Draco Malfoy did not like being ignored. As the pampered only child of a wealthy and powerful family he was used to being the center of attention. He expected it. And yes, he had spent the last two years keeping his head down just trying to survive, but the war was over now and it was time for his life to get back to its regularly scheduled program.

It seemed like a sign from the gods when he was selected to be Head Boy, just as he'd always expected to be. Not even learning that Hermione Granger had been appointed to be his co-Head could put a dampener on his good mood. He'd long ago admitted to himself, albeit begrudgingly, that her appointment had also been a foregone conclusion.

Actually, he had been somewhat excited by the prospect. She was a challenge and unafraid of him. And hilarious when she was worked up. Nothing could be more normal than butting heads with Hermione Granger. It would be fun.

But then the stupid bint went and ruined his plans. She was perfectly polite and completely aloof. She refused to be baited. She calmly performed her portion of the Head duties, and gave him nearly free reign of their shared common room and office as she spent most of her time in Gryffindor Tower or the library. It was maddening, but there didn't seem to be anything to be done about it.

Until he woke up in the hospital wing one afternoon in November. He knew exactly what had happened to him. He'd had his fair share of quidditch injuries- it was the nature of the sport- and this wasn't even the first time he'd been knocked unconscious by a bludger. There had been a time when he gladly would have milked it for attention, but the war had taught him what real pain was and so he planned to simply get up and get on with his day. And that's when he noticed just who was hovering at his bedside, and it occurred to him that he had an opportunity here.

"Who are you?" He asked Granger in what he thought to be a convincingly raspy and confused voice.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth popped open in obvious surprise. He had to suppress a smirk that would have given him away.

Just let her try and ignore him now.

He convinced them that he remembered nothing of his life, not even his name. The Headmistress assigned Granger to look out for him, which was a predictable enough outcome. She was the Head Girl and despite their history, there was nobody more trustworthy than Gryffindor's golden girl.

"This is your room, Malfoy," she explained after she'd escorted him back to their dorm, "I've never been in here so I'm sorry to say that I can't show you where anything is."

"Why do you keep calling me Malfoy?"

"Well it's your name."

"I thought my first name was Draco?" He asked innocently

That brought her up short. "Do you prefer Draco?"

"Well I should think so."

"Alright then Draco," she said, dipping her head, her cheeks coloring prettily, "it's late. Goodnight."

The next morning when he walked into the Great Hall with her and then followed her to the Gryffindor table there was actually a collective gasp from the student body.

"Is something the matter?" He asked Granger, grasping at the sleeve of her robes.

She bit her lip. "Well, this is the Gryffindor table, you're a Slytherin, you would usually sit over there," she indicated the green trim on his robes and then to the table across the Hall.

"Oh," he said simply, but didn't step away from her side.

She just gave him a small smile and took his arm. "It's okay though, you can sit with me."

And he did, all day, in every class, at each meal, to study in the library. She just glared at anybody who looked like they were going to object and every time he ducked his head to hide his triumphant smirk. His days continued in in this vein for the next several weeks.

He'd decided straight away that he wasn't going to pretend that he'd forgotten how to do magic, that would be far too inconvenient. Luckily for him, amnesia was an unexplained phenomenon, so nobody questioned him too closely. So, in many ways his life remained largely unchanged. But now he had become a focus of Hermione Granger's attention. It was far more intoxicating than he ever would have imagined.

His amnesia was the perfect excuse to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas. His mother would have been heartbroken if she thought he'd just chosen to stay away. So he quickly decided that he would remain an amnesiac for a few more weeks, and then when the holidays were over he would make a miraculous recovery. And surely, by then, Granger would be unable to just start ignoring him again. He hadn't gone to all this trouble just so that she could return to the ice princess she's been impersonating before his injury.

Because the thing was, she was good company. To tease and bicker with, yes, but also just to study quietly beside. He'd gotten used to her smiles and her easy conversations, and- dare he even think it- her approval. And she wasn't terrible to look at either.

And so he was surprised, but pleased, to learn that Granger- Hermione- would be staying behind as well. Apparently her parents were in Australia and she'd had a falling out with her red-headed best friend, which made it too uncomfortable for her to go home with the Weasley girl.

In the hours after Hogwarts Express departed to take the vast majority of the students home for the holidays, Draco found her in their kitchenette humming to herself as she baked. She was baking. Like a house elf. He shook his head to himself.

"You're cheerful."

She screamed and almost dropped the pan she was holding. She spun around to face him, holding her free hand to her chest. "Draco, you nearly scared me to death!"

He bit back a laugh at how cute she looked, but when she narrowed her eyes at him he made an effort to look contrite. "I'm sorry. What are you doing?"

"Making Christmas cookies, would you like to help?"

He held back a sneer and just raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

She chuckled. "Merlin, you may not have your memories but you're still the same Malfoy."

He cringed slightly to himself. He needed to watch it, he was apparently getting too comfortable around her and slipping up. Still, he wasn't going to bake. He did walk further into the kitchenette so that he could observe her more closely though. She worked efficiently, or at least it appeared that she did; he actually had no idea what she was doing.

She spent the time as she worked telling him about her memories of past Christmases, her family's traditions, the best gifts she'd ever gotten. She tactfully avoided the subject of his missing memories and he found himself smiling and laughing along with her, and he stayed put even though he'd been planning on a nice mid-morning nap.

Several hours later she had created several trays full of cookies in various shapes and varieties. They smelled delicious. There was also flour everywhere and she had several different colors of icing smeared all over her, including some stuck in her wild curls, and one little red dollop on the tip of her nose.

Without thinking he reached over to brush it away and the moment his fingertips touched her skin they both froze. As much time as they'd spent together over the past month, they rarely touched, but he knew immediately that he wanted to feel more of her skin against his. Her eyes went wide, and his fell to her lips. He had just started to lean in when she ducked under his arm and out of the kitchenette.

"I've got to go clean up, I'll see you later!" She threw over her shoulder.

He sighed. What was happening?

They were lounging around their common room on Christmas morning- still in their pajamas- when suddenly the portrait swung open and Professor McGonagall entered the room closely followed by his parents. He sat up at once, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione do the same.

"Mother, Father, what are you doing here?" He blurted.

He turned to check on Hermione only to find her staring at his father, a look of abject fear on her face, and he felt a well of protectiveness rise up within him. But she was frozen for just a few seconds before she whipped her head around towards him.

"How do you know who they are?"

Shit.

"Well, I- it's obvious isn't it?" He scrambled for an explanation, knowing how much he resembled his father.

"No. I mean yes, it is, but that would have taken you at least a second to process. You reacted automatically. How long Malfoy?"

"How long?"

"How long have you had your memories back?" She paused for a beat, "or did you ever lose them to begin with?" His face must have given him away because she scoffed. "Unbelievable." She shook her head. "Actually, you know what, it's actually not hard to believe at all."

"Hermione-"

"No! You do not get to call me that. Gods, is there even a shred of human decency in you, you unimaginable bastard!" She shrieked, "what was your game? Make the dirty mudblood fall for you so you could humiliate her?"

Hearing her call herself that word, had him seeing red. "What? No!"

He started to climb off the sofa to go to her but she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him, rage painted her face. "You stay away from me! As you'll recall I'm very good with this and I have no problem using it against Death Eaters!" She finished on a hiss.

She jumped off the couch, swerved through the three people standing at the door and was out through the portrait before he could move, he was too dazed by what she'd just apparently confessed.

"Did she just say that she's fallen for me?" He asked nobody in particular.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, and he turned to see that she was looking at him sternly. His mother was standing next to her looking gobsmacked, and his father was situated just behind her, a blank expression on his face.

"I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my dishonesty, but right now I have to go!"

He took a deep breath, resigning himself to getting hexed, and then he too ran past their unexpected guests and out through the portrait hole. He knew that she would automatically head towards the library, and luckily for him her legs were a lot shorter than his. He caught up to her fairly quickly and realized that she was in no state to hex him, her wand hung from limp fingers and he could hear her sobbing. His heart lurched. He tried to pull her into his arms when he caught her, but she fought desperately against him.

"Don't touch me! What is the matter with you! I felt sorry for you! I told you things, I told you about the war, I confided in you! I tried to be your friend, I thought maybe when you got your memories back you would still want to be my friend, that you would see that I'm not dirty! I thought, I thought!" she trailed off as she choked on another sob.

"It wasn't like that!" He shouted, pulling her tightly against him so that she could no longer struggle, he was sure he would pay for using his physical advantage against her, but he needed her to listen. "It was just- all term you hardly even said a word to me except to take care of Head business. But when I saw you standing there in the hospital wing I realized that if you thought I needed help then you couldn't ignore me anymore."

She suddenly went still in his arms. "You wanted my attention? You pretended you'd lost your memory, that you didn't know who you were, that you were Draco Malfoy for weeks because you wanted my attention?" She said very quietly, while still managing to sound completely incredulous.

Well, when she put it like that it sounded kind of pathetic.

"So, it was you the whole time?"

"Of course it was me."

"No, I mean you, you. Like the real you who knows who I am."

"Yeah," he admitted softly, smoothing back her hair as he admitted to himself that he actually didn't care if he seemed pathetic, as long as she was listening. "And knowing who you were, I've hardly wanted to leave your side for weeks, and now you know that I didn't actually need your help, I think you can decide for yourself what that means."

"I thought you were going to kiss me the other night," she said, her forehead pressed against his chest.

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "I wanted to."

"I did too, but not like that, not when you didn't remember."

"I do remember, I always knew who you were." He bent his head to kiss her forehead.

And then she craned her neck and their lips touched and he realized that some part of him had wanted this for a very long time. Had been lost to her, probably before he'd ever decided to enact this charade.

"I called you a Death Eater, I'm sorry," she said in a small voice as she picked at his pajama top.

"It's true," he shrugged.

She looked up at him bravely. "It's really not, I see you, you know."

He took her hand which was still nervously fidgeting and lifted it to his lips. "I see you too, and there's nothing dirty about you." To emphasize his point he brought his lips to hers again. This time he deepened it, he brought his hands up to cup her face and delved into her mouth with his tongue, and with a little moan she responded in kind.

They stood there, now lost to each other, until he felt her shiver and remembered that they were standing in the hallway of a drafty castle in the middle of winter, wearing only thin pajamas. He wrapped his arms more securely around her and began to direct them back towards their dorm.

"Your parents are going to be furious." She looked up at him, hesitation clear on her face.

"Forget them."

She barked out a laugh at his absolutely terrible joke and, unable to help himself, he swooped in for another kiss.

Author's Note: Thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta reading and cheerleading this for me for my very first fest entry!