds didn't seem to bother Draco as much. In fact, he was beginning to find them rather rhythmic and calming. That, and a very faint scent of vanilla that surrounded them.

This wasn't so bad. He supposed it would have been a little eerie studying alone in this isolated corner of the library. She would still pay later, undoubtedly. But for now, their unspoken arrangement suited Draco well. Again, he could still copy off of her if he wanted to.

Draco chanced a quick glance in her direction, and noticed a soft smile on her lips.

No, he mused, this was not wholly unpleasant.