Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue

It wasn't stubbornness that caused my doom. I always thought it was part of my heritage, part of me. That I should not give into any more of their pureblooded prejudice. Why stop wearing perfectly common muggle sleepwear just because purebloods found them extravagant; they were not even suggestive, simple shorts and shirts my mother had gotten me for Christ's sake!

The first time Harry and I found them gawking in the common room, Harry covered his scar. It wasn't long before I made a point of not letting their silly ideas make me hide my most confortable briefs or get a wizard robe to sleep, and neither of my fellow muggleborn friends did either so why should I have started.

Of course, there were not many muggleborns in Slytherin and none of the few there, if any at all, would have dared take such a stance for mere clothes. I cannot help to think I should have known. But it had been so long since the first shocked glance at my sleep attire that when the Head boy directed such look my way I blamed it on my disheveled hair, but no boy on earth merited me combing it again just to go back to sleep – least of all Malfoy. Therefore, I rolled my eyes to his raised eyebrow and ignored him.

It was not until Blaise's whistled guffaw during a late study session that I finally recognized what the fuzz was about; but by then I was used to ignore his stupid friend's jests as well and it wasn't long before my friends came over as well and their lack of shock showed my point.

To think such a silly detail was what caught his attention to me was stupid, and it was not until much later that it even crossed my mind to relate it at all.

He had started making a habit of taking peaks at me when I was working, studying, or even sleeping and our arguments had turned more intimidating; and it wasn't that I'd started to think of him as intimidating, it was just that suddenly and without any warning I'd find him taking much needed room from my personal space. I did not make much of the first times I would catch him sputtering his venom at me mere inches from my face, but the fact they tended to render me speechless was rather disturbing.

I blamed the dreams I had started to have about him on my raging hormones and ignored them altogether, up until one day, I discovered that he had started to take his ogling habits further, but by then it was too late.

It was not rare for neither of us to find the other drooling over an assignment, or sprawled over them on our common room desk. It had been shocking to discover he was almost as obsessed with his studies as I was, and it had been somewhat disturbing the first time I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. He would pretend obliviousness of course, and go about his business as if nothing had happened, but it was not until my dreams started that the real hell broke loose.

I had fallen asleep on the couch with a book on top, and I have no idea how the history of ancient runes had taken me to imagine silvered strands of hair tangled in my hands and scorching kisses travelling from my earlobe to my neck. I am sure I must have sighed then; while in my dreams my kisser travelled his lips over my neck in what I considered too-soft-for-my-liking touches. "More" I practically begged, while he kept ignoring my demands and I felt an intake of breath on my collarbone, as if my mystery man was suddenly taking in my scent and slowly travelling upwards.

It was surprisingly more pleasant than his kisses and felt entirely different, but I felt compelled to claim for more so I did, once, twice, and each time louder, until the sound of my own voice woke me up to find real silver hair hovering over me.