So I've been thinking about writing this fic for a while, I hope you like it. Dramione of course. Rated M for later chapters. Alternating character chapters.

Currently listening to the soundtrack from Prisoner Of Azkaban.

Enjoy! Don't forget to review! It keeps me motivated!

Hermione:

Hermione walked through the cramped fourth floor corridor of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Head down, she tucked a stray piece of frizzy brown hair behind her ear.

"Damn it all." she muttered as she slammed into the person in front of her, dropping her books.

The person in question turned his shiny blond head and smirked as he looked over the scene of Hermione scrambling to pick up her school supplies before they could be trodden on. He crossed his arms and leaned against the stone wall, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to do the same, wearing his famous smirk.

"Having some trouble there, Granger?" He drawled, silver eyes flashing.

"No." Hermione muttered, picking up the last of her many books, brushing past him roughly and continuing down the corridor to get to the staircase.

"Granger." He called after her, sharply. "You've forgotten something!"

She whipped around to see Draco holding up an old, leather bound green book, emblazoned with the silver title of "A Pureblood History." Hermione blushed furiously, marching back towards him and reaching to snatch the book out of his hands. But before she could, he lifted it higher out of her reach.

"Now, now," He said, surveying her with piercing silver eyes, "What would a mudblood like you be doing with a book on purebloods?" He raised his eyebrows, questioning her.

"Research." She answered, flatly.

"Oh, Granger," He circled her. "Do all of the research you want," He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "But you will never understand what it's like to be a pureblood."

"We'll see."

oOo

After the final bell, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked from the Transfuguration classroom through the crowded corridors to the great hall. They met up with Ginny halfway, who immediately accosted Harry, dragging him into a dark corner under a tapestry. Hermione and Ron exchanged knowing smiles before pushing past the crowd to get to the long Gryffindor table. Neville smiled up at them before crossing the flagstone floor to the Ravenclaw table to greet his Luna.

When the food appeared, (heaps of pasta, garlic bread, and savory soup) Ron began to shovel it down his throat, barely seeming to chew, while Hermione toyed with a leaf of lettuce. Ron stopped eating long enough to look up at Hermione and say, "'Er-Mi-O-Nee why 'rn't ou ea'ing?"

She smiled back at him, putting a forkful of pasta in her mouth. Ron returned to his food, satisfied. She glanced over his shoulder to the Slytherin table, scanning for the telltale sign of Malfoy, her eyes coming to a rest on his silky blonde head. Feeling the weight of her gaze, his head snapped up, silver eyes boring into brown. Surprisingly, his expression softened for a moment, and after making sure nobody was watching him, he winked at her.

Hermione dropped her gaze, confused. Surely she didn't just see what had happened. It must have been a trick of the light. Possibly it was to Pansy or some other gorgeous Slytherin girl. Not her, Hermione Granger. A mudblood.

oOo

she lay awake that night in her curtained four-post bed, slivers of moonlight seeping through the seems. Sleep evaded her, why, she didn't know. But she did know that Draco Malfoy was on her mind. How dare he tell her she would never know what it was like to be a pureblood. Being a pure blood was exactly like being a mudblood. Except.. You were praised and not scorned.

Resigned to the fact that she simply would not be sleeping, Hermione clambered out of bed and onto the stone windowsill, pushing the panes open to let the cool Autumn air in. She had to admit, as much of a git Malfoy was, he was incredibly handsome. His sleek white blonde hair draped over his head, fringe hanging in his eyes. His eyes sparkled, too. Yes, sometimes it was a malevolent sparkle. Something that came from hurting others. Hermione vaguely wondered if it was possible to get that sparkle by doing something good.

An owl flew past her window hooting softly. Across the lawn she could see the trees swaying in the forbidden forest. Hermione may have Been a muggle born, but she certainly didn't act like one. She was the brightest witch of her age. Good wizardry didn't come from your blood status. It came from your effort. Your brains. Your heart. She contemplated this before drifting off into sleep.

Thank you all for reading! Don't forget to review! Chapter 2 will be soon. I'll try to update every Friday! :)