Disclaimer: Plot line is to the writers of 15/Love, characters are strictly Harry Potter.

A/N: I guess this is a bit of a mix between 15/Love and Harry Potter, but I'm not mixing the characters. The plot line, as you can see above, is from the writers of 15/Love, but the characters are J.K. Rowling's. I was inspired to write this because I thought you Draco/Hermione fans would definitely appreciate the setting.

"Granger," Malfoy said as he entered their shared dorm. She mumbled briefly in response, and he repeated her name. "Granger!"

"What?" She asked, irritated, as she looked up from her book.

"I have a proposition," he began as he sat down across from her.

"This should be interesting," she said, pursing her lips and closing her book. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come out on the lake with me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. He smirked. She closed her mouth. She blinked a few times. He smirked even more. She pinched herself. "WHAT?"

"Well," he started and Hermione briefly wondered how he could even speak through that gigantic smirk. "Do you remember on page 2, 287 of 'Hogwarts, A History' where it talks about a beast in the lake?"

Hermione's disbelief was replaced with a look of thoughtfulness. "Other than the squid, you mean?" She mused to herself, not really expecting an answer but receiving a nod anyways. "An almost loch ness type monster?"

"Yes," he replied, smirk sliding of his face slowly. "Which wouldn't be that odd, except for the fact that no one has been able to figure out if it's actually there."

"That is rather odd," Hermione said, cocking her head to one side. "What's that got to do with us?"

"You, of all people, can find a boat. And think, you'd be famous…" Hermione snapped her book fully shut and began to walk towards her dorm. "Wait!" He said, jumping up and blocking her way. "Where are you going?"

"To find my spell book, my copy of 'Hogwarts, A History,' and to change. We'll have to be back by lights out." He grinned at her as she slipped into her dorm.

Thirty minutes later they walked towards the lake. "I don't see why you have to come," Hermione said huffily as they drew nearer to the shore.

"It was my idea," he replied sharply, wanting to hit her.

She made a small noise of disgust or acceptance; he couldn't tell which. She drew out her wand, checked to make sure no one was coming, and then muttered a few words. "Exsisto Tabra."

A small metal boat appeared before them. "A muggle boat?" He spluttered as he saw the small motor on the back.

She shot him a condescending look. "Live with it."

He was still being outraged as they climbed onto the boat. Once they'd pushed off and Hermione had begun to start the motor, he began to look worried. "Are you sure this is safe?" He asked meekly as she tugged the string.

"Positive." With a note of finality, the boat began to move towards the center of the lake.

Once they had reached a spot where Hermione was comfortable, she stopped the motor and the boat rocked gently.

It was then that Malfoy pulled out a fishing rod and a small box of worms.

Hermione glared at him. "The only reason you dragged me out here was so you could fish?" She asked, practically yelling.

He shot her a cool look accompanied by, of course, the smirk. "Yes. But the legend might be true…"

"Wonderful, simply wonderful," she muttered, but reached into her bag and pulled out a book. Thirty minutes later he had yet to catch any fish. He grabbed another book from her bag and began reading as well. "You'll wreck my book," she began, looking across at him.

"What with, Granger?" He sneered. "My cooties?"

She shook her head. "We should get going." But, inevitably, the motor wouldn't start.

"You broke your own muggle contraption!" He exclaimed.

"I did not…" She muttered, furtively tugging at the string. She flopped back. "So we're stuck." She groaned. "I am so going to get expelled for this."

"Why?" He scoffed. "You've done plenty of other things that you haven't been expelled for."

"But do you know how wrong this looks?"

He smirked at her. "Yes. It'll be fascinating to see what everyone has to say."

She growled and settled back. It began to get dark very suddenly, and Hermione was a little nervous. There was a sharp tug at Malfoy's fishing line and he was quick to snatch it up. Pretty soon, once he was done flailing about, her book had fallen into the water.

"Idiot," she hissed at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking at the spot where the book had fallen in. "Must have been an awfully large fish."

She growled again and took up her spot at the front of the boat, curled up. A few minutes later she was freezing. "It's freezing out here," she said out loud, rubbing her bare arms.

Malfoy looked at her. She looked at him. Then he slipped off his robe and handed it to her. She took it reluctantly, looking warily at his surprised face. Clearly even he hadn't seen that one coming. "Thanks," she mumbled, almost incoherently, and then settled back down.

He was watching her sleep. He was an idiot. Her eyes blinked open and she peered at him curiously. He snapped his head away, but it was too late. She'd caught him staring.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I mean, in the moonlight you look…" She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"What? Am I drooling?" She was suddenly self-conscious of everything, and she peered at him even closer. He thought she looked even cuter when she was bewildered…Which was exactly like all the times he'd thought she was cute when she was angry, or laughing, or thinking….

"No. Actually, you look…." He contemplated. He couldn't actually say what was on his mind.

Could he?

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, her impatient self beginning to show through.

"Beautiful," he finished, wondering why he would even open his mouth to say such a thing.

She scowled at him, but smiled slightly and rolled over. "Shut up."

"Really," he defended, wanting to tape his mouth shut. "There's something magical about the moonlight." He paused, looking at her once again. "It hides all your flaws."

She sat up sharply, glaring at him. "Just when I think you're going to stop being a prat and say something kind, you go and show me you're a prat again."

"That's you're only reaction?"

"Yes. What, exactly, were you expecting?"

"I was expecting you to ask me what I was on, actually."

She grinned at him and sat down slightly closer. He was such an idiot, she hated him and Harry and Ron would kill her if they knew she'd agreed to go on a boat trip with Draco Malfoy.

"I'm so hungry!"

"I'm more hungry! Boys get hungrier; our metabolism."

"Oh, shut up," she replies smarmily, but he knows she's smiling once again. That girl, just this once, couldn't find a way to stay mad at him, at least not for that night on the boat.

He reached into his pocket and pulls out some spare change he has from a Hogsmeade trip. He flicks it into the water, and then sits up suddenly. "What was that?"

"I'm one of the brightest students at Hogwarts," she said in an entirely condescending tone. "Do you think I'd fall for that?"

He was about to reply when there was an even bigger splash. She moved closer to him and grabbed his arm. "Was that you?"

"Uh, no….They don't make coins that big," he replied as he scanned the water.

"It's just a legend, it's just a legend, it's just-" The boat was rammed sharply, and she squeezed his arm even tighter.

"It's gone," he said after a few moments of silence. She had, by then, moved back to her spot.

"Good…I though I was going to die," she admits.

"Of all the people I'd want to die with, you'd be way down there on that list…" He says, trying to ignore what it felt like to have her grab his arm and just focus on being Draco Malfoy.

"Okay, that's it! I know you hate me, but you can't switch from hating to being perfectly polite to being an ass again!"

He was mad, because it's not like she's ever really stayed on one end of the spectrum, either, "If you think I'm a total pure-blooded Slytherin ass, then why do you even care what I think of you?"

"…Because." He needed to know then. More than ever. He needed to know how she could hate him then laugh with him then grab his arm for comfort like she had and squeeze closer to him…

"Because why?"

"Just because."

"Because why?" You have serious mood swing! He thought to himself. You lust after me but can't admit it! Sometimes you forget you're supposed to hate me!

"Just because!"

"No, I want to know why!"

"Because I can't stop thinking about you, OK?" He looked shocked. Utterly shocked. That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. "Your stupid face, your stupid hair, your stupid laugh. Now, please make fun of me so I can hex you in to oblivion." He looked over at her, expecting a defiant gaze, but she'd turned her head away and even in the moonlight he saw the blush.

He mulled it over. He didn't mind really, having her think of him. He knew he should have thought of it as the final blow in a battle they'd been fighting for ages, a final blow that she'd killed herself with, but instead he couldn't stop thinking and staring at her. His stupid hair, though! That was a little harsh….They'd talk about that later, he decided. And then he leaned over, tipped her chin up and kissed her.

Partly to his surprise and partly to his expectations, she kissed back. To his surprise they fall asleep. Together. Tangled up in each other's arms but still perfectly comfortable.

The next morning he found her in her own private corner of the library.

"What we did….Due to the emotional intensity of the situation….pretend nothing happened….not responsible for our actions…" He only briefly understood the words she was feeding him, mostly because he wanted them to be false. Wanted her to kiss him instead of rejecting him.

And he remembers her dejected face, even though she was the one who shot him down. But they never talk about it again. And the only evidence that it happened at all was her loss of a book, his mixed-up feelings, and the occasional shy smiles they shoot each other when they're not yelling at each other.

A month after the incident on the boat, Hermione sat on her bed and thought. The chances of that bizarre couple happening are about as likely as that loch-ness monster on the lake. She thinks this often, scoffing at her notions silently. But she always remembers the claw marks on the bottom of the boat just before she made it disappear the morning after.