A/N: A Harry/Hermione fanfic. My first actually, so I'd love your opinion on this. Yes, that little button saying "Review". That is what it is there for! I will say at this point that it does getter slightly darker as it goes along... just a word of warning for those of you with a nervous disposition!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter except the love I have for it in my heart.

Potions. If it had been any other year, I would have half-enjoyed it. Even if Snape had been teaching us, which is saying something. I cannot bear to come second best to Harry again. Yes, I admit it; I'm jealous. Not of his potion-making- far from it- but the fact he's cheating with that stupid Half-Blood Prince book. There is no way on earth Harry would ever give it up. He always has some sort of excuse as to why he needs it. Honestly, it will not work.

"Oh Drakie!"

I had barely walked into the room before stifling a giggle at a completely mad Pansy Parkinson and indifferent Draco Malfoy sitting at their table. He looked so helpless. Of course he did; Pansy was like a leech on him. Harry, who was already at our table, unpacking, smiled to himself when he noticed Pansy's shrieks and whines.

I ignored this entertaining show the two Slytherins had put on, and purposefully gave Harry a glowering look, which he blatantly ignored as he set up his cauldron.

"Look Hermione, you're a perfectly good enough witch yourself, so I don't see why-" he muttered quietly before I sharply cut across him.

"Forget it, Harry. I couldn't care less anymore."

I hated being so cold towards him. It's not like he, himself, had done anything wrong; it was just my envy of his praise. I sighed, knowing that I shouldn't get in an argument with him. I couldn't afford to lose him as a best friend. Ron was already less than happy with me over Slughorn's parties. I didn't want to cheat either. I was far above that.

"Today, students, we'll be making an advanced version of the Befuddlement Draught. Books out, quickly!" Professor Slughorn, being his cheery round self, was slightly bemused by the daft expression on Pansy's face.

Finely slicing my Gurdyroots, thirty minutes through, I knew there would be no point in trying today without falling short against yours truly. I glanced at Harry again, whose head was so close to the Advanced Potion-Making textbook that I really wanted to whack him with it. No. Again, I was far above that.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He didn't even look up, his lips set hard in concentration. This gave me a sudden inspiration.

"Never mind."

I hid another smirk, and continued with my potion, following the printed (not handwritten and untrustworthy) instructions of my textbook, as my potion turned a pleasant cerise colour. Harry's was also the same colour, though slightly darker, as the book suggested. Well... not for long.

Slipping a porcupine quill into Harry's concoction, I knew it wouldn't cause anything to drastic to happen - at least, not that I knew of. No one was watching, not even Ron, who was coughing through a thick purple smoke that was issuing from his cauldron. It instantly turned a deep ivy green, which I smiled at, knowing anything else he did with the potion afterwards wouldn't work.

"Hermione-" Harry began, and my stomach twisted in knots with guilt. Please don't tell me you saw that, I begged silently.

He had barely covered himself before the potion exploded, his arms instantly splattered with a green plastic, paint-like substance. I gasped, but it was drowned out by the laughs and jeers coming from the Slytherin table. His face was untouched, but his shirt was covered in the stuff, along with some flecks in his hair, and I didn't want to laugh at all. I felt terribly ashamed, and Slughorn made it all the more worse.

"Well, Harry, this is a shock, but it seems that you won't be getting a mark for this." Slughorn sighed in a disappointed tone.

Harry looked at me furiously for a few seconds, which went unnoticed by anyone but me, and I bit my lip silently, my mind toying with the idea of confessing. The guilt was eating away at me, and I glanced down to my hands.

"Actually-" he started. I threw a pleading look at him, desperate not to get in trouble. I'm a prefect, for Merlin's sake! He paused, his expression strange. "No, I guess I just wasn't concentrating, sir."

I sighed with relief, and promised to myself that I would make it up to him. It wasn't as if he hadn't been humiliated enough in any of Snape's lessons before. I owed him an explanation of some kind at the very least. The bell rang, but I didn't move, as everyone else began to pack up. Malfoy continued to make petty insults at Harry, just within earshot, but I ignored them.

"You coming?" Ron asked, but Harry was still trying to clear his cauldron, and I didn't want to leave without apologising.

"I'll see you at lunch, Ron. You go ahead," I replied, packing up my wand and quill slowly.

"Right, see you later then."

Harry and I were the only two left in the potions room. Slughorn had left already for lunch. Harry didn't say anything to me, or even look at me at all, but his expression was still unsettling. I sat back down cautiously, my bag still open upon the table. I didn't know what to say.

"Why did you do that?" he finally said, his tone somewhere between anger and annoyance. "Were you green with envy, then?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean for that to happen. That book is dangerous. You shouldn't be using it. Harry, don't you realise-"

"Hermione, just drop the act. You can't stand the fact that for once I'm better at you in a subject," he interrupted, bitterly, washing off the green pigment along his arms.

I could not believe what I was hearing. How could he accuse me of caring more about my grades than my friend's wellbeing? I felt like such a hypocrite - of course that was what I'd done. I couldn't admit that though, could I? I really wish I had hit him over the head. Right now, he deserved it. Knowing I would end up arguing against that statement, I kept quiet for a few moments, constantly scowling.

"Harry, let me speak plainly. I do not care about your Outstanding grades right now. This obsession - don't you see that it's just Riddle's diary all over again?"

"You're wrong. The Prince-"

"The Prince?" I scoffed, letting loose my anger at him for being so ignorant.

"That Levicorpus spell has nothing to do with it! Everyone used it, even my-"

"Your dad? Harry, I doubt even he would do something this stupid and irresponsible! You're just throwing this all back in your parents' faces! They wanted you safe!"

I don't know what made me say that. For a second, I didn't even think I said it at all. I did know, however, that Harry had taken it the wrong way. He stared at me, his eyes harsh and cold as he did so. I swallowed, my throat dry. Harry never looked so upset with me. I was a disappointment to him. He wanted me to support him but this was downright stupid to cheat in a lesson. Why on earth must he be an exception to that rule? Standing up, he was bare inches away from me. Threateningly. I didn't bat an eyelid.

"Don't."

He clenched his wand in his hand, almost considering aiming it at me.

"Say."

He wavered for a moment.

"That again," he finished through gritted teeth, and reached for his bag again, wanting to leave the room as quickly as possible. I had definitely struck a nerve. He had never threatened to turn his wand upon me in the years I had known him.

Actions speak louder than words, I thought, and before Harry realised, I grasped the book out of the corner of his bag and ran for it. I'm not quite sure why I had done that, but at least it would prove that he couldn't use it to cheat in Potions. I kept running, completely unaware of how far ahead I was, as long as I could keep the darn book away from him. I turned suddenly, into a shortcut behind a tapestry and made my way on the seventh floor.

Ah, the Room of Requirement! I knew Harry would eventually be able to get into the Room, but there were plenty of hiding places. Once inside, I searched throughout the maze of abandoned old objects for a safe place to conceal the Potions book, yet sure there was someone behind me also.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice echoed from the other side of the room. Footsteps soon followed. "Hermione! I'm sorry!"

I crouched beside an old cabinet, which I recognised from a few years previously. True, I could have had time to cast a Disillusionment charm, but it had completely slipped my mind. Before I knew it, a hand had been clasped over my mouth, another restraining my shoulders. The last amount of breath I had was used to scream, which was muffled instantly. My wand - it had fallen from my cloak, a few feet away. I felt my captor's wand being drawn at my throat, and I raised my hands in surrender, trying to turn my head to see who was holding me, but I couldn't see in the darkness that ensued.

"Harry!" I struggled for a while before I saw him at the other end of the row of shelves. He didn't hear or see me.

Eventually, whoever was keeping me captive had slackened their grip, obviously more worried about Harry being a threat than me. That was just one of the problems of being Harry's friend, among several others. I dragged my foot slowly towards my discarded wand. In one swift movement, I pushed myself back against the wall and aimed a jinx at the silhouette behind me, which in turn toppled over.

"Hermione?"

I gasped and span around, ready to aim again. It was Harry. He rushed towards me, at first, I thought, but instead was pointing his wand at the unmoving body on the floor. The light from his Lumos spell proved the person to be Draco Malfoy. Questions and queries alerted in my head: What was he doing here? Had Malfoy been made a Death Eater, to stay within the school, like Harry said he might be? If this is really so dangerous and important, should I let Harry use the book to help him and Dumbledore?

There was something more important that came to mind.

"Harry, I- I'm truly sorry." My voice uttered out in the darkness. "I never meant to say that about your parents. I wasn't thinking-"

Harry looked back at me. His eyes locked onto mine. I reached down and picked up the Half-Blood Prince's book at my feet, cautious of whether to hand it to him. He still looked at me, as if I was insane to be acting so normally after the event, and held my shoulder, the tenderness of which he held it seemed unusual, almost foreign. I could feel he was extremely sorry, for everything, as was I. Neither of us wanted to argue anymore.

"Hermione," he whispered, sighing softly.

The way he said my name soothed me. I understood why he was this stubborn. He was always ready to fight for what he thought was right, regardless of what I, or anyone else, usually thought. He never gave up. That was why he wouldn't let go of the book.

We were so close that I noticed the specs of green in his hair were like the unmistakable emerald of his eyes. I forgot that we were slowly pulling into a hug. I forgot that Harry's hands were moving from my shoulders to my waist. The book fell from my fingertips, and my arms drew closer around his torso. He didn't show any recognition of the book thudding on the floor, his cheek pressed against mine for mere moments. I caught a glimpse of his lips as he took in my quickened breaths, his mouth edging towards my own.

The light, almost curious touch of his mouth upon mine took barely seconds for me to reciprocate, unfamiliar, but pleasantly so. my heart still beat fast with uncertainty and slowly-relieved adrenaline. My hand reached for his, a silent promise that I had forgiven him, and a silent hope that he had forgiven me.