Welcome, everyone, to I Didn't Know You Cared. Some of you may remember this as the story written by RootbeerFloat way back when. I realize now that I had too many spelling and grammatical errors -and that's why removed this story. So now I have added new content, checked my spelling and errors, and am back! You can also find me under the pen name RootbeerFloatShallPrevail to find my latest works. If you're a new comer to this story, congrats! It might seem cliche in the beginning, but trust me -this story had once 4700 reviews on it. :) Its good. So sit back and let the POV's speak for themselves. Please R&R, as always, because its the kindest honor you could give an author.



Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's peice 'Harry Potter', but I do own this story. Do not use as your own -I've had several people try to do this.

A/N: This story will be told in point of views: Odd chapters are Hermione's and evens are Draco's. Draco's POV is much funnier, but Hermione's carries the story.

"Wow! Hermione! Check out this place!" I know. Isn't it lovely?

"Well, Ronald, if you had tried, you could have been Head Boy." Why didn't you really try? If you had worked harder and turned your brothers into the Headmaster for testing their jokes on kids than I'm sure you would have gotten the position!

"I know, I know. Hey Harry, check out the bathroom!"

I love it back here at Hogwarts. It's amazing what this place does to me. I glance around at the tapestry hung in the corridor. My corridor. It feels good to be Head Girl. I've worked my bum off for it, and a bit of change is nice once in a while. But there is one thing that keeps running through my head.

As if Harry can read my mind, he asks as he walks back out of the bathroom, "So, who's the Head Boy?" He nudges over to the two flights of stairs. One of them has carpet with red and gold embroidery, with lion crests around the border. Obviously a Gryffindor crest. That must be mine. But he's looking over at the other. I ping of fear rises in my throat and my breath catches. Well, yours would to if you were to see the sight I witness.

The carpet is a green and silver, snakes looming on the border; evil slits for eyes. I really don't want to think about how the snake is the Slytherin crest. No. It can't be. I refuse. There is only one prefect who could have become head boy from Slytherin, so I hope that the Headmaster has made a mistake. Maybe they haven't changed the rugs from last year on the stairs yet. Yes, that MUST be it, otherwise...

"Oh, look! A welcome party!" No.

"Can it, Malfoy!" Ron says. NO! Oh, God kill me now!

"If you don't mind, I would like to get into my own room without the dream team gawking at me." I turn around to see Draco Malfoy walk carelessly into the room, WOW.

I don't know why, but I find myself staring at him, just like he predicted. But how could I help myself? His skin had tanned lightly over the summer, his hair in a new hairstyle: a very sexy longer hair cut, where his hair now is not stuck up with hair gel, but dangled down over his crystal gray eyes. Good, the gel never suited him. Sure, his skin is still pale, how could it not be? It only looks nearly human now. He reminds me of a poof sometimes.

I suddenly realize he's looking directly at me, his steel gray orbs meeting my brown one's. Something about the way he's looking at me tells me he's at a loss for words. Why? I haven't changed one bit. He's raising an eyebrow, oh my gosh... he's so...so...

"Granger, I know I'm good looking, there's no need to drool." Stupid. Self conceded. A jerk! That's what he is. – Moment of fondness: OVER.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy!" I grab a pillow off the couch, but instead of it hitting him, he throws down his luggage he has and catches it. Darn him, he's good. I forgot he's into Quidditch. What an absurd sport sometimes… Ron's too obsessed with it since he became captain last year.

"Nice try, Mudblood." He looks at the pillow, which has a serpent and a lion embroidered on it. "So, you are the Head Girl, huh? What am I saying? That can't be. After all, there can't be two Head Boys!" He lays the pillow back on the couch. Ooh, I'll kill him. Ring his self conceded neck. His skin would look better blue.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" I say, and I see out of the corner of my eye Ron and Harry starting to leave. "Oh, no you don't! You are NOT leaving me here with this...this..." Think Hermione! Think on your toes!

"Sexy beast?" Malfoy try's to answer me. My eyes go wide. What is his problem? I then realize my cheeks have turned a nice shade of red. Why? It's not as if I have feelings for this moron. He then encloses the space in-between us. I back away until I hit the wall behind me and he leans in, until his face is nearly two inches away from mine. I can even feel his breath on my lips. Oh, dear Lord… why can't I say anything? "Why Mudblood, I never knew you cared..." I don't.

Suddenly Ron runs straight from the door over to me, shoving Malfoy out of the way. He draws his wand, his ears turning a bright shade of pink. I don't blame him. If Pansy Parkinson had done to Ron what Malfoy had done to me… the little toad would be flung half way across the world right now.

"Oh, come off it Weasel! I was just kidding!" Malfoy goes over to the door, grabs his suit bags, and marches to the flight of stairs that's his, walking slowly up them as if he thinks he can eavesdrop by taking his time.

"I can't believe you have to stay in the same corridor as HIM!" Ron shouts. He's really cute when he's in power.

"Ron." I try to say.

"I mean come on! Who does he think he is?" He thinks he's God.

"Ron." Let me get what I have to say out here, will you?

"And what's up with that STUPID hair cut?" Hey, I like it! – Don't know why really…

"Ron!" I shout.

"What?" I walk over to him, kissing him softly on the lips and run my fingers through his hair.

"How long have we been together?"

He smiles slightly. "Since June of last year." I am so proud. He remembers!

"And do you think that a stupid git like Malfoy could actually steal you away from me? Besides. It's MALFOY! Disgusting! Do you really think that? "

Ron shakes his head. Good boy.

"Then you have..." Kiss. "Nothing..." kiss "to worry about..." Longer kiss.

"I'm sorry, Herm. I just didn't like the way he was looking at you." Oh, in that case...

"You don't like the way a bookshelf looks at me. You cursed all of the paintings on the way up, and NOW you think MALFOY was looking at me?" Stupid mouth. Got to work on that...

"Come on, Ron, we better go." Harry says. Harry, why? Why does he have to leave? – Well, if he wants to stay the night, then he can leave, but if he wants to snuggle, I'm all for it.

"Do we have to?" Obviously, I'm not the only one who feels this way.

"She hasn't even looked in her room yet, Ron. Besides, it's nearly ten. If Filch catches us out of bed..."

"--Goodnight." Ron says quickly. He must be really frightened of Filch. Well, at least of Ms. Norris. He gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Good night, Ron. I pull him in by his tie and give him a kiss on his lips. Harry chuckles and Ron's face goes completely red. - As quickly as they've come, they've left, and the painting swings shut. Now, to my room. Until I realize I have a Slytherin's voice catch my ears.

"Whew, I am SO glad they left. That Weasel nearly hurt my perfect face. We wouldn't have wanted that, would we?" What is Malfoy playing at? I turn around, to see him sitting on the top of his staircase, that oh so famous smirk playing across his face.

"Can it, Malfoy!" I snap.

"Picking up on the weasel's habits, are we?" What's with the WE? There is NO we.

"What do you want?" I retort. I've got to go to bed, and he wants to 'chat?' After six years and one day he wants to talk? No.

"What ever do you mean?" He smirks. You know damn well what I mean. – Did I just cuss? Oh dear… I hate Malfoy.

He slinks down the stairs, and jumps on the couch, resting his head on the pillow from which I had thrown at him earlier. His chin juts out as he breathes in and out. Why does he have to be so damn sexy? I mean he didn't look this way last year! Why now? – I didn't just ask myself that. It's got to be the hair cut.

"Goodnight." I say plainly. I shouldn't be looking at him like this. I am Ron's, he's mine, and no stupid, insignificant prat is going to win over me with just his looks. He's still the pushover wizard who'd run from a carrot if it had eyes that blinked at him.

"Bad night, mudblood!" Oh, I could kill him! – One step at a time. Don't turn around… turning around means he'll win.

I walk into my room, slamming the door and taking off my blouse and jeans, while slipping on some black shorts and a pink tank top. Cliché, yes, but when you walk around in cotton robes all day then sometimes you need a change. As I slip into my bed, I wonder why Draco--- I mean Malfoy, is acting this way. Oh, he makes me so mad! I'm going to end up killing him… he'll most likely be the death of me. I gradually start to drift off into an uneasy sleep, when I hear the door to my room open slightly. Something about the slinking way the door opens tells me exactly who it is. Malfoy.

"Get out." I say, get out! Leave me alone. Isn't it enough you torture me during the day?

"Mudblood..." Malfoy says playfully, almost like he's singing, ignoring the fact that I just kicked him out.

"Out!" My back may be facing him, but I can still feel his eyes look me up and down. I should have covered myself up with my covers. Why did I choose a tank top and not some nice warm wool long sleeved shirt?

"No." Come again? – I JUST TOLD you out.

"What?" I ask.

"I said 'no,' Granger. Surely you must know what NO is?" I know what you said.

"What, then, is so bloody important, Malfoy?" I sit up in bed turning to face him. First my eyes hit his chest, he's so tall. My breath catches. Wow… he's got some muscles… And now I find that he is in dark blue boxers. Very low cut dark blue boxers...

His gaze follows mine, and I mentally stab myself. Stupid, Hermione! What were you thinking?

'I'll tell you what you were thinking.' That little voice in my head that tells right from wrong says to me.

"I told you, Granger, I know I'm good looking. There's no need to stare." He puts a smirk on his face, and leans op against the wall while crossing his arms. His hair is still messy, but not like Harry's. Malfoy's is kind of an organized mess. Harry's just grows that way. "I came in here to tell you that an owl came for you." Malfoy explains. So?

"And you felt you had to come into my room, and in your boxers no less, to tell me this?" I ask, my eyes staring in front of me at my comforter in fear that I might accidentally look at him again.

"Yes, sweet mudblood." How can he be so bloody cute and evil at the same time?


"Because, the stupid thing was biting my hand off, that's bloody why!" Don't get so testy. - What 'thing?' "I was just sitting in my room, minding my own damn business when this stupid owl comes and knocks on the window. What was I supposed to do? Let it stay there until morning when I felt like getting up?" His face grows a very stern look, and I decide to turn the tables on him a little.

"Why, Malfoy, I didn't know you cared!" I say sarcastically. Haha! That was fun. It's a good thing when you can tease your enemy all day long, but to do it at night? Now that's an accomplishment.

"Shut it, Granger! I'm not done." Well, excuse me, oh master of the universe. "I would have left it out there, but I saw there was a package. So I let the owl in, but the package isn't just for me. It's for you too. I decided not to tell you until morning. Don't give me that look; I just didn't want to get up. But the stupid prick of an owl bit me!" What a baby.

He out stretches his arm to show a very deep, bloody groove in it. – Maybe he's not such a baby after all.

"Ouch!" I exclaim. I don't care if I hate Malfoy, I can still pity him.

"Yeah." He sighs. Wait, did we just agree on something?

"So, do you want me to clean that up?" I say, pointing at his arm. It could really get infection, and then he'd cry all day like when he got his arm hurt by Buckbeak the Hippogriff. I don't want to hear Pansy asking 'does it hurt, Draco?' again.

"I don't need help from a---"

"Mudblood?" I finish. I get up off of my silky bed, wishing that my pajamas were made out of silk. It feels really nice. But I'm sure Malfoy would enjoy that view more than me. – Ew.

"Here." I take his out stretched arm, in which he reluctantly gives me, and I raise it up to my face. I'm almost tempted to say 'funny, pureblood looks a lot like mudblood.'

"So, do I have Rabbities?" He asks. I turn on the candle next to us with a swift movement of my wand. He really is a clueless bloke, no?

"No, you do not have rabies. You don't get that from owls! You get that from dogs... or ferrets." I chuckle silently as I pull out my wand and mutter a spell, which heals the wound almost totally.

"Well, then, I better not have you near me. You might bite!" He try's to pull his arm away, but I hold onto it. – Not out of niceness, of course. He's still got infection. And he'd never let me live it down if I were to not heal the wound correctly.

"Do you want this thing healed or not?" Because if not I'm going back to my bed and I wont have to put up with your face until tomorrow morning.

"You mean it isn't?" He asks.

"No, see. There's a little nick still there." I point out. "Come with me. We've got to clean the rest of the wound out." I pull him down the hall and stairs to the bathroom. At least, thank God, we don't have bathrooms linked together. Sharing one is all right, but imagine if it were linked by our rooms! I'd die. He could come in and rearrange my room to the ceiling while I was sleeping and think it was comical.

"Why didn't it heal when you 'spelled' it?" 'Spelled?' Oh, real original there, Draco. It's called MAGIC. When I healed it would be more appropriate.

"Because that spell only heals clean cuts. You've got a little infection..." I let go of his arm, and pull open the bathroom door.

I now know what Ron meant when he envied our bathroom. "Wow..." The floor is green and gold, with red and silver wallpaper. (Not really original.) It must be a 50X50 foot room, and had a huge shower covered in chrome. The faucets had a snake and lion head engraved, both facing each other. (To represent Houses coming together.) It'll never happen.

"Sure is..." Malfoy's voice trailed off. "Well, are you going to get this over with or not?" No, I think I'll just stand here all night like a fool.

"Come here." I take him over to the sink, and turn on the hot water. I placed his arm under the running water and he sighs. He doesn't seem to mind it. Ha, just wait. I now take the soap next to us and rub it into his arm. He screams like a girl.

"Ow! That hurt!" Well, what did you expect? A soothing bath?

"It's got to be cleaned, otherwise you'll get it infected really badly." He winces as I take his arm a second time and place it under the water, rubbing soap on it. He groans a 'this is not fun, Granger' groan. Revenge is oh-so-sweet.

"There, done." I take his arm and grab the nearest towel, drying it off. "See, this isn't that bad." Course, I wouldn't want to be in his position. He smiles the first smile I'd ever seen him smile at me. Not a smirk. Is he happy about something? What? I blush slightly.

"Uh...well...er...uh, thanks." He stutters out. You are most welcome.

"No problem." I smile back at him, and then catch myself. I can't be tending to the snake every time he got a boo boo. I open the cabinet mirror and find some anti-biotic ointment and a band-aid. – Muggle things. Dumbledore allows them, though. He loves muggles. Course, I don't need to tell you that, you've read the Harry Potter books, right?

"Here." I say, handing the supplies to him and walking toward the door. I'm too tired to put up with this.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Are you that thick? Oh yeah, he's never lived the muggle way. – Imagine Malfoy driving a car. Ha! Now there's an amusing thought. I walk back up to him, taking the band-aid and opening it up, then grab the anti-biotic ointment and spread it across the band-aid. I finish up and place it on his arm. I did earn my healing badge in brownies.

"That's what." I say happily. I then remember... "So, about the package?" Might I have the honor of looking at it?

"Oh yeah..." His gray orbs look down at me, and for the first time I realized he was ignorantly taller than me. I estimate about 9 inches or so. My, his eyes are crystal clear…
"I didn't open it, you know. A Malfoy's got more class than that." I doubt that. He starts to exit the room, and motions me to follow. I oblige. Might as well, I'm no longer sleepy.

"Wait here, ok?" He asks, as he runs up his flight of stairs.

I nod. Sure will. I wonder what's in the package...

Don't forget to R&R

And e-mail me if you'd like the link to my website to find new updates on IDKYC. For the newcomers, though, I'd recomend the suspence of waiting.