"What do you mean Malfoy isn't on the Slytherin team anymore?"

Harry shrugged, glancing at his best friend from across the Gryffindor table. "I had a look over the names of each house team. Malfoy's wasn't there."

"Probably didn't want Quidditch to interfere with his work," Hermione offered from behind the Daily Prophet. "This is, after all, our N.E.W.T year."

Ron snorted. "As if that ever stopped the ponce from trying to one-up us on the field."

"I'm just saying," Hermione replied with a shrug, placing the newspaper aside. "What other logical reason could there be?"

"Maybe he's developed a fear of heights." Ron grinned nastily. "Or maybe he got hexed with something nasty down there…"

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron trailed off into the possible, awful injuries Malfoy may have obtained over the summer holidays. Truth be told, he too had been surprised when Malfoy's name had not been on the Slytherin's Quidditch team roster. As much as Harry was thankful that the blond was no longer going to play against him, a little bit of Harry was disconcerted with the sudden change in normality. It had always been the same way, he and Malfoy, on the pitch, racing against one another…

"Merlin could you imagine!" Ron's gleeful laugh broke Harry's thoughts and the brunet looked over at his friend, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow.

"No more coffee for you, mate," Harry stated, reaching over for a piece of toast as Ron grinned.

"Oh good, here comes Professor McGonagall with our timetables." Hermione peered expectantly at the approaching teacher, accepting her timetable excitedly and immediately scanning the contents.

Taking his from the Professor, Harry glanced down at the weekly schedule, pleased when he saw a few empty spots where his free periods were located.

"Aw, yes, sleep in on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Ron said excitedly. "How about you, mate?"

"Same," Harry replied. "That must be when Divination would have been held if we'd kept it."

Ron snorted. "Not bloody likely." He peered over the table. "How about you, Mione?"

"That's when I have Ancient Runes," the female replied. "Oh, but I do get Wednesday and Friday afternoons off."

The two boys glanced down.

"Same," they said in unison.

"Must have been Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione mused. "Wonderful, extra study time!"

Ron groaned, folding his timetable and shoving it into the pocket of his robe. "This year is going to be hell."

"Are you sure you will be alright?"

Draco Malfoy's eyes briefly closed in annoyance. "Yes, Pansy," he replied, voice clipped. "For the tenth time I have everything covered."

"The charms have worked then?" the female asked.

"Of course they have. Honestly, do you doubt me that much?" The blond frowned, turning his gaze to the female sitting on the edge of his bed.

Pansy exhaled a long calming breath. "You know I don't," she replied, voice softer. "This year is going to be bad enough without… well… without this."

Draco's lip curled, eyes flashing. "Sorry to be such an inconvenience," he snarled.

Pansy's nose crinkled. "That is not what I meant and you know it," she snapped in reply. "You're my best friend, Draco, I just want to make sure you're safe."

The blond drew in a breath, eyes closing momentarily. "I know," he said. "I know…"

Pansy studied her friend's pale face, biting her lip. "Are you alright for—do you need…?" she began, hand hovering over her left wrist.

Smiling slightly, Draco shook his head. "No, I'm alright, Pansy, thank you." Steeling himself, the blond brushed down his school robes one last time. "Come on, let's go."

"Monday morning with the Slytherins, can it get anyone worse?" Ron moaned, leaning his forehead against the cool bricks of the dungeons. "I am so sick of starting our weeks down here in this hell hole."

"Think of it this way, we get it over and done with quickly," Hermione replied.

"But, Hermione, we still have two more lessons throughout the week."

"Fine, mope. I was just trying to improve your mood," the brunette replied with a snort, hitching her bag further up her shoulder. Beside her, Harry was leaning against the brick wall, his gaze drawn down the dark corridor to his other classmates. Familiar faces littered the line of students, and yet there was one face in particular that stood out to the brunet.

Draco Malfoy stood beside Pansy Parkinson, his blond hair shining even in the gloom on the dungeons. The male's grey eyes were constantly scanning the other students in an almost calculating and shrewd manner. Harry didn't remember the blond being so… cautiously observant before. Despite the caginess, the brunet couldn't help but appreciate the way Malfoy appeared. His skin, which had always been pale, was even more so, his eyes glinting a sheen of silver whenever his gaze moved.

He looked strangely beautiful.

Harry blinked suddenly. Beautiful…? Malfoy…? Get a grip, Harry.

The door to the classroom finally opened, and the students began to file inside. Harry found himself hanging back, his eyes still on Malfoy as the Slytherin drew closer. The brunet couldn't help but frown faintly. There was something different about the blond, and yet he was unable to put his finger on it. Malfoy moved much fluidly then before, his posture seemed to exude a strength Harry did not remember. He was definitely not the same person the brunet had known since First Year. He turned to Ron.

"Does Malfoy look different to you?" he found himself asking, keeping his voice low.

"What?" Ron replied, looking over. His nose crinkled. "Nope, looks to be the same stuck up ponce as usual."

"He doesn't look, I dunno, different to you at all?"

Ron glanced at his friend, eyebrows raised. "I don't know what to tell you, mate. Malfoy looks the same to me as he's always looked. Like a bloody git," he added with a grin. "Come on, let's get this lesson over with."

Harry followed the red-head, gaze drawn once more to the Slytherin who was crossing the dungeon to his usual seat with Parkinson. He sat down gracefully beside her, removed his textbook, parchment, and ink, before leaning back in his chair, his arms folded in a casual manner.

"Um, mate, you going to sit down any time soon?"

The brunet blinked, looking down at Ron and Hermione who were staring at him. The brunette was gazing at him with a small knowing smile. The red-head on the other hand, stared at him obliviously.

"Just trying to prolong the inevitable," Harry replied with a small grin, dropping into his seat beside him.

"Potter keeps staring at me," Draco growled softly. "Do you suspect Granger told him?"

Glancing at the male sitting beside her, Pansy shook her head. "I don't believe so. She gave us her word that she would not tell a soul. If anything, we can trust in her word as a Gryffindor at any rate."

"Then why the fuck does Potter keep staring at me?"

"Perhaps he's noticed that you look different," Pansy offered, laying her quill delicately beside her ink pot. "You may not have changed much but the differences are still there. Considering you've been in each other's faces since First Year, I'm honestly not surprised that he's picked up on the changes."

The blond's eyebrows pulled down into a frustrated frown. "Why on earth would Potter of all people be the one who notices I've changed? Our relationship doesn't exactly extend passed the occasional insult."

Pansy snorted, glancing at her friend in amusement. "For a Slytherin, Draco, you're blissfully ignorant at times."

Hermione Granger couldn't help the smile that curled at her lips as she watched her friend finally take a seat at their table. She had always suspected the infatuation Harry had had with Malfoy, but to actually see him noticing the subtle changes that hardly anyone else could was amusing to say the least.

The bushy-haired brunette had been shocked to receive an intense letter during the holidays. The contents of said letter was nothing compared to the surprise she had felt at the sight of the sender, however. One Pansy Parkinson, someone who had never failed to tell Hermione exactly what she thought of her, had written to her asking for the Gryffindor's help. After the first few lines had been filled with an elaborate apology, the Slytherin had described a series of events that, even now, still had Hermione's head in a whirl. Parkinson had admitted that she knew Hermione would be the best person to help them, but understood if the Gryffindor was apprehensive to do so.

Hermione had agreed, and given her word not to tell another soul.

Ever since, she, Parkinson, and Malfoy had been exchanging letters filled with information. She had done her best to try and research as much as possible in order to make Malfoy's transition easier. Hermione still found it hard to actually believe something like this had happened.

"What do you think, Hermione?"

"What?" The female turned. Ron was gazing at her.

"Harry and I were thinking of see Hagrid during lunch," the red-head repeated.

"You guys go, there's something I need to do in the library," Hermione replied, opening her textbook.

Ron snorted. "I don't know why you just don't live there to be honest."

"Oh, shut up, Ronald."

"Thank you for coming, Granger," Pansy greeted, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Hermione inclined her head, taking the chair and settling herself at the table hidden away in the shadows. She looked at the blond sitting beside Parkinson. "How're you settling in?" she asked.

He shrugged disdainfully in reply. "As well as you can expect," he replied with a sneer.

"The charms I found worked then?" the bushy-haired female said, pointedly ignoring Malfoy's attitude.

"Obviously."

Rolling her eyes, Pansy smacked the blond on the arm. "Don't mind him, Granger. Draco's pissy because Potter won't stop staring at him."

"Hmm, yes I noticed that as well." Hermione frowned, tapping a finger against her lips.

"Draco doesn't know what to do with all this attention, especially from Potter."

"For fucks sake, Pansy—"

"Keep your voice down, Draco," Pansy interrupted with a smirk. "You wouldn't want anyone finding out now, would you?"

The blond's upper lip curled into a silent snarl but he said nothing. Hermione couldn't help but stare. As much as she had accepted the story she had been told, it was another to see the proof.

"Put those away," Pansy said, her smirk turning into a grin. Hermione could tell she was enjoying teasing the blond. "You might frighten Granger away, then what will you do?"

"Thankfully," the female Gryffindor replied, lifting her bag onto the table, "it takes a little more than a vampiric Draco Malfoy to frighten me." Reaching inside, Hermione removed three shrunken books, placing them before the pair of Slytherins. With a quick glance to make sure they were still alone, Hermione tapped each hardcover with her wand and returned the books to their original size. "These are the most reputable texts I could find. Unfortunately, there is a lot of hearsay when it comes to vampire lore since vampires do not tend to associate with anyone other than their kind. Many of the books I researched were based on fiction, so don't be surprised if you experience things that aren't mentioned and vice-versa. This one—" she tapped the middle text, "is probably the best for you. It's written by a wizard who was turned like you were. That was difficult to come by so don't lose it."

"I will try my hardest," Malfoy drawled.

Hermione glared at him. "You wanted my help and I am giving it. Some respect in return would be nice, Malfoy."

"You'll forgive me if I don't jump for joy, Granger. I didn't, after all, exactly plan on becoming a vampire," the blond snapped viciously.

Hermione stared at him sardonically. "Oh really? And here I thought it was your aspiration in life."

The blond's jaw clenched and he sat back in his chair. Controlling his emotions had been much harder since his change—he found himself reacting fervently and much more abruptly than when he had been human. Hermione gazed at him knowingly, her eyes unnervingly full of understanding.

"Here," she said, voice gentler as she pushed them towards him. "Take them and read them. I've read them cover to cover several times now so if there's anything that confuses you, please ask me… I will help you."

The blond turned a look of astonishment in her direction, disbelief etched on his smooth, pale face. Hermione leant back in her chair, a soft sigh falling from her lips.

"You might not consider us to be friends, Malfoy, but not even I wish this upon you," she said, speaking softly. "You were ripped from your right to live life as a regular wizard; forced into becoming a dark creature without your consent—no one deserves that. Therefore, I will do whatever I can to make this easier for you."

Malfoy's gaze fell away from hers. "Thank you," he murmured quietly. He pulled out his wand and tapped each of the textbooks once more, shrinking them before placing them inside his bag.

"You're damned lucky Granger is as caring as she is," Pansy commented.

The Gryffindor smirked. "Caring has nothing to do with it."

Snorting elegantly, Draco stood, lifting his bag onto his shoulder. "If you two will excuse me, I have some charms to recast before class."

"Don't forget your manners, Draco."

The blond rolled his silver eyes. "I believe I was just about to thank Granger for her help." Draco inclined his head to the Gryffindor. "Thank you, really. I appreciate your help and your finesse during this… situation."

Unable to help herself, Hermione smiled. "You're welcome, Malfoy." Her smile widened. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity of having you in my debt now, could I?"

"How on earth were you sorted into Gryffindor, Granger?" the female Slytherin commented, slightly impressed.

"My poor Gryffindor heart was too nice for the snake den."

"Fair enough."

Draco snorted and left the two females, shaking his head in mild disgust. Women… he thought sourly, rounding the corner of the bookshelf. Distracted as he was, Malfoy wasn't aware of anyone in his path until he walked straight into another figure.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," Malfoy growled, stepping away from the male immediately.

"I wasn't the one moving, Malfoy," Potter snapped back in reply. "Oh but that's right, nothing is ever your fault now is it?"

The blond leaned closer, eyes alight with fury. "Listen, Potter—" His voice suddenly faltered, eyes widening slightly as the brunet's scent caressed his nose. He pulled back immediately, staring at the male standing before him in shock.

"Well?" Potter said irritably, green eyes bright with anger.

"Forget it," the blond retorted, brushing passed him. His heart was thundering in his chest, his throat suddenly parched. He felt he could had drained all the water in the lake and it would still not be enough to quench the unexpected thirst his body craved.

Once he'd put enough distance between himself and Potter, Draco slipped out of sight down a deserted row of book shelves. He leant against one as he caught his breath, his mind a whirlwind.

I only fed from Pansy the other day… I shouldn't need to feed for another week…

Draco swallowed convulsively, his hand trembling as he brought it up to run his fingers through his hair. He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself. After a few moments, the blond felt his heart settle, his breaths no longer panted. The thirst, which only moments before had been almost uncontrollable, had ebbed to a faint echo.

It was unbelievable. He'd been fine at home, he'd been fine in the Slytherin common. He'd had no trouble going to class or walking through the corridors filled with students. Why then, of all the people in the entire school, was it Harry Fucking Potter that affected him so severely?

Draco swallowed again as the thirst randomly spiked once more.

Merlin, I can barely think about Potter without my body going mad…

Forcing every single emotion that flared at the mere thought of the bespectacled Gryffindor back down where they belonged, Draco straightened, a sense of determination overcoming him. He was stronger than this. He may not have been given the choice in his change but he would be the one to control it from now on.

He glanced at his watch. Still half an hour before his next class.

Draco thought of the textbooks hidden away in his bag.

He had some reading to do.

"Harry?"

The brunet looked up.

Hermione frowned. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine—was just looking for you." He looked over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from speculating about Malfoy's abrupt departure. He frowned as he turned back to his friend who was watching his curiously.

"Did something happen?" she asked.

"Nothing new, I assure you," Harry said then, pushing the thoughts of Malfoy away. "You done here in the library? Want to get some lunch before class?"

"Sounds good," Hermione replied. "How was Hagrid's?"

"Where have you been?" Pansy frowned, finally catching up with her best friend outside the History of Magic classroom.

"Reading," the blond replied. "The textbooks Granger found have been most… illuminating."

"In good ways I hope?" the shorter Slytherin asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Somewhat."

"Well good, hopefully they'll provide the answers we're after." Pansy flicked her hand in the direction of the classroom. "You can fill me in on what you've read so far before Binns arrives."

"If half of what the textbooks describe is true, my life is going to become rather interesting," the blond commented wryly, an ironic smile quirking his lips as he followed his best friend into the classroom.

"How so?" Pansy asked, directing them to their usual desk. As much as Draco would have preferred to remain out of the direct eyesight of his classmates, he knew that maintaining appearances was the best way to sustain normality. After all, hiding in plain sight proved to be much more effective at times—people had no reason to suspect anything different.

"I'll save those details for later," Draco replied, dropping his books onto the desk. "In a less conspicuous atmosphere."

"That bad, huh?"

"Shut up, Pansy," Draco said with no heat. He ignored the grin the brunette sent him as he removed parchment and ink from his bag and arranged them on the desk.

It was with almost uncanny awareness that the blond knew the exact moment Potter walked into the room. He stiffened, forcing himself to not look at the brunet. He did not why it was he was so tuned into Potter's presence but it needed to stop.

"No let's sit over near the window," came Granger's voice. "It's a bit stuffy in here and I could use the fresh air."

Despite not watching the trio make their way across the classroom, Draco could envision every motion Potter would have made in his mind's eye: the swish of robes, the easy way the brunet would have grinned at the Weasel, the haphazard slump as the brunet fell into his seat with as much enthusiasm as a dead tree branch.

Fuck.

Drawing a silent but extremely deep breath, Draco compelled his body to relax. More and more students were filing into the room—it'd do no good for him to suddenly reveal to them all exactly what had happened to him over the summer holidays.

"Two galleons that half the class is asleep in the first twenty minutes," Pansy commented then, her eyes on the ghostly figure of their teacher as he swept into the room via the wall.

Jumping on the much needed distraction, the blond snorted. "Please, Pansy, that's much too easy. Make it ten galleons and within the first five minutes and you're on."

Draco found that if he focused his entire attention on Professor Binns' monotone drawl, the compulsion to think about Potter was shoved to a bare minimum. Much to his pleasure, Draco's prediction of the class being asleep in the first five minutes proved to be typically true and, after a very filthy glare from Pansy, the female had agreed to pay up once they returned to the Slytherin common room.

All in all, the blond was feeling rather normal, all things considered. That was, however, until the wind began to pick up outside, bursts of fresh air blowing into the classroom. As the breeze blew through the open window, the blond inhaled through his nose, eyes closing as Potter's scent suddenly enveloped every inch of him.

What I wouldn't give to taste him…

Draco shook himself. What was he thinking…?

Despite his determination to squash the longing for Potter's blood, he felt his fangs begin to lengthen. A shot of alarm stabbed into his chest. Here he was, in the middle of History of Magic, and his fangs had elongated. If he even opened his mouth the tiniest millimetre it would be painfully obviously to everyone what he was.

Oh fuck.

No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to stop the way his body was responding to the scent of Potter. He was encircled by his entire class. This fact alone should have been enough to stem the desires now growing with the blond. Instead, Draco was so very close to disregarding all rational thought and claiming the delectable brunet as his own in front despite the audience they would receive.

Swallowing thickly, his hand gripped his quill so tightly his arm trembled.

"Draco?" Pansy murmured as softly as she could. "What's wrong?"

The blond sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. "Nothing," he uttered after a moment, lips barely moving.

The look he received in return told Draco that Pansy did not buy his response in the least. Thankfully she seemed to sense his reluctance to speak about it in the middle of class and did not press further.

How on earth am I going to explain this to Pansy…? And that the fuck does it even mean?! Why is it, out of the entire school, that Potter make me feel the most inhuman…?

Frustration crashed over him. He had been so good… so careful… and with one brief inhalation, Potter's scent had broken through every wall the blond had constructed and brought the snarling beast screaming to the surface.

Draco just prayed he had enough strength the survive the remaining thirty minutes of class.

The blond was the first out of the classroom once Binns had dismissed them. He was halfway down the corridor before he allowed himself to slow, breathing in the clean, Potter-free air as he tried to regain some form of normality back.

Then there was Pansy, right on his heels and with a look of such determination and eerie understanding that Draco barely had time to time to construct how he was going to explain this sudden issue to his best friend before she was steering him into a deserted classroom, closing the door behind her.

"What's the problem?" Pansy asked immediately, eyes bright with concern as she stared at her friend.

Draco swallowed, his jaw clenching. "Potter," he bit out.

The brunette frowned. "What about him?" Shock suddenly passed over her features. "Does he know?" she gasped.

Draco shook his head, hands clenching by his sides.

Pansy gazed at him in confusion, the shock fading. "Then what…?" she began.

"It's his scent," the blond suddenly snarled. "It's driving me insane."

"In what way?"

"In every way." The Slytherin began pacing the room, drawing in deep breaths in order to calm himself. Pansy watched him with widening eyes. Since his change, she had never seen Draco so… unsettled. It was the most vampiric he had ever appeared.

"Draco," she began carefully, keeping her tone even, "when did you first notice this reaction to Potter?"

"Library," the blond replied shortly.

"Was that the first time you had been close to him this year?"

Draco turned sharply to stare at the female who was regarding his carefully. "What are you on about?" he replied with a sneer.

Pansy kept her tone steady. "His scent, Draco," she explained, "was that the first time you had smelt it?" She watched, unsurprised, as Draco nodded stiffly. "And you reacted immediately to it?"

Another stiff nod.

"In what way, exactly?"

Draco glared at the floor. "I want—wanted—to bite him. He—" The blond winced, feeling the burn in his throat once more. "I find myself craving him."

The brunette stared. "But you only fed the other day," she stated.

"I am aware of that," Draco snapped. "I am as confused as I'm sure you are, Pansy. What I want to know is why. Why the fuck does Potter make me… make me so—"

"Calm down," Pansy interrupted carefully. "It's alright." With a sigh she leant against the wooden door, gazing at him thoughtfully. "Look, until we figure out why Potter makes you feel this way, we're just going to have to stay away from him."

A frustrated growl fell from the blond's lips. "And how do you propose I do that, Pansy? We share half of his classes."

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, you need to control yourself," Pansy said sternly, pinning him with a glare. "We're going to work this out but you need to stop being such a dick. It wouldn't go over well for you to go on a vampiric rampage now, would it?"

The blond laughed mockingly. "Might make me feel better."

"Be serious, Draco," Pansy scolded. "This is new and rather frightening. Neither of us understand fully how your new body functions—you'll have to forgive me if I want to practice a little caution."

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. "What do you propose we do then?" he asked instead, unable to fully hide the snark from his tone.

"Thankfully, we do not share our next class with the Golden Boy. After Charms, I suggest that you go straight to the common room. At least the Snake Pit will be the last place Potter should be. I'll go find Granger after dinner," Pansy offered. "Alright?"

The blond exhaled. "Alright."

"Granger, may I have a word?" Parkinson asked, catching up to the trio before they started up the stairs.

Harry and Ron both stared obtusely at the Slytherin. She quirked an eyebrow as she spared them a quick glance.

"Go on ahead, you guys," Hermione said, noting the hint of desperation in Parkinson's voice. "I'll catch up with you."

"Er… alright," the brunet replied, glancing at Ron and frowning faintly. The two of them left the females all the same, Harry unable to stop himself from glancing back, rather dumbfounded at the calm way Hermione seemed to receive the other female.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as soon as they were alone.

"We've hit a little snag," the Slytherin replied. "Draco's discovered he becomes rather irrational whenever he gets too close to Potter."

Hermione frowned. "Irrational how?"

"In the sense that he wants to bleed Potter dry?" Parkinson replied wryly. "For some reason the Golden Boy appears to draw out the worst in Draco and until we figure it out, we need you to keep Potter as far away from him as you can."

A contemplative expression passed over Hermione's face. Parkinson raised an eyebrow.

"You don't seem terribly surprised about this news, Granger."

"Because I'm not," Hermione replied simply. "I've always found the relationship between Harry and Draco to be interesting… truthfully I was expecting something like this to happen."

Parkinson frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Vampires have unusual relationships with their… mates," Hermione said. "Generally, they are able to feed from various humans at their leisure. Malfoy feeds from you, doesn't he?"

Pansy was nodding. "Yes, Draco drinks from me whenever he needs it but he's not my mate."

"No, you're not," the Gryffindor agreed. "Both of you would know if you were."

Parkinson frowned. "Then what does this have to do with Potter?"

"From what you have explained to me, Pansy, isn't it obvious?" Hermione frowned at the Slytherin. "Draco craves Harry in a way he doesn't crave anyone else—what does that tell you?"

"That Potter just happens to be particularly delicious to vampires?"

Smiling ironically, Hermione allowed herself a brief chuckle. "I doubt any other vampires would even get the chance to come within ten feet of Harry if Malfoy is reacting the way you're describing." The bushy-haired female shook her head. "No, Pansy, Harry isn't some fancy vampire cuisine."

"Then why—"

"Because it appears Harry is Draco's blood-mate."

Parkinson blinked. "His what?"

"Blood. Mate." Hermione stated slowly. "A vampire's blood-mate is a single being they are chemically and physically attracted to. Should Draco ever initiate the bond with Harry, he will never be able to feed from another being."

"Why?" Pansy frowned.

"Because a blood-mate becomes the vampire's life force; their bond is tremendously powerful. Once the connection is made, a vampire will only ever crave their mate."

"What if Potter has no interest in the bond?"

"Then Malfoy will have to be extremely careful. The rejection of a mate is rare but it does happen. Should Malfoy not initiate the bond, the two of them will be fine. That is, if Malfoy can resist Harry long enough until they are far apart that the cravings fade. However." Hermione paused then, gazing at Parkinson carefully. "If Malfoy acts on impulse, ingests Harry's blood and Harry rejects him… then Malfoy will no longer be able to take from another's vein. Ever."

Pansy felt her face pale. "And how long can a vampire go without blood?"

Hermione levelled a knowing look at the female. Parkinson cursed.

"Alright, keep a tight leash on Draco, got it." Shaking her head, Pansy allowed her gaze to become shrewd as she stared at the bushy-haired female once more. "I can comprehend that you are not overly surprised by this development… but really, Granger, you can't tell me you were honestly suspecting that this was going to happen."

Hermione snorted. "Even you can't deny the way Malfoy and Harry were always in each other's face. From day one those two have been dancing around each other in a shocking display of confused hormones. There is a fine line between love and hate and I believe those two have crossed that line several times over." She quirked her head, an ironic smile twisting at her lips. "Come now, Pansy, don't tell me Malfoy wasn't completely obsessed with Harry before this all happened."

The Slytherin rolled her eyes but nodded all the same.

"Harry too," Hermione replied. "Why else do you think he's noticed the changes Draco has undergone? They're subtle but they're still there and out of everyone in this entire school, it's my oblivious best friend who noticed them immediately."

"So much for Gryffindor naivety."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "In Harry's case, anything Malfoy-related is definitely worth the note taking." She smirked at the Slytherin. "This is going to be a very interesting year."