As she looked around her living room - at the green  velvet ottoman she didn't remember purchasing, the 14th century  Wizarding texts on her bookshelf, the hideous and obnoxiously  ostentatious grandfather clock that could only belong to a Malfoy - she  pictured the toothbrush next to hers on her bathroom counter, the old  Slytherin quidditch jersey she regularly tripped over in her bedroom,  and the mint chocolate chip ice cream in her freezer - a flavour she  abhorred, but that a particular, pale, pointy faced aristocrat sat  across from her had a tragic fondness for.

Her chest  burning, as if she drank a barrel of bubotuber pus, Hermione turned to  him with narrowed, accusing eyes. "Malfoy...are we dating?"

If there's one thing Hermione Granger knows, it's that she simply doesn't have time to date. Draco decides to date her, anyway.7

First of all: THANK YOU SO MUCH to wetpretzel for letting me read their  story! I love this story and I am really happy that I am allowed to read  to y'all!