DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.

Shakespeare once said 'And therefore is winged cupid painted blind.' But my belief is that Cupid is not blind: he's deaf. Surely, that is the only explanation for me falling in love with Draco Malfoy, and certainly the reason he fell for me. Everyone else heard Draco calling me a Mudblood from second year forward. Not Cupid. Everyone else heard the smack of my hand across Draco's perfect, pale face in third year. Well, alright, only Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle. But still...

Everyone must have heard Draco's howls of laughter when he made my teeth grow and didn't get in trouble afterwards. Not Cupid. Draco was just as foul fifth and sixth years, and he even referred to me as the Mudblood in front of Dumbledore.

Cupid also missed all the times I called Draco a git, which is far too many for me to number, though Draco claims it is over a thousand and counting. Arrogant git.

I almost had a heart attack when Draco was allowed to return to Hogwarts seventh year. At the time, I thought the only positive aspect of the situation was that I was able to convince Harry that if we went back to school instead of gallivanting all over the world for Horcruxes, we would be able to keep a better eye on Draco. The first week of school, well, the first day actually, on the Hogwarts Express I literally ran into Draco. He started to spit out the word 'Mudblood,' but then a pained expression crossed his face and instead he shouted, 'Mud-Granger, watch where you're going!'

Then he looked away, embarrassed or something. He had listened to Dumbledore and wasn't using the word Mudblood anymore. I was immediately interested, not in him, but in where his loyalties lay and if he could be persuaded to join the right side.

I greeted him civilly when I passed him on my way to the Great Hall. He told me to bugger off. I didn't bother greeting him politely anymore. I didn't hold Ron and Harry back from verbally assaulting him either.

He was an outcast. Even most Slytherins were shunning him, not because they particularly liked Dumbledore, but because Draco couldn't manage to actually follow through and kill him. Draco would; therefore, usually end up in the library. After a few weeks, we began begrudgingly acknowledging each other's presences. I was still irritated with him though.

Sometime in October, Draco came over to the table at which I always studied in the library.

'Can I borrow this book, Granger?' he asked, sneering.

'Yes, I suppose you can' I said, glaring back.

He got the point, I think, because I could've sworn I heard him chuckle on his way back to his seat.

After that, I would say, 'Malfoy,' when he came up to his table and he would nod his head in my direction and say, 'Granger.'

The real trouble began when we inadvertently greeted each other thus before dinner one night in November, as everyone was pouring into the Great Hall. All near enough to hear went silent for a second before whispering excitedly to each other. Harry told me that I was brilliant to have finally forced Draco to be polite. I think he saw it more as a miracle, though, than as an example of my social prowess. Ron told me I was just plain crazy: you can see why that relationship never worked. And Ginny, well, she didn't say anything, she just looked at me curiously.

Since the whole school had found out about the polite acknowledgement business, we silently decided that it was pointless to study at separate tables. To save time walking between tables to borrow books, I told myself at the time. Sometimes we talked about an assignment or that day's lessons, but more often than not, we didn't speak at all.

One day, Draco sat down at the table with dark circles under his eyes, hair rumpled as if he had just got out of bed.

'You alright?' I asked anxiously, before realising he would probably snap at me.

'You have no idea,' he muttered, opening a book.

'Enlighten me, then,' I told him.

He regarded me incredulously before bolting from the library. I followed him, finally catching up a few corridors down in a secret passageway.

'Go away, Granger,' he said.

'No,' I refused. 'I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're not alright.'

He spun around to face me. 'My mother might be killed,' he said, daring me with his eyes to laugh.

'Because of Voldemort again?'

Draco winced at the sound of the name. 'Yes,' he said. 'And the last thing you need is to get mixed up in my screwed up, shadow-of-a-life, so GO AWAY!'

'How come you never took up Dumbledore's offer?' I demanded.

'You don't understand,' he sneered. 'McGonagall would never take me in like that.'

'Yes, she would,' I said. 'And she will, if you only say the word.'

'I don't want your pity or your charity, Granger,' he declared.

'This isn't either,' I shot back. 'I don't want anyone to suffer because of Voldemort. And I don't see why your mother, of all people, should be killed because Voldemort is still mad at her husband and sister.' I paused. 'Or why you should be forced into anything you don't wish to do.'

'I can't lie to the Dark Lord,' Draco hissed. 'Putting my mother into hiding would become common knowledge to him.'

'He wouldn't have to know. What if your mother were kidnapped?' I asked, stepping closer to him. 'What if she had vanished without a trace and you didn't know who took her or where she was?'

'Granger, kidnapping someone is illegal, and, in case you didn't know, one would be hard-put to take my mother anywhere without her consent.'

'Just leave all of it to chance,' I said vaguely. 'Just let me know if you ever want to join our side.' I turned and had almost made it to the tapestry hiding the passageway when he called my name.

'Granger!'

I turned back to face him and strode back.

'I don't need any time to consider. I'm joining the right side,' he said in a low, steady voice. 'In a purely basic sense. I'm not all that great of an Occlumens. You all protect me; I'll not be a bloody spy unless McGonagall absolutely requires it.'

'Come with me,' I said. 'We can talk to her right now.'

'I'll meet you there. No way I'm getting caught with you in the hallway,' he refused.

'Fine,' I said evenly. 'The password is Ginger snap.'

He showed up ten minutes later than I did and managed to be somewhat belligerent throughout the interview. He professed his willingness to fight with us when the time came and was told that Harry and Ron would be the only of our generation to know of his realigned loyalties.

Honestly, he was such a pain to be around in the days following that meeting. All because I had seen him in a moment of weakness and saved him from following the Dark side he worked extra hard to irritate me to prove he still had 'it.' Whatever 'it' was. He's never been quite clear on that point.