Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: Dirty

First Dramonie everyone :) Please be kind! Please note that this fiction has incorporated different events from different years.

Jan. 29, 2012 Note: I have hit a bit of a block, so I am going back through my story, and editing and writing as I go.

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**Chapter 1: Dirty**

The crisp white knit cardigan she wore only emphasized her drastic change in color, making her experience an unfamiliar feeling of unease as she pushed through the crowds of students accumulating on the platform. The eyes of the students, each of whom prepared to board the Hogwarts Express seemed to gravitate toward her. Or it felt that way to Hermione at least. Her trip to Punta Cana over the summer had left her with a dark tan that would fade eventually, but also with scars that would last forever.

She pulled the white wool sleeves further over her hands, allowing for the exposure of less skin. They knew. They all knew. Every pair of eyes that Hermione caught looking at her screamed the same thing. It was an impossibility that they would come across such knowledge, however the thought did not reassure her as she made her way to the train.

They saw her as the dirty, used, filthy, worthless person that she felt she was. The flagrant stares she received only made her feel more unclean. The reality was, the students around her were merely surprised that the pasty bookworm who, they assumed had never seen the sun in her life, had somehow managed to stumble her way out of her room piled to the ceiling with books and ventured to the outdoors.

The brunette side-stepped a first year giving a final kiss to her parents before departing. She sighed, recognizing that this would be the first year that she would not also do the same. Each year her mum and dad would accompany her to the platform to say their goodbyes, but not this year. They had both accepted a 'generous' anniversary gift from her cousin Derrick that they could not turn down.

Derrick, a cousin she had never met before was, a relative she had stayed with during her 'vacation' in Punta Cana. Before venturing to the Dominican Republic, her parents had informed her of his great passion for reading, and she was sold. She only later learned, after her parents had accepted his gift, that he was also a wizard.

Despite being told by her parents to 'pack light' Hermione had chosen to pack her heaviest possessions, the coming year's textbooks, rather than the frilly pink bikini her mother had bought her specifically for the occasion.

Evidently even her own parents thought that she was a hermit-bookworm in need of a little social interaction. It wasn't that she was socially inept, it was just that she much preferred the sense of comfort that overcame her as she sat down with a book in hand. Telling her that the holiday was a great chance to leave behind her books for a break did not sit well with Hermione; it was as if by doing so, she would be leaving a little part of her back in England.

Hermione boarded the train alone, keeping her head down, as though convinced everyone was searching for the truth in her eyes, a truth that she would not so easily give up. Stumbling along the corridor of the train, she avoided peering into the various compartments along the way, for fear that more students would be staring out at her.

It was not long before the brunette was comfortably seated alone in the last compartment on the Hogwarts express, book in hand. The rattling of owls in their cages, cheerful conversations on the platform and the excited squeals of the first years awestruck by the size of the train, were muffled by the closed doors of the secluded train car. It was not as though she could hear the sounds anyway; she was engrossed in her signed copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells'.

Expecting to stand in a seemingly endless line of students, waiting for the honor to engage in a conversation with the textbooks' well known author, Miranda Goshawk, she was pleasantly surprised to find herself to be the only student in Flourish and Blots at the scheduled signing time. After Miranda had signed her copy, the two talked for several minutes during which Hermione was more than pleased, as it provided her with a unique opportunity to absorb more information into her mind.

Hermione sighed turning the page. She focused on the words before her a little harder. As of late, she found that as easily as she would be pulled into the depths of her book, she could just as easily be drawn out by the whisper of a thought.

The beginning of the summer was lovely, as her family had decided to travel to various parts of the world to visit relatives she had never met before and admire the vast, dense forests, tranquil villages and bustling market towns with her parents. The experience was wonderful, though she had not been allotted a great deal of time to read.

It was not the beginning of the summer that would make it memorable, however. It was the life changing event that happened several weeks into it that would shape her for the rest of her life.

Returning to Hogwarts was a perk that she would never again under-appreciate. Escaping the life she had been forced to live for just under two months was much more appealing than the prospect of sitting down to read a thousand books, more appealing that the mountainous workload she expected for this year.

She pressed the palms of her hands roughly against her eyes trying to rid herself of the image of him.

_He bit violently into her neck, sucking the soft skin painfully, alternating between savage bitting and licking until he reached her collarbone. She felt the warm saliva run down her neck and begin to pool on the linen bedsheets. The liquid seemed to quell the pain from bite marks that she was sure would be all too present the following morning. The man pressed his nose in between her breasts and inhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around her naked torso to pull her closer to him. Feeling throughly violated at the moment, she knew it would only get worse. It always got worse..._

Hermione shook her head, squirming at the memory of his hands roam across her body. She shifted her grip on the textbook so that, rather than balancing it on her hands, it rested on her recently forearms.

_She closed her eyes tightly, fighting the tears that came every time he touched her; beat her. His mouth traveled over to take her nipple in his mouth, biting down on the sensitive flesh painfully. Bitting back a scream that threatened to escape her lips, she tasted blood, but kept her mouth closed all the same, knowing that such a sound would only encourage him further. She had learned better than to struggle. The more she did, the more he would abuse her._

The Gryffindor forced herself to re-read the paragraph she had just skimmed, rotating her wooden bookmark around in her palm. Doing so had become quite a habit since her parents had bought it for her in the airport the moment that they had gotten of the plane in the Dominican Republic. The piece was hand-painted and beautiful; something that she felt that she would keep with her forever, not because of the vacation destination, scrawled in black ink on the surface of the beach-front picture, but because her parents had given it to her.

Hermione quickly flipped the page, willing herself to become a slave to the words. She needed to escape the world around her; needed to compose herself before her friends joined her. A part of her wanted to see Harry, Ron and Ginny burst through the door, brining along with them their high spirits, strength and optimism, but another part of her wanted nothing more than to travel to Hogwarts alone. She didn't plan on telling them what had occurred over the summer, after all there was nothing they could do anyway. There was nothing anyone could do. Her silence of the event would protect Harry. Besides, comforting words and embrace only did so much to quell the perpetual emotional and physical ache she felt in her heart and mind every second of her existence.

If her parents had known that Derrick was such a sadistic person, would that have even changed anything? He was a fully developed wizard, while they were muggles with a somewhat sugar-coated vision of the Wizarding World, and those who lived in it. She had not lied to them, but nor had she told them to what extent that the Wizarding World had its flaws, so as not to frighten them. Derrick seemed to have the capability of doing much the same; the false portrait that he had painted of himself was easy to fall for. She had the moment she had met him. He also held something over her head that caused her to keep her mouth closed, that caused her to refrain from shouting for help the moment his fingers traveled to place that she would even hesitate to touch herself.

_He changed his pace suddenly, switching his attention to her other breast. The abrupt jerk on her nipples made her jump. It was sad to think that Hermione was beyond feeling violated. He had done so much worse that she counted her blessings, knowing that next time he brought her down to the basement, that it would more than likely be a great deal worse._

_He pressed her back farther into the comforter and straddled her right leg. He moaned as he ground his hard erection into her thigh, breathing hard. He nuzzled her breast, taking the the tip into his mouth and biting down._

_Through the numbness in her brain, she couldn't believe that she was just lying here taking the abuse that he dished out. It was usually twice a day, once in the morning, and once before he went to sleep. There was nothing else that she could do, she was too ashamed to go to anyone, and it was not as though she had the option anyway, Derrick understood her well. It was not simply her pride that would prevent her from outing him, but her protective nature of her friends. He knew that she would never risk putting another in danger on her own accord. The hope of a slip-up had also vanished; Derrick was skilled at magic and was just as skilled at covering his tracks. On the very rare occasion that she was given permission to leave his apartment he had skillfully vanished all of his markings from her neck, arms, legs breasts, and virtually every piece of skin he touched._

She flipped another page aggressively, wishing that she could simply erase the occurrence from her brain entirely. The movement of pages stirred the oaky scent of the parchment that clung to every page, and Hermione allowed it to engulf her completely. She had read the book several times already, and though the scent was fading, she could still smell the reminisce clinging to the pages as they brushed air towards her face. How she loved the smell. She looked cautiously out of the window of her empty compartment into the hall of the train to see if she spotted any students walking by. Upon seeing none, she brought the book to her nose and inhaling deeply, closing her eyes.

The compartment door slid open and from the corner of her eye, she saw three figures enter, closing the door roughly behind them. Assuming it was Harry and Ron with Neville or Seamus, Hermione remained behind her book, her face turning slightly pink.

Though accustomed to several of her weird quirks, this was certainly one of them that she did not wish for them to see. She lowered the book sheepishly so that it was once again resting on her thighs. She knew that if the boys realized that she had been smelling the pages of this year's spell book, she would never hear the end of it. They didn't understand. Hermione had such a strong connection with her books and, though, it was a peculiar habit, it provided her with a sense of comfort. Comfort that she searched for before she had met friends at Hogwarts. Her books were her reassurance; her confidence.

Expecting that her friends would take their seats across from her, she kept her head down to hide the redness on her cheeks, pretending to read. The figures, however, remained motionless, hovering over her. Her eyes flickered to the floor, where three sets of shoes pointed toward her. Two of the three were large in size. Ron had large shoes, but she did not recognize the monstrous pair before her. Besides, the redhead could usually be found wearing a worn pair of trainers, more than likely passed down from either Fred or George.

The remaining pair of shoes were of a more normal size, or normal in comparison to the pair on either side, and were of make that she was unfamiliar with. They appeared to be wizard-made, and extremely expensive at that. Which of her male friends would splurge on shoes?

Confused by their lack of conversation that usually filled their compartment as soon as they entered, Hermione finally lifted her gaze from their shoes, preparing to place her bookmark between the pages of her Potions textbook.

The thin wooden bookmark slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor emitting a dull thud as she regarded the three figures looming over her. The faces of Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy sneered down at her. She scowled back, clutching her book tightly for support.

"Hello Granger," Malfoy spat. Hermione continued to scowl as Crabbe plunked himself on her right side and Goyle lumbered over to the window, where he sat on her left. Trapped between the two hunk of lards, she felt as though she could be placed in no worse a position. That was until Malfoy took a seat directly across from her. He crossed one leg over the other, continuing to sneer.

"No need to be impolite, we just stopped for a chat." If possible, Malfoy's sneer became even more malicious. "Crabbe and Goyle were just debating what was more disgusting, the fact that Dumbledore is continuing to allow an goblin to teach History of Magic, or allowing a foul squib to roam the halls as caretaker of Hogwarts. Oh and of course, we couldn't forget that oaf Hagrid!" Malfoy licked his lips in anticipation, clearly waiting for her usually prompt rebuttal. "What do you think Granger?" His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her, leaning in slightly. She could see that he was growing steadily more impatient.

Hermione pressed her lips together, determined not to respond to any of his unavailing mind games that he had consistently forced her to put up with for her past five years at Hogwarts. The book in her hands were beginning to suffer as her nails embedded deeper into the back cover as she struggled with herself not to run, or physical harm Malfoy for talking with such distaste about Hagrid and Dumbledore in such distain.

"Not going to answer me then are you, Mudblood?" He said calmly, pretending to look amused. She internally winced at his searing comment and set her jaw. Malfoy saw this subtle movement of defiance and silvery eyes gleamed.

"You see," he continued, "Crabbe thought that the goblin teaching History of Magic was worse, where as Goyle thought that Flitch was ten times worse. And Blaise thought Hagrid was the clear winner. I agreed with Blaise. At first." The blond smirked, knowing that his comment would hit a nerve. He was rewarded with the sound of her teeth grinding. He was getting deeper under her skin.

Hermione could take no more of his talk and attempted to stand abruptly. It was the hands of Crabbe and Goyle on both of her shoulders that kept her firmly rooted in her seat. They had not but said a word, but their brute strength made all the difference in recognizing his presence.

Malfoy once again took the opportunity to drive his verbal knife deeper into her flesh. "That was until we walked by your compartment Granger," he whispered vindictively. "You changed my mind. Upon mentioning you, Mudblood Granger, to Crabbe and Goyle, they immediately agreed."

Malfoy was so close now that she could feel his warm breath on her skin, causing it to crawl. She recoiled as far as she could, given the limited space. The corner of his lip twitched and blond merely repositioned himself such that he was now perched on the end of his seat, regaining the distance that he had lost from her leaning away.

"I told them that I thought that Dumbledore allowing a filthy Mudblood like yourself into the castle was a million times worse than any professor that dumb oaf could possibly hire!"

The three Slytherins waited silently, eager for a reaction of any kind. She merely looked at him for a few moments, looking rather bored before nonchalantly placing her spell book in her bag at her feet, and pulled out yet another textbook and resumed reading. Malfoy scoffed as a blue cover with gold lettering reading, 'The Guild to Advanced Transfiguration', covered her face.

Trying to regain what dignity he had from being shot down further before his friends, he stood, purposely knocking the book from her hands. She glared up at him, hatred glinting so strongly in her eyes that Malfoy thought that fire would leap from them, catching the compartment on fire. And hopefully burn off that bushy hair, he thought.

On his way out the door, Draco managed to kick her kick her bag, causing a stack of textbooks and numerous quills to spill out the opening and knocking her bookmark into the hallway. Crabbe and Goyle moved stupidly around the Gryffindor, stepping on quills smirked at the crisp snapping noise that came from their demolition. It was his only hope that they would be her fingers.

Quickly, Hermione dropped to the floor, collecting as many of her items as she could before they were trampled. Hermione, not wanting Malfoy of all people to see her cry, stared ahead, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over at ay moment. The thought that he was able to obtain such a reaction from her instantly boosted his ego.

"Get a move on! You're blocking the door. The stench of the Mudblood is going to cause me to pass out from oxygen deprivation!" He shouted at Crabbe and Goyle, who hesitated at the door of the compartment, unused to leading the way. The pair lumbered out of the way quickly, and peered back through the side windows of the compartment, obtusely.

Draco huffed impatiently behind them. Where it not for their blind loyalty, he would have scrapped those two long before, the dunderheaded nitwits. He took several steps down the hallway, walking further away from Hermione's compartment. That had gone well, though not as well as he had hoped. He experienced a sick sort of pride reflecting on the tears that glistened in her eyes as she looked at him before turning her face so as to hide them. He vowed that at the next opportunity, he would crush the remaining Gryffindor courage and make them spill out of her eyes.

He took another step forward and felt she shoe come down on something hard. God Damn it! The pair of shoes he was wearing were one of a kind, and made of the hide of an expensive breed of dragon that had long gone extinct.

Quickly, he lifted his shoe, peering at the soul, expecting to see a piece of candy clinging to the bottom. He was going to curse the student stupid enough to drop it to oblivion! Upon seeing nothing on the base of his shoe, he looked down at the floor. Draco quickly stooped and retrieved a small shard of stained wood, an intricate design painted on the glistening surface. Normally he would have overstepped something so below him, a shard of wood. For some reason, however, he felt compelled to pick it up and put it quickly inside his robes.

As he returned to full height, he was met with one that he hated with all his being.

"Out of my way Potter!" Draco pushed roughly past Harry as he attempted tried to catch up with his two minions, who seemed to be moving oddly fast, given their size.

"Git," Harry muttered under his breath. It was evident that Malfoy had not heard the comment for he would have been more than happy to return the insult.

Harry adjusted his glasses, which now sat ascu on the bridge of his nose. He and Ron had been in search of Hermione and doubted that she would be in the compartment that Malfoy had just vacated. That was until he heard a faint, dry sob.

Curious as to the identity of the victim of Malfoy's first tyranny, Harry continued in the direction of the final compartment on the train. Upon first glance through the window of the closed door, it appeared unoccupied, however upon opening the door, his heart dropped as his eyes met a familiar mass of bushy hair.

Harry knelt down beside his friend. "Hermione?" The girl remained seated on the floor of the compartment, expressionless. Immediately, he aided her in collecting the rest of the items that she had not yet picked up, and placing them into her bag.

Ron, seeing Hermione on the verge of tears, hit the glass beside the door violently, shattering it all over the green and white patterned seat covering. Harry looked over his shoulder at his friend, who was now stomping down the hall in the direction that Malfoy had been heading.

"Ron, don't. Ron! It's not worth it!" Ron did not hear him as he barreled down the hallway, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

Minutes later, the red-head returned looking as frustrated as ever, not having found his desired punching bag. Harry now sat with his arm around Hermione's shoulders, attempting desperately to console her. She only sat holding her wrist, looking as though she was on the verge of tears.

"Hermione, I am sure he has done worse. Just forget about him. He is a git anyway..."Harry trailed off, rubbing the side of her arm in a gesture of support.

Hermione nodded, not hearing the words that Harry was saying; her mind was elsewhere.

_Hermione screamed as the sharp blade cut slowly across her skin following her rib. The cool blade in combination with her warm blood created a pain that was far from bearable. "You will know now not to tell anyone! You will tell no one!" he screamed, bringing his knife back to cut a parallel line down her rib cage again. "You bloody slut! You went against my trust! You will be punished!" Blood and tears stained the white linens beneath her as she half-heartedly struggled against her. "You are mine!" he spat at her "MINE! And to prove it...". Derrick brought the knife to her wrist, where he slowly began to carve his initials, beginning first with the letter 'D'._

Ron sat awkwardly down on the seat opposite Hermione, avoiding the glass. He tried to ignore the jealousy that began to pool in his stomach at the fact that the arm around Hermione's shoulders was not his own, tried to ignore the anger that he still harbored for hurting Hermione.

Harry looked at him, his brow furrowing behind his glasses. He knew as well as Ron that Hermione's perfectly composed mask was very difficult, if not impossible to shatter, but it seemed that, just as Ron had managed to smash the glass of the compartment window, Hermione had also been pushed to shatter into just as many pieces.


	2. Chapter 2: Too Good to be True

**Chapter 2: Too Good to be True**

"Have you seen Trevor?" puffed Neville as he braced himself against the entrance of the compartment door, utterly exhausted.

"Sorry," they all said in unison. It had become almost tradition that Neville Longbottom entered their compartment unannounced, in search of his pet toad that he always seemed to misplace on the ride from Kingscross to Hogwarts.

"Sorry for bothering you," Neville said sadly before closing the door. The three looked at each other, knowing that Neville would more than likely fuss throughout dinner, only to find that his toad would finally appear between his bedsheets later that evening.

Without warning, Dean and Ginny burst into their compartment giggling uncontrollably.

"Dean and I let off a stink bomb in Malfoy's compartment!" she gasped clutching a stitch in her side as she sat down next to Hermione, shifting over quickly to make room for Dean.

"He is cussing up a storm, he is!" Both Dean and Ginny looked at each other for a few seconds without speaking and immediately erupted into another fit of laughter.

It was all Ron, Harry and Hermione could do to keep themselves from joining them as they imagined Malfoy's face contorted with rage.

It was great to be back with her friends. Though they didn't completely erase the pain she had suffered through this summer, they acted like a balm to soothe the wounds forming on the inside. The lingering pain jutted through her heart like a knife, a cold knife, very much like Derrick used to slice the side of her body. She still had scars to prove it. She had too many scars to count. Though the physical ones looked more painful, it was truly the emotional ones that would continue to haunt her.

"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked wrapping her arms around her friend. "You are so tanned! I wouldn't have recognized you had you not been carrying a book! How was your summer? Go somewhere warm?"

"Yeah. I went for a vacation," she replied simply. Ginny furrowed her eyebrows but did not press the matter.

"So-Did you meet any cute guys?" She asked, scooting closer. Hermione swallowed painfully.

"No. I didn't get out much." Hermione could see that Ginny was looking for a more detailed answer, so she decided to provide her with one. "There was a few that were very attractive on the beach," Hermione tried. There were a few that she had found mildly...exceedingly attractive so it wasn't exactly a lie.

"As long as you had fun!" Ginny said cheerfully, probably knowing that this was the best that she would be able to get out of her friend with a group of boys around her. After all, she was not the type to be very vocal about boys- she would ambush her in the common room later. Hermione merely smiled back. The smile did not reach her eyes. Little did Ginny know, that each smile that Hermione attempted ached, pressing the already heavy weight further into the pit of her stomach.

Just then, the apartment door banged open once more, revealing the lanky figures of George and Fred. "stink bomb eh?" One of the twins said shaking a head. "Those are so last year sis!" finished the other.

"Well what do you suggest, oh dearest brother?" Ginny replied cheekily. The twins looked at one another, seeming to debate something within their minds. After a few moments, the twins nodded in perfect synchronization and stepped into the compartment. Fred stood looking at the group while George had his back to them as he murmured a silencing charm that would ensure that they were not overheard.

The group remained silent, waiting in anticipation. As there was no more space left to sit, Fred and George remained standing. "What we are about to tell you-" one twin began, "does not leave this compartment!" Everyone nodded in unison. "Fred and I have been working for the past summer on something that we thought might be rather helpful this coming school year! It all began with inspiration from our visit to the muggle movie theater. The janitor was vacombing the carpet and-"

"Vacuuming?" Hermione corrected with a slight smile playing across her lips. It still hurt. Both boys looked at her strangely. "You mean vacuuming right?" Hermione tried again "not...vacombing?"

"Naw, that thing where the muggles push a stick back and forth with a little sucky thing on the bottom!" replied George confidently, beaming with excitement. He reached out into thin air, grasping an imaginary vacuum. His mouth buzzed, attempting to recreate the sound emitted from the contraption. Hermione allowed the smile to grow. It was hard to hold back when they were being so serious about it. "Anyway,"Fred continued, "as the woman was vacombing, her hair began to stand on end!"

"And voila! We had our new product!" Fred beamed.

"You mean a vacomber?" Ron questioned stupidly? Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No! Ron, if it were not for the red hair, it would confirm our suspicion that you are not related to us? We are referring to the woman's hair! The hair! The hair! Our new products allow us to make hair stand on end!" Fred pulled a packet out of his pocket and tossed it to Hermione. "Try one, love! See what happens!" Hermione looked at the packet with a rather frightened expression on her face. "Oh come on, its not going to bite you!"

"Pass me one mate!" Ron called to Fred. After distributing a candy to each of the people in the compartment, they counted down and placed the sweet into their mouths. Within seconds after swallowing the candy, every hair on every head in the compartment stood on end. Everyone erupted into laughter, pointing at the heads of one another. Harry began to cough and roughly began to push Hermione's bush of hair out of his eyes and mouth.

"You're suffocating me Hermione!"

"Your hair doesn't appear that much different Hermione!" Seamus teased. Hermione glared back, unable to choke back a fit of laughter. She knew it was true, and it did not bother her one bit! Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"Can't you do that by using gel, rather than going to all the trouble?" Hermione felt Harry's struggles against her mane began to weaver. If she did not act soon, he might actually suffocate. "And how do I get my hair to go down!" she cried

"You need one of these!" George replied, holding up, yet another candy. Hermione thrust her body, reaching for the package. He moved his arm above his head at the last moment, just out of her reach.

"Oh, I get it!" cried Ginny, smiling. "This is actually quite brilliant!" The two twins grinned back at her. Ron pushed back some of his red hair so that he could see his sister.

"What? How the bloody hell is this brilliant?"

"It's nice to know that at least one other sibling understands our methods," Fred muttered to George.

Don't you see the plan?" Ginny asked exasperated? The crowd looked around at her looked at her dumbly, disregarding Hermione who was still jumping up in down, in desperate attempts to reach the package. "If we each carry a few of those sweets in our pockets and happen across Malfoy and his goons, they will evidently take what ever they can from us. And Malfoy always wants what he can't have. Him not having heard of these sweets will give him all the more reason to take them from us! And of course Crabbe and Goyle will put anything and everything they possibly can in their mouths! Frankly I am quite surprised they have not swallowed their tongues! Anyway, once they take the candies they will eat them, and will probably be more inclined to do so if we tell them the truth! And once they do, well, you know the rest!" Ginny finished running her fingers vertically through her hair. Hermione thought she looked rather similar to a troll doll, especially with her bright red hair.

Harry smiled, understanding. "And because they don't have the candy to reverse the affect-" The crowed erupted into laughter, yet again, overpowering Harry's epiphany.

"Hmm. We were planning on forcing the candies down their throats, but we like your idea better!" Fred applauded. "Not bad Gin. It seems that there may be hope for you yet!"

After Hermione had coxed the boys into giving her a candy, she swallowed it quickly, now noting the slightly sour tang it had-much different from the first that had been sweet. Her pouf of hair immediately shrunk in size. The twin looked at one another, question in their eyes. They turned back to face Hermione, grinning.

"Hey Mione. Try another."

"Why? Does one not counteract the other? A one to one ratio obviously makes sense unless you put different concentrations in each pill. I could help you correct this error if you like. We need only calculate the number of moles of the subst-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Fred stepped forward and shoved the candy into her mouth. To avoid choking, Hermione reluctantly allowed the candy to slide down her throat.

"What the bloody hell was that for!-"

"Hermione!" Ginny took a fist full of her friends hair and began to examine it.

"What on earth are you doing? We all know that my hair is an unruly ball of fluff, before and after the candy! Can we please stop dwelling on what we cannot change? I have accepted the fact that it wont ever be-"

The hair that lay in Ginny's hand was lightly wavy, with no frizz to obstruct her hand. Hermione quickly brought her hands to her scalp to examine the stands for herself. Silky? Smooth? Malleable? Hair? She would have never thought that her hair would ever be described in such a way, even in her own head. She also noted that without the insulation of her hair, her shoulders had already begun to feel chilled. Hermione looked at the group of boys in the compartment, knowing that Ginny, at the moment, was too distracted. Ron stared at her open mouthed, his lips moving as though searching for something to say. Seamus, Dean and Harry remained quiet also. Harry was the only one who seemed capable of speech.

"Hermione...I think that your hair...well...its-its different!"

"Well spotted!" Fred replied sarcastically. Removing her hands from her hair, she stood and walked over to the twins. Hermione reached into one of the two pouches they were holding retrieving a candy. After popping it into her mouth, she immediately felt the mass of hair began to fill the empty space on her shoulders.

"That's better." She returned to her seat next to Ron. "Ronald! Do close your mouth, it is very unbecoming." He closed his mouth quickly, his teeth clanging together in his mouth audibly, and began to blink stupidly.

"Why did you make your hair revert back to normal? It looked so nice!" Ginny whimpered, attempting the impossible task of running her fingers through her friends hair.

"I don't want people to stare at me," she replied simply. It was enough that they would already begin to regard her differently because of her tan. The thought of more stares made her shiver.

"S'Okay Hermione." George shrugged his shoulders. "You'll know where to find us if you ever consider a different option for your hair, though its only temporary. Five, six hours or so," he said ruefully.

"But we plan to extend the life time on it by about...I don't know...several weeks, maybe a few months before we give one to Malfoy and his lot!" Fred finished for his twin.

"I am good at the moment thank you. I'll let you know if I ever reconsider," Hermione concluded doubtfully. She didn't exactly love her hair per say, but it was safe. Something to hide behind.

"Will do." The twins winked at her and left the compartment.

As the Hogwarts Express neared their destination, the Gryffindor students repeated their annual ritual, the boys leaving the girls in the compartment in search of another with a few more male friends, leaving the girls to change into their robes. Usually Hermione at this point would be ecstatic, pondering the possibilities of the upcoming school year. But now, Hermione only felt anxious. She absentmindedly clawed at her skin, perhaps hoping for a possibility to shed it. She wanted to cower in a dark hole. A dark, grimy, dingy hole. She knew she belonged there. Her skin couldn't possibly get anymore dirty, even if she rolled around in the hole. She was spoiled.

Hermione's breath cough in her throat as Ginny stripped down to her black lace panties without the least bit of shame. It was not her friend's lack of clothing that made her frightened, as she had seen her in a similar state every year before reaching Hogwarts, but rather it was the prospect that her friends were to see her without any clothing. In previous years, this had not been an issue. Though she was a modest girl, she had felt completely comfortable to change into her robes in the company of Ginny and on the odd occasion Luna, but after this summer, not only emotional scares were present. Reveling her scars, some of which had not completed to process of fully healing, was a notion she was not yet ready to undertake.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Ginny questioned, looking down briefly to button her crisp white dress shirt over her matching black lace brassier.

"Yes," Hermione paused. "I-I am just going to go to the loo quickly before we reach the station," she finished quickly, leaving the compartment. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath in trying to steady herself. 'This is lie number one,' she thought ruefully. It hurt her to lie to her best girl friend, but she knew it would hurt more to reveal the secret buried just beneath the surface.

...

Though he had only been seated in his usual compartment for a few minutes, Draco already felt more irritable than ever. His little run in with Potter and Weasel did nothing to help his temper, that could easily bubble over the edge. A hand began to trace lightly up and down his thigh. Such sultry, seductive movements would have naturally turned any man on, no matter the giver of such ministrations, but Draco's mind was elsewhere.

Outside the bubble of his mind, he could faintly hear Pansy's squeaky voice, evidently ignorant to the fact that he was not paying the least bit of attention to what she had to say; he didn't have the decency to nod or pretend he was interested, rather, choosing to occupy himself by watching the flat expanse of land that rolled out beside them . Though if she did happen to notice, it did not deter her from spilling her guts to the blond.

Pansy. She and himself had a very interesting relationship. Upon first meeting her, Draco had become irritated rather quickly for she had become quite infatuated with him. With his looks and bloodline, it was understandable. Through their years of school together, he had managed to tolerate her, mostly because in return for doing so she gave a great shag. He liked that. No strings attached, and their periodic...frequent 'study sessions' allowed both to relinquish their tensions. He wouldn't say that Pansy wasn't attractive - though even if she was as ugly as a cow, Draco was sure that she would be able to catch the attention of the male population because of her generous amount of cleavage.

Though she was bothersome at times, she had learned his body well. Best of all, Draco did not have to worry about satisfying his partner. She seemed somehow able to satisfy herself while pleasuring him. Now, Draco had trained himself to become indifferent to her presence altogether, though her high-pitch laughter and constant need for affection still irked him greatly.

For whatever reason today, the longer he seemed to sit pressed against the black haired girl beside him, the more claustrophobic he became. Her hand dipped to the inseam of his black trousers, running along his inner thigh. The male Slytherin was certain that if Crabbe and Goyle had not been seated across from them that Pansy would have done him right there. For that he was thankful; at the moment he wasn't interested in screwing anyone at the moment.

The invisible ropes that had begun to wind themselves around him pressed upon him tighter. The feeling that was currently possessing him, making his chest hurt, his breaths shallow, was not worth the shag he was expecting from Pansy once they returned to their dorms. He needed to get out.

Draco stood suddenly, barely noticing that he knocked Pansy to the floor in his haste. Crabbe and Goyle rose silently waiting for his bid. The blooming berks. "You lot stay here, I am going to a prefect meeting." The Slytherins nodded thickly and reseated themselves. By this time, Pansy had successfully clambered back onto her previous seat, but upon hearing his words, nearly fell off once again

"A prefect!" She screeched at Draco, who had positioned himself stiffly against the doors frame of the open compartment. He glared at a few students attempting to peer into their compartment in search of the source of the squeal. He turned back to Pansy, who had a curious smile on her face and shrugged.

"Our nutty headmaster would be a fool not to choose me," he scoffed, not bothering to mask his supercilious tone. Pansy just remained gawking at him, a smile on her features. Though he would never admit it, Draco was actually just as surprised as she was, perhaps more so, when he first received a letter telling him the following fall that he was granted the 'pleasure of becoming a prefect'. Pleasure. Hardly. He could care less about the little meetings that they had. But he knew this would prove to be an advantage, knowing he would no longer be penalized should he be caught roaming the halls of Hogwarts at night, especially with the year he had planned ahead of him. Yes. This would not only prove to be an advantage in that aspect, but would also heighten his already high status.

Draco turned away before she could reply and began to walk toward the prefect compartment located closer to the front of the train. He was going to be early, he knew that. But he just couldn't remain another second in the company of his fellow Slytherins. He was usually the type to arrive fashionably late, making him the centre of attention and ensure that everyone around him knew that they were not worth his time. This need to escape his compartment overpowered that urge to express his superiority. The promise of an empty compartment was desirable, as it would allow him to have more time to contemplate the million questions that were currently zooming about in his brain. His palms begun to sweat and his throat became dry as he thought back to the Death Eater meeting he had finally been permitted to attend this summer. One year left until he would finally be admitted into their ranks. At the moment he was indifferent to his future membership. His father had told him that his partiality would eventually turn into stark passion, something that Draco was not certain that he would have. A nice quiet compartment; a compartment without Pansy sounded just peachy.

His pace slowed momentarily as he considered that he might not be the only one to arrive early for the meeting. He could not imagine Miss Know-it-all Granger, not being one of the representatives from Gryffindor house. She would surely be seated when he entered, back ram rod straight, quill poised over her parchment, eager to take notes.

A bubble of annoyance burst in his chest. Of course she would be there. Dumbledore would be a off his rocker had he chosen not offer her the position of Gryffindor Prefect! What with her perfect grades, 'Gryffindor courage' and her bloody morals, she was a perfect candidate for head girl. Not that that would matter next year anyway...

She thought she was so god damn perfect. Of course she would be there early. An ill-mannered thought suddenly appeared in his brain. This would give him another perfect opportunity to annoy the hell out of the girl he despised. It seemed all to good to be true for the devil residing in his body. He lengthened his strides in anticipation. The quicker he arrived, the more time he had to nettle her; though he had to take care not to make her cry, after all, a teacher would soon arrive. She was too proud to allow anyone see her tears. This would be fun. He stopped outside of the prefect's compartment. With a smirk that would make Satan jealous, he slid open the door.

It really was too good to be true...


	3. Chapter 3: One, Two, Three, Four

**Chapter 3: One, Two, Three...**

His face faltered when he met the deep green eyes of Professor Mcgonagall, who also looked to be rather surprised at his presence.

"You're here early Mr. Malfoy," she stated, regaining her composure and looking back down at a long parchment she held between her long boney fingers.

"I just wanted to be here early Professor," he replied, internally cursing his stupidity. He should have looked through the glass window before he had opened the door. Then perhaps he could have saved himself from the surely taxing conversation that would surely follow. McGonagall peered at him skeptically over the rims of her glasses, seeming unconvinced but let the matter slide.

"You haven't happened to spot Miss Granger on your way down have you?" she asked, her eyes returning to scan the parchment. "She is usually a very diligent girl as you know, often arriving before the scheduled time." Though she wouldn't show it, Minerva was astonished when she saw the Slytherin enter the compartment. She had expected him to be the last to arrive.

"No professor," he said, his jaw visibly tightening. He knew very well were she would probably be - laughing and reminiscing with Pothead and the Weasel, maybe talking about girly Gryffindor matters with the She-Weasel. But none the less, she would be arriving soon, he was sure of that. He would just have to content himself with shooting venomous glares her way when McGonagall wasn't looking. She wouldn't say anything as it would go against her pride. Stupid Gryffindors.

"Very well," she sighed. "Have a seat then whilst we wait for the other prefects to arrive.

After an extremely awkward, silent wait with his professor, the prefects from the other houses slowly began to file in. First, arrived a peculiar pair from Hufflepuff. The girl, though moderately attractive did not appeal to Draco in the least. She had dark hair that fell to her waist in ringlets contrasting her pale complexion. A light dusting of freckles covered her nose beneath her large green eyes.

The tall boy who followed in her wake had hair a slightly lighter shade of brown, standing a foot taller than his companion. The two sat closely side by side, their thighs pressed together trying to limit the distance that their bodies were apart. The two lovers intertwined their fingers and waited eagerly for the meeting to commence.

The two Ravenclaws filed in next. Their similar ugly features not hiding the fact that the pair were evidently siblings. I feel terribly sorry for the parents of that lot, he thought without sympathy. It would have been bad enough with one, but finding out that there were twins!. Of course He could not forget The Boy who would not die!

A familiar feeling of hatred washed over him as he turned to see the black haired boy step into their compartment, which with his entrance suddenly felt very small. Draco lips curved into a sadistic smirk as Potter realized that his least favourite person he supposed after The Dark Lord would be sharing a compartment with him for the better part of the train ride. As green eyes met blue, tension could immediately be felt in the room, the air now palpable with unhidden loathing.

"Where's Hermione?" He asked McGonagall, his eyes still fixated on the blue ones across from him. Draco didn't miss the accusatory tone in which he spoke.

"I was actually hopping you would be the one to tell me Mr. Potter," she stated primly, meeting his gaze.

"She was in the compartment with me not an hour ago. I haven't seen her since Ron, Neville, Dean and I left her and Ginny to get changed. I will try to find her-" Harry pulled away from the door of the compartment only to be called back by his transfiguration Professor.

"Remain here. I am sure she will arrive shortly. We will need at least one Gryffindor prefect to pass on the message to her should she fail to arrive-"

"I'm here Professor!" squeaked an all too familiar voice. It really was too good to be true. Draco knew from the high pitch shriek that it was not the Gryffindor princess, but rather a girl from his own house. How hadn't he been expecting this? All had gone wrong for him for as long as he could remember, so why should that change now? A girl with short, raven black hair barreled eagerly through Harry. "Drakie!" she shouted, Mcgonagall wincing as Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice echoed through the compartment. Draco smirked slightly watching as Potty was thrown aggressively towards the the two Ravenclaws, breaking their embrace. Good old Pansy. His mild affection toward her was short lived as the girl pounced on him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"That's quite enough!" Mcgonagall glowered, glaring at everyone in the compartment. Everyone took their seats, including Pansy, who, rather than sitting in the vacant space on the bench next to him, decided to remain perched on his lap. Her fingers slowly began to fiddle with his green and silver tie, loosening it slightly.

"Pansy?" McGonagall called.

"Hmm..." was her reply, still continuing to play with his tie. She winked at him suggestively.

"Would you kindly remove yourself from Mr. Malfoy's lap so we can begin?" she questioned, not bothering to mask the irritation that laced her words. Pansy reluctantly stood, seating herself closely beside him, sulking.

Draco sat for the remainder of the train ride listening to McGonagall talking about what was expected of them now that they were prefects - a "highly regarded position". He chose to tune out her ranting however, choosing to instead focus his energy on a piece of lint on his dress pants.

"Now, out all of you. I expect you to assist the prefects in directing the students to the carriages. We will be arriving at the platform shortly.

...

Hermione remained stationed in front of the mirror in the loo at the caboose of the train for the rest of the trip to the station examining the countless blemishes disfiguring her once flawless form.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she whispered, pressing the tip of her vine wood wand to her hip, which sported a nasty cut that had barely begun to heal on its own. She waited for the familiar hot then cold feeling to occur on her hip signaling the healing of her flesh. Her skin knitted together loosely, a red line still visible where the gash had been. Hermione expected to repeat the process in a few hours time.

"Something to remember him by," he had said before a charmed blade raked its way across her skin. The moment the cool steel had touched her skin, she felt the dark magic course through her veins; there would be little chance that she would be able to remove them. Hermione hoped that the Hogwarts library would be able to assist her in finding something...anything that would help quell the persistent pain. Magic, though she tried, did not permanently stem the blood oozing from her cuts.

Tears burned behind her closed lids as she leaned her head against the back of the wall. Here she was, supposedly the greatest witch of her age, sitting on the closed lid of a toilet trying, and failing to heal a cut. A single tear managed to escape from her eye, sliding down her neck and soaking into a cut. It burned painfully, but Hermione had trained herself not to react. Much. Hermione thought back to when she had been certain that she had discovered the correct remedy with which she could correctly deal with her cuts.

When she had first used the healing charm, just as it had today, her skin knit back together in a neat line, however it came as an unpleasant surprise that an hour later when her cuts had reopened and began to ooze blood once more.

So during the very rare opportunities she received to go out into public, she had resorted to a muggle method, placing layer upon layer of gauze around her torso, legs and arms, trying to stem the bleeding, or at least keep it from soaking though her clothing and revealing her secret. A blood replenishing potion was also taken every six hours, or after she begin to feel faint, to keep her levels healthy. Derrick was one twisted son of a bitch.

'Something to remember him by.'

She would not need the forty-six scars and several cuts that littered her body to remember him.

Another student banged on the door impatiently causing poor Hermione to jump. She had occupied one of the two bathrooms for the past hour and a half and was constantly interrupted from her thoughts as people continued to file back to use the loo. Unconcerned, Hermione once again lifted her shirt and began to count her scars. It was a peculiar habit that often calmed her nerves; something that she had used to occupy and keep herself sane during the hours, sometimes even days that Derrick had left her alone in his basement to avoid another incident with the authorities, locked away from the world.

One, two, three...


	4. Chapter 4: Time Flies!

Hello everyone. Just a quick chapter I wrote while at a volleyball game!

JKR - Thanks for your creativity! I do not own any of this story but the plot...well I don't own your story yet... :D

"Where the bloody hell have you been Hermione!" shouted Ginny over the squeals of the first years eagerly jumping from the train onto the platform, each in desperate attempts to catch a view school for the first time. Hermione would forever recall the warm feeling of security that engulfed her as she looked upon the worn stone walls for the first time. The distant windows twinkling in the darkness promised a warm interior cast beautiful reflections on the Black Lake only to be broken up in the wake of their boats closing the distance between herself and her new home.

"Hermione Granger! Are you even listening to me!" Ginny violently waved her tiny hand in front of her face, bringing her from her thoughts. "McGonagall is absolutely livid! You missed the prefect meeting! She's been looking for you everywhere! Harry is worried sick as well!" Ginny pressed, looking completely and utterly distressed. Hermione's stomach sunk. She had completely forgot. She recalled the letter and prefect pin sitting neatly atop her robes, which she had yet to change into. How could she be so irresponsible? She had a duty to herself and her school, and she had begun the year already demolishing any chance that she had for a clean record.

An eager first year plowed into her back from behind, causing her to lurch forward into Ginny.

"Oh dear, I am terribly sorry Gin! Wholly cricket! I can't believe that I missed-"

Another voice sounded shrilly from behind her, easily overpowering the excitement exuded by the other students. Hermione watched the ginger's eyes slowly lose their luster and turn to slits as she glared over her shoulder.

"Get out of the bloody way you prat! Don't touch me filth!" The voice was laced with a poison so lethal it caused the knot in her stomach to, if possible, sink even lower. The vindictive voice could only belong to one blonde haired boy. Malfoy.

Hermione turned slowly to scowl at the boy, standing not even five paces away. Far too close for her comfort.

"Couldn't afford to buy school robes this year Granger?" He asked spitefully looking over her muggle attire, clearly disgusted. Hermione glanced down at her simple denim jeans and black zip-up sweater as she had yet to change into her uniform. Her clothing wasn't that terrible. I mean, she wasn't exactly dressed for the runway as she had aimed more for comfort; the train ride was rather long. And as she had spent the majority of the train ride cowering in the loo, her clothing was one of her least concerns. Hermione resolved that she would change into her robes once she arrived at the castle. Panic rose painfully in her chest when she realized that her robes were in her luggage which was...in the compartment. Dully, Hermione turned to Ginny to let her know that she needed to return to their compartment to get her bags, when she noticed that the redhead had, set by her feet, her luggage along with her own.

Malfoy, seeming to notice he had been momentarily forgotten, quickly made a verbal jab. "I thought that you would be one up on the She-Weasel over there, but I suppose it might be more difficult for you to obtain robes as you don't have twelve other rodents- I mean 'brothers' to give you hand-me-downs," Malfoy said jerking his chin in Ginny's direction before looking down his nose at her. "Actually, I am surprised that you even get a skirt at all Weaselette! What with all your brothers, one would assume you would acquire pants from them. At least with a skirt everyone can tell that you are indeed a girl. If you happened to wear pants, I don't believe that anyone would be able to decide your gender." Malfoy's eyes gleamed maliciously. Hermione felt Ginny shrink slightly beside her and did not reply. Hermione lifted her gaze to meet his cold steel eyes boring into her and shifted in front of her female friend moderately, blocking her from his view and hopefully some of the snide comments he would surely continue to spit their way. She opened her mouth to retort, but a long boney hand closed firmly around her shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy it seems you have finally found our Miss Granger."

"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione sputtered. "I am terribly sorry I-"

"Not a great way to begin the year Miss Granger." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught Malfoy's thin lips curving into a rancorous smirk. "-but as your previous records appear to be untarnished, I will overlook this one flaw." Hermione noticed his smirk falter, though it remained prominent.

"It will not happen again Professor," She promised, bowing her head.

"Indeed it wont. You may run along Ginny. Be sure to tell Mr. Potter that Miss. Granger is perfectly safe before he has a hemorrhage. She will meet you and your fellow Gryffindors at the feast." Ginny peered at the professor from over Hermione's shoulder, still cowering from Malfoy's gaze, currently set on her. Hermione gave her a reassuring nod, and the girl scurried off in search of Harry and her brother and surly tell them about their run in with the devil.

"Explain yourself Miss Granger - Not so fast Mr. Malfoy!" the woman stated when he began to join the crowd of students heading toward the exit. "You will remain here for a few minutes," she stated simply. "Well Miss Granger?" Hermione thought frantically for something-anything to tell her professor. Telling her 'Oh professor, I was merely attempting to stem the bleeding from the various gashes littering my body because my sadistic cousin decided to cut me with a charmed blade after he rapped me several times during the summer! But I am fine.' wasn't exactly something she felt like sharing with her transfiguration professor. Perhaps once she arrived at Hogwarts she would confide in Professor Dumbledore, but for now, especially in the company of Malfoy, she did not feel like sharing her story.

"I was locked in the bathroom," Hermione lied. She knew it was a terrible fib, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment. Mcgonagall continued to look at her suspiciously. And so she should, Hermione realized, because a wizard who is perfectly capable of performing a spell to unlock a door isn't likely to become trapped in a bathroom. "I left my wand in the compartment and apparently a few of the students trying to go to the washroom didn't hear me." Her explanation seemed to do the trick when the woman before her nodded understandingly. Hermione noticed an aggravated Malfoy leaning on one foot, then leaning on the other.

"Profess-" Mcgonagall cut him off by swiftly raising her hand.

"Well, seeing as you spent most of your time looking at yourself in the mirror, when you should have been at our meeting, you will spend the remaining time with another prefect covering what you missed on the way to the castle." Though Hermione knew that McGonagall had merely referenced the mirror as a way to make her point, she found it oddly disconcerting. She knew nothing. Hermione nodded willingly as Mcgonagall removed her hand from her shoulder, which was now feeling cool and slightly numb due to her Professor's firm grip. "Mr. Malfoy, please put on your prefect badge will you? It will be much easier for the students to recognize-"

"Malfoy's a prefect!" Hermione burst unable to control herself. Malfoy smirked as he pulled out a glossy gold badge, the prefects crest embossed beautifully into the front, and pinned it proudly to his robes. He grinned at the hatred in her voice as she said this. 'This is going to be entertaining,' he thought gleefully, smirking even more as she turned to look at him again. 'Very entertaining!'

"Don't act so terribly surprised Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy is, after all, second in his year, and is a confident young man." Of course, Hermione knew perfectly well that McGonagall was not exceptionally fond of Malfoy, but she knew she had to put on good face, as it was Professor Dumbledore's choice to award him with that position. Draco's chest puffed out slightly at her praise. He could care less about what that old bat was saying, but rather he cared how what she said affected the puffy haired girl before him. "I am confident in his ability, and it is for this reason that I am asking him to accompany you back to the castle so that he can explain to you your role on the way." The professor seemed to be attempting to convince herself rather than the distressed student before her. Hermione, had the situation not been so tense, would have burst out into laughter at the sight of the deflating Malfoy beside her. His face screwed up into a defiant pout.

"But Professor I -"

"No buts Mr. Malfoy. Get a move on before you are late for the feast, off you go," she urged Malfoy, pulling him lightly towards the door. McGonagall held Hermione back to inform her that Harry, the other Gryffindor prefect, had the password.

Hermione reluctantly chased after Malfoy who was still attempting to make his way though the thinning, yet still dense sea of students still pooling out onto the platform. Hermione sighed and unenthusiastically allowed herself to be carried along by the current of students.

...

"This is bullocks!" Draco muttered under his breath, causing a faint puff of smoke to furl out of his mouth from the cold air. Hermione, sitting across from her in the otherwise empty carriage could hear his hushed tone. They were the last carriage to the castle. She was alone, but for Malfoy. Oh why did it have to be Malfoy who found her. It could have easily been Harry - he had been apparently looking for her after all. She remained quiet for a moment, listening to the steady drumming of the thestral's hooves against the ground that had begun to harden from the dropping temperature. The beat calmed her mind slightly, but did not fully erase the tension and nerves that surged through her body.

"I don't want to be here either Malfoy, but wouldn't it be easier-"

"No!" he hissed back "It would have been easier had you bloody bled to death this summer, paper-cutting yourself to death when you read one of your stupid books," he finished referencing her compulsive habit of reading. He saw her face become a carefully composed stoic mask; a mask he was all too familiar with, and knew he had hit a nerve. "I hope you were careful where you bled Mudblood! Wouldn't want anyone else to be infected by your impurities!" She remained passive as she allowed his comment to slide off easily. Though being called a Mudblood still hurt, she had become accustomed to the comment and was able to remain relatively unaffected. It pleased her to note that this aggravated him more.

She closed her eye's lightly trying to rid herself of the head ache that had suddenly grown into a heavy throbbing in her temples. She refrained from massaging them for fear that he mistook the gesture for his comments affecting her in such a way. She didn't want him to see her in any weakness, so she continued to hide behind her mask.

He wanted a reaction, he didn't care what he had to say to get one; he felt like a drug addict fighting for his fix. "-so don't you bloody well talk about anything being easier with you around ruining a world that was perfect without your existence? Don't you think things would be so much easier without a parasite...a leech like yourself, sucking the blood of- " She glared at him unable to keep her cool any longer. Her head ache erupted in pain, and as it did, she couldn't hold back her comments.

"Will you just shut your bloody mouth! You don't like me, and I sure as hell am not particularly fond of you. Now you will not go about trying to make myself feel small!" With each word, she leaned closer to him, evidently trying to display the daggers in her eyes. How cute. The Mudblood was trying to frighten him! Of course it was useless for her to try. The Dark Lord and his father were the only two people who sent his blood running cold. Draco smirked back as she continued to lean forward, exposing more of her neck. His eyes dropped to a peculiar shadow spreading across the white expanse, now visible because of the light shinning through the windows of the approaching castle. Upon recognizing that he was looking at her bare neck, a surge of panic ripped through her chest. She quickly zipped up her muggle sweater, but the damage was done. He cocked his eyebrow slightly, leaning back to regard her.

"So, have a little fun with the Weasel when you should have been in the prefects compartment? How naughty!" She had considered her attire carefully before boarding the train, knowing the shirt she was currently wearing best covered the painful love bites that covered the expanse of her neck. He smirked. Hermione looked at him disgusted but didn't reply, unable to find the words. " 'The door was locked professor! I couldn't get out!' " He mocked in terrible interpretation of her voice. "The door was locked my ass!" He hissed, switching easily from his previously whinny tone. "Even dirty blood like you can do better than those blood traitors. If evidently doesn't take much to get the bookworm out of her knickers - Hey! Where are you going!"

Hermione stood suddenly, exiting out of the carriage gracefully, evidently keen on ignoring everything he was planning to say. Oh well. He would have plenty of other opportunities. In the time he had spent winding Granger up, they had made it to the castle. 'Hmm - time flies when you are having fun!'

Can you not feel the loathing in the air? I for one wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of one of his wraths... I wonder what their next meeting will hold. ;)

Just so you know, I am encouraged when I read reviews...and I know people are reading this, so please leave a review! I am very sad when you don't review because I don't know if you are enjoying the story...and that could lead to depression issues...which could lead to suicide...JUST KIDDING! I know I shouldn't joke like that but PLEASE REVIEW! Much love. 3


	5. Chapter 5: The Mystery Girl

_Previously:_

_ Hermione stood suddenly, exiting out of the carriage gracefully, evidently keen on ignoring everything he was planning to say. Oh well. He would have plenty of other opportunities. In the time he had spent winding Granger up, they had made it to the castle. 'Hmm - time goes quickly when you are having fun!' _

Hermione used up all of her energy, fighting the flash-backs that plagued her already aching brain. This had been the longest carriage ride she had ever experienced. Usually, she was pressed up against the warm bodies of her friends, Ron and Harry talking to Luna and Neville about occurrences during the summer; happy times, and the trip had always seemed to be over before it began, ending with them heading to the Great Hall, arm in arm for the Welcome Back Feast.

However. on this cold night, there was no one to warm her. On the contrary she felt even colder because of the negative energy emitted from the lone dark form across from her. She felt empty. Was this how the recipient of a dementor attack felt? It couldn't be much worse than the frigid feeling that settled in her bones at the present time.

Hermione had learned through practice to take Malfoy's jeers lightly, allowing each insult to roll off her. Such practice, though exacerbating, ultimately left her unscathed. But without safety provided by arms of her friends, they easily began to penetrate through the thick skin she had spent several years building up around her. These painful jabs made by Draco's tongue unconsciously resurfaced painful memories of Derrick that she had been so desperately trying to suppress.

Gratefulness washed over Hermione as the cage...carriage rolled to a stop. She stood immediately, ignoring the pounding of her head and the painful pressure on her temples that only increased with her sudden rise.

She reached a shaking hand out to grip the door, trying her utmost not to fall flat on her face. Her legs felt like lead and knew that the possibility of her legs giving out on her was all too real, but she didn't give them the option to, as her pride would not allow it.

Stepping outside the carriage, she drank in the night air and looked at the gray clouds that slowly furled above her, consuming the stars and beginning to shield the full moon. Only once her back was turned to the enemy did she allow the tears that she had held below the surface to roll silently down her cheeks.

Composing herself on the go, Hermione walked brusquely to the Great Hall, all too aware Malfoy was traveling an unknown distance behind. She tightened her cloak around her and picked up her pace, desiring nothing more than to place as much distance between her and Malfoy as possible. What had McGonagall been thinking! Normally Hermione wouldn't have questioned a professors final word, but Hermione really wanted to know what had motivated her to put her with Malfoy of all people. After all, he was not so kind enough to share any of the minutes of the prefect meeting, despite the discomfort she felt being in his presence. He could have at least given her a speck of insight into what she missed! Surely it was all just dumb luck. She seemed to be experiencing that a lot lately.

Hermione lifted her gaze from the dark beaten earth and looked to the great entrance of Hogwarts. The promise of warmth in the light of the window and the arms of her friends urging her on.

Once through the heavy oak doors, she was relieved to find that neither the speeches, nor the feast that proceeded had begun. She continued silently past Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables to her own house table, not yet noticed by the students over the roar of their chatter.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry stood, enveloping her in a tight hug as they spotted her walking towards them. For some reason, the warmth and comfort that usually accompanied her friends embraces was no longer present and he chill lingered in her limbs. "Ginny told us about your run in with Malfoy!" Harry paused taking in her surely disgruntled appearance. "Are you okay Mione? Because if that git-"

"I'm fine," Hermione lied. Lie number two. She let the issue rest and walked quickly around the end of the table to sit opposite the two boys. She stepped lightly over the bench and took a seat between Parvati and Neville. Neville was completely consumed in a conversation with Seamus about a rare plant he had come across while on a trip with his Gran. Seamus continued to nod relentlessly, pretending to care what he had to say. Hermione contemplated greeting the girl beside him as she sat, but decided better of interrupting her animated discussion that she was having with her twin.

"Great! Glad you're okay!" Ron said enthusiastically. He changed topic rather quickly, focusing his attention now on his empty stomach. "I'm hungry. I wish that Dumbledore would start his speech already-" As if on cue, the headmaster rose from his seat at the front of the hall, causing the chatter to dwindle down to nothing. Harry continued to look at Hermione unconvinced.

"I will begin this years speech, as I am sure many of you, are probably getting restless in waiting for the feast," the headmaster began, his piercing blue eyes drifting over to the Gryffindor table, lingering on Ron for a few seconds more than necessary. A few of the students, upon noticing the recipient of the gaze, snickered lightly before turning there attention back to Dumbledore.

Ron's face and ears by this time had turned a dark maroon, camouflaging his freckles and matching perfectly the jumper made for him by Mrs. Weasley every Christmas. Upon noting this, Dumbledore smiled lightly, appearing to chuckle at a quiet joke. This in turn only caused Ron's ears to turn a deeper shade of red."-It is all that I ask is that you will wait a few moments longer." He cleared his throat and allowed time for the remainder of the chattering students to look his way before continuing. "Now that we are all settled, I would like to inform you that the castle will not only harbor us, but some very special guests will share our home as well. As I am sure many of you already know, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event - the Triwizard tournament!"Chatter erupted among the students in all the houses. The students who had older siblings, or were familiar with the idea of the tournament looked around telling their friends that they planned to enter as soon as they could, while others, primarily muggle borns who had no connection to this knowledge, looked around perplexed.

"Now, for those of you who do not know, A single student from each of the three schools involved produces single student that is permitted to compete in a series of magical contests. Now, let me be very clear. The student who is chosen stands alone and must endure whatever tasks are thrown their way. I am extremely serious when I say that these contests are not for the faint student who manages to win the Triwizard tournament will attain not only the title, but eternal glory. But to gain this title, the student must survive three extremely dangerous tasks...but this can be explained later." Professor Dumbledore paused for several moments looking off into the distance, his eyes lacking their usual luster. "But more of that later," he lowered his voice seriously.

He cleared his throat and smiled cheerfully, immediately lifting the blanket of silence that had been all too palpable moments before. "But for now, please join me in welcoming the fine ladies of the Beaubaton's academy of magic and their headmaster, Madam Maxime." The eyes of many of the Hogwarts students widened as they regarded the collection of women who danced through the great oak doors accompanied by the woman who Professor Dumbledore had just introduced as Madam Maxime. She was cloaked in a shimmering dress made of what seemed to be a rouge snake skin, laced with fur around the collar. But it was not her apparel that shocked the students, it was her sheer size. Rather than being of a 'normal' witch or wizard height, the great woman toward over her students by several extra feet. This extra height along with her grace, gave her an air of power, which many of the students sitting in the benches immediately respected.

Dumbledore bowed respectfully to Madam Maxime, kissing her long fingers. He waved his crocked wand and each of the house tables were lifted lightly off the tiled floor and floated apart. With another flick, two tables, equal in length to the four other oak house tables appeared. The women took their seats, filling three quarters of the benches capacity.

Next, Dumbledore introduced the students of Durmstrang. "And now, from the north, Igor Karkaroff and his school of Durmstrang!"The aggressive movements and heavy steps of the male students who entered following their introduction contrasted the delicate motions of the women.

"It's Victor Krum!" yelled many of the students as they entered. He remained in the company of Karkaroff as the rest of his fellow students walked ahead.

...

Victor didn't fail to notice many of the Hogwarts females swooned as he brushed past them, his cloak billowing elegantly behind him. He took no heed to the look of lust and cries of the girls who attempted, in vein to grab his attention. He had seen too many far too often.

He had to say, he had at first found it rather flattering when crowds of girls chased after him, blushing merely when he acknowledged their existence. But now the cries which he heard too often only made him think of the fans that would break down into tears when they discussed their undying love for him; the fans that had gone to extreme lengths to make him fall for them or make him notice them. He was glad that he could at least have some peace when he attended Durmstrang - as it was an only boys school, there was slim chance that he would be bothered by possessed, deranged females with waked hormones. But then again...it wasn't only females he had to fear. Victor inwardly cringed at the memory.

He continued to stride forward, ignoring the line of faces that he walked by on either side, continuing to ogle him. It really did get old. Every single face. That was when his eyes locked onto a slim girl bent over a large text, completely unaware of his arrival. Didn't she know who he was! He was the bloody seeker for The Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! Why wasn't she looking up at him?

This confused him slightly. Had he not just been internally cursing each of the females-and the occasional males- that would stare longingly after him wherever he went? Why was he suddenly bothered when his one girl wouldn't pay him notice? Victor slowed his pace slightly, his eyes fixated so intensely on this one being. A dark haired girl noticed his sudden interest in the girl sitting next to her and she quickly elbowed her in the ribs. The girl lifted her gaze from the book resting on the table to glare at her for being interrupted. After meeting an absent expression, turned to face him.

A pair of deep brown eyes met his own, an indifferent expression lingering over her features. He had met the eyes of many many other girls in passing, but never had it felt like this before. It wasn't as though a sudden rush came over him, or a million fireworks erupted in the background, how most novels illustrated. The connection was not one of instantaneous romance or lust, but it felt deeper. That gaze held nothing special. Looking into her eyes made him feel...normal. She didn't seem to be affected by his status and this fact alone intrigued him. She was not overly attractive, though she was decently good looking, with generous amount...a very generous amount of untamed brown hair, a small straight nose, and soft pink lips. She wore not a stroke of mascara or a brush of blush. Her beauty, he noticed was natural. This, he felt, was something that drew him closer to her. He was far to used to the fake woman who he often associated with at public events; the fake reporters and party girls. But the bushy haired girl in front of him- she was different.

His headmaster's hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him forward. He hadn't released that by now, most of his school had already taken their seats.

The girl lowered her eyes back down to her volume, in a way that he felt that he was being...dismissed. He immediately wanted to feel the connection from her eyes once it was broken. He was going to find out who that mystery girl was.

* * *

**Sorry for the lack of events...I have been so terribly busy with school work. Yes I feel terrible. But I will do my utmost to try and get another chapter out within the next few days, even if I have to stay up all night! I am rather sick at the moment and bed ridden so I suppose I can do that much can't I? Hold on my readers...within the next few chapters, though I cannot say when (because I am not sure myself), that a bet will be made...Yes, I do believe that this will eventually turn to a very eventful fic indeed. Also, yes smut will also be ever present in the future for those of you who are waiting, though I again cannot say exactly when. **

**Once again, I am terribly sorry for the lack of event :(**


	6. Chapter 6: Girls Galore

Dumbledore stood from his seat, announcing the arrival of the other two schools competing in the Triwizard Tournament. The vast oak doors creaked open, just wide enough to allow a line of girls to file in. They danced delicately to one of the two additional tables set up for both the Beaubaton and Durmstrang.

The jaws of every male in the hall dropped but Draco's, who continued to pick through the crowed of girls. Draco noted that he was related to a few of the girls sitting primly across the bench, either being his cousins or second cousins. Veelas were all distantly related to one another so it was no surprise that, as veela blood rain through his veins, that he would find relatives he knew quite well seated among the group, most of which were blondes. It wasn't that big of a challenge to distinguish a veela from a non-veela. Just their air of superiority and unconditional beauty would give them away.

Surprisingly, there was quite a few who he did not know. When he had heard that Beaubatons would also be sharing Hogwarts, he had expected to recognize a majority of the women there. But he was proven incorrect. Seated, there were several brunettes with a few black haired girls thrown into the mix, he knew that the relations between them and the veela population had diluted and dwindled down to nothing in the passed centuries.

Though there there were a great portion that he did not recognize, there was also many that he did. His gaze shifted down to the opposite side of the table. His father had set him up with quite a few, their high status being a logical choice for marriage. Yes, at this end of the table there were a great number that he did recognize. 'Did her, did her, did her, didn't like her, did her, nice ass, squeaky voice' he thought in a bored tone. The other end of the table was more interesting. He again moved his eyes down the line of females until...

He shuddered as his eyes fell upon a girl his parents had set him up with this past summer. Though pleasantly attractive, she clung to him tighter than Pansy ever had. Actually, she made Pansy look unbelievably cold in comparison. She was also a horrendous kisser and a terrible shag. And her lengthy fake nails painted in a ghastly red colour, had left countless scratches that took several weeks to heal. After a week with her, he looked like he had been mauled by a jungle cat. That comparison wasn't far off. She didn't have much else going for her other than the ample cleavage that threatened to pop the buttons on the blue vest that lay tautly across her chest. Normally a sight like that would have made him hard in an instant. But those images were tainted as her high pitched laugh echoed through his mind. Never again.

After one week of her company, he managed to convince his father that it would be best if they separated for a bit. What was that saying again? Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Rubbish. Distance is what kept his heart from being impaled or scratched up by those bloody talons of hers. It had been hard to sell his father on the idea of allowing them to separate. Clearly it was going to be tougher to get rid of her than he had originally assumed. He groaned inwardly at the thought.

Draco looked around at the crowd of boys around him and chuckled to himself as he noticed Blaise eyes shift from chest to chest. Blaise was the only other male at Hogwarts the rivalled his reputation as the Slytherin sex god. Yes, not only did he excel in quantity, but quality as well. Essentially, he could have anyone he wanted, just turn on the charm and they would swoon at his feet. Draco looked back at the table filled with women wearily. Who to chose, who to choose. He had a decent amount of time. Why rush...but why not.

Beside him, Pansy was fuming as she eyed a well figured girl shake her long main of hair, the glossy blonde strands reflecting the candle light beautifully.

"I think Pans is turning green with envy!" Theodore Nott voiced from Draco's other side, elbowing him roughly.

A shot of pain consumed his chest as his friend's elbow came into contact with one of the few injuries he had yet to heal. After healing all of his other, more serious ones, such as a broken clavicle, ulna, several smaller bones, and a few cuts and gashes on his face that he did not want the population of Hogwarts to see, he hadn't the energy to repair his ribs. Much like his other summers, his life at home was far from easy. And as he neared his last year of Hogwarts, his father, if possible had become more aggressive in anticipation of what was to come. Draco shuddered remembering the meeting that he had attended. He clenched his jaw, not allowing a sound to exit his lips. Had he, he would be forever known as the Nancy Boy. He vowed he would heal the remainder of the injures that night after his strength returned. Thank the lord that Granger could not see the pain in his eyes as the carriage bounced over the uneven pathway.

Pansy ripped her gaze from the blonde to glare at Nott for a few moments before returning her eyes to the table, to size up a brunette who had quickly reached up to unbutton the top few buttons of her blouse when she thought no one was watching.

The silence that had overcome the hall with the entrance of the women was broken when Dumbledore announced the students form Durmstrang. A group of well disciplined men strode in confidently, taking in their surroundings. It was more than evident that they were not impressed. Once their eyes traveled to the bench filled with ladies from Beaubatons, however, their disgusted tone changed to that of a predator stalking prey. Draco had some competition.

He felt a twang in his stomach as he watched his blonde cousin tilt her head back slightly, displaying her perfect white teeth, evidently laughing at a joke told to her by a tall, yet very muscular man from Durmstrang. It was not jealousy that he felt plaguing his insides, rather annoyance. Who the fuck was this guy to get off with his cousin? He would have to have a talk with her - after he had shagged one of her friends that is!

After the every single student had filled their bellies to their capacity, the food on the plates before them dissolved, leaving them clean. With a quick pop, the clean plates disappeared, evidently reappearing in the school's kitchen. The chatter faded once again as the Hogwarts headmaster rose and stood in front of the table. Without preamble, he told the students to retire to their dormitories and reminded the prefects of their duties in guiding the new students. Draco grumbled as he stood. That bloody Oaf, putting him in this position, especially with pratty Parkinson. Just lovely.

...

Throughout Dumbledore's introduction, Harry contemplated Hermione's actions. She was not acting as excited as she usually would, pointing out the lovely decorations-something she did every year since they arrived at the school. Only out of respect for his headmaster did he refrain from speaking to his bushy-haired friend. But now, as the speech was over, he focused his whole attention on her

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, reaching across the table, softly touching her slightly damp cheek. The trails her falling tears had left behind were all to evident. Ron, currently occupied with the pile of spring-rolls piled so high that they threatened to roll off his plate, remained oblivious. "Why were you crying-" Hermione sat up stiffly.

"It began to rain outside," Hermione said avoiding his eyes, shifting her body out of the bench so that she could stand. Lie number three.

"Mione, look if this is about Malfoy, just forget-"

"Look Harry, I am feeling rather ill." Hermione did not need to fake the weariness present in her voice. "I just need some rest." Lie number four. She hurried away quickly before Harry could interject. He looked down at her empty plate, then shifted his gaze to the ceiling. Not a storm cloud or a drop of rain obscured the dark expanse of stars and floating candles that lit up the black sky. The ceiling always reflected the weather, good or bad, that waited outside. He knew that Hermione was lying, but knew not of why. She had missed the prefect meeting, then skipped out on the feast. There was something truly wrong.

After the newcomers were seated, Dumbledore faced his students once more. Dumbledore introduced the new charms teacher that would be replacing Professer Flitwick until he returned the following year. His were lost in Harry's mind, as were the countless sighs that escaped the lips of the girls around him as they regarded their new charms teacher. Harry as he furrowed his eyebrows deep in thought.

Dumbledore waited politely until the female chatter had dwindled down and with a brandish of his arms, food appeared on each of the empty plates placed down centre of the four mahogany house tables, in addition to the extra two, one for each new school.

...

Draco sat across the room blindly scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate. He was vaguely aware of the happenings around him as he watched the Gryffindor table with interest. He watched as Potty's hand reached across to stroke her check, in an almost loving manner. Granger and Potter?

Draco smirked, already sensing the jealously that was sure to be simmering inside of the Weasel. After their little meeting inside the washroom at the back of the train, he was sure that he would have been a little more than possessive. Yet another thing to tease her and Weasel about. And he was certain he could drag Potty into their fun as well. She was making it all to easy for him.

His steely eyes flickered over to the red head to gauge his reaction. What a Nesh. He sat there, completely clueless as Potter was beginning to move in on the girl. What an idiot. The girl could easily play them both like a harp without either of them hearing the music! This was certainly going to be an entertaining evening to watch!

The Mudblood stood to leave looking absolutely shattered. Draco smirked yet again, wondering if it was him who caused her such pain, or if it was Potty or the Weasel. His the muscles in his face were actually becoming sore due to all of his smirks. Draco smirked yet again at the thought. It didn't matter who made her teary. She was upset all the same so it mattered not how she arrived at that state. Though it certainly would inflate his ego if it was himself who made her shed tears. In his many tauntings, Granger had stood stubornly strong, seeming unaffected by his comments. This year was going to be his year. It was this year that he would make the mudblood spill her tears.

Perhaps Ron had done something to piss her off royally. Or maybe he didn't respond to her attempts to make him jealous. Hmm. Interesting methods - very un-Gryffindor.

Even from the distance of the two house tables between them, Draco could just make out the glint of tears that leaked from her eyes, down her flushed cheeks, and down her neck. Those love bites had fascinated him for a reason he knew not of. He had given his fair share so they were nothing new. Perhaps it was the color that was the most startling. They were exceedingly dark red, border-lying purple in places. He thought he might have even seen a trickle of dried blood but he couldn't have been certain in the dim light. The color showed that the giver had spend an awful lot of energy, or rather, had been terribly aggressive when at her neck. Purpling bruises like that only came from a combination of biting and sucking that was borderline chaotic. He of all people would know. He respected the girl enough not to go utterly hostile at her neck. Never had he assaulted a girl's neck to the point of unbearable pain or breaking skin for that matter, and the marks usually came out only slightly red. His mother at least taught him morals to do with treating a girl well...even if it was multiple girls, but he had that going for him in that respect. Either that, or Granger _really_ liked it rough. Clearly the rodent's mother never taught him how to treat a woman...if Granger was even considered of that gender. Weasel must have been one possessed son of a bitch. Draco inwardly praised himself, now knowing the topic he planned to breach when he next decided to irk her.

"What are you googling at mate?" Blaise said though a mouthful of food.

"Nothing, just tired," he lied quickly. "You catch the world cup game?" he asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah we had great seats! Though not as stellar as yours I hear. In the Minister's box, correct?" Malfoy nodded trying to keep his mind on the conversation, his eyes still following the bookworm's movements. Something seemed to be licking at the back of his mind. Something troubling. He knew for a fact that it wasn't his conscious; he had squashed that out of his mind since the first year he was born. "Victor Krum was bloody brilliant!" Blaise said breaking his thoughts. "Bloody brilliant the way he caught the snitch! Best seeker of our age without a doubt!" Draco shouldn't have encouraged his friend's conversation by starting on about The Cup. He was too tired to continue it and merely nodded hoping that he would get the hit and drop the conversation. Evidently Zabini was not that perceptive. "I can't believe he's at our school! I am going to go over and ask for his autograph after dinner!" Blaise continued excitedly. "And i'll bet you fifty galleons that Krum will enter The Triwizard Tournament, and another sixty that he will win!"

The Triwizard Tournament. He had completely forgotten about that until Dumbledore had mentioned it. He supposed he had too much information plaguing his mind. But it didn't matter anyway. He was not of age, so he heard from his father. There had been a new set of rules enforced by the Ministry of Magic. One more bloody year and he could have been competing.

"Mother fucking age restrictions!" Malfoy slammed his fist down on the table, causing some of the metal utensils to clatter nosily. A few students looked over at him surprised before turning back to their food. Blaise lowered his goblet of pumpkin juice from his lips.

"Do you honestly think age is going to stop us from competing?" Blaise leered, evidently knowing also that they were underage. "It is just a number!"

"Dumbledore is not so stupid as not to have put extra measures to restrict under aged students from entering!"

"Come on mate! Eternal glory!" Blaise's eyes glossed over as his imaginations flooded over his reality. Now it was Draco's turn to elbow his friend.

"Yeah-if you come up with any fool proof schemes, I will be right behind you!" Draco said without enthusiasm.

Gods how he wanted to be in that tournament! His father would be ever so proud! There would be no gain for him as the prize money didn't even equate to a one percent of what was in his weekly allowance. Though eternal glory was very tempting. The Malfoy name would climb even higher on its already high pedestal. Yes, wouldn't that be something.

"Sure thing mate! Sure thing!"

...

Hermione trudged up the shifting staircases, her footsteps against the hard stone floors were the only sounds that could be heard. Everyone was down at the feast, so there was little chance that she would bump into anyone and have to put on a fake smile. She just did not have the energy to do that. She had to pull herself together. How was she to spend the rest of her year at Hogwarts in this mind set! How was she to interact socially? People already though her to be socially inept, so she supposed that would not prove to be the greatest issue.

"For what reason are you not feasting with your school mates my dear?" Hermione, startled, looked around to find The Grey Lady looking kindly back at her.

"I haven't the energy to eat, actually I feel rather sick." Hermione did not have to lie, and frankly, the ghost standing before her, being as intelligent as she was, would have most likely seen right through her lie. The Ravenclaw ghost looked at her sympathetically.

"I hope that your state of health improves. Do get some rest. Have a good evening." The ghost floated away, through the wall from which she had evidently come. Hermione sighed, continuing her previous train of thought. How was she to pay attention in class? Pass her exams? If she failed her exams there was little chance that she would be able to attain a decent job that would pay well enough to support herself...and if she had a family. But who would want to be with someone with little education and no financial income! GAH!

From the strain of her thoughts, she nearly collapsed on the stairs at that moment. This emotional strain she was experiencing was positively draining, both physically and mentally. But for now, she just needed rest, to lie down behind the red Gryffindor bedsheets and let her mind rest. Classes started the following morning and she wished to be as refreshed as she could possibly be in the present circumstances.

Hermione pushed open the portrait without acknowledging the fat lady and stumbled into the dimly lit common room. She heard the crackling of the fireplace on the left side of the room; the warm color tones whose warmth were only enhanced by the dancing flames. She was home. She relished the relaxing feelings that washed over her the moment she stepped into the room. She had not felt this much at ease since...she couldn't even remember when. Regardless. She was safe and she was home.

She felt absolutely terrible that she was not in a well enough state that she could assist Harry in escorting the new students to their common room and regard their looks of splendor as they first entered their dormitories. She knew Harry would manage. He always did.

Exhausted, Hermione walked over to the small bookcase located to her left. It was not well stalked, but it would do. Many of the students in her house overlooked the simple luxury, but not Hermione. Hermione pulled the first book she could out of the wall, only for it to be replaced by another. This was yet another thing that many of the students knew not of. Simply by removing a book, another would magically take its place. However, the down side of such an option was that the reader could not choose what book they wished to appear, or what subject. This made it still essential for Hermione to make the long trip to the library. She had in the past tried to find her book of choice in the magical bookshelf, but an hour later, and several tall towers of books later, her attempts were fruitless, and she had to levitate the stacks of books all the way down to the library. That was again, another fault of the bookcase. You could pull from it a book, but as another took its place, it had to be returned by walking down to the library. Not that Hermione minded in the least.

Book in hand, Hermione made her way through the maze of red armchairs littered before the fire until, on their own accord, her legs finally gave way. She crashed into the comfy cushions of the couch. She lifted the book so that she could skim the words. Pride and the Prejudice, one of her classic favourites. Though her eyes moved over the lines, the meaning remained on the pages. She tried to read to get into her comfy state of mind, but reading the same paragraph six times did nothing to help. She was so tired. So tired. Why was she so tired? She fought against her drooping eyelids closing against her will. She succumbed to the peaceful black world, falling into a deep slumber, allowing the volume to slip from her fingers and land on the red rug with a thud.

...

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**To anyone who noticed, I think I brought in an event that happens in a later novel in the previous chapters... Hermione's year being a prefect at the same time at the Triwizard tournament...I think they become prefects the year following the tournament...but no matter. This is my fantasy after all :)**

**Sorry for not editing the chapter. I am sick and frankly too lazy to read through it. I assume that you readers would much rather I spend my energy on the chapter following. Draco and Hermione will soon encounter one another again...muahahah Also, I am leaving it up to you readers. Would you prefer that I take a slightly longer time to circulate my chapters and have them longer? or less time with shorter chapters (short as in 2,000-3,000 words)**

**xx**


	7. Chapter 7: More Alone Than Ever

In my fanfic, you might notice that a few of the ages don't correspond with the year that they are in at Hogwarts...Hermione is 16 in this fic. I chose this age because it would not look very becoming to have such a young Hermione doing things that she MIGHT be doing later in the fic...not that 16 isn't a young age already...but you know what I mean. Its just I am sure a lot more readers would be able to relate to that age!

OHHH AND The Grey Lady

For those of you who do not know, The Grey Lady is Helena Ravenclaw (daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw). Because of her high standards and great intellect, she never did find true love. She is also the only house ghost related to one of the Hogwarts founders.

For more information about this character, here is the following link:

http : / / harrypotter . wikia . com / wiki / Helena _ Ravenclaw (just get rid of the extra spaces between the characters)

"Hermione! Could you please be a darling and help me begin preparing for dinner?" Derrick called down the hall. Hermione reluctantly looked up from the track of lines on the page of the textbook she had been reading for the past several hours. How she missed Ancient Runes! She would be reacquainted with them soon however. Summer was the only barrier that separated her from her other home.

Hermione stood and placed the volume on the small coffee table next to the comfy arm chair decorated in a tiny floral pattern that she was sure would only be present in the home of a single woman over the age of sixty-two. But she wasn't complaining. It was by far one of the most comfortable reading chairs she had ever had the pleasure of sitting in, even rivaling the brilliant red ones that were placed before the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. How she missed Hogwarts. It seemed that since her first year of schooling at the school of magic, her whole live revolved around that , her teachers, her magic and her friends waited every year for her return. And as much as she feared the strain that Voldemort had on their lifestyle, she preferred to face the danger with them by her side, so she could support them and they could support her.

Friends were definitely of short supply where she lived. She had been "the outcast", "the weird one", "the bookworm", for as long as she could possibly remember. It was that sense of loneliness that she had known for her whole life. Or it least it appeared that way until she had finally received her letter; had finally met Ron and Harry.

She had been out of school for just over three weeks now, and already felt the desire to return to the castle grip her. It felt like a cold calloused hand was gripping her heart. What would she feel when she graduated? When she no longer had access to the expansive Hogwarts Library? She had never really considered what possibilities lay ahead of her. The thoughts of her future had always been there but they had always seemed so far away. As the end of her Hogwarts career drew nearer however, the reality slowly began to sink in. Hogwarts would definitely be a period in her life that she would miss.

"Hermione!"

"I'm sorry Derrick! I'm coming!" Hermione nimbly hurdled over the stack of books she had placed by the chair's side and left the roomy study. She hurried down the hall and into the kitchen where she saw her cousin sliding some diced onions into a frying pan.

Her cousin had graduated from Durmstrang seven years earlier, a year before she herself had attended her first year at Hogwarts. Even if he had have also attended Hogwarts, the age difference was such that she had not the pleasure of meeting him anyway. Though she would have much preferred to remain in her home book in hand, she didn't regret her decision to spend some time with the cousin she had met for the first time only three days earlier...Not that she didn't have the option of doing that here!

Now at twenty-one, her cousin, she had to admit, was quite attractive. She was certain that he had no issue whatsoever with the opposite sex and was surprised when he had admitted to not having a girlfriend. Her preconstructed image of Derrick had been exceedingly different than she had originally thought. He was tall with dark eyes, and skin with beautiful golden undertones that starkly contrasted her own pale skin from lack of sun. Hermione also noted, the moment that she saw him, the very same mix of brown shades of hair on his head that she had on her own. But rather than a fuzzy mess like her own , his locks fell in soft curls around his face. The two had evidently obtained this mutual trait of hair color from their great grandmother on their mother's side. Though Hermione had never met her aunt, or Derrick's mother, the pictures that she found around his flat showed a beautiful woman with the same flowing curls and brown hair. He had toned arms, broad shoulders, and from what Hermione had observed from the conversations she had with him since her arrival, he had quite the intelligence. He would have to be quite clever given his occupation as a member of the Wizengamot, serving as the wizard high court of law. Simply, he was a decent man that Hermione wished she had the pleasure of knowing when she was of a much younger age. Perhaps then she would not have gone through several of the lapses in her mind thinking that she did not belong, or that she was adopted. He could relate to her ever so easily. There was an air about him that made her feel safe; feel protected. However, Hermione did not know how wrong she was...

"What are we making?" She asked, pulling her mane into a loose bun and donning an apron. She was ever thankful that she was not the one having to cut the onions this time.

"I was thinking just something simple. Like an omelet."

"For breakfast? Who has omelets for Dinner?" Hermione asked bewildered. Derrick chucked.

"Why on earth not?"

"Well-well-because..." Derrick cocked a dark eyebrow. "Well because omelets are supposed to be for breakfast!" she sputtered lamely. She knew her rebuttal was not up to par when he chuckled again.

"Oh Hermione, always the methodical thinker!" Hermione smiled lightly, a reply ready on her tongue when she was interrupted by a ringing coming from his study. "I will be just a moment," he said politely, rushing to answer the phone. Hermione resumed where he had left off taking a red pepper in one hand and a green in the other. She hummed as she walked toward the cutting board already placed on the counter top.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO BLOODY WELL CALL ME HERE!" Derrick's voice echoed angrily through the hall and into the kitchen. Hermione had never heard this side of him, and her heart began to race.

Following the shout, she heard him slam the door of the study. Out of surprise, Hermione dropped a pepper and it began to roll down toward the entrance to the hall.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered, chasing the green vegetable as it continued rolling down the hall. Stooping to pick it up, she heard his voice drop, evidently not wanting to be overheard. Being a curious girl by nature, Hermione debated creeping down the hall an extra door to possibly hear the cause of his stress.

Recently, she noted that after many of his secret phone calls, he would return irritable. It was only one more door..

Two vegetables in hand, the Gryffindor crept down the hall, avoiding the spots in the aging floor, where she knew the creaking boards would give her away.

"You know its not safe to call me here anymore," he whispered, his voice coursing with anger.

"She can't possibly suspect anything! She is in the other room! But if you keep calling of course she will get suspicious! She isn't a stupid girl after all!"

Pause.

"She wont break that easily, she isn't like that"..."Yes well I am going to get my share of the fun at least! That was the deal-"...

Pause.

"Don't call here again," he slammed down the phone. Hermione froze. She did not expect the call to end so quickly. Hermione sprinted for the kitchen without a sound, accidentally dropping the green pepper again. She cursed the green vegetable and all of its kind! It was too late to run back for it, but thankfully it had at least rolled beneath a table in the hall. Hopefully he would not notice and she could make an excuse to go to the bathroom and retrieve it. She ducked back into the kitchen and began to chop the red pepper, trying to calm her racing heart rate.

Seconds later, Hermione noticed her cousin returned calmly out of the corner of her eye. He remained silent as he returned, placing the green pepper aside the cutting board. She froze, not daring to look up at him.

He left her to walk over to the frying pan and stir the onions. The sizzling of them in the pan was the only sound that broke their silence. She resumed cutting.

At that moment, Hermione felt hot breath on her neck and she stiffened. He was close. Too close.

...

"It is much more efficient if you move your hand this way," he said, placing his own atop hers. Hermione remained frozen, a chill creeping over her. "Don't grip it so tight," he whispered in her ear. "Slower." Hermione, even with her limited experience, knew that his comments were not suitable in this context and she felt very unsafe. The innuendoes he whispered seductively were not so far fetched that they could be dismissed. This frightened her.

His chest slowly closed this space between them and pressed against the length of her back. No. This was not suitable. She leaned forward slightly to create a space, even a small one between their bodies. Her heart hammered quickly; painfully against her ribcage. There had to be some logical explanation. Yes? Perhaps...No. He had to be reaching for something over her shoulder...Yeah that was it. Unaffected by her sudden change in distance, he closed the space again, forcing her against the side of the counter.

Shit.

She could feel his hardness pressing against her buttox. Never had she had someone press their manhood against her.

Boys just did not seemed to be interested and her, and that was completely fine with her. Hermione had discovered a content place within herself that required only the company of her mind. It wasn't that she didn't want a relationship, it was just that she wasn't interested in finding one.

The discomfort she felt only began to build. He ground his erection into her suggestively. She had had enough. "What the bloody hell are you doing!" Hermione growled turning and pushed his chest away from her. He tilted his head to the side and continued to look at her without speaking. His dark eyes glistened as he took her in. The corner of his mouth turned up painfully slowly. "You don't want to do this-"

"You know what I want. Just be compliant and you don't need to get hurt. Much." He edged towards her causing Hermione to take a step back, pressing her lower body against the cabinets beneath the counter. She looked around her for a means of escape. There was only two options, both of which caused her to run past the predator. Not an option. But she couldn't just stand there.

Reaching behind her, her tapped across the counter, searching. Searcing. For anything. Her fingers closed around the handle of the knife she had been using moments. When he took a step closer to her, she brandished the knife.

"Frisky," Derrick chuckled huskily. "I always did like em' feisty!" He said huskily. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Hermione inhaled in rapid shallow breaths. It was all the air that she could hold. Pretty soon she would pass out from lack of oxygen. Hermione griped the handle tighter as he took yet another step toward her. "Not anther step! Or you wont live to regret it!" Hermione had hoped that her words had sounded more threatening to him than they did to her. Evidently he didn't, as he continued to stalk towards her, leering, like a predator about to pounce on his prey after a week without sustenance. The man merely chuckled. A deep mocking laugh.

Hermione's breath caught in her chest. Was she actually considering killing her cousin? Yes, he was threatening her, but was she really considering killing him? Her wand would have definitely been a better, safer alternative. Unfortunately she did not have it with her - It was at the bottom of her trunk which was unfortunately upstairs in the guest bedroom of his flat. Derrick knew not the extent of the strength that coursed through her veins. If only she had her wand! That thin stick of wood. Perhaps she would injure him enough to allow her to escape; to call the police! She had made her decision.

"I wouldn't do that if I were-" Without warning, the girl lunched toward him with as much agility as she could muster, drawing the knife back to strike. Derrick reacted just as quickly, pulling out a long pale wand from his sleeve. With a reflexive flick of his wand, the knife that was quickly coming toward him quickly shot from her hand, spinning backwards until it penetrated through the horrendous pealing wall paper that coated the walls on the other side of the room. He had always hated that wallpaper. Her empty fist came in contact with his broad chest, pounded into it with a dull thud.

Hermione looked down at her empty hand, and pulled away from his body with fear in her eyes. His fingers closed around her wrist and he brought her fingers to his lips. "Don't. touch. me." She annunciated, pulling her arm roughly from his grasp. His lips curled over his teeth, with a smile so malicious that it sent a chill from the base of her neck to her toes.

"You should't have eavesdropped young lady. Haven't your parents taught you better manners than that!" he spat.

"I didn't hear anything!" she shouted back. He didn't seem to believe her.

"Lies," He hissed. "Regardless, you will be punished," Hermione took that as her cue to run. She dashed to the door, gripping the frame as she ran towards it to propel her in the correct direction down the hallway.

Hermione slipped on the rug runner that covered the Brazilian Cherry wood paneling that covered the floor. She crashed into one of the doors, ignoring the crack she heard as the wood split from the stress. She quickly stood, ignoring the pain in her chest and quickly raced for the front door. Because of her slip, Derrick followed closely behind, pocketing his wand. He overtook her easily, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and lifting her feet from the ground.

The exceedingly tight grip around her mid-section caused a wave of sickness to wash over her. She felt like she was going to vomit! Lack of air, and the sudden pound in her stomach placed her on the verge of tears. Merlin, what had she done to deserve this?

He hauled her through the hall, ignoring completely her screams of protest, and down the stairs to where his room was located. Hermione pounded her fists against his back with as much energy as she could muster with the lack of oxygen. Her legs flailed wildly from over his shoulders, her feet kicking any object that was unfortunate to come across her path to oblivion. The thin walls also proved to be of little, breaking easily with the strength of the blows. She was losing strength fast, and though she realized that her limited strength would be a required factor in her escape. Every swing of her arm, kick of her heel or squirm against her attackers grasp weakened her, but couldn't bring herself to reduce her efforts.

"Go to hell!" Hermione choked out, moments before he threw her violently onto his cream colored duvet. Within seconds, he was on top of her biting violently at her neck, her lips, anything that he could get into his mouth. He adjusted his body so his chest pressed against her own so he could feel her breast push flesh against him. He relished the feeling, inhaling her scent deeply.

His hand slithered between their bodies to cup her breast. He squeezed it gently for a moment before slowly, painfully slowly, he slid it over her ribs, pausing momentarily to run his fingers over the soft curve of her hip. He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Too many clothes," he breathed, his voice husky with need.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, still fighting the pointless battle against his weight.

The hand resting on her waist slipped further down to cup her buttox and ran up the back of her thigh to the back of her knee. He hoisted her knee up to his side and forced her calf behind his back, pulling her closer. The position pulled painfully on Hermione's muscles.

Though she was still wearing her clothes, Hermione gasped from the sudden contact to an area that was so personal; so restricted. This new position allowed her to better feel the hard bulge that pulsed beneath his own jeans.

He kneeled over her, gripping the material of her t-shirt at top of her pants. He easily ripped the shirt up the the center, painfully slowly. Hermione closed her eyes and continued to resist him. The sound of the ripping material broke through the silence, revealing her skin tone bra, and flat nuzzled his nose against her lower abdomen for a quick moment before trailing it along the center of her body and up toward her breasts.

Hermione pushed her hands against his head to force him away from her body without success. She resorted back to punching anything within reach, luckily this time, her fist made contact with his head. Derrick had looked up only for a moment, but that was enough time for her knuckles to ram into his perfectly chiseled nose. He froze and continued to glare at wriggled more violently beneath his weight under the scrutiny of his glare. He willed her to stop by pressing more of his weight onto her chest to cease her struggles. They turned him on more that she could imagine. He grinned at her.

He took hold of her flailing wrists and pinned them beneath her own body, their combined weight making them useless.

He leaned in, changing his plans, rushing to make a trail of kisses that lead down the front of her neck, between the valley of her breasts, to the flat expanse of her stomach.

He lifted his weight from her momentarily to slide her pants off her legs. Hermione saw this as her chance to run. Unfortunately as she did, she tripped over the material that had slipped down to her ankles. He caught her before she hit the floor. He threw her back on the bed and considered stunning her. 'No, it wouldn't be as fun!' he thought deviously.

He merely pinned her arms beneath her once more and continued on, sliding the jeans down the remainder of her shapely legs puling her underwear along with them.

"Not even slightly aroused?" he asked, smelling her underwear. It was completely dry. "Hmmm." He straddled his legs at top her to keep her in place.

Not trusting her to remain put if he stood to remove his own clothing, he reached for his wand and flicked it lightly in the direction of his body and tossed it once again to the floor. His clothing had all disappeared, leaving him naked on top of her. Flesh to flesh. Finally.

His large hands slid quickly down her sides and down her back, now pressed against the mattress until they cupped her bottom possessively. He squeezed her skin tightly causing her to squeal and reflexively thrust her hips up and away from his hands and into his groin. A growl rumbled from deep inside his throat as he caught her hips and held her there. It felt so good, almost causing him to come right then. It had been so long.

Hermione whimpered beneath him. She felt frightened and caged. The sounds escaping her lips lead him on further as he began to slowly rock his hips, causing hers to do the same.

"Get the fuck off of me!" She shouted, but it couldn't have been more than a whisper.

Without breaking rhythm, completely and without warning, he thrust hard into her shaft. Hermione screamed, pain shooting through every nerve in her body. Her pain not only attributed to the fact that she had not been adequately prepared to take such friction, but that she was also a virgin. Tears leaked down the sides of her face as he continued to pump in and out of her body. At first the lack of lubrication had made it difficult to slide in and out of her, making him more angry. The more angry he felt, the harder he thrust. Pretty soon, lubrication was no longer an issue. The blood from her broken hymn, and probably from the inside of her shaft allowed him to move in and out of her without as much trouble. It was everywhere. Hermione was too frightened to look, but she could feel the warm liquid trickling over her thighs; could recognizes the slick feeling of it on her chest as Derrick rubbed up against her; she could smell it.

"Hermione...Hermione...Hermione!" His moans were getting louder as he began to reach his peak. "Hermione! Hermione!"

...

"Hermione! Hermione!" Hermione opened her eyes. She blinked several times to clear her blurred vision, allowing the image before her to come into focus. Where was she? Why was her head pounding so painfully? She hadn't been drinking had she? Hermione Granger does NOT drink!

"Hermione! Wake up! Herm-Oh thank god! Are you awake?"

"I am not sure she is Ron...Hermione?" He gripped her shoulder gently and shook it slightly. Hermione sighed and sat up, resting her aching back against the arm of the couch. She took a deep breath. And strained to see the source of the hushed voices in the dimly lit corridor.

"You are finally awake! You've scared us Hermione! Harry and I have been trying to rouse you for the past fifteen minuets!" The usually warm and cozy Gryffindor common room seemed now to have the air of what she imagined the Slythern common room to feel like. Dark and cold. Her look of bewilderment induced Harry's soft reply.

"Mione. We came up and saw you sleeping soundlessly. We were sure that the shouts of the first years...or the ruckus caused by Fred and George would have done the trick. But-"

"We decided to leave you here on the couch, you were dead to the world. I would have carried you to your bed, but as you know, boys can't enter the girls dormitories!" Harry waited patiently as Ron's rush of words cut him of before resuming.

"Well, we both just decided to leave you here and not risk waking you if I carried you up." Male prefects after all had permission to enter the female dormitories. The boys went quiet gauging her reaction. There was none. She just continued to look at them, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts.

"I don't think she's awake mate," Harry whispered quietly to Ron. The fire had been doused and breaking the silents of the otherwise silent slumber of the common room were the snores of the various occupants of the paintings on the brick walls. She strained her eyes to focus her vision on her friends, looking from Ron's freckled face to Harry's, both etched with worry. They were both clothed in pajamas.

She jumped as she felt an invisible pair of hands slide gently down her thighs. Her heart rate accelerated, her head looking around to find the source of the touch. It had felt so real. But she knew that it was just an after shock of the dream. The dream. Could you even call it a dream? More like a nightmare. It had been so vivid. But of course it was vivid! It actually happened. Noting her distress, Ron's warm hand quickly took hold of hers.

Hermione looked down at her own body, fully clothed in the muggle attire she had worn into the castle when she had first arrived.

"W-what time is is?" she choked out.

"Quarter past two," the boys said guarded. The evidently did not think that she was fully conscious. Hermione nodded and continued to look forward blankly, unseeing.

"Mione?"

"Yes Harry. I'm awake. It is just a bit of a shock to find myself in the common room thats all." Hermione did her best to keep her voice even. Both boys seemed to see through her attempts. Ron grasped her hand even tighter. Her hand was unbelievably warm, and she could not decide if the sweat forming between their attached palms was his or her own. "I am just going to go to bed."

Harry and Ron both stood from their kneeling position beside the couch where she collapsed and offered their arms. With their support, she stood shakily. Ron gripped her wrist and pulled it around his neck. His other hand snaked his arm around her waist and took on some of her weight. Harry, on her other side, also hooked her arm around his neck.

Hermione was too tired to be embarrassed. Well, she was, but she was too exhausted to blush as the boys pressed tightly against her body. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the close proximity, she had spent so much of her life with them. It was the fact that she was unable to do this herself. She was an independent being and felt weak to be supported by her friends. Physically weak and mentally weak. Neither was she proud of. She also felt strange. Harry held her in an all too familiar protective manner, as did Ron. However Ron seemed to be a holding her in a more...intimate way than he ever had. Or at least it felt that way.

The two helped her over to the base of the winding staircase leading to the girls dormitory, where she was given fully to Harry. Hermione, even in her drunken state, did not fail to notice the jealousy in his eyes as Harry's arm replaced his around her waist. That was new. Had he ever looked at her like that before? Hermione leaned over to plant a friendly kiss on his cheek. She turned before she could see his cheeks flush scarlet.

Ron disappeared from view as the couple mounted the fist few steps of the staircase. Her energy had been zapped. Derrick. She thought that she had left him behind her. But he seemed to be following her in her dreams as well. The thought caused her legs to shake. Seeing that she would not be able to reach the top without his assistance, Harry lifted her easily and carried her up the remainder of the flight.

After depositing her gently on her bed, he sat down beside her.

"I know there is something up Hermione. Like I said before, Malfoy is a git. He is so insignificant in he whole grand scheme of things, as are the tiny insults he throws. Don't give into his tournaments, this is what he wants," Harry said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "You are strong Hermione."

Hermione remained silent, listening to his words. Yes, Malfoy's words had hurt her more deeply than she had expected them to, but those words were not the cause of her weakness. She nodded weakly, to please her friend.

"Why were you so worried? I mean, I have fallen asleep in the common room doing work before." Harry hesitated briefly before speaking.

"When Ron and I came up you appeared to be fine, so we left you to rest in the common room, expecting that you would wake up later and go up to your dormitory. But, well. We both awoke to you whimpering...almost screaming. We assumed you were having a nightmare and tried to wake you up. And several times we thought you had, only to realize you remained tangled in the dream. We weren't sure what to do...so we waited by you about fifteen minutes or so until you woke up." Hermione didn't fail to notice the dark circles under her friends eyes and knew instantly that he had been awake longer than he had claimed. He leaned down to hug her gently.

"Thank you Harry," she whispered into his ear and kissed his cheek.

"No problem Mione. Get some sleep."He stood, pausing briefly to look down at her. and descended down the staircase, leaving her to her thoughts. After his departure, she felt more alone than ever.

...

A bit longer than my usual. I am sick from food poisoning (thanks Disney World) and frankly too lazy to read through it. I assume that you readers would much rather I spend my energy on the chapter following. Draco and Hermione will soon encounter one another again...muahahah

xx


	8. Chapter 8: Paper Cut

**To anyone who noticed, I think I brought in an event that happens in a later novel in the previous chapters... Hermione's year being a prefect at the same time at the Triwizard tournament...I think they become prefects the year following the tournament...but no matter. This is my fantasy after all :)**

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* * *

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Hermione sat on the tiled floor of the prefects bathroom, allowing the scolding water to rush over her red tender skin. She willed the terrible feelings she had inside to simply disappear down the drain like the filth that she had so desperately tried to scrub off her body for the past three hours. But no matter how much she made an effort to cleanse her skin, the filthy feeling clinging relentlessly to her skin remained, as did the thoughts.

After Harry had left her to her thoughts, Hermione felt the chill she was currently trying to erase spread over her body. It seemed like a good idea at the time, leaving the 'comfort' of her bed to try and calm herself in the prefect bathroom. But now that she was here, she could see her attempts were in vain.

Her current situation only better allowing her to discern how completely alone she was in the confines of her mind. Yes, she had Harry and Ron, who had proven their worth a thousand times, always responding a manor that surpassed adequate. She was ever thankful for their presence, however they lacked the knowledge required to comprehend her current state of mind, and candidly, contemplation of informing them did not cross her mind. She simply could not for various reasons. Harry had a plate full of problems that he had to deal with at the moment, and adding another weight to his already strenuous load was not a possibility, especially if Harry was to have a change to vanquish Voldemort. The possibility of confiding in Professor Dumbledore was always there, but through informing him, Derrick would also become aware of this knowledge somehow, he always did. The threat that he had placed upon her parents, dare she tell a soul, was too great a price for her to even consider opening her mouth. If she dare utter a whisper, her parents were as good as dead. They were currently ignorant to the fact that their safety was no longer in their hands, but those of her sadistic cousin.

The blood leaking from her cuts trickled fluidly down her body with the spray and flowed along with the water creating abstract patterns on the floor as it disappeared down the drain. She reached up and turned the faucet so it now was on full heat. The steady stream of liquid fire continued to sear her skin, but she didn't feel it. The cold feelings she had experienced since the previous day and through the night would not vanish. Not with the first lights of Hogwarts, not with the exuberant expressions of her classmates, not with a warm embrace from her friends, not with the steaming water rushing over her. Nothing would make goosebumps that were still present on her arms vanish.

Hermione closed her eyes and allowed her salty tears to flow freely over her cheeks and wash away. This was not how she was supposed to be! She was supposed to be strong; the one that everyone looked up to! Not the one who sat cowering in a shower stall for hours because she could not stand to be in her own skin! Tainted or not, this was her skin and she would have to deal with the issues that came with living in it, good or bad. Hermione desperately tried to believe those thoughts, honestly she did. But that lingering feeling just below the surface continued to fester.

The lonely Gryffindor sat on the hard tile sulking for another half an hour, yet her mood did not improve in the least since she entered the bathroom, remaining completely and unconditionally disconsolate.

Giving up, she stood shakily and exited the shower. The shower magically shut off, knowing her intent to leave. Hermione walked over to the bath, which had begun to fill with warm water and jasmine extract upon her entry. How long she had waited to experience the greatest novelty of being a prefect. The prefect bathroom. The bathroom with its exotic collection of scents, salts, soaps, beautiful view, large baths. This positive and relaxing experience was unfortunately tarnished by her inability to relax.

She let a low hiss escape her lips as she slowly stepped into the warm water. The scented salts added to the foaming water did nothing but cause the cuts decorating her skin to burn painfully. Her brain had shut down and her body was numb for too long, so she easily relished the pain caused from the contact - it was the only thing at the moment that she could feel.

...

'Bloody first years!' He hadn't had one moment of piece since he arrived in the castle! 'How difficult is it to understand - Boys, up the stairs and to your left, girls the same on your right! Honestly, you'd think I was talking to a bunch of dunderheaded trolls what with the number of stupid questions they asked!'

Draco was agitated beyond belief as he silently made his way up to the prefect bathroom. As it was four in the morning, the torches lining the walls of the corridor remained lit, the flames causing his lean body to cast eery shadows along the walls as he walked.

Though he was out curfew, he knew that, on the rare chance should he get caught despite his persuasions, he would not be penalized. The ability of a prefect to walk the corridors after curfew had excited Draco in a manner he could not imagine. 'The possibilities,' he thought darkly. He would definitely need as much leeway as he could get with the hard task that was ahead of him. This simple thought induced many other demonic ones to plague his brain, causing it to pound even harder. Hopefully with the help of a nice shower he would be able to relax for a good few hours before class began. This was definitely another plus of being a prefect that greatly outweighed the constant annoyance from the younger students he was sure that he would have to deal with, especially from the first years in the first month or so of the school year! He not had the opportunity to experience first hand what all the talk and rumors about this bathroom were! It wasn't as though Draco had not previously attempted to gain entrance. It was easy enough to sneak around, but the various charms placed around the entrance deterred him from gaining entrance.

Draco pushed his way through the door the bathroom and looked around. The room was dim, the moonlight shining brilliantly through the single, but very large window on the other side of the room. Even through the dim light, the room easily surpassed what he had expected in a prefect bathroom. It even surpassed each of the sixteen that were scattered throughout Malfoy Manor, he thought grudgingly.

The entire room was tiled in a grey stone, covering the walls, ceiling and vast amount of floor space, but for the vanity in the far corner of the room, where it was covered with a shaggy beige rug. The floor began to slope down several feet from a small eclove which harbored a shower with no shower heads, but upon closer inspection, revealed that the entire ceiling was dotted with holes through which the water would be propelled downward. The ceiling was the shower head. A large jacuzzi easily the size of a swimming pool was also present, embedded in the stone floor. Jutting off from the main jacuzzi was a smaller, circular tub that was situated before a vast window, high on the wall of the castle that looked over the Black Lake and surrounding mountains. Yes, this defiantly was something that he could get used to, rather than the line of Slytherin showers that he would normally have to use.

Draco placed the robes he planned to change into on the vanity counter and walked over to examine the shower. It was enormous; the size of several classrooms at least. Why anyone would ever need that much space to shower was beyond him, but he wasn't complaining. He could probably have brought his broomstick in and began to play a small game of Quiddtich. Draco decided to keep this idea to himself however. If Flint knew that the ceilings were indeed high enough to accommodate them on their brooms, he would surely throw them all in, turning the shower on high, and telling them that it would simulate rainfall! Anything to make Slytherin a better Quidditch team!

Draco continued towards the door, pulling off his shirt as he went. He left the lights off as the dim light soothed his steadily growing headache. He continued walking and peered inside the foggy window of the shower. It resembled exactly the interior of a cave, with clear glass doors to keep the spray out of the main room. Stripping from his pants, he squinted harder, noting the floor on the inside was of a different color. Wrapping a cotton towel around his waist, he slid the heavy glass door out of the way and the remainder of the steam was let out of the shower. Evidently he was not going to be the first prefect to use the shower this year as he had assumed. There was steam still on the windows and mirror in both the vanity and shower from the previous occupant. He stood staring into the shower in shock. Though there wasn't much, there was enough to spark his interest, like a shark. The tangy, metallic scent that he easily recognized could be only blood filled his nostrils. The shower had begun its self cleaning as he opened the door. A red liquid was being washed sown the drain. Draco shut the door, waiting until the shower had finished cleaning itself. Who ever had been in their before him had been bleeding profusely. And it didn't escape his speculation that only a prefect knew the password to gain entrance to the bathroom.

The door leading to the corridor outside opened silently, allowing the flickering light of the lit torches to reflect in the mirrors around the room, dancing across the floor and the walls. Draco stiffened. 'Damn it!' He had forgotten to lock the door in his haste to escape his thoughts! He turned his body to glower at the intruder.

Because of the tremendous amount of thick steam he had allowed to escape when he inspected the shower, only the silhouette of the figure could be distinguished. The figure was of a slim build, evidently female. That was all Draco could tell, but the fact that the girl was evidently ignorant to the fact that the room was already occupied.

"Oh my gosh!" the girl shrieked, her eyes widening as she approached, taking in the boy's half naked form. Her hand rushed up quickly to cup her small hand over her mouth, but did nothing to hide the blush creeping over her cheeks. His bottom half was covered only by fluffy emerald green towel draped loosely around his hips.

Draco recognized instantly the voice that now resonated off the walls. It was that voice that irritated nearly every day of his life at Hogwarts and would continue to do so until the date of their graduation. That voice that so eagerly answered every single bloody question in every bloody class they shared! Even if it was rhetorical! It was that voice he could not stand.

Draco remained motionless, and did not speak. He waited, hoping to glimpse the hatred in her eyes once she recognized who she was apologizing to. That would at least lessen the ache in his head slightly.

"I am so sorry! I didn't realize that anyone else would be in here this late!" Hermione spoke quickly, still unaware of the identity of the new occupant. "I'm sorry! I left for only a moment! I'm sorry! I just returned to get my-" the girl trailed off as the boy stepped through the curtain of steam revealing his face.

"Couldn't get enough of me could you Granger," he stated, rather than questioning. She did not reply. Draco saw the look of resentment that filled her eyes as he moved forward, but expertly suppressed it, reforming her face into a stoic mask. After a few seconds of silence, her gaze shifted over to a table to his left.

Draco continued to stare at her, secretly confused under his mask of indifference. The girl walked over to the table quickly.

As she passed him, Draco noticed her tired eyes. She had definitely been crying. Good. It would only make it easier to break her this time. "Which one are you doing tonight?" Hermione ignored the bait and began shoving items at random into a shower bag. Red and Gold. As expected. She remained silent as she finished placing the last of her items in her bag, slung her bag over her shoulder and turned his way. "Which one are you fucking tonight?" he repeated. "Potty or Weasel?" Silence. "Oh come on! There is no need to hide it anymore. I'll bet it is Potter!" Draco scoffed "I mean, I bet you already had your share of rodents today, why not move onto toilets?"

Hermione quickened her pace, desperate to get out of earshot. Draco noticed this. He would have to hurry. Get her now while she was still in ear shot. Say something to make her bleed. From the inside out. He waited until she was only a few strides away from the door.

What he said next caused her to stop in her tracks, though not permitting him a look at her face. A shiver shot down her spine. The comment, though a rude remark, seemed completely innocent. But to her, it felt like some of the wounds she had managed to heal had burst open again.

She kept telling herself that it was no big deal; a mere coincidence. He did not understand. He was ignorant to the fact that those words actually had some meaning, affecting her in a different way than he had intentioned. Or did he?

Hermione pretended to adjust the strap on her tote, paying no heed to his words though they stung like a knife. He knew. She strode away pretending not to hear, but they both knew she did.

"Finally managed to get that paper cut did you Granger?"

...

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*******OOOOOO DRACO! You are just noticing too much now arn't you...Readers...what do you think is going to happen ;) ?**********

**I would very much appreciate it if I got a review from you, who is currently reading this, even if it is a simple statement. I know there are people reading this or I wouldn't ask. The stats don't lie ;) I myself did not used to review very often, but now that I am writing my own fic, I understand why the authors were so desperate for reviews and I literally review each fic I read now.**

**Thanks to all the reviewers so far.**

xx


	9. Chapter 9: Wake Up!

**Okay First off, biiiig thanks to: Essi, ****Megan Consoer**** , ****LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL****, ****FigrSk8r13**** , slytherin princess, and Sam for the reviews! They made me a great deal happier! Okay so to clarify any questions. So Hermione does not cut ****herself****, they are the wounds from Derrick - as I mentioned they are not closing or healing correctly. This is because of dark magic that I think that I will tie into some later chapters. Secondly, Draco only knows that Hermione was in the bathroom before himself and that there was blood on the floor, so automatically he assumes that it is hers. We will hear from him in the chapter following this one (it will be primarily from his point of view...I think...I haven't written it completely yet).**

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Hermione rushed as quickly as she could down the dimly lit corridor, attempting to insert as much space as she possibly could between herself and the manipulative blonde.

Her emotions were in a muddle; she didn't know how to feel. She was confused with herself, with life. When she had initially sought refuge in the torrid jets of the prefect shower, she had hoped that her moment of weakness would disappear down the drain along with the water running from the shower-head. The jets only managed to cause her fingers to wrinkle, unfortunately not aiding her aching form and afflicted mind.

This moment of weakness last night however, was not only visible for her to see. He saw it as well. Hermione was unsure, that the stoic mask that she had implemented upon noticing his form had convinced him; that it was enough. She had done her utmost to suppress the sea of emotions threatening to surge forth and overtake her. Her lack of emotion surely would not give him any future ammunition. She was safe from his taunts. He had nothing on her.

But that didn't stop the ache that began to creep through her veins and make her stomach feel as though it had just given access to a weight."Finally managed to get that paper cut did you Granger?" He knew. But how could he know? How much did he know? How much did he assume? She was certain that any blood she leaked would have drained away with the pull of the water, dissolving from sight. The shower would self clean removing any trace of her presence. She had been sure that she brought with her the red towel that masked the red stains now embedded in the fabric.

She mounted the stairs leading to her dormitory and veered strait for her bed on the opposite side of the room.

But that comment...there had to have been some blood. Did the shower not clean in time for his entrance? Had she stepped out of the shower and left behind a trail? It didn't matter. He knew that she was the owner of the red fluid. It did not matter how he came to attain this knowledge, but the result was that he did. Nothing could change that now.

Malfoy was a smart boy, she knew that, and it worried her that this one piece of the puzzle could conform with others he might happen to observe. The hickeys that he noted on the carriage ride up was also a piece of the puzzle that clicked in closely with that of the blood in the bathroom. Those were two very different pieces of information that were meant to fit together; like two very different patterns on two puzzle pieces that were meant to fit adjacent to one another.

Hermione gazed up at the dark bed-hangings draped over her bed and sighed, snuggling down deeper into her covers. She relaxed. Sightly. Finding comfort in the idea that his interests were not in her 'pathetic' life, as he had called it an innumerable number of times, but that of his own 'superior' one. He would certainly not take the time to observe every aspect of her life. With this comforting thought, she drifted in and out of consciousness until her body finally allowed her rest.

...

The darkness of night reluctantly dissolved as the sun awoke from its slumber and began to climb into the stars, swallowing the diamond like orbs as it skirted the sky. The rising sun slowly set the gold and red Gryffindor dormitory ablaze as is rose, quicker than the tired Hermione, on the brink of unconsciousness, would have liked. Though she had been curled up in her bed for several hours, sleep had not been able to overtake her despite her fatigue. Day one of Hogwarts had officially began.

The strong rays of light piercing through her window slowly crept up her red velvet bedsheets, over her hand and finally reaching her face. The warmth that had slowly began to soak through her skin caused her to be torn from her state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Hermione squinted through the brilliant light. The familiar dormitory greeted her like an old friend. Now illuminated, the warm colors and wood tones appeared much more friendly to her now than when she had first mounted to stone steps to the tower the previous night.

Hermione lay basking in the warmth of the sun and took a deep breath. Today. Today was a new day. Though she was exhausted beyond belief, she was more than determined to make it a good day. That was why she was here. She should be thankful that she was able to escape from her cage this summer. She should be basking in the shock of freedom that she had. Here, she could once again become fully consumed with her studies, get lost in her books, and visit with her friends.

Her internal pep talk gave her the courage to push back the duvet and climb from the fourposter bed. Hermione walked across the wood floor, now warm from the sun, over to her dresser and began to pull from it her clean pressed Hogwarts uniform.

Hermione, as usual since the first night in the tower, was the first to awake, eager to get a head start on the upcoming day. Pavarti lay quietly curled up under her covers dead to the world, while her sisters snores reverberated through the room. Though alike in appearance, it sometimes surprised her actually how different the twins really were sometimes. It was not uncommon for one to complete the sentence of the other. Much like Fred and George, the Patil twins had a deep connection that Hermione thought ran much deeper than their outer appearance.

After fully clothing herself, she walked down to the empty common room, slid the book which she had dropped in her tired state and sat on the couch that she had occupied for most of the previous night before her little adventure with Malfoy. She opened the volume, flipping through the pages in attempt to find where she had left off the previous night. Though she had read it several times, Pride and Prejudice would forever be a favourite of hers.

After finding her place, Hermione pulled her feet beneath her for comfort and began to read. Her eyes danced upon the words, following the lines, but it was merely that. Following the lines; methodically.

Malfoy. Her thoughts trickled back to the bite in his voice when he had seethed his last comment. It sent an all too familiar chill through her bones. Did he know that she was owner of the blood that now drained through the pipes of Hogwarts? Gah! She had gone through this last night! Why did this question keep plaguing her brain! But of course he knew you stupid girl! Don't kid yourself! She had returned for the items she had carelessly left there in her daze. You are so unbelievably stupid! Great way to start a year! Now Malfoy will have yet another subject the breach when he next looked for a confrontation...which would evidently be the next time he spotted her. Lovely. How would he react when he next glimpsed her? How would she respond? How would she be able to explain their surely...interesting...conversation that will evidently follow with her overly perceptive friends Harry and Ron. Damn it Malfoy! Was there no possible way to avert this issue? Well, she could always lie...

"Hermione!" Hermione jumped in surprise, dropping her beloved book to the ground for the second time, but not before allowing a shriek to escape her lips.

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you sneak up on me like that!" Hermione huffed, clutching her chest, a slight smile now tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Sorry Mione. I shouldn't have been surprised that you were up so early".

"Thats odd, and I also would have never guessed that you would have been up so early." Hermione said, truthfully surprised that her red haired friend had actually made it to the common room before 7:30 in the morning.

"Yeah, well I was hungry so I decided to get an early start on breakfast!" Ron replied grinning.

"But did you not just stuff your face last night? The amount that you consumed in that sitting would hold any normal person off until Thanksgiving!"

"Yeah well that was making up for all of the food that I missed out on during the summer! Fred and George decided to take more than their helping!" Ron whined. Hermione rolled her eyes, not surprised in the least. The whole Weasley clan had an appetite of an army, their lean figures each conflicting with that piece of knowledge. She shook her head smiling lightly.

"I suppose some things will never change," Hermione said, more so to herself than to Ron.

"Didn't catch that-"

"Oh nothing, never mind." Ron shrugged.

"Well, are you up for going down with me? I mean, Harry wont be up for a little but and...well" Ron trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"That sounds okay, let me just put my book back in my dormitory before we go". Hermione stooped to retrieve the volume she had dropped in surprise, when she was met with yet another surprise.

"Owch!"

"Sorry Mione I was just..." Ron had also bent down to pick up her novel and accidentally bumped his head against her own. Thankfully, her bushy hair cushioned the impact and therefore not fatal. Hermione appreciated the kind gesture.

"Don't worry about it Ron," Hermione mumbled standing up quickly, slightly embarrassed. "I just wasn't expecting..."

Ron stood up slowly, book in hand, looking into her eyes. He held her gaze for several seconds, neither of them speaking. He really wasn't that bad looking. His red hair was attractively disheveled from sleep, his green eyes shining like emeralds in sunlight. His lips curled into a soft smile. Oh no...Hermione broke the trance by averting her gaze. She reached out to take the book quickly.

"I will be but a moment". Hermione turned and bounded quickly up the stairs to her dormitory.

"I know! He really is isn't he? I had a dream about him last night!" Lavender sighed to Pavarti. "I noticed him starring blatantly at me during the feast last night. He obviously wants to know who I am!" she gushed, her ego expanding with every word.

"Oh I agree! I can't wait to get my schedule and see just when I have Defense Against the Dark Arts! I have got to be honest, I have never really liked that class. But having a sexy teacher just might make it interesting!" Hermione gave them a quizzical look.

"Oh come on Hermione! You can't tell us you don't have the hots for Mr. Burnwick! If you don't, I would assume you are a lesbian!" Lavender stated simply, shrugging. Pavarti looked at Hermione, gauging her reaction to the last comment.

"Not that there is anything wrong with that," Lavender added. Evidently Lavender had taken her lack of response a different way than Hermione had intended.

"I'm sorry, I can not exactly relate to your sentiment as I have yet to see Mr. Burnwitch-"

"BURNWICK!" The two girls all but screamed, correcting their friend. Hermione looked taken back. Their attraction to this man was obviously much greater than to that of Professor Lockhart-rather Mr. Lockhart.

Hermione had to say that she did fully respect the man- and that he was also very very VERY good looking. And if the girls were being serious about his appearance, which, judging by their reactions, Hermione was certain they were, he was evidently a very good looking man. Perhaps she might glimpse him at breakfast this morning.

"My mistake," Hermione said half heartedly. "Are you two wanting to join Ron and I for breakfast? We are just about to leave, but if you hurry, we wouldn't mind waiting for you." Secretly she wished for the pair to accompany her, not because she thought it would be awkward between her and Ron, after all, they had been friends for years. No, he just seemed...different today, and it kind of frightened her and excited her a the same time.

Lavender gave Pavarti a knowing look that Hermione did not miss.

"No no, you two go ahead," Pavarti said, smirking slightly. "We wouldn't want to interrupt." Hermione looked at her, confused.

"Oh come on Hermione! It isn't exactly a secrete that you two have a thing for each other!"

"There is nothing going on," Hermione replied simply. "Ron is a-a friend. Nothing more."

"Okay there Herms. Just let us know when you start dating," Pavarti returned, pulling her red bed sheets back over her head. Hermione stood, completely confused. Why did they assume that there was something going on? I mean, Ron was not overly expressive of any feelings that he felt for her was he? Had she been ignorant to the signs that Ron was giving her?

"We will catch up with you later," Lavender winked, and also pulled her sheets back up to her shoulders and closed her eyes. Oh dear.

Hermione walked quietly over to her bed, already made, and placed her novel atop the sheets.

Ronald? Lavender had told her on numerous other occasions that Ron had affections for her, but she had denied many of these accusations, stating simply that they were very close friends. But Hermione never did mention her own feelings for Ron. Did she even have feelings for Ron? Hermione could not answer that. It was only moments before that he had looked so deeply into her eyes that she felt that he could see her soul. The thought made her heart pound faster. Would a relationship between Ron and herself cause tension among her other friends? Would it distract Harry from the challenges that were in the not so distant future for Harry? No. Now was not the logical time for a relationship, especially with one of her best friends. Purely and utterly illogical.

This early breakfast might not be the best thing for them, especially with so much at stake for them both. A weight seemed to settle in her stomach with the realization. She would have to make sure that she was extremely clear and established the boundaries before they were breached. She contemplated just not going down the stairs to avoid the whole matter entirely. No, Hermione Granger did not avoid her problems, she faced them head on.

Taking a deep breath, she began to descend the staircase. Ron remained waiting alone in the same place that she had left him. He looked up and smiled when she returned.

"Sorry Ronald, I got held up talking to Lavender and Pavarti," she apologized.

"Thats alright 'Mione. Shall we?" he asked and waited for her to take the lead. That was another thing with Ron. He was more of a follower as opposed to a leader. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked that or not. She was a controlling being by nature, but would she really want that much control?

"Sure," she nodded beginning to walk towards the portrait. Ron easily matched her pace with his long strides. He moved his arm over slightly casually causing the backs of their hands to rub against one another. Oh no. Oh yes? Was this a good thing? Hermione's heart rate speed up. No this wasn't right. This was Ron.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, judging her reaction. Boldly he reached down and took her hand, not breaking stride.

Hermione lost her breath. It didn't feel right. Holding his hand, she didn't get that warm feeling that she had often read about in the novels; didn't feel that tingling feeling run throughout her veins. But maybe those descriptions were simply magical realism, only meant to sell novels. Maybe such feelings did not exist. This thought in mind, she didn't let go right away. He smiled at her lightly. She couldn't break that smile could she? But she couldn't also lie to herself. This isn't saying that holding his hand wasn't nice, but it was more like holding the hand of a close friend. It felt familiar yet new all at the same time. No.

Hermione opened her mouth to try her words, to try to explain to him. It wasn't his fault, but she couldn't bare to think of him as more than just a brother."R-"

"Ron! Hermione! Are you going to the Great Hall without me?" called Harry descending the winding staircase. The two dropped their hands. Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. Thank you Harry. "What great friends you are!" He added catching up with them as they stepped through the opening that had appeared as the portrait swung open.

"Good morning Harry," Hermione smiled. "I'm sorry, Ron and I did not want to wake you". Ron grunted in agreement. Neither of them missed the agitated look that now spotted his face. Harry looked at her puzzled. She merely shook her head. The look he gave her meant that she would owe him an explanation. Great. What was with all of these explanations!

...

Ron's mood didn't improve even as they sat at the tables in the Great Hall for their early breakfast. Food did not seem to quell the miserable feelings he felt towards Harry for breaking up his plan to go to breakfast with Hermione.

It had taken him almost the entire summer to build up the courage to do just that. To look her in the eye. To take her hand. The moment that his hand had made contact with hers, he felt a tremendous surge of energy shoot through his arm and accelerated his heart to a pace he did not know existed. She couldn't have possibly missed that feeling. And then Harry had to walk in on it.

What would have happened if Harry had not come down the stairs at that moment? What would Hermione and himself be talking about right now? What would she be feeling?

What is she even feeling right now? Is she upset that Harry interrupted them? If she felt anything related to what he did right now, she would be downright pissed.

He chanced a look at the bushy haired girl seated primly beside himself. She carried herself so well. So confident with herself and everything that she did. Hermione was his idea of an angel from heaven, so perfect. She was no model, but she was someone-different.

Ron sighed. He had made sure to rouse himself several hours earlier than he was accustomed to, just so he might earn himself the possibility that she too would be awake and in the common room. It just figured that Harry would wake when he left. It seemed that the trio would remain just that. A trio. But Ron wouldn't stand for that. He was going to go after what he wanted. For the first time in his life, he was going to be bold like the man that he knew Hermione would fall in love with.

...

Harry and Hermione sat looking at one another from over the mountainous pile of toast, leaning precariously to the left. Both could easily feel the waves of tension rolling off the figure of Ron hunched over his plate. Ron did not make eye contact with either of his friends and contented himself with the quickly diminishing heap of scrambled eggs on his plate. The pair looked at one another, both wordlessly attempting to come up with a topic to discuss to make their sitting less ridged.

"So, uhm. Hermione," Harry began.

"The weather is nice," Hermione nodded over his shoulder at the tall panes of glass situated in the thick stone wall of the castle. Harry scoffed.

"If you call windy, sunless, and dreary nice weather, then yes, I suppose the weather is just dandy!"

"Well arn't you optimistic!"

"Well boy, are you ever!" Harry countered. "Bet this weather was nothing compared to that in the Dominican! You never did tell me what a great time you had! No owls, nothing! Thanks for forgetting about your best friend Hermione!" Harry joked. Hermione visually stiffened.

"The weather was nice. And I had a chance to get ahead on some reading," Hermione stated simply. Dominican remained to be a painful subject for her.

"Don't give me the weather was nice! Tell me about what it looked like! Where did you stay! What did you do? Don't forget I was locked up at the Dursley's all summer and I have never left that stupid house! Never got the opportunity to experience what you did, going to a new place!" Oh, boy did he not! Harry meant well, asking questions about her trip as any great friend would. She was alsosure that she would end up having to answer many for her other friends.

"Well it was nice that it was always warm. The temperature didn't drop below 32℃ during the day, the nights were also very warm And it didn't rain much like it does back in-"

"Not an imitation of a weather reporter Hermione!" Laughed Harry "I could have read that from a book, or learned that from a television! Where did you stay?" The frost that had melted slightly in her bones immediately began to refreeze.

"My cousin. My cousin, he had a flat that I stayed in,"

"That must have been nice! Who's flat?"

"Derrick. My mother's sisters son." The tightness in Hermione's voice did not escape his speculation.

"And you didn't like him did you?" Harry said softly.

"He was fine," Hermione said quickly. She couldn't have Harry getting to involved in asking questions. Harry, Hermione knew was a smart boy. And if he sniffed something strange with her answers, he would surly try to do something rash. And if he did, his actions could cause him to become distracted from his current mission. To vanquish the Dark Lord. And Hermione could not risk Harry turning his back on the whole of the wizarding world while he went after her cousin. This slight change in direction could be enough to pull Voldemort back on top. She would be selfish even to think that she could do that. For this reason, she bit her tongue, despite the pain it caused her emotionally to do so.

"Hermione! Oh Hermione," sighed Ginny. "I have him! I don't believe my luck!" Hermione glanced up from her toast thankfully to see her red haired friend racing juvalently up to their table and taking a seat beside her. Hermione was secretly relieved that she would be safe from Harry's interrogation. For now.

Harry did his best to hide his irritation by lowering his head and buttering some his toast.

"Sorry Gin, I don't know what you are referring to."

"Well Mr. Burnwhick of course!" she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Across from her, Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't exactly a secret to Hermione that Harry was greatly attracted to Ron's younger sister. It was not a matter of getting them together, it was a matter of when they were getting together.

"Dumbledore introduced him at the feast last night, but you left before that. He is a funny bloke, he is. And the girls seem to like him a lot," Harry began. Ron glowered at Harry's words

"I don't know why they would! That bloke is just like Lockhart and is probably just as full of himself as he was!" Ron annoyed voice, easily overpowering the loud chatter that had increased as more students entered the great hall.

"Ugh, Ron. Oh Hermione, I can't wait for you to meet him, he is so unbelievably dreamy?" sighed Ginny as she sat down beside Hermione, reaching over to spoon some scrambled eggs onto her plate. "His hair, his eyes. And Merlin, have you heard his accent?" Ginny turned her head to face Hermione wide eyed. She lowered her voice dramatically. "So sexy!"

"Ginny!" Ron flamed. "He is your bloody Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! And he is too old for you!"

"Oh give it a rest Ron!" Ginny shot back, her voice laced with indignation. "You are just jealous that the entire female population is lusting after Burnwick and not yourself!"

"That's not it at all Ginny!" Ron sputtered, his entire freckled face turning a dark shade of red. Hermione remained silent through their argument, amused at how easily Ron was baited.

In all honesty, Hermione could not care less about having an attractive teacher. It would only make her lessons more distracting. Who was she kidding. Against her will, and though she would never admit it, she was secretly interested in meeting their supposedly hunky professor.

After several minutes of the siblings bickering, they returned their attention to their meals.

"Oh yeah Herm, look! I have him first period! Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Ginny squealed, waving her schedule wildly before her friends eyes. Harry looked over at her from across the table, seeming to prepare himself to lunge for the girl now perched precariously at the edge of her seat and catch her should she fall from her excited dance. Harry Potter, always the hero, thought Hermione, a light smile pulling at her lips.

Hermione managed a grimace, hoping that it came across as a smile. It seemed to please Ginny enough for her to continue her one sided conversation.

"Oh I hope he notices me!" Ginny said hopefully. "When do you have him?" She reached around her plate and over to Hermione's schedule sitting beside her own plate.

"That's too bad Herms. You don't get to see his gorgeous face in class until Thursday after lunch." She winked. "But at least you have double Defense Against the Dark Arts you lucky duck!" Ginny was clearly envious.

"Oh Gin, I will manage somehow..."

Hermione trailed off as she looked across the Great Hall. A group of Ravenclaws sat giggling as one of their napkins magically folded into a dove and began to fly gracefully around the top of their heads. But it was not the sight of the dove that made her skin crawl. It was the sight of the wand that made the dove fly.

Gripping onto the thick hilt of the wand was a strong tanned hand. She had seen that hand. That hand had many times moved forcefully over her skin in the most private of places. It had been that hand that had hurt her in more ways than imaginable. That hand belonged to none other than her lovely cousin Derrick.

"Sorry Hermione?" Ginny prodded her side.

"I will somehow manage to survive," she replied icily, her eyes remaining on the back of her cousins curly brown head. She narrowed them slightly. This wasn't possible.

"Oh my gosh Herms! There he is! He is just so dreamy don't you agree?"

Hermione plastered a fake smile over her teeth. "Yes. He is." The simple answer seemed to please her so she shifted her weight to get a better view of her beau.

Hermione was relieved yet also frightened at how easily she was able to fool her best girl friend. What lie was this? Lie ten? Lie twelve? It didn't matter anymore! She wasn't going to count. Because it was for the better.

Hermione did not miss the charming smile that Derrick sent the girls before walking up to the teachers table situated at the front of the Great Hall. It couldn't be.

"His tan is so aluring." Ginny waited for her agreement, breathing heavily. Had she been in a better, more stable sense of being, she would have joked that Gin really needed to invest in an inhaler, then laughed off her confusion at the muggle term.

She didn't reply but continued to watch the man open mouthed as he was greeted by her other teachers. Professor Flitwick waved juvalently. Snape even nodded at him.

Burnwhick? His last name was Chadson, Hermione recalled. Could he have enrolled under a fake name? Why was he here. HOW did he get here.

Hermione shivered visibly, remembering the words he had hissed in her ear before she stepped abroad the Hogwart's Express. "Don't be thinking you are getting rid of me that easily sunshine." He smirked at her as she turned from him.

Derrick. He was here! She was supposed to be done with him! Why was he at Hogwarts? How could Dumbledore even let him through the doors of the castle after what he had done to her? This had to be some misunderstanding.

"Hermione?" Ginny whined. "Are you even listening to-"

"I-I am going to get my books for class," Hermione said hurriedly.

"But Hermione, it's 8 O'clock now! Class doesn't start for another hour and a half! You have loads of time," Harry reasoned.

Hermione pretended not to hear him as she scooted her legs over the bench and raced down the isle toward the corridors.

No way. No way. This could not be happening, it just was not possible!

Hermione walked brusquely down the corridor, away from the hungry students now beginning to pour in through the great doors. She couldn't return to her dormitory, her friends would have risen by now, and Hermione needed to be alone to think.

She turned down a hallway where, she noted, no students were in sight. Her pace did not slow however, and the direction in which she was heading she knew not of.

It had to be a dream. Another nightmare. Hermione would have laughed if she were not so frightened. It was almost humorous. Derrick, at Hogwarts? As Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at that? No. There was no possible way that was plausible. There was more of a chance that Snape would marry Mcgonagall!

She had dreams about him before, this was just another one. It was now just a matter of when she would wake up to find herself warm, between her red sheets.

Hermione stopped in the center of the corridor, closed her eyes and allowed the silence to engulf her. Now, all she needed to do was wake up.

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I have a question for all of you who are willing to you like me to start putting little teases after the story? Like a line from the next chapter or something? What do you think?

**Here is a sample teaser :P**

_...his fingers brushed against another piece of wood, not belonging to his wand. His fingers closed easily around the thin oval piece and pulled it into view. Draco immediately recognized it as the piece of wood he had stepped on in the hallway of the Hogwarts Express..._

**DO ANY OF YOU REMEMBER WHAT IT IS? haha I'm certain you do! NOW REVIEW PLEASE :D**


	10. Chapter 10: Just a Stupid Chunk of Wood!

**Hello Readers, I appreciate the reviews sent to me from pirateKitten11893, PRINCE-ASH'S-GIRL, StarKiss666, Mimpy, Slytherin Princess, tfobmv18, LeahKeehl13, and an anonymous reviewer! . In all honesty, you are the people who encourage me to continue writing. **

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Draco finished counting the cracks in the crumbling ceiling above him for the fifth time, before looking down to examine his nails, which of course, were perfectly manicured. If his father saw those cracks in the ceiling, he would have a hemorrhage! Hogwarts wouldn't stand a chance against his wrath, he thought boredly.

History of Magic was a complete drag. I mean, who in their right minds would actually willingly sit through one of Professor Binns lectures on the Goblin's Rebellion of 1418.

An image of an eager puffy haired Granger popped into his brain. Yes, of course she would, the little bookworm. But she is not in her right mind anyway. Hell, she does not even a person, so that does not in anyway count in the tally, Draco thought smugly.

What had happened last night? Her reaction the previous night did not allot him sufficient information to make her life more miserable than it was. Evidently her life was pretty dang pathetic if she had to go and cut herself first night back from Hogwarts. Or morning should he say. He knew not the exact time, but he did know it was past three a.m. or so. Why was Miss. Perfect out of bed after dark. He pegged her as the sort to turn in at seven p.m. or so.

His mind flashed back to what he had said to her on the carriage ride to Hogwarts. "It would have been easier had you bloody bled to death this summer, paper-cutting yourself to death when you read one of your stupid books."

To be frank, he could care less if the girl caused herself bodily harm. But in all honesty, it confused him. And Draco Malfoy did not like being confused.

Granger wasn't a stupid girl. Well, not completely stupid. What would cause her to be so utterly pissed off that she resorted to cutting herself. Her life seemed to be fine, as pathetic as it was. She could usually be found skipping about the castle, Potty and Weasel in tow, with a sickening smile spread across her features. And don't forget the books, he thought. There were always books!

Why hadn't the pumpkin and scar head noticed a change in her behavior. Or at least the cuts on her arms? Were they really that thick? Of course they bloody were! They probably had thicker sculls than Crabbe and Goyle. Draco resorted to looking more closely at her arms next time they shared a class. Not that he cared or anything. He just wanted more proof to make fun of her with.

Draco pulled out his schedule, skimming down the list of classes beneath Monday. Care for Magical Creatures. His next class. He couldn't decide whether or not he was excited to go to his next class or not. He despised the bushy haired girl and her imbecilic toad-brained friends. The the prospect of annoying her was quite alluring.

When Draco recalled first making fun of her, he did it only to set her place; because she annoyed him to no end just with her existence. Well, she still did. But now, he had to admit, it had become rather entertaining to watch her struggle under his humiliating and derogative comments.

Next class would only give him more ammunition to up his entertainment for the rest of his life. He would never let it go.

He yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth as he kicked his feet up, resting them easily atop his desk. He placed his hands behind his head and began to watch Professor Binns as his professor floated around the front of the room, as if on tracks.

The ghost looked up upon hearing the yawn erupt in his class, not missing a beat in his lecture. He continued to speak as he glared at the blonde boy whose feet were resting on the shining oak desk in the back left corner of the room. It was evident that the ghost was more than used to the idea that no one really wanted to be in his class because he did not press the issue. He merely continued to float about the room, seeming to be caught in his own trance of his own words.

He was like a bloody record, thought Draco. If only he could fast forward through the parts he deemed boring and useless. This class was useless his thoughts countered. Where could he actually apply this information? Where could he apply the information he learned in any of his classes? It was too simplistic. So elementary in fact, that half the time Draco felt sick to his stomach or his brain actually began to ache at the prospect of having to relearn all of the knowledge he had obtained years ago.

He had already learned all this information from the many lectures his father forced upon him, his little chats with his mother, grandparents or other relatives. As well, he absorbed a great deal of information on his own from the countless times he contented himself with reading away many afternoons he was left alone in Malfoy Manor.

The extensive library found in Hogwarts was absolutely nothing in comparison to the library at the manor; a mere page, no, a mere smudge in a full book of information. In addition, the majority of the books had either gone out of print or were one of a kind. For this reason, even one book in the manor would be worth the value of the entire library at Hogwarts. A bookworm's paradise. Though Draco would admit it to no one, he loved books.

Draco slid his hands into the pockets of his Slytherin robes and repositions his legs in front of him. Absentmindedly, his long pale fingers slowly stroked the smooth length of his hawthorn wood wand lovingly.

As he continued his caress, his fingers brushed against another piece of wood, not belonging to his wand. Curious, his fingers closed easily around the thin oval piece and pulled it into view. Draco immediately recognized it as the piece of wood he had stepped on in the hallway of the Hogwarts Express.

It was made of a light weight wood material that he had never seen before. So light in fact, that he questioned whether or not it really was wood. On its pale, flat surface, a hand painted design glistened.

The image glistening on the surface was of, what Draco assumed, a very peculiar looking...tree? The stump was long, thin and ragged, and bent slightly under the weight of wide array of thick foliage painted in vibrant green shades sprouting from the top. They appeared to be blowing in the breeze, but the leaves did not move. Why didn't they move? The whole scene on the piece of wood seemed to remain trapped in that one moment of time. Frozen. It puzzled him.

Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the image, tapped it, expecting it to move, to do something. It did no such thing. Frustrated, he slid his wand back into his pocket and resumed staring at the bright scene depicted.

In the distance, he saw clear, sparkling blue water rippled by the waves washing over a sandy beach, and high in the cloudless sky, he noted a war, sun shining brilliantly.

In small slanted letters in the bottom left corner, Draco studied the black paint that had curled into the funny letters. He lifted his index finger to trace the script Dominican Republic? What in Merlins name was a Dominican Republic?

"What have we got there Mr. Malfoy?" a voice asked quietly from behind him. Draco jumped, nearly dropping the object in his hand. Professor Dumbledore.

Draco looked around and noticed, to his dismay, that the classroom was empty and Professor Binns was also missing. Class must have ended without his notice.

"Nothing Professor," Draco said stiffly, standing to leave.

"It was not my intention to startle you Mr. Malfoy, I was merely wandering the halls and happened upon you sitting alone in an empty classroom," Dumbledore waved his hand to point out the empty desks. When he did not reply, the bearded professor bowed his head slightly and looked over his half moon spectacles. "Is something troubling you Mr. Malfoy?" he questioned softly.

Draco didn't reply and continued to glare at his headmaster, his mouth forming a harsh line across his pail face. Dumbledore nodded, seeming not to notice and turned away. "Very well. You best be off to class young man. I doubt that Hagrid will be pleased if you are late for his class."

"I don't even know what it is so it doesn't matter," Draco replied quietly, answering the first question that Dumbledore had asked him moments before. He asked the question more so to himself than his professors retreating form, but regardless, his headmaster paused in the doorway leading into the corridor, placing a long, veiny, withered hand on the frame.

"That picture of the Dominican does not do the country justice." Draco stood swiftly and walked toward the exit of the classroom in the direction of his headmaster's retreat.

So Dominican Republic was a place, pondered Draco. A beautiful place. With unusual trees and sunny beaches.

Dumbledore turned his gaze back to Draco, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Don't look so surprised Mr. Malfoy."

The pair walked slowly into the empty corridor.

"Why have I not heard of it?" Draco eyed him suspiciously, walking past several classes that were still in session. The break between classes gave Draco enough time to walk to his next class without the bother of being late. Not that he actually cared about being late. At least his next class Care for Magical Creatures was outdoors. If he had to sit through another lecture inside the pathetic school, he thought his head would explode. Though listening to the giant oaf Hagrid grunt about something unimportant for an entire period just might prove to induce the same result.

"I wish I could stay and chat, but I must find Professor Snape, I have some matters to discuss with him. Why don't you have a little chat with Professor Burbage. Perhaps she could clear up some of your questions." Dumbledore turned to leave but stopped. "Oh and whilst I am here, how could I forget. I intended to send you a message in tomorrow morning's post, but seeing as I happened upon you so...unexpectedly," Dumbledore smiled lightly, "I may as well use this perfect opportunity to invite you to my office. I would very much like you to join me for tea tomorrow evening?Possibly around seven-thirty or so? Give Hagrid my regards." The headmaster did not wait for a reply, and turned his back to Draco, who's face was etched with confusion.

Give Hagrid his regards? How did he know what class he had next? He was certain he did not mention it. Occlumency was the only other option, and he had been sure to close his mind as his father had taught him to the moment Dumbledore looked into his eyes.

This had been a peculiar morning. First, the piece of wood. It was just a simple item yet he felt oddly fascinated with it, and for the life of him, he could not deduce why. The image remained stationary, another point that he found rather strange. Eery almost.

But what really troubled him to no end, was that he could not figure out the purpose of this small piece of wood. Why was it produced. Whose was it?

Draco massaged his temples. Why did he even care? He moaned internally, his brain now hurting from the sudden jolt of lack of brain activity to the sudden surge. It shouldn't even matter. He was above all of these pointless questions.

The arrival of his headmaster was another strange occurrence. And even stranger was his knowledge of Dominican. And then his invitation to tea? Never, through the many years he attended Hogwarts had Dumbledore invited him to tea. That should have been Potty, his favourite little student that sat and ate sugar sprinkled butter biscuits, sucking up to the old man.

When he was called to Dumbledore's office, though it was a rarity, it was always for wrong doings done on his part. Usually he was able to remain clear of being reprimanded - the students were to frightened to tattle on him to their professors.

Draco chuckled at the thought. 'And so they should be!'

Should he take the old bat's advice and seek out Burbage? Draco shuddered. Burbage. Burbage! What good would finding the professor of Muggle Studies be able to help him? That lady was short of a brick she was.

He had, more than once, caught her singing and dancing her way down the hallway without a care in the world. She was almost as much of a nutter as Trelawney. That comparison said enough. And her odd fascination with the dirty muggles and their repulsive way of life revolted him. No. He didn't care anyway. It was just a stupid chunk of wood.

All the same, he slipped the piece of wood back into his pocket and continued walking down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room, absentmindedly smoothing his thumb over its glossy surface. Yeah. It was just a stupid chunk of wood.

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**Just a stupid chunk of wood eh Draco? We will see about that...**

**Review.**

**x**

_At that moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than to take the knife from Hagrid and run it though his throat. He thought that she was physically causing herself pain! That the primary reason for her late night excursion to the prefect bathroom was to slit her writs! How dare he!_


	11. Chapter 11: Thick Skin

**Thank you to MlleHibou, tfobmv18, smantaadfgh, Carlie and a HUUUGE Thanks to StarKiss666 who has helped me add an additional piece that will be included in a later chapter of this fic! I am so excited to continue writing with the knowledge of what will be soon to come! **

**I would just like to say that I do believe that I mentioned several times (in the bolded print above my fic) that this was MY fic and I determine who does what and that I realize that there are things that do not match up with the the world of Harry Potter that was created by JK Rowling. If you are looking for a story that perfectly follows what what the author imagined, I suggest you continue to read her novels rather than pick apart my intentional 'mistakes' (key word being intentional because I INTENDED them to be there). In mixing up some components, I hoped to create more of a foundation that I could build on that I, myself would find interesting. I am new to writing on this site so I have not even considered a beta yet (I don't know how they work anyway but gosh, thanks for the suggestion...).In addition, Hermione in my fic is sixteen. And seeing as you easily pointed out the other flaws in my fic, I am sure that you did not fail to miss that one. I am not going to apologize or change anything, because this is MY fantasy that I am creating. The Harry Potter Series is merely what I am using to tangent off of. As for "If you are going to write a canon, write it correctly', Hows about -if you are going to read a canon, how about reading one that YOU enjoy. If my 'mistakes' are that 'distracting', I am not forcing you to read it... I am human just like you are and I apologize that what I wrote is not necessarily up to your standards. Thanks again for your opinion, I appreciate the review.**

**Anyways, on with the fic...**

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Hermione made her way down to her first class alone. Harry and Ron surely would not let her behavior slide this time. Hermione rolled her eyes. What could she possibly say when they questioned her? She knew perfectly well that Harry didn't buy her excuse of needing to retrieve her books so early. Her moment of weakness when she saw Him was much to difficult to cope with. What lie could she use to dodge the avalanche of questions chasing her this time?

Perhaps she would subtly imply that her behavior was due to her period. Her 'time of the month' had always been a tabooed subject, one that they had always been avoided once she had grown breasts, and learned that she was a female. That would be slightly embarrassing for her, but she knew that it would quell the subject, at least for the time being. It was for the best.

"Hey Hermione!" greeted Neville as he noticed her approaching the greenhouse.

"Good morning Neville! How do you do?" Hermione replied politely.

"I'm alright, great actually! I talked to Professor Sprout today. She told me that she was going to begin the year with a lesson on Alihotsy. It kind of makes me nervous, but I am looking forward to seeing the Glumbumbles that will be used after!" Hermione nodded knowingly.

Alihotsy leaves, Hermione read during the summer, were magical plants that produced leaves that, if eaten, would induce hysteria. Neville, clearly was looking forward to seeing the effects that the treacle produced by the Glumbumble reduce the effects of the leaves.

"That should be interesting," agreed Hermione. Normally Hermione would be just as excited, if not more so than Neville at such a surely educationally enriching lesson, but her mind, she already knew, would not be able to grasp anything that her professor planned to say. Derrick was ever present in her thoughts. Finding interest in her class today would be hopeless.

A short time later, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors began to fill up the greenhouse with pointless chatter. She noticed Ron and Harry enter with Seamus over the shoulder of Neville, who continued to chatter on excitedly about his discussions with Professor Sprout regarding their future lessons. They did not alter their course, so evidently they did not yet see her. She exhaled in relief. Relief which quickly morphed into panic as Ron nudged Harry and pointed in her direction.

Dropping her gaze, she studied the tile, the grout engrained with bits of dark soil. She was sure the boys would be attempting to catch her eye so she did not look up. It was evident that Ronald had finally gotten over his obvious momentary dislike of Harry interrupting their...breakfast date...

She was thankful when Professor Sprout finally arrived, two small cages containing about four Glumbumble's each. The caged directed the boy's scrutiny away from her. For now.

The students immediately turned their attention to the grey furry insects fluttering around in the cages as she set them down on the long dest in front of her. Professor Sprout, the kind woman she was, waited smiling until the last of the students' chatter had finally dwindled to nothing.

"Good morning class, and welcome to your first class of fourth year Herbology," she began. The speech that followed was very much the same that she had said in third year, second year, and even first year. After a good half an hour, she was finally able to commence the lesson.

"Can anyone tell me who these fellows might be?" Professor Sprout gestured to her furry friends (which of course the class had been preoccupied with for the magority of her speech) and regarded her class expectantly.

Hermione's hand shot into the air. A reflexive habit that happened so regularly, the class did not bother to groan anymore.

"Those there are Glumbubles Professor. They are able to produce the antidote to Alihotsy leaves that, if eaten, cause hysteria." Hermione answered confidently.

"Right you are Mrs. Granger. Thankfully Hagrid was able to catch us eight of them this year for our class. I wont tell you too much about the creatures themselves as I am sure Hagrid will do in the near future, but rather I would like to help you all to understand the use of the treacle."

The professor had them split into pairs of two. One partner would experience the feelings of hysteria that would overcome them should they eat the leaves, while their partner stood ready with the antidote. Hermione was thankfully able to avoid Harry and Ron by pairing up with Neville.

After consuming the leaves, Hermione's feelings of panic from first seeing her cousin intensified. She immediately began to pace the back corner of the greenhouse and ring her hands, willing herself not to scream with discomfort. Her mind was plagued with a frenzy of unpleasant thoughts circled through her mind. They became all the worse with the prospect of his appearance reacting with her schedule.

Much of the class was undergoing what she was currently experiencing, a few even letting out frantic screams, or tearing up. Their partners watched on helplessly as Professor Sprout examined her watch.

Neville stood regarding her with the antidote shaking in his left hand, clearly uncomfortable with seeing his usually level headed friend so out of control.

"You may give them the antidote!" Professor shouted over the worried whimpers of her students.

Hermione all but pounced on poor Neville, desperately grasping for the glass vial and downing the viscous content. Much of her panic disappeared, but to Hermione's dismay, much of it remained.

...

"Where do you think Hermione was off to so quickly?" Harry asked Ron.

"I don't know mate. I expected her to wait for us so we could catch up during break, but she just ran off."

"I guess we will just have to wait until next class to see what was up."

"It was probably something to do with being a prefect or something, after all, when Percy was prefect, he always seemed busy," Ron noted.

"Yeah, because he made himself busy," Harry replied smartly. "But I also am a prefect. And unless I have missed something, what ever Hermione is doing is not related to that."

"I really don't know then Harry." Ron replied. Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair, only causing it to become more disheveled.

"What do we have next again? I misplaced my schedule" Ron said sheepishly.

"Already? We have had one class and a break and you have already managed to lose your schedule?"

"I didn't lose it, I misplaced it," Ron countered. Harry rolled his eyes, pulling out his schedule from his bag and skimmed down the Monday column.

"Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid," he replied. As he did, his face turned slightly sour.

"Whats got your wand in a knot? Having a class with Hagrid will be great!" Ron said, his face lighting up.

"That's not what I am upset about who we are splitting the class with," he replied dully.

"As long as you are not referring to the Slyth-"

"Well if it isn't the all mighty Boy-who-will-not-die!" came a malicious voice from inside the cover of the trees running along the border of Hogwarts.

"Sod off Malfoy!" Ron growled, grasping Harry's robes and pulling him along towards Hagrid's hut.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle emerged from the trees, their sheer size startling the two Gryffindors. Crabbe and Goyle had always been large, but it was Malfoy's size that surprised them.

The previous year, the blonde had barely reached the shoulders of his two body guards, similar in size to Harry. Over the summer however, Malfoy experienced a growth spirt that now put him a few inches taller than Ron, a good half a head taller than Harry.

"But where's the fun in that Weasel?" Malfoy shrugged. "Where's your girl friend by the way? Is she off ironing the pages in her textbook or something? Or did the Mudblood finally come to her senses and chose to go screw someone else other than the likes of you?" Malfoy spat acidly. Ron took a step towards him, a fire blazing in his eyes.

Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. The blonde smirked at the red haired boy. "It seems I have hit a nerve there Weasley!" He irked. Malfoy's gaze shifted over the freckled boy's shoulder to rest on a figure coming down the path in the distance. His face lit up with malice. "And speaking of the scum, look who has decided to show up!"

Hermione continued to walk unsuspectingly down the sloping hill towards her next class. It was not until Malfoy called out to her that she noted their existence.

...

"Hey Granger! What's the hurry? Why don't you come over to clean my shoes while we wait for class to begin!" Hermione glared in his direction.

"Aren't we a bit old for insults?" Hermione replied narrowing her eyes. Evidently they were not.

"I wasn't insulting you Granger, as easy as it is. I was merely reminding you of your place." Draco replied simply, lifting his eyebrows slightly.

Hermione was much to exhausted from the fits of hysteria she had experienced in her previous class to even care what insults the Slytherin threw at her today. She was in no mood to supply an intelligent rebuttal. Frankly, she didn't care anyway. They now seemed to be so inconsequential in comparison to recent events. Hermione merely shrugged lazily and continued down to the hut.

Draco watched as the Gryffindor girl shrugged, turned her back to him and walked away. Not a tear? Not a fiery rebuttal? Granger had lost her touch. It pissed him off to be frank. Why it pissed him off, he did not know.

"Go to hell Malfoy!" Ron spat. Harry bared his teeth at the boy and the two rushed quickly after Hermione.

...

"Hermione!" the two called after her. Hermione slowed her pace and reluctantly allowed them to catch up. She wanted to be alone. She just wanted to be alone. To think, to do anything. Questions, questions! That was all they seemed to be doing is asking questions. Hermione sighed. Her bottled up feelings were unhealthy to keep inside, but she knew it would only be safer for her friends if they did not know the pain that she was currently experiencing.

"Just ignore him Mione," Harry said, touching her shoulder. He was breathing hard from the effort that it took them to catch up to her fast pace.

"Where did you disappear to after breakfast? And then again after Herbology, we couldn't find a trace of you! We wanted to talk to you!" Ron asked, also spent from his jog. Looks like the boys would need a lot of training before Quidditch season this year.

Little did they know, she had returned to Gryffindor tower twice. They did not need to know that she had raced back to the common room to seal the wounds that had begun to leek red fluid, re-wrapping them in clean gauze. The spells she used worked only for a short time before she had to repeat them. It was a strenuous process, but it had to be done. Her lower blood levels did not prohibit her from performing her everyday activities, however it made it so that she often felt fatigued and lightheaded, even after tasks that she normally would not have found strenuous. She knew that she could not survive this way forever. She planned to go to Dumbledore the moment Voldemort fell.

"I had some stuff to do," Hermione said simply, readjusting her stack of books in her arms. Ron, noticing her struggles took the pile from her and added it to his own, much smaller one. Hermione looked up at him graciously.

"What kind of stuff? Why didn't you ask us to come along?" Ron asked, suddenly hurt.

"Girl stuff Ronald," Hermione sighed. Harry's eyes dropped to the gravel path that they were currently walking along, and Ron turned a deep shade of maroon. Hermione felt bad for lying to her friends, but she knew it was for the better.

Ron made a sound between a choke and a cough. Hermione took this opportunity to change the subject.

"So. Are you looking forward to care for magical creatures?" Hermione asked. The boys took the bait. The trio talked easily until they reached the hut.

...

The class went by smoothly. For the most part. As smoothly as it could do with a half a class of Slytherins.

"An this is what ya use ter remove the crustaceans from the body," Hagrid lifted a small skinning knife from the wide stump that was displaying a wide array of tools. Hagrid would lift a tool, explain its function and application, something he did at the beginning of every single year, regardless if the class had heard his lecture already. "Ya got ta make sure that ya guild the blade from the rear so that ya don't cut yerself by mistake!" Hagrid walked over to another stump where he proceeded to implement the the knife.

Hermione craned her head over the sea of students so she could see the demonstration. As she did, a flash of blonde hair caught her eye. He was looking at her, his face void of emotion. Quickly, she moved her eyes away. Her face did not portray the great amount of confusion muddled in her brain. This was not the first time during the class that he had been starring at her. His piercing gaze made her feel uncomfortable. It felt as though he could see through each carefully placed layer of clothing to see the lines that had been carved into her skin by a "professor" currently teaching at Hogwarts.

She chanced a look back at the Slytherin, and of course, he continued to stair at her. She lifted her chin and returned his gaze, hoping he would notice that she had caught him staring at her, and perhaps he would turn away just as she had moments before.

One side of his mouth slowly began to curl up when he knew he had caught her full attention.

She didn't his miss gaze as it shifted to the knife held firmly in Hagrid's right hand, then back to her eyes. She narrowed her own and was appalled when he twisted his left wrist, showing her the pale skin of his forearm, his other hand grasping an imaginary knife.

The sunlight filtering through the dense cover of leaves above bounced off his white gold hair as he looked from her down to his wrist. This couldn't be good.

He pretended to cut several slits into the clean skin before looking up at her, his eyes full of hatred and contempt.

At that moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than to take the knife from Hagrid and run it though his throat. He thought that she was physically causing herself pain! That the primary reason for her late night excursion to the prefect bathroom was to slit her writs! How dare he!

Hermione fumed beside her friends. Harry, upon noticing her change in demeanor, placed a comforting arm, his emerald eyes full of questions. She looked up at her dark haired friend and shook her head. Though it was horrid that he had come to such an incorrect, vulgar conclusion, she realized that was a better alternative than him gaining knowledge of the truth.

Harry looked over Hermione's head looking for Malfoy, who now had his back to the pair.

Malfoy did not have another chance to even give Hermione a glance as Pansy spent the remainder of the class hanging off his arm. This left his two goons to stand stupidly beside him, incapable of constructing and distributing insults as Malfoy always had.

She was pleased for this fact. Malfoy's action had cut her deeper than a knife ever could. How else could you possibly wound an individual? She had been wounded far too many times - Physiologically, physically, internally, externally, but it was the wounds on the inside that leave the deepest, most excruciating scars. It didn't matter that she expected Malfoy malicious behavior. But she didn't expect it to wound her that deeply. He had knowingly hit a sensitive nerve, and began to grind upon it.

She would need to thicken her skin a lot more if she intended to survive this year.

...

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Thanks for reading. The next chapter will be up shortly.

(Sorry for lack of event. - I think that you are probably waiting for a little more happenings between Draco and Hermione. And let me say, that they will be coming, just be patient :D )

x

_Hermione's heart hammered. Did he know? Had Dumbledore acquired a piece of information through which he was able to view Derrick's true colors?_


	12. Chapter 12: The Snake who Slithered in

**Hello readers! Thank you to brenna963, StarKiss666, IGOTEAMEDWARD, slytherin princess, and FigrSk8r13. I very much appreciate the encouragement from the reviews!**

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Hermione resolved to spend lunch out on the lawn in attempt to avoid Him, but after seeing from the window the droplets of water that fell relentlessly from the sky, she decided to follow Harry and Ron to witness the submission of the names to the Goblet of Fire.

Hermione spent the majority of the time sitting alone in the centre of small clumps of chattering students, a copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' balanced on her knees. Flipping through the pages, she huffed, somewhat irritated.

If she had her bookmark, she would have been able to find the correct page. Where was the silly thing anyway? She was certain she had been using it to mark the pages of her spell book that she was reading on the Hogwarts Express. She resolved that she would again search through her spell book and maybe even her trunk once she returned to her dorm that evening.

...

The remainder of her day went by uneventfully. After lunch, Hermione headed to her Arithmancy classroom whilst Harry and Ron mounted the stairs to go to Divination. Hermione enjoyed being back in Arithmancy, her favourite class, but her mind was allowed to wander because of the ack of new information.

After class, she met up with Harry and Ronald outside the Great Hall.

"Oyi Mione!" Ron shouted. "I'm so hungry, could you get a move on before I die of starvation?" he joked

"You know I have been brewing a bit of a headache," Hermione winced, pushing the base of her palm into her forehead dramatically. She slid it down her face in attempt to convey that she was spent. "Tough lesson in Arithmancy..."

A look of concern flitted across his face. "Oh don't worry Harry, I am certain it will go away. I just need to go lie down for a bit," she reassured The boys before her nodded understandably.

"Are you wanting me to walk you up to your dorm?" Ron asked, putting emphasis on the word 'me'?

"Of course not, I will be alright thank you," she replied kindly, now edging away from the pair.

"You sure?" he pressed. Hermione nodded in response.

"I hope you feel better Mione," Ron added with a smidgen more concern than Hermione was used to.

"Thank you Ronald." Before he could say any more, she turned quickly and mounted several flights of stairs and raced down several corridors without coming across anyone.

Hermione seated herself on the soft couch in front of the fire, relishing the solitude of the common room whilst vacant.

She didn't have a headache, especially from such a simple lesson that, actually she was more likely to get a head ache from its simplicity. She had studied the lesson that they learned that day in her second year.

Avoiding Him had really cut into her time with her friends, added unneeded stress. It was ruining her life. Ruining her life and she had yet to have him look at her. Hermione held back the tears that threatened to spill over. She wished that she had someone to turn to. She wanted so desperately to clean the filth clinging to her soul. So desperately to -

A rumble from within her stomach caused her to forget her train of thought. She had skipped both lunch and dinner and was utterly famished. But she couldn't very well go walsing into the Great Hall with Him there.

The kitchen! Hermione stood in a rush, internally applauding her idea. If she went to the kitchen, she would be able to avoid, for the time being, the gaze of her deranged cousin.

Hermione stepped out of the portrait and began to walk through the corridors. They remained completely deserted, as most of the students were tucking in for dinner in the Great Hall.

She walked quickly to avoid any conversation should anyone else chose to leave the Hall early. Stopping in front of a portrait of fruit, Hermione reached out a finger to tickle the peach.

...

Hermione did not go to breakfast the following morning, deciding to tell Harry and Ron that she was going to the Library to study and visit the kitchen during lunch.

"Where were you this morning Hermione? You missed breakfast. Your head isn't still hurting is it?" Harry asked as the trio walked to History of Magic on the first floor.

"Yeah, I was feeling a bit out of it. But I am alright at the moment thanks," Hermione said quickly. "Did either of you get the Daily Profit this morning?" Hermione tried, in attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah," sighed Harry. "A writer named-"

"Rita Skeeter!" piped Ron

"Yeah, Rita Skeeter, wrote an interesting piece about the Tri-Wizard Tourniment, but nothing interesting really. You can have it if you want. I am finished with it anyway."

"Thanks Harry." He reached into his satchel pulling from it the newspaper as well as a letter.

"Oh, I almost forgot! You got some mail as well!" Hermione's heart froze. He wouldn't be that obtuse! Sending her mail through the owl system, right beneath everyones nose! Then again, he had gotten away with quite a bit.

She bit her lip as she took the paper and the letter, sighing in relief once she recognized the seal. Dumbledore. But what did he want with her so soon? Unless...

She ripped open the letter as she walked, uncaring if the pieces fell to the ground as she did. Unfolding the parchment, she read through the lines through several times, fear slowly being pumped through her veins like a poison with every heart beat.

_Miss Granger,_

_I would very much be obliged for your company at 7:30 this evening. I desire greatly the opportunity to discuss a prevalent issue over tea._

_Sincerely,_

_A. Dumbledore_

_P.S. I have recently acquired a liking for Chocolate Toad Toffee._

Hermione's heart hammered. Did he know? Had Dumbledore acquired a piece of information through which he was able to view Derrick's true colors?

"Mione, you alright? You look a little pale." He put an arm around her shoulder to support her. She took a seep breath before continuing.

"I - I'm fine. The effects of the headache are still present." Harry nodded sympathetically.

"Perhaps you should go pay Madam Pomfrey a visit-"

"No, no. I would much prefer to allow my headache to disappear naturally." In truth, had she actually been experiencing the pain of a headache, she probably would have heeded Harry's advice, however with the amount of blood replenishing potion she was taking, she did not want the potions to intermingle in her stomach and cause more problems.

She pressed her hand against the side of the bag to be certain that she had indeed remembered to bring along with her a water bottle containing the potion should she feel she required it. She had checked several times before leaving the dorm, but regardless, she felt the need to check every so often.

"What did the letter say?" Ron asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

"Oh, Dumbledore, he wanted to speak with me, about what I know not."

"I wonder what he wants, it's pretty early in the year after all," Ron puzzled, biting his lower lip.

"Not sure, he just said that we would be discussing a matter over tea," Hermione's voice was void of emotion.

Harry picked up on her mood instantly. "Relax Mione, I am sure there is nothing to be nervous about. Oh, and be sure to ask for the peppermint tea. It's my personal favourite."

...

After skipping yet another meal in the great hall, Hermione stood before the stone gargoyle marking the staircase up to her headmaster's office.

"Chocolate Toad Toffee." The gargoyle grinded noisily against the stone as it turned to reveal a winding staircase. She began her ascent up the winding staircase.

Moments later, she was situated outside the office at 7:29. Nervously, she tapped her fist lightly against the worn wooden door. Had she not been so terribly anxious, she would have taken the time to admire the images, clearly hand carved, into the wood.

The door clicked open, allowing her entrance. "Hello Profess-" She was surprised to see that the door had seemed to open on its own accord. She stepped into the quiet office, looking up at the portraits of the previous headmasters hanging over the grey stone walls. The regarded her pleasantly, some removing their wizarding hats, others nodding.

"Good evening Miss. Granger, punctual as usual," Dumbledore said pleasantly from behind his desk. Hermione turned in surprise, bringing her hand to her chest. He stood politely, displaying his navy robes adorned with shimmering stars.

"You startled me Professor," she laughed nervously. He merely smiled lightly.

"Well that was not my intention, I seem to be doing that to a lot of people lately." His eyes sparkled as though laughing at a personal joke. "Please, take a seat." He motioned gracefully to one of two chairs positioned across from his desk.

Hermione nodded taking a seat. He was going to tell her. He was going to tell her that he had figured out her secret. Harry and Ron would soon find out, an embarrassing prospect of course, but more importantly, it would distract Harry from defeating Voldemort. What he was going to tell her would ruin all of the pain that she suffered through, all of the lies she had told! She was defeated. What would happen would happen. She couldn't change it. She was forced to accept her fate.

She took a breath to steady herself and looked up at her professor expectantly. He remained silent, merely smiling at her. His silence confused her. Did he not send her a letter to discuss something? To discuss Him. She swallowed audibly before choosing her words carefully.

"Professor, you said that you had an...issue that you wished to discuss with me?" Her headmaster nodded. "Ahh Miss Granger in good time. But for now I believe that we should wait for out other guest to arrive. Would you like to indulge in a cup of tea before he appears?"

Other guest? He did not mention in the letter another being present! She was certain of it, as she had read the letter several times throughout the day. Hermione did not miss the fact that he said 'he'. Could he be choosing to bring the issue up with Derrick there! He could not be that dimwitted! She internally cringed at the comment she thought about her headmaster. Of course she didn't mean that - it was just...why would he chose to bring up the issue with him present! How could he? Would he not recognize how painful it may be for her to see him, to hear him speak?

Hermione's heart rate doubled in pace. It was so loud that she could hear it in her ears. If Dumbledore was also able to hear it, he did not show it.

"P-Peppermint would be lovely Professor," Hermione stuttered as she attempted to keep her voice under control. Best not allow her voice to betray her now, what with all of the lies and work she put into covering her secret.

She dropped her gaze so that his ice blue eyes could not penetrate through her own and glimpse her thoughts. As far as she knew, he had not yet done so. The feeling of someone rooting through her thoughts was unpleasant and was not easily forgotten. Who knows. It might not even be Him. Well of course it was bloody HIM! Who else could it possibly be! Why else would Dumbledore invite you for tea, if not to discuss a matter such as this!

"Sugar?" Dumbledore asked, smiling. He was clearly oblivious to the torment that she was undergoing right now, especially with the lack of information that he was providing.

He handed her a plain white teacup on a saucer. She nodded thanks before taking a sip. Harry was right about the tea. But, as delicious as it was, she could not admire the flavor for long for her mind was yet again assaulted with the image of Derrick walking though the door to Dumbledore's office.

Looking at the clock, she noted that his other guest was thirteen minutes late. Had she really been sitting here that long, lost in her thoughts? It was unlike Derrick to be tardy.

She turned her gaze back on Dumbledore. She willed him to speak. To say something that would break the silence between them. He continued to sit there, completely content. He was completely at ease. How could he be so terribly relaxed at a time such as this!

She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, looking around to examine one of the hundreds of trinkets that littered his office. Her attempt to avert her train of thought failed and she found herself, once again, thinking of Him.

How would she react with Derrick sitting next to her? Would he be able to fool someone as intelligent as her headmaster?

A curt knock at the door brought her from her thoughts causing her to clang her cup loudly against the saucer, nearly spilling hot tea all over her robes. At that knock, it felt as though she had fallen off a broomstick into a swarm of demeanors. At this moment in time, she actually considered that to be a better alternative fate than what she was about to face right now!

The man entered the room a moment later, the door closing swiftly behind. Hermione could not decide whether or not to be relieved at the sight of the student...rather snake who entered...slithered in.

...

Draco looked from his headmaster to the girl sitting, clearly surprised, in a chair before the great desk. A dark shadow passed over his face at the sight of the student occupying the chair. Granger. Honestly. What could she have possibly told the headmaster that surpassed the scolding of the usual professors? Well, there was the whole slashing the writs thing. But that incident had occurred the class after Dumbledore invited him to tea. What could this possibly be about? And for what reason was the Mudblood involved?

"Take a seat Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said courteously. Draco did not reply. A look of indifference crossed his features as he walked toward the chair beside his class mate. He sat down and leaned as far away from her as the chair would allow, his face twisted in a grimace, as though he smelled a rather foul odor.

He heard the girl snicker, seeming to be rather amused. Stupid mudblood! If only she could smell her stench! He was surprised that he could keep down this evenings dinner!

"Tea?" The headmaster asked, raising his eyebrows. Draco nodded in response. His form remained rigid.

"Sugar?"

"One professor." Dumbledore dropped a single cube into the steaming liquid, stirring it a few times before placing it onto a saucer and handing it to him. Draco nodded. Never did a Malfoy thank another, especially if they were of a lower stature.

A platter of sugar cookies in various shapes was placed at the front of the desk separating Granger and himself from the headmaster.

"Please help yourselves." He motioned to the cookies, taking a moon shaped one himself.

Taking a sip from his tea, he was surprised to taste the familiar Orange Pekoe, his favourite tea. Suddenly his mind was plagued with memories he had been forced to forget over the years under the firm hand of his father.

The taste caused him to recall his lovely Grandmother. His lovely Grandmother that he had yet to see in ten years. Often he had gone to visit her in his younger years. He was spoiled the way that all Grandmothers cosset their grandchildren.

He recalled her sweet eyes, her kind voice, their visits where he drank that very tea. He had not tasted it since his last visit. They had been discussing the muggle vehicle - the automobile - if he remembered correctly. He told his father when he had come to bring him home. That had been his last visit.

The last time he saw her, tears poured from her eyes as he was dragged out of her house by the collar by his father. His father forbade him from visiting her, and little by little his for the most part unbiased opinion towards the non-magical world began to dwindle. And good riddance. Were it not for his father, he might actually have affiliated himself with those other beings.

But all the same, he missed her.

"Well, now that we are all settled, I think that I should begin what I had intended to say." Beside him, Grangers hand tightened on the handle of her teacup and lower her eyes to peer at the liquid in the bottom.

"After doing a through examination of your past grades, your professors and myself think it in your best interest to change your classes to a more suitable level."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger's head shoot up to look at her professor.

"Are you saying that we are to be moved ahead one year?" She asked, leaning forward. She seemed to be shocked at the prospect, the stupid girl! It's not like it has never been done before!

"Well actually Miss Granger, I was going to suggest that you jump to your final year, but if you would much prefer to skip ahead one year, two years or even remain in your current year, it is your decision."

"I would love the opportunity!" She blurted out, the volume of her voice increasing dramatically. "I could even remain another year after I completed my NEWT's to take more classes!" She replied with such energy that Draco had to try his utmost to refrain from scoffing. The only reason he would ever take classes two years above his own would be so that he could graduate sooner and get away from this pathetic piece of excuse they call a school. And It wouldn't hurt to actually have to think during class rather than counting ceiling tiles, or cracks, windows, quills...Yes this could prove to be a very good thing.

The Gryffindor reached to retrieve a cookie and began to nibble on it as Dumbledore gave his reply.

"Well Miss Granger, shall I give you some time to think it over-"

"Not at all professor, I would be most excited to start right away! Should I have taken the time to think, I would only fall further behind. That would not be in my best interest as I will be entering a seventh year course." She reached across for another cookie, her headmaster mirroring her action. If that girl kept eating cookies the way she was she was liable to blow up like a balloon!

Grudgingly, Draco admitted to himself that the girl did not require to lose any weight. The would have clearly been something to tease her about! Yes, she did appear to have lost weight over the summer, regardless, unlike the other girls he was accustomed to associating with, she appeared to be of a healthy weight - though it was difficult to tell with her oversized robes. He was all to used to Pansy skipping her meals to keep her figure down so it was rather strange to be watching a female figure cram her face with food.

His eyes quickly raked Hermione. She probably vomited it all up before she went to sleep at night. That was it.

"If you feel that you are not ready to take on a full seventh year schedule, you also have the option of choosing a few subjects rather than all of them to do in a particular year, either seventh, sixth fifth, or your current fourth year," Dumbledore added. "I shall get you to record which courses you wish to take in what year and I will attempt to fit you into your selection. Also take into consideration that you might not be in your preferred house, especially if your choices in subjects clash between years." Granger nodded vigorously while Draco leaned back cooly.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you interested?" Draco tried to imagine the look on his father's face if he were to find out that a mudblood had taken up Dumbledore's offer for advanced class placement while he did not. He internally shuddered at the lecture that would be sure to follow. For that he would be certain to take every single advanced seventh year class he could.

"Yes professor." He began to twist the ring that he wore around his ring finger on his right hand with his thumb. The ring had the Malfoy crest embossed into its surface.

"Very well then," Dumbledore picked up two identical piles of parchment and handed one to each of them. "On the top, you will find your current schedule, the sheet following is a master time table displaying each of the possible classes for each time block occurring for your current year. Following that is a master time tabled of year six and seven, should you choose to intermingle the years. Lastly, there is an empty timetable on the back. To fill in the blocks, use black ink to circle the class that you wish to take in that particular year and it will appear in the correct place on the last page. Should their be any conflicting classes and times, the classes will automatically shift to accommodate your choice. In addition, should you make a mistake, merely cross out the class you had previously circled and the ink will disappear from both the last page and the class you had just scratched out. Do you understand?"

The pair nodded. "Good then. I then ask that you return to me that package before the bell of the first class the following morning. I wish to have a look over the schedule before you commence with your day." The bushy haired bookworm nodded vigorously before speaking. Honestly would it kill that girl to use a mirror once in a while? It looked like she had been riding a broom for days on end!

"So we will be starting our higher level education tomorrow then?"

Draco felt like smacking her upside the head. To resist such an urge that would surely get him expelled from Hogwarts, he pressed his hands tightly around his teacup and took a long sip. Yes Granger! Does 'before you commence with your day tomorrow' mean nothing? Honestly, as intellectually superior she thinks that she is, she can be so incredibly dense. He lowered his cup softly to set in on the saucer.

"Yes, that is correct Miss Granger! The sooner the better I would say,"

"Is this all professor?" he was desperate to get out of the room and away from the self mutilating idiot beside him. He had better things to do than to sit and have tea and biscuits with his rival's best friend and mentor.

"It is. Please remember to return your schedule to me so that I might file a copy." he nodded, placing his considerably full cup of tea on the desk and stood to leave.

"Have a good evening Mr. Malfoy." Draco stood and left swiftly.

* * *

**Uh oh...Draco and Hermione...in advanced classes...possibly together? Hmm. :D What ever will happen within those classes...**

**x Let me know what you think will happen...I have a pretty good idea of what I am going to do. But what do you guys think :D**

**_"You don't mean to say that she..." he nodded in response. "I don't believe it! You are leaving me to go have classes with that worthless waste of skin!" _  
**


	13. Chapter 13: Cooperation

**Hey, Thanks to StarKiss666, IGOTEAMEDWARD, brenna963 and LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL for the brilliant reviews!**

**Also, random point, but I haven't decided If I am going to follow my summary written in the description. I have had so many more ideas that could work for this story since then. I have not decided whether or not I want to weave the element of the bet or not into my fic...I am not feeling that this is the correct story for that anymore. I might just take that idea that I had and transfer it to another story so I can really focus on that (I have so many ideas to tangent off of that bet). I am not sure yet, but if I do, I will keep you posted! What do you guys think? Would you rather have Draco forced to get to know her? Or the curiosity of Hermione's problems...or a combination of both? Would you rather have two stories to read? **

***Also, sorry for those of you who are most likely finding spelling and grammar errors throughout my piece exceedingly annoying! I literally have no time to read through it (I am in IB -for those of you who know who that is (International Bachelorette Program) and my exam, which is worth 76% of my Chemistry grade is fast approaching. Sorry for late updates because of that, but I am doing the best I possibly can to pump out chapters for you readers! Thanks again. Much love.**

**(Sorry just fixed some errors)**

**x**

**Numeral Nerd B)**

* * *

Draco descended down the spiraling staircase, away from the shifting gazes of the previous headmasters...and the thing that had been seated beside him.

Well that was certainly not what he had been expecting. Being bumped three years would please his father greatly! Not only that, but it would set himself apart from the rest of the students, making him more superior to them than he already was! He had the name, the money, he was a prefect, and was now two years ahead of his peers!

There was always the trouble of Granger, but she would be too involved in her studies, trying to keep up to his soaring grades! She was smart, yes, but her blood would restrict her ability immensely! Yes, she could evidently execute the simplest of spells - pretty much anyone could. But it truly was a pity that the poor girl did not realize that her blood status would impede her ability to perform more intricate spells that they were sure to meet in the weeks that followed.

Draco internally sneered at the thought. He could only imagine the look of despair that would cross her face once she attempted a spell and could not do it for the first bloody time in her life! It would do her well to finally recognize what an utter failure he was.

He hurried through the corridors and down to the lower levels of the school where the Slytherin common room was located. He wanted to fill the sheet out before he went to sleep, to escape the bother of it in the morning.

"Snake scales," he muttered to the portrait and it swung forward. He prayed that the common room would be vacant so he could get started immediately on his course selection. But of course, he was not so lucky.

"Draaaakie!" moaned Pansy, who lay sprawled out on the dark leather couch situated before the fire. "Where were you! I was worried sick about you." She pouted her large pink lips, looking much like a mix between a human and a duck.

"Dumbledore called me up to his office to tell he thought that my intelligence far surpassed that of the other fourth years," he drawled. She lifted a dark eyebrow.

"So...Dumbledore called you to his office to tell you how smart you were?" Draco nodded in reply. "What does that mean then...like so what, everyone knows that you have the best grades in the school, disregarding the mudblood of course." He decided to ignore her last comment about Granger.

"It means," he said slowly, "that I will no longer be expected to sit with Potty in potions anymore," he sneered. Pansy continued to stair up at him from the couch confused.

"So does that mean that you are skipping a year or something?" she asked stupidly.

"Not quite. It is my intent to skip my fourth, fifth, and sixth year!" he replied proudly. Pansy's eyebrows shot up. She lowered them and her mouth curled into a smirk that would make even satan proud.

"I wonder how long the mudblood will cry for once we tell her!" Pansy's eyes gleamed. Draco couldn't tell if it was the doing of the fire, or the evil that rain potently though her veins.

His stomach dropped. He had not been expecting her to mention Granger again. She narrowed her eyes at his silence.

"You don't mean to say that she..." he nodded in response. "I don't believe it! You are leaving me to go have classes with that worthless waste of skin!" Draco opened his mouth to reply but Pansy cut him off. "I wont be able to see you during class any more! I don't know what I am going to do without you!" The dark haired girl looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh come on Pans, I am just going to some different classes. Odds are, Granger and I wont even be sharing classes. We have loads to select from times three different years! Frankly I will be shocked if she appears in even one of my classes." Draco did not tell her however, that he expected her presence in the majority of his classes. He would be selecting all seventh year courses, and knowing Granger, she would do the same. Normally he would have considered dropping them for that reason alone, however he wasn't willing to allow a stupid little mudblood dictate or affect which classes he wanted to take. If he wanted to attend seventh year transfiguration, then so he would, regardless if she was also in attendance. If he wanted to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, he would do just that! Screw the girl!

Pansy seemed to calm down and considered the chances that he had laid out for her. "Well...I suppose that is slightly better." Though it was clear she was still unhappy. Until a look passed over her face. "That just means," she stood and slowly began to stalk toward her, "that we will need to spend a little more time together."

She reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling his lips toward her own. He didn't resist. She pushed him onto the couch and straddled him.

Draco's course selection sheets lay forgotten on the table in front of the fire.

...

What to choose, what to choose. Hermione paced frantically before the fire in the Gryffindor common room reading, yet again, through the list of possible classes. It was 11:00p.m. and she had yet to chose even one course!

She had already placed the fifth and sixth year lists on the coffee table and out of view. She did not plan on taking any courses other than seventh year. She wanted to have an edge in the wizarding world once she graduated, and by taking the highest year she could, she had two options, either to graduate at the end of the year, providing she passed each of her courses, or to remain at Hogwarts to do any additional courses...or redo others if she...failed. Which was not a possibility! In addition, she was more than certain that Draco would be doing the same, and of course, she would not allow the ferret to surpass her in ANY classes. That was not an option either. She would rather fail than let him exceed her abilities in a class.

Each of the courses had a large number of branches to choose from. The choices made Hermione dizzy. She read over the list before her for the hundredth time.

_Ancient Runes:_

_Basic Runes A_

_Basic Runes B_

_Runic Layouts_

_Arithmancy:_

_Basic Arithmancy A_

_Basic Arithmancy B_

_Personal Numbers_

_Mastery of Arithmancy_

_Astronomy:_

_Introduction to Astronomy A_

_Introduction to Astronomy B_

_Astronomy II_

_Mythological Constellations_

_Stellar Astronomy_

_Care of Magical Creatures:_

_Basic Care of Magical Creatures A_

_Basic Care of Magical Creatures B_

_Basic Dragons II A_

_Basic Dragons II B_

_Basic Dragons II C_

_Creature Healing_

_Intermediate Care of Magical Creatures_

_Advanced Care of Magical Creatures_

_Charms:_

_Basic Charms and Spells A_

_Basic Charms and Spells B_

_Basic Charms and Spells C_

_Advanced Charms and Spells_

_Household Charms_

_Memory Charms_

_Wand Making Apprenticeship_

_Flying:_

_Flying I_

_Flying II_

_Quidditch Skills_

_History of Flying and Theory_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts:_

_Basic Defense Magic A_

_Basic Defense Magic B_

_Basic Defense Magic C_

_Dark Creatures_

_Elements of Dueling_

_Advanced Dark Creatures_

_Negative Magic_

_Divinations:_

_Divinations 101 A_

_Divinations 101 B_

_Fortunes in a Cup_

_Omens_

_Dream Interpretations_

_Advanced Divinations_

_Herbology:_

_Elementary Herbology A_

_Elementary Herbology B_

_Magical Plants and Herbs from around the world_

_Dangerous Plants and Herbs_

_History of Magic:_

_History of Magic 102_

_Hogwarts, A History_

_Ancient History_

_Wizarding Government_

_Muggle Studies:_

_Muggle World History_

_Muggle Cultures_

_Muggle Recreation_

_Potions:_

_Basic Potions and Drafts A_

_Basic Potions and Drafts B_

_Property of Potions_

_Medicinal Potions_

_Alchemy_

_Composition of Potions_

_Advanced Potion-Making_

_Transfiguration:_

_Intro to Transfiguration A_

_Intro to Transfiguration B_

_Animal and Cross-Species Transfiguration_

_Vanishing and Conjuring Spells_

_Auror/Law Enforcement_

_Healer_

_Ministry Internship_

_Professor Certification_

_Curse Breaker_

_Pro-Quidditch_

_Dragon Keeper_

After hours of consolidating, she retrieved a clean sheet of parchment and copied out her top choices:

_Runic Layouts_

_Mastery of Arithmancy_

_Mythological Constellations_

_Household Charms_

_Advanced Charms and Spells_

_Memory Charms_

_Negative Magic_

_Wizarding Government_

_Muggle Cultures_

_Advanced Potion Making_

_Curse Breaker_

_Auror/Law Enforcement_

_Vanishing and Conjuring Spells_

_Dangerous Plants and Herbs_

She read over her list and sighed crossing several courses off the list. She knew it not intelligent to take more than ten courses. She resided to take them the following year.

She tapped her wand lightly on each of the courses she intended to take and double checked as they shifted around on the schedule on another page. She was pleased when her courses were able to co-exist on a weekly schedule, though it did not allot much, if any free time.

_Runic Layouts_

_Mastery of Arithmancy_

_Mythological Constellations_

_Advanced Charms and Spells_

_Memory Charms_

_Negative Magic_

_Wizarding Government_

_Muggle Cultures_

_Advanced Potion Making_

_Curse Breaker_

_Auror/Law Enforcement_

Hermione knew that Hagrid would not be happy that she was dropping his course for another, but all the same, she was certain he would not wish her to abandon this opportunity. Though she wished to take the remainder of the seventh year courses, though notably, not as important, she knew that a schedule with over eleven classes was an impossibility for her. She had learned that lesson in third year.

Hermione nodded, pleased with her selection. Looking down at her watch, she was surprised to see that it was past midnight. She had certainly become distracted when choosing her courses. She collected her paper work that she was to return to Dumbledore the following morning.

She mounted the stairs leading to her dormitory and placed her pile neatly on her bedside table before crawling into bed.

...

Draco raked his hand through his hair as he walked, the pile of papers that Dumbledore had given to him the previous night in one hand, his wand in the other. He skipped breakfast, knowing that he was late and needed to return them to his headmaster before the school day started. After being distracted by Pansy, he had been too exhausted to read through his list of courses. It wasn't even that he was up to shagging Pansy last night. He did it more so in hopes that she would keep her mouth shut about having to _possibly_ share more classes with Granger than required. He didn't need to hear the other Slytherins comments.

Draco nearly hit himself in the head and started to laugh. Odds that the mudblood would choose the same courses as himself were less likely than in their current year schedule! They both had fourth year, fifth year, sixth year and seventh year courses to choose from! That was four times less of a chance that they would run into one another in one of the classes! But then again, if Granger was anything like he knew her to be, she wouldn't waste her time in any other courses but those in the seventh year.

Draco quickly approached Dumbledore's office, buried behind the paper. He would have to choose quickly. He hid the fourth, fifth and sixth year course selection papers behind the seventh year. He wouldn't need them anyway.

He quickly tapped the courses that he wished to take, hoping none of them would conflict with one another.

The tip of his wood wand came into contact with all seventh year courses that seemed to interest him...or had to word 'Advanced' placed before the course name.

_Runic Layouts_

_Mastery of Arithmancy_

_Stellar Astronomy_

_Advanced Charms and Spells_

_Memory Charms_

_Negative Magic_

_Dragon Keeper_

_Pro-Quidditch_

_Advanced Potion Making_

_Auror/Law Enforcement_

He considered the Ministry Internship. That surely would involve a great deal of contact with his father. He wasn't certain that is what he wanted. He had one more year before he had to be in complete compliance with the Dark Lord. He did not want any additional lectures about loyalty from his father. It was for this reason that he skipped over that course code.

He pushed thoughts of his father from his mind muttering the password to the Gargoyle and the staircase appeared. Skipping two stairs at a time, Draco climbed with great speed, putting himself outside his headmaster's office.

He heard soft voices behind the door, so he knocked lightly. They stopped. "Come in!"

Draco pushed open the door and was not surprised to see Hermione standing on the other side of Dumbledore's desk.

"I will be but a moment Mr. Malfoy, I am just finishing looking over Miss Granger's schedule."

He resumed reading over the parchment through his half moon spectacles. No more than thirty seconds later, he looked up and smiled at the girl. "Now, be sure to get the signature of each of your new teachers. Please return it to me at the end of the week. I wish you luck with your year Miss Granger."

The bushy haired girl nodded and reached for the piece of parchment in her headmasters outstretched hand. She then picked up a pile of textbooks for her new classes stacked precariously atop the desk. The girl clearly struggled under their weight as she made her way to the door. He was surprised that he did not notice such a large pile upon his entrance. Why didn't the stupid girl just use the levitating charm she learned in first year! Dumbledore light eyes turned to Draco's.

"Might I see your schedule Mr. Malfoy?" the old man smiled lightly. Draco moved slightly, stepping out of the doorway to allow Granger to pass. He handed over his copy of the schedule.

He watched the lines on Dumbledore's face as he read over his selection of courses. A smile pulled at the corner of the wizard's lips.

"I trust that you checked over your courses throughly on the course timetable?" he asked. "And that you are happy with the results?"

Draco did not want to admit to not having double checked his courses like he was sure that Miss Goody-Two-Shoes would have done. He nodded.

His Professor's eyes sparkled as he handed back the parchment. "A signature of each of your new teachers is required on this form. Please return it to me at the end of the week. I wish you luck with your studies."

Draco took back the parchment and continued to stare at the man before him. Why did he seem so pleased. It was just a schedule. Why did it feel as though Dumbledore knew something he did not?

Before he could say anything, a pile of books suddenly appeared where Grangers had been minutes before. Draco flicked his wand, easily lifting the stack into the air.

Dumbledore turned from him and began to walk to a door located at the rear of the office. "I must be getting back to work."

What is that damn smile for? Draco didn't fail to miss the light smile still held on his lips.

"I trust that you can find your first class." With that, he closed the door lightly behind him, leaving Draco alone in the office.

...

First class seemed to go well for Hermione. Wizarding Government was very similar to Muggle Government classes she had taken when she was younger. It had the same basic principles. For this reason, she felt that following the course, though at a higher level, wouldn't prove to be too difficult.

Hermione packed up her textbooks and left the room in search of her next class. She double checked her schedule, though she already knew it was to Flitwicks classroom next for Memory Charms.

Ten minutes later the Gryffindor sat primly at the seat closest to the front of the room. She was excited to say the least. Her last class was great. But that was mostly lecture. It was in this class that she would begin her test of magical skill. Using her wand. A voice beside her broke her from her thoughts.

"Zis is my seat," said a rude voice from above her. Looking up at the figure who stood above her, she felt small. The boy's uniform informed her that he was from Durmstrang. She recalled Dumbledore informing her that morning that her selection in seventh year courses would involve interacting not only with Hogwarts students, but those from Beaubatons and Durmstrang as well.

The boy had a hard, slightly tanned face. His eyes were so dark that they appeared black. In addition, he bad black wavy hair that barely brushed his broad shoulders.

Hermione continued to gawk at him, slightly frightened. The boy lifted an eyebrow impatiently. Clearly he expected her to move. Why should she?

"This is the first day! You could not have possibly claimed a seat," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows. By now, the class was beginning to fill up with other students taking the course.

"Vell actually, zis iz day two."

Hermione wanted to slap herself. Of course. Though it was first day for her, it was second day for everyone else! That was probably the reason why the usual rules and regulations that the teachers would go through at the beginning of every year were not recited in her last class! She would miss all of the requirements! This worried her. Would the teachers explain all of them to her after? They were the same every year...but she did not want to take the chance of missing them.

"I-Oh, uhm sorry," she replied awkwardly. She stood, allowing him to take a seat. "Erm. Do you know where any vacant seats are?"

The boy shrugged without looking at her. What an arse. She huffed and turned on her heel to notice a tall blonde entering the class. Malfoy! Of course he would have to take this class! The boy noticed her stare and rolled his eyes at her. Because of the Slytherin's height, she did not notice Professor Flitwick waddling behind.

"Professor Flitwick! Dumbledore requested that I have you sign this form. I swiched my sched-"

"Ahh yes, yes, of course Miss Granger! Albus informed me yesterday that I should be expecting you in my class!" He walked up to his desk at the front of the room, Hermione following closely behind. How did Professor Dumbledore know she would be attending this course before she even knew herself that she would?

She handed him the form, which he signed with a flourish of a quill that could only be admired.

A paper appeared beside her, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. Malfoy stood beside her extending his hand holding the form to Flitwick.

"And Mr. Malfoy of course." Once again the short man produced a beautiful signature, identical to the first.

The two turned in search of a seat when the professor held them back.

"No, you two. The class seating assignment has already been issued. I have had an extra desk placed at the back of the room for the pair of you." Flitwick seemed to be pleased with himself.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione did not fail to note the look of horror spreading across Malfoy's face. She was certain that she must have a similar look on her face as their professor merely said "I think that this is the best idea as the two of you are in the same year after all!"

"But Profess-"

"No buts Miss Granger. I must commence the lesson!" He shoed the two fourth years away from his desk.

This is unbelievable! It is bad enough having to share a class with him without being forced to sit beside him! she thought as she took a seat. Malfoy sat stiffly beside her.

"Now, firstly as a quick recap of yesterdays lesson," Flitwick began.

Hermione reached into her bag frantically to retreive a quill and a long roll of parchment to scribble the words her professor was about to say. She ignored the audible scoff that Malfoy emitted beside her.

"We discussed various memory charms, their uses, implications, and many of the negative repercussions involving excessive use. Memory charms can be used in many situations to either erase, resurface, alter an individuals memories as well as be able to view another's memories in the form of Occlumency as well as pensive viewing. We will be learning each element in great deal throughout the duration of this course."

"The syllabus that you received yesterday will go through the order of which we will be attacking each of these components-"

"I have not yet received a syllabus!" Hermione called to her professor from the back of the room, her arm raised. The entire population of the class turned their heads to look back at her. She lowered her hand and she felt her cheeks become hot.

"Ah, yes Miss Granger!" He stepped down from the pile of thick volumes that he was standing on and tapped his wand on the copy of the syllabus sitting out on a students desk. He waved his wand again and two copies were produced. He sent them sailing to the back of the room into her outstretched hands.

She handed the other to Malfoy, who snatched it quickly. The paper slid across the side of her hand creating a cut, which she failed to notice. It was not until Malfoy made a sound of disgust that she noticed.

He reached over her arm to trade papers with her, as his now had a stain of blood running along the edge of the page. "I don't need your muddy filth ruining my note!"

Hermione examined her hand, repairing it easily without a word. She could not believe that she did not notice. Though it was a small cut, it was great enough that she should have noticed. She supposed that it was because of the trauma her body had been through during the summer that she did not feel the pain of such an insignificant sting. Her body was in survival mode.

The sight of her blood reminded her of her blood replenishing potion in the side pocket of her bag. It would have looked suspicious for her to carry the potion around in a hip flask as Mad-Eye Moody's impostor had, so she had instead disguised the liquid in a maroon and gold colored water bottle.

She pulled it out, taking a great swig. Though she drank the potion several times a day, she had not yet become accustomed to the foul taste that envied her senses the moment the viscous liquid touched her tongue. Thankfully the potion was odorless and she did not have trouble drinking it in front of the other students. She just had to be sure that the face that she made as her gag reflexes kicked in was not seen.

"Now! Moving onto today's lesson," he huffed as he clambered to the top of the stack of books. "We will not be experimenting with removing memories as this is much to dangerous and we run the risk of loosing them completely if the spell is done incorrectly. Now with your partner beside you, I would like for you to practice the rememorari charm."

After noticing a few hesitant glances from the students, he then added "This is a harmless spell. Only used to resurface memories and allow the individual who experienced the memory to recollect the exact nature, smell, taste, feeling etc, of that moment in time. The spell plays upon powerful memories."

Hermione wasn't reassured. Malfoy was her partner! If he had it his way, which he soon would as she would be at his wand tip within minutes, he would make her forget becoming a wizard...or put the false idea into her brain that she was not as good as him because of her blood status.

"Now before you begin your practice, I wish you to read the passage on page 17 of your textbook. Then you have the rest of this period to experiment with the charm. If you complete early, you may begin to work on the essay on this charm that will be due two classes from now. It will be two feet of parchment. Begin!"

She pulled her textbook from her bag and smiled as the spine cracked lightly. She loved opening new books! Beside her, Malfoy did the same.

She read through the passage twice before the students around her picked up their wands to begin.

She turned reluctantly to face the blonde haired Slytherin seated beside her. She was left to face his profile, noting his jaw clench. She could tell that he had completed the reading and was just sitting there pretending to read to avoid interacting with her.

"Listen Malfoy-"

"Look mudblood, lets just get this over with! I don't want to spend more time with you than necessary. Frankly I shouldn't even be required to breath the same air as you! Let's just start!"

She ignored the insult, knowing that she needed his co-operation if she wanted to pass the class. She nodded.

"What do you think you are doing!" he hissed as she lifted her wand to point it at him.

"Well I am going to put the charm on you-"

"You will do no such thing!" He looked disgusted.

"Well how else are we supposed to get this done?" She was annoyed now! Why did she have to be paired with this git! She was going to fail this class because he wasn't co-operating with her!

"You are going first!" Malfoy said, lifting his own wand.

"Fat chance!" Hermione scoffed! By that time Flitwick was walking around to each of the desks, critiquing each of the students until he finally reached the Gryffindor and the Slytherin.

"Is there a problem?" he asked the pair. Hermione glared at Malfoy. He merely raised his eyebrows.

"Well actually professor, she is not co-operating with me. I am trying to place the memory charm on her, and she will not allow it. I am worried that if I do not have practice that I will fail out of this course!"

Hermione's jaw fell open. How could he be such a lying arse!

"Miss Granger, allow Mr. Malfoy to place the charm on you. Co-operation will be the only way to pass this course."

"Yes professor," she said horsely, placing her wand on the table and turned on her stool to face her enemy. Satisfied, the Charms professor moved on to the next pair.

Malfoy grinned at her. "Are you ready to co-operate Granger?" His tone seemed innocent enough, but Hermione could easily sense the malicious undertone to his words.

She nodded, not arguing. She did not want to give him the satisfaction.

He raised his want level with her face. She closed her eyes. Waiting. Waiting for her to open her eyes and discover Malfoy had turned her hair green, had given her an extra eye, had given her scales.

But what happened next, she could not prepare herself for.

A hand lightly brushed her neck. She cringed away from Malfoy. She was going to kill him! How dare he touch her! Especially when her eyes were closed!

Suddenly the hand moved down the column to her shoulder and down her arm. She pressed her eyes tighter together, recognizing that the touch did not belong to Malfoy. She had felt these hands before. Had felt them run over her skin too many times.

The hand caressed her arm before moving down her front to caress her breast. The hand cupped it through her bra and squeezed roughly. This was too much!

Opening her eyes angrily, she looked into another pair. A pair of familiar hazel ones. Derrick. He was sitting on the desk in the classroom, completely at ease. Touching her. In front of everyone!

She turned her gaze away from her cousin to search for Flitwick. He was located two desks head, adjusting the grip that a student had on their wand. That gave her cousin greater assess to her neck, which he took.

Roughly, he pressed his face to her neck and began to bite down.

"I told you," he whispered huskily. "I told you that you would not be able-would not be able to get rid of me that easily!"

Hermione whimpered. He pulled her from the stool by reaching around her waist to cup her bottom. She tried to push against his chest, but his strength easily overpowered her. He pushed her against the wall behind them.

Over his shoulder, she could see Malfoy looking at her curiously. Why wouldn't he do something! Anything! The other students in the room seemed to be occupied with recording notes or practicing the charm. How could they be with this man feeling her up!

"Malfoy!" she cried. He was the only person paying her any heed and he was just sitting there, watching the show! Anger bubbled in her chest. She knew he was a sadistic little prat, but she didn't think that he would remain passive as the man's hands roamed her body. It was completely embarrassing. But the desire to get away greatly over powered that feeling of shame.

A hand snaked down, beginning to unbutton the top of her shirt.

"He doesn't care you know. He is laughing right now."

She was in tears now.

"MALFOY! BLOODY DO SOMETHING!" she screamed. He did nothing, a look of confusion on his face. The students turned to look at her, as did Professor Flitwick. They continued to watch as his one had continued to work on her buttons, while the other slithered down to her thigh. His hand slowly, ever slowly began to slip under her skirt. She felt his fingers brush against her underwear.

She could hear nothing but the sound of his ragged breaths in her ear or her whimpers as she pleaded with someone, anyone to help her.

"Miss Granger?"Flitwick walked up to them and looked at Hermione curiously.

"Professor! Help me!" She choked out. "Please just help me!" He continued to ignore Derricks presence completely. Derrick smirked and continued to explore her body.

He waved his wand. "Finite Incantatem !" Derrick disappeared, but not before whispering "See you soon love."

The professor turned to face Malfoy. "Did you follow the directions in the textbook?" he asked seriously.

"Yes professor," he replied honestly. Flitwick turned to hold out an arm to Hermione, which she gladly took to help her to her stool.

"I would like you to escort Miss Granger to the hospital wing."

* * *

**Oh Draco. What have you done? *shakes head***

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	14. Chapter 14: Is the Cat out of the BAG?

**Thanks tosamantaadfgh, FigrSk8r13, Akatsuki'sBloodyNekoNinja, StarKiss666, misfitgirl92, brenna963, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, BlackBird497, IGOTEAMEDWARD, vanessa montez and smileylol for the lovely reviews! I have been in such a great mood because I wasn't expecting so many :D I am so excited people are reading this xx**

**BlackBird497 - As you reviewed in the first chapter, I assume that you have already figured out it is basically a mix between years...like I have elements from some years like the Tri-Wizard tournament to bring in other possible events. And I am glad you are liking it so far :) Hopefully future chapters will meet your expectations! Thanks for the review!**

* * *

"But Professor, can someone else-"

"NO!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "No! Someone else will not take Miss Granger to the hospital wing! Do as I say Mr. Malfoy before I take away house points!"

Though his face didn't show it, Draco was taken aback. Through out his years of school, he had never seen his professor act so angry. Perhaps he was just frightened at the girl's behavior, which was pretty peculiar, even for Granger. On the contrary, his teacher looked rather intrigued by her, both when he had taken the charm off of her and now, as he watched her in wonder as she sat on the stool, shivering slightly.

What had happened? Normally at the sight of such a spell gone wrong, it would never occur to him to think that it was his fault or that of his wand. He was a Malfoy with centuries of pure blood linage behind him. There was not a possibility that he could have messed up the spell. It was true that he had not yet attempted a memory charm such as the rememorari, but linage aside, he had done the required reading. It was a simple enchantment with little probability of error. In addition, he had done just as the text asked. A simple swish and flick, with the correct pronunciation of the latin word for remember.

It had to be the girl's brain. She was liable to snap at some point. It just happened to be during the time that he had placed the charm on her. He couldn't be blamed for this. He had done nothing wrong! As much as he would have liked to mess up the girl in the head, he didn't actually do it!

Draco sighed, standing reluctantly. He walked to the girl now seated on the stool beside him. He didn't want to touch her, let alone help her. It was her brain malfunction, not his! Why couldn't some other student haul her up to the hospital wing! One that would actually make sure she got there, he thought evilly. He wished he could fill her in on such a chide, but as the professor seemed to be still hovering over his prized pupil, he kept his mouth firmly shut.

The girl was just being dramatic. The memory charm had probably just brought up an unpleasant memory that she probably did not expect or desire to see. He recalled from his reading that the wizard undergoing the charm could not choose their memory, only be subject to viewing it. That was it. A bad memory. Crying over a bad memory like the mudblood was right now was even worse than crying because of a nightmare. Crying only showed weakness, so he watched her rub her eyes without remorse.

He scoffed internally. A bad memory for Granger would probably something stupid like...accidentally dropping a textbook or folding a page by mistake.

The girl continued to sob quietly on the stool by the time he made it to her side. She made no effort to stand so he grabbed the girl's upper arm and hauled her from the seat. The act was innocent enough that Professor Flitwick standing closely beside did not object, but rough enough that the Gryffindor winced at the contact.

He pulled her toward the door while the rest of the class whispered quietly behind them.

They began their walk to the infirmary in silence. As soon as the two were out of view from the classroom, Granger said softly, "I believe I can make it from here." She kept her eyes averted, looking anywhere but into his own. Her voice sounded weak, but he saw through her plan.

"Yeah, okay, so you can go let Professor Flitwick know that I am being an ass? No thanks Granger!" He retorted, pushing her from behind to keep up the pace. She didn't say anything back, and allowed herself to be pushed toward their destination.

He would have to disinfect his hands. AND his eyes when he returned to the dormitory, and possibly burn his robes. The filth. He shuddered. His father would be even more disgusted with this excuse for a school and its professors than he already was. A Malfoy helping a mudblood. Such a day should be non-existent.

The girl slowed her pace, angering him slightly. This was his time that she was wasting! He glared at her her out of the corner of his eye, however she failed to notice this. He watched as her trembling hands came up to button up the front of her shirt. He had not previously been aware, but several of the top buttons of her white dress shirt had come undone, though he could not recall her having undone them during any point in the class.

Draco also did not fail to notice a string of red marks on her neck that suddenly began to appear. Bruising. Again with those love bites. He cleared his throat and altered his tone so that it sounded more amused than spiteful.

"Really Granger, I think you have to cool with with Weasley! Pretty soon you are going to resemble one giant bruise," he said, motioning to the love bites.

In all honesty, he didn't really believe that the Weasley had his way with her recently. Those marks were fresh. Like they had been caused within the last half hour to hour or so. The red marks on her pale neck were just beginning to take on a purplish tinge that only began to arise a certain time after they had been created.

He was certain that she had not had them coming into the class. And he was more than certain the fire-face did not waulse in during class and begin to suck on her neck, no he was certain of that.

The girl also did not excuse herself to go the the lavatories so there was no point in arguing that she had been intercepted. Not that the girl was that naughty anyway. Pansy and himself had their fair share of fun in the corridors during class, occasionally almost getting caught. But those days had long past.

Draco looked down at the girl to see what affect his comment made on her shattered demeanor.

She returned his gaze cooly and with more venom in her voice than he had ever heard, she replied, "Don't you dare talk about something you know nothing about. Leave me alone." She said the last few words in a horse whisper.

"Will you stop being so god damn dramatic Granger!" he replied lazily, rolling his eyes. "So you remembered something bad in your life? Who gives a shit! A lot more bad things will happen in the future so what is the bloody point of crying over the past!" he finished angrily.

"Just go," she said quietly. He said nothing and did not leave. It was not until they finally turned the last corner leading to the corridor off which the hospital wing was located that he turned on his heel and headed back to class. The class would soon be let out, as lunch would be served in the Great Hall and did not want to be locked out of the class without his belongings because the stupid mudblood was incapable of walking ten steps into the room.

He ended up returning to class with plenty of time to spare. It would be another fifteen minutes before class was released to lunch. At least Granger wasn't there to pollute the air! he thought positively. He entered the class quietly, noting the stagnant atmosphere of the classroom.

The eyes of the students seemed to be trained on their professor, deep in discussion.

"It is good that you returned, we were just discussing the happening to Miss Granger!" Professor Flitwick called from the front of the class. The students watched as he made his way to his seat before turning back to their teacher. He made a face at a Durmstrang student seated near the front of the room who continued to look at him long after the other students had resumed their staring game with Flitwick.

So now they were having a discussion about Granger. He sighed. He had escaped her physical form only to be annoyed with word of her! Could he not escape from the girl! At least when she was there he could ignore her.

"Now the rememorari, as I was stating just before Mr. Malfoy came in, can in very rare occurrences affect different individuals in different ways."

Draco put his forehead against the desk and groaned.

"I myself have actually been studying the effects of such different occurrences and trying to put together an informative text and I must say that I have not seen a student in all of my years of teaching, respond in such a way to such a simple memory charm. Oh, and Mr. Malfoy, I must add that this does in now way reflect an inability in terms of your magical adeptness. No need to feel down on yourself." Evidently the professor had mistaken Draco's position of one of guilt. He didn't reply and allowed the discussion to continue with his eyes closed. Tuning this class out would be more difficult than he had planned.

A girl seated three desks in front of his lifted her hand.

"Yes, Miss?-"

"Carter," she replied.

Draco began to bordly examine the tiles on the ceiling barely paying heed to the girl's words.

"I found the entire event rather curious," she began, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "The way that the girl reacted to the spell I mean. The text states that an individual placed under the rememorari will be flooded with a memory, unchosen by the viewer. The individual will also remain in a body bind whilst experiencing this vidid memory as not to cause physical harm to themselves or anyone around them while in the state of recollection. I am inquisitive, as to why she was able to move. And speak. It is out of character for someone, anyone to do such things."

Her voice did not exhibit the characteristic accent that those residing from the Beauxbatons School of Magic.

Several of the students around her frowned in agreement, recalling the Gryffindor girl's peculiar behavior. When under the rememorari, it was common that the face of the individual would remain placid while their vivid memory was viewed behind closed lids.

"Very good Miss Carter, wonderful observation. There have been extremely rare occurrences similar to Miss Grangers, some of which have been documented in past texts, but there has not yet been an explanation. It is my hypothesis that states that an individual if overpowered by such a vivid memory great or terrible will be able to fight past this barrier of movement and ridged train of memory placed upon them. Though Miss Granger is not here to confirm this, it is my theory that she experienced a combination of a memory and the present moment! Truly remarkable! She was able to converse with students around her as well as recognize the presence of someone or something, a place or event which has happened to her, or is closely linked with her past!" Flitwick was clearly overexcited by this point, nearly falling off of his stack of books.

"What kind of memories would cause such a recollection; one that would allow for the breach of such memories that would have the ability to combine with the present moment?" The girl asked, leaning forward to catch the professor's every word.

"Again, Miss Carter, this is purely a theory, but an exceedingly strong memory, strong enough to block out all sense of reason; to take over the mind of the person under the charm. Miss Granger is of a strong mind. For such a memory to over ride her sense of reason is truly remarkable! I could potentially use this event to further my research on such a subject!" he squeaked! "Perhaps, with the acquisition of Miss Granger, we might further examine this phenomenon in greater detail by again, placing her under the charm!"

The class remained quiet as their Charms teacher talked for the remainder of the class about scientific discovery from such an opportunity.

The bell finally rang, bringing Draco from his daze. He stood and begin to shove books at random into his bag.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, as you are walking by the hospital wing, would you be so kind as to drop off Miss Granger's books?"

Walking by the hospital wing? That was one floor up! And he was heading towards the dungeons where his own homeroom was located. This day could not get much worse!

Grudgingly he took the books and shoved them into her bag before flinging his own bag over his shoulder and picking up Granger's before heading in the direction of the infirmary.

He held the bag out from his body as far as he could. He did not want the filth to touch any more of him than need be. It would have been much simpler for him to charm the bag to float along with him, but with the current of students coming from the other direction, it would literally be impossible to prevent them from also being swept away.

The bag was heavier than he had originally thought it would be. Her books couldn't possibly be that heavy! At most she could have two textbooks for their first two subjects before lunch and a couple of quills and ink for good measure. What else could the girl possibly be carrying around with her?

Curiosity got the better of him. He started up the stairs as the last of the students came down. He looked over his shoulder to be sure he would not be caught snooping in the Gryffindor's bag.

He pulled on the clip securing the satchel and flipped it open. The bag was so well worn that he thought that it would simply fall apart in his hands, but surprisingly it held its own. Granger had carried the same book bag around since she first entered the castle, a fact that he often teased her about.

He peered inside and was shocked by what he saw. Textbooks. Textbooks galore. Plus additional reading materials evidently from the library. The girl literally was carrying a library around with her. He recognized several of the texts, as he had also acquired similar books from Dumbledore. Why on earth was she carrying her Arithmancy text with her! They did not have that class until the next day! Oh no. Another class he shared with Granger.

He swore at this, along with the fact that he nearly tripped on the stone steps while rooting through her bag. Looking in one of the front flaps he pushed a pile of strange material out of the way. Gauze? Though it was an uncommon practice in the wizarding world, he knew it was used to wrap injuries. Evidently Granger was taking some introductory medical course. But it confused him why she would be carrying around such a large roll with her to class, especially when she would learn to conger some around a body at the correct tension if the need arose.

Draco knew this, as he on several occasions had been in predicaments when, after he had displeased his father, he had to use the spell on himself.

Or perhaps Granger carried it around in case The-Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die or the Weasel got a scrape. Draco laughed at the thought.

He pushed the remainder of the roll that was beginning to unravel to one side of the pocket and slid out her timetable. Looking down the columns, he noted that she was not taking a medical course. His second hypothesis was correct! He continued to look down at the list and recognized some of the classes...a lot of the classes...most of the classes...that he had tapped on his way to Dumbledore's office. Well he supposed he half expected it. But it still bothered him a great deal. He had not checked the order of his classes on his timetable yet, but he was certain that if they had chosen the same course, they would be in the same classes.

After lunch they would share-he skimmed the list under tuesday-Double DADA-Negative Magic, what ever that was. He had only chosen it because it was in the most advanced section in the DADA section of their course choices. The following morning they would most-likely share Runic Layouts and Auror/Law Enforcement. The longer he looked at the schedule, the more displeased he became until he could take it no longer and unceremoniously crammed the schedule back into her bag.

As he did, his fingers bumped into the cool metal of the opaque maroon bottle from which she had been drinking their previous class. He pulled it out to examine it.

He had seen many versions of such an item, but this seemed to be a muggle replica of the self filling bottles he was accustomed to.

He shook it and heard the slosh of a heavy viscous liquid inside. It was clear from the sound within that it was not full, but the weight of the liquid in the container was surely strange.

He struggled for a few moments attempting to open the lid. Upon learning that you had to twist the top, he opened it and peered inside to view the dark liquid inside. He brought the bottle to his nose. There was an odor so faint, that it could easily be mistaken for odorless. The smell was familiar but he could not place it. So familiar.

Draco was nearing the top of the flight and went to replace the cap of the bottle. The bag which he was carrying in front of his legs along with the difficulty of closing the container acted as a recipy for desaster. Unable to see the stone steps, his toe caught on the edge of the top step and before he could react, he found himself sprawled out on the landing. The container flew from his hand and clattered to the floor of the corridor spilling its thick auburn content over the surface of the stone.

Swearing, he rose and dusted off his robes. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the spilt liquid to clear it up. Draco laughed internally. Maybe Granger was a vampire! That would explain her love for the red liquid! He commended her choice in blood as a beverage - It just might dilute her own filth that she called blood. Well actually, the more he looked at it the more it looked like...no...It was most definitely one of those new pomegranate flavoured beverages they offered at the Three Broomsticks.

He quickly cleared up the mess and replaced the empty bottle into the correct pouch of her bag. He didn't think to replace the content. It wasn't that great of a flavour anyway. Granger could always go back and get some more of it herself.

When he finally arrived, he noted all the beds vacant but for one in the far corner with the faded blue curtains closed around it. It had to be Granger. He began to stride toward the back of the room when a woman stepped out from behind the curtains.

"What can I do for you today Mr. Malfoy? Quidditch has not started, so I am assuming that an injury would not bring you here today!" she smiled at him warmly. He instantly wiped the look of disgust from his features at the sight of the woman. He had probably seen her more than his own mother in the past, what with all of the time he had spent recovering in the wing.

"I am here to drop off the belongings of Granger's." He resisted the urge to throw them from his arms onto a vacant bed and run to scrub his hands in the sink on the other side of the room. The withered woman before him furrowed her eyebrows.

"I have not had any new admissions to the hospital wing since," she looked down at the clipboard in one hand, "Since seven-thirty last night."

Draco looked up and made of the occupied bed. "But she-"

"No, that is Collin Creevey," she replied touching his shoulder to stop him from walking over and entering. "The poor boy tripped down the stairs last night," she said in a low tone.

It was now Draco's turn to be confused. "I walked her up not twenty minutes ago!"

"I did not see Miss Granger or yourself Mr. Malfoy," she replied lightly touching his forehead. "Perhaps you should sit down-"

"No I am fine. I didn't walk her ALL the way here. I left her once I got to this corridor," he pointed out into the hall.

"Well, I am sorry to say that I have yet to see her this year." She shook her head.

Draco left the hospital wing confused. AND irritated. He was not a bloody house elf! Nor should he be treated like one? Where the hell was Granger! He had been in this very spot when-

"Oi! What are you doing with Hermione's bag!" Draco turned to face the red head Weasley. Leave it to those two to pop up when he was looking for Granger, he thought moodily. But he supposed it only worked to his benefit this time.

"Take it then!" He tossed the bag stuffed with textbooks to the unsuspecting ginger. Draco laughed louder than he normally would, simply to annoy the Gryffindors, when the bag nearly knocked the boy over from the weight.

The scar head beside him looked suspiciously from the bag back to the blonde.

"What did you do to it Malfoy?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. Clearly Potter thought he was playing some sick joke on himself and the rodent.

"Nothing," he replied shrugging. He really had not done a thing. Perhaps that is what made it so amusing! He really should do nothing more often! Now the two leeches would act like little girls trying to figure out what he didn't do to the bag!

He did not look convinced.

"Where is Hermione!"

"Why would you think that I have to do with you two losing your pet?" He spat, irritated now.

"Well why did you have her bag then if you didn't know!" Ron tried.

"I didn't say I didn't know you ninny! I just asked why you thought I knew!" He threw back with a smirk, twisting his previous words. They really did make it too easy for him. It was getting rather tiresome. Like playing with a toddler. So easily fooled into playing your game.

"If we figure out that you had something to do with her disappearance, your dead!" Harry seethed. The two disappeared down the flight of stairs from which they came, flinging Granger's bag over their shoulder.

Draco refrained from replying with a "well you wouldn't figure it out anyway even if I did have something to do with her absence!"

Draco turned on his heel and began to walk down to the Great Hall. The two idiots were being, well idiots, thinking that Granger had deserted them. And Granger was also being an idiot. It was just a minor recollection, if that was what she was on about. IDIOTS! All of them! He was more than certain the girl would show up for lunch to meet up with her little friends.

She did not show up for lunch. Potter and Weasley also took to staring him down, evidently not having found their golden girl. He decided to further play the boys and smirk at them, only making them angrier.

The Weasel's face turned a notable shade of puce while Potter beside him, appeared absolutely livid.

Draco sighed. He enjoyed completely the feelings that he got for annoying the two Gryffindor especially when it involved him not saying a word. Unfortunately, he knew, it wouldn't last for long. He was more than certain that the avid bookworm would show up after lunch. She would not miss a class for anything even if she lost an arm and a leg, he could visualize the Gryffindor hopping to class. But god forbid she lost an arm. She would end up calling out the answers in class, her other hand scratching away with a quill rather than raising her hand. Heaven forbid he hear her voice for longer than necessary. It is a wonder the girl hasn't lost her voice! Though, it would only benefit himself if she did.

...

After Lunch, Draco entered the DADA class a few minutes before the bell, expecting to see the bushy haired excuse for a girl seated primly at the center desk at the front of the room. She however, remained absent.

He took one of the two available seats at the back of the class and groaned. Evidently Granger was behind. How unlike her. Now he would be forced to sit next to her as seat next to him was the only vacant seat in the room besides their professor's. Perhaps he could persuade the professor to change the seating plan. Or convince another student to switch seats with him.

"Is Miss Granger present?" The professor asked, looking up from his attendance sheet.

A few of the students that he recognized from their Charms class looked at each other, but said nothing. Draco also kept silent.

After several seconds, the professor smirked slightly. "Alright let's get started. First off, I am Professor Burnwick," he turned to scrawl his name on the backboard behind him, "and welcome to your first Negative Magic class of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

...

"Pass the salad would you Draco?" Pansy asked sweetly from beside him. Absentmindedly he reached over and placed the bowl in front of her dish. Normally he would have glared at her and told her to get it herself. But he was too distracted to even think of his actions.

Granger still had not shown up for lunch, DADA or dinner. He didn't really care about the girl. It just puzzled him that the girl was being so dramatic about her little episode. Sure it was embarrassing, but being a mudblood was even more so. Why draw attention to your weaknesses. His father had taught him to disguise his weaknesses. Not that he had any.

In addition, he found it strange that she went missing. Not even Potty and Weasley had seemed to found her, as they again glared at him menacingly from across the house tables.

He had walked her up to the corridor leading to the hospital wing. But she hadn't gone in. Where did she go after? He scoffed. He didn't care. He felt around in his pocket until he felt the familiar surface of the wood piece and began to flip it around between his fingers. He didn't care if the stupid girl was missing. She probably caught beneath an avalanche of textbooks in the library. Yeah, that was it. He hoped she'd suffocate.

But little did Draco know, she was up in Gryffindor common room hidden beneath her covers. Her tears had long dried, and the silencing charm she had placed around her closed bed-hangings hid her quivering form, masked her dry-sobs and gave the illusion of a peacefully sleeping Hermione.

...

She still felt them. Those hands. His breath on her neck. She still felt them traveling over her skin through her clothes. Still felt his hot fingers begin to slip under her uniform. Hermione screamed quietly and threw apart the bed-hangings and leaped out of the darkness.

She held her breath and looked around, hoping she had not awoken anyone. The girls in the fourposters still appeared to be sleeping, not having noticed her sudden outburst.

For the fortieth time that evening, she tiptoed across the rug and toward the lavatory in the girls section of Gryffindor tower.

She had decided to skip her visit to the kitchens that evening for her daily, or rather evening meal. There was no point if she was going to vomit it up as soon as she returned to her bed.

Holding her hair back, she leaned over the toilet and dry-heaved. The horrible feeling of her stomach attempting desperately to dispel its non-existent content only made her retch again. She sobbed quietly, the pain from her stomach's constant contractions pulling at her ribs.

Each time she closed her dark hangings around her, she was immediately suffocated by the occurrence in Charms. It chilled her to the bone, the memory of her cousin sitting in on their class, right there on the desk. It scared her and at the same time confused her. She thought that the rememorari charm only uncovered suppressed memories; evoked forgotten feelings. Not take suppressed feelings and mix them with the present moment!

At first she thought that Malfoy could see Him. His face seemed to be surprised enough. His eyes were trained on her as Derrick felt her through her clothes; as she was pushed to the back wall. But that got her thinking. It was more than clear that no one else could see him based on the classroom's lack of alarm. But hypothetically, what if he had seen him? Would he have actually done anything? He was cruel, but was he THAT CRUEL? Hermione avoided the question because she very much feared the answer.

She stood shakily, her muscles aching, and walked back toward her fourposter. She peered into the darkness of the hangings, frightened by what might lay inside. She pulled open the hangings to their full extent so that the light pooling in from the tall window on the other side of the room flowed onto her sheets and illuminated the demons within.

She crawled between the sheets and wrapped herself between them. The snores of Pavarti acting as her lullaby, letting her know that there was someone else in the room should Derrick decide to pay her another visit.

* * *

**Hmm. What do you guys think... :S ?**

_He also didn't miss the piece of material wrapped around her middrift. It confused him. Granger wasn't the type to be looking for attention from the male sector of the school. Inhansing the size of her breasts was a great way to do that, but it didn't fit._

**Oh, and just so you know, I am really really sorry, but don't expect an update for a little bit. I wont leave you hanging for too long, but I have a huuuge exam worth 76% of my mark coming up in a few weeks along with three essays, a Historical Investigation, a presentation (with a git of a partner fml), an IOP...omg...and more god HELP ME! But I promise that in the time I am not working on those that I will try to put together the next chapter!**

**xxo**


	15. Chapter 15: I am Stephanie

**Hey Readers! I think this is my longest chapter yet... I didn't intend for that to happen...I would have spit it up into more than one but seeing as the teaser I put at the bottom doesn't occur right at the beginning...*sigh* oh well. **

**OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH TO: LeahKeehl13, Vaneesa85, Hakus Princess, Brenna963, FigrSk8r13, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, IGOTEAMEDWARD, StarKiss666, greyc, EmmaJones15, EsemmeTresmme, and tfobmv18 FOR THE GREAT REVIEWS! (They even encouraged me to write when I should be studying for my exams! Shhh! Don't tell my mom!) XD**

**Oh by the way...I exagerated some of the effects of the reducto curse..yeah...It suited the story...Oh go on and read it and you'll see what I mean! Have fun!**

* * *

.H.

Hermione was the last to wake, leaving her alone in the dormitory. Never had she been the last girl out of bed. She lay in silence, completely at ease. The red walls of the room around her burned like flames, heating her from the inside out. Without anyone to bother her, the dormitory was truly a peaceful place.

Reluctant to break the blanket of serenity that had washed over her, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood to change into her uniform. She would have done just that-had she not tripped.

Landing with a thud, she turned to glare at the culprit. Her book bag lay innocently at the side of the bed. Sighing, she sat up and placed it on her bed so another mishap was less likely.

How did her bag end up there? She _always_ placed it on the hook at her bedside. Why now was it on the floor? She could not recall placing it there. That is when it hit her. She had left it in the Charms room. But then the next question was how did it end up in Gryffindor tower?

Hermione looked at the clock it was 8:39. She gasped. Never. Never had she allowed herself to sleep in to such an hour! The time could be better used reviewing the last class's note material or reading head..or reading in general. Oh well. At least it gave her an excuse to avoid the Great Hall though. She would need not worry about coming up with an excuse as she already had one. No need to lie. Yet.

She quickly pulled on her uniform and retrieved her book bag. She now had just over fifteen minutes to get to class a floor below. She bounded down the steps, raced through the common room and almost tripped over Harry and Ron as they entered through the portrait.

"Hey Hermione! We were so worried about you! Did you end up getting your bag?" Harry asked. "We gave it to Parvati to-"

"I'm sorry, I am really late for class, I have to go!" She replied quickly. Ron held out a croissant wrapped in a white napkin.

"I thought you might want to have it on your way to class," he smiled lightly, a rouge stain covering his face. Though she did not want it, she felt the only polite thing to do was to take it from his outstretched hand. It was a sweet thought.

"Thanks Ronald, I have to go. I will catch up with you two later!" She took the croissant and hopped through the portrait hole.

Within minutes, she was on the correct floor. She looked down at the croissant. She was glad that her friend had been thoughtful enough to bring it up to her, after last night, she just could not think of stomaching it.

Before she entered the Rune's classroom, she tossed the pastry into the bin.

.D.

She was absent at breakfast. He was angry at himself for even noticing such a minor detail. Normally he would not even have noticed if the whole Gryffindor table simply vanished into thin air. Well, actually he probably would, but only because of the air of euphoria and thunderous applause from the Slytherins around him.

He turned the corner leading to the corridor in which the class was located. He didn't understand it. Granger had barely even been a blip on his radar before yesterday, so why was he suddenly acting like some deranged idiot. He was glad she was gone! It only suited the entirety of the wizarding world. But where was she?

He was only a few steps down the hallway when he spotted her for the first time since the occurrence yesterday. He watched as she tossed a croissant wrapped in a white napkin into the bin. He couldn't have missed her going down to breakfast could he? He had just left so that appeared to be an impossibility. It wasn't like he was focused on the Gryffindor table the whole time...but who could miss that tangle of hair? Granger had probably gotten it from someone else. Probably Perfect Prefect Potty watching out for his pals. Evidently he didn't know her that well. She mustn't like croissants.

He followed her into the room and took his signature seat at the back of the class, as far from the girl as he possibly could.

The first two morning classes went by fairly well. Granger kept to herself, which suited him. For the most part, Draco turned out to be in a decent mood as he only had to share two classes out of the four today with the girl. After lunch he attended his Pro-Quidditch courses until dinner.

...

This good mood however quickly faded when he found himself looking once more at the Gryffindor house table. Damn him! Why was he looking over there again! He knew she was not going to go to dinner, so why was he compelled to keep his eyes in that direction, unconsciously looking for a slim girl with a puff of brown hair!

If that stupid girl would just go to her table like she was supposed to, he wouldn't be having this argument with himself! He ate in silence, ignoring the many attempts made by Pansy to include him in their conversation.

Towards the end of dinner, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat and placed his wand against his neck to amplify his voice.

"This is just a reminder to all of the prefects that there will be a meeting that will commence at the end of dinner. Thank you all and enjoy the rest of your meals." He removed the wand and took his place in the center of the long head table once more.

Draco quickly spooned the remainder of his meal into his mouth, not wanting to remain in the Great Hall a great deal longer that he had to. When Pansy noted his effort to move from the benches, she grabbed his elbow.

"Drakie, we don't have to go... We can do something else if you want..." She winked. He rolled his eyes and stood up, breaking the firm grip that she had on his arm. Pansy pouted indignantly. This year he found himself becoming much more irritable with Pansy. She hadn't been acting much different from their other years, rather he just felt so much more annoyed at her for some reason.

"Fine. Tell McGonnagal that I'm sick. I don't think she's seen me tonight."

He didn't care much for the meetings, but the authority made him content to endure them.

Draco made his way through the corridors, meeting few on the way. As he was about to turn the corner, he stopped upon hearing two irritatingly familiar voices. He resisted the urge to mouth them off.

"Hey Herms, where have you been?" Potter asked her. The girl shrugged.

"I have a full parchment of runes to translate for Friday. I wanted to get a good start incase I get a deal more homework tomorrow," she replied seamlessly.

A wave of panic went through his limbs. Homework? He couldn't afford to miss a homework check. He would not allow Granger to best him in the course! But he did not remember being assigned anything. He racked his brains in desperate attempt to recall if Professor Babbling had assigned anything at the end of class.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. No, he was certain that she had not. They had not even been required to crack open their textbooks yet.

So why would Miss Perfect lie to Pothead anyway? Weren't the Gryffindors supposed to be trustworthy of one another? Loyal and all of that bullshit?

"Oh, that sucks that you have work so early in the semester." Draco didn't hear a reply so he imagined her nodding.

"And also grabbed you two cornish pasties in case you got hungry. I know they're your favourite."

"You didn't have to Harry, really, I can take care of myself-"

"Nonsense. Now, shall we get going? McGonagal has a real temper when prefects are late for their weekly meetings and I really don't fancy becoming a meal for the Giant Squid!"

Draco heard their footsteps and the door open and close as they entered their meeting room. He stepped out from behind the wall, lingering for several seconds so it would not be clear to the pair that he had been eavesdropping.

He entered, accidentally bumping into McGonagal. "My apologies Mr. Malfoy. Jenna and Jeremy will be heading the meeting today, I will not be present. So be good." She looked at him seriously before leaving the room, robes billowing behind her.

Draco watched her go and turned back into the room. He walked over to the circle of desks filled with the prefects from each of the houses. He remembered the couple from the train, the Ravenclaws siblings and of course, Potter and Granger. Two seats were left vacant, evidently for the Slytherin prefects, but because Pansy was not with him it allowed for extra seat to be put between himself and Granger.

He took his seat and waited impatiently for the head boy and girl to give them their schedules.

"Now Jeremy and I have already formatted the time tables. We have tried to allot each of you equal amounts of patrol, and also did our best to integrate the pairings between houses so we can become a better unified group. Actually, that was Jeremy's idea. But anyway, I hope you will find no conflicts with the dates we have given you." Jenna said happily. Too happy for Draco's preference.

"And for you Quidditch players, seeing as we do not yet have the schedules for your practices, you may trade your designated patrol dates and inform us of the switch. I know better than anyone how difficult it can be to balance Quidditch and prefect duties so we will be more than accommodating to any changes resulting from practice."

Draco watched as the boy continued to preen on...and on. The Huffelpuff continued to make claims about his Quidditch career which of course Draco ignored. The boy had essentially secured a position on the house team because of his new position as Headboy. To be frank, Draco did not understand how he had managed to make the team the last few years.

"Anyway enough about me," Jermey smiled, pleased with the attention he was getting from the rest of the room. "We will be formatting a new schedule once all of the clubs establish their meeting dates."

By this time, Jenna had already begun handing out pieces of parchment with patrol dates on it. As she got to Granger, she struggled to switch the two pasties she was holding, still uneaten, into one hand before taking the parchment.

"You know Hermione, it would be a lot easier if you just ate them right now." Draco heard Potter say.

"I will, I will! I just want to see when I have to patrol first!"

By this time, he too was holding a parchment with each of his patrol dates.

"It was nice to see you all, thanks for coming! Oh, and before I forget, Our next meeting will be two weeks from this date, as next weeks is not happening. Hopefully clubs and such will be sorted by then! Have a good evening!" Jenna said excitedly while Jeremy winked at the brunette Huffelpuff.

Draco looked at this evenings patrol students. He was thankful that he was not one of them, he was exhausted from his last class. Too tired to read any more of the list, he quickly slipped it into his pocket.

"Hermione I have patrols with Haley from Huffelpuff. So I probably wont see you until breakfast tomorrow yeah?" Potter said standing. The girl nodded back, mirroring his action. "Okay then, I best be off. Have a good evening Herms." He turned and left with Haley through the door.

Granger seemed to watch Potter very closely, a detail that Draco did not miss, as he too stood to leave. Perhaps the mudblood really did have feelings for Pothead. He watched her follow Potter several seconds later, but not before quickly slipping the two pasties into the bin.

.H.

Hermione again spent most of the night awake with her hangings open trying desperately to allow as much moonlight streaming through the glass as she could. The nights were getting darker now - the full moon had already passed. She was frighted by the prospect of spending an entire night in the dark once the moon was fully hidden.

Soon the rays of sunlight broke the horizon. She watched as the sky became lighter as the sun rose up behind the outline of the mountains that could be seen from the window.

For the duration of the night their had not been a sound, but needles of fear pricked at her chest at the noise of a sudden bang. The source of the noise was Lavender's makeup case having fallen from the bed and now laying on its side on the hardwood. She let out a sigh of relieve.

The girl began to stir and as quickly and quietly as she could, Hermione crawled between the sheets and lay her head down.

...

"Should we wake her up?" Lavender whispered leaning over Hermione's form. Her eyes were closed but she was not sleeping. After hearing the girls roll from their beds, she hastily closed her eyes and opened her mouth slightly so it appeared as though she was sleeping. Her acting skills seemed to be sufficient as it fooled both of the girls. She had yet another excuse to avoid the Great Hall! Harry and Ron would evidently wonder where she was. Just like the previous day, she could claim she slept in, and even better, her room-mates could back up her story!

"No, I don't think so. She is always working so I think that she deserves a little rest," Parvati said softly turning from her friend and changing into her uniform.

"Fine. But its your head that she is going to get after she realizes that you didn't wake her." Lavender shrugged. Did they really think that she would be upset by them not waking her...Of course she wouldn't she wasn't that stuck up. Okay well that one time in second year when she almost overslept she had been very curt with them when they admitted to having noticed and not waking her up. But that was only because she had a test four days later and she needed to study!

She heard her friends descend the winding staircase and opened her eyes. Avoiding the Great Hall was more difficult than she expected.

...

The stars seemed to be on her side as she traveled to her first class. She met neither Harry nor Ron on her trip, though she was more than certain they would intercept her at some point during the remainder of the day.

She sat alone in the second row of her Arithmancy classroom while the teacher droned on about...about...she did not know what she was talking about, and at the moment, she was too tired to care.

Her eyes lids felt heavy and she found her head begin to lull as she struggled to stay awake. Her professors words seemed to act as a lullaby only catalyzing the waves exhaustion rolling over her body. Her absence of sleep would certainly not aid her in passing her lessons. She had to do something. This was her home! She would not be pushed around by Derrick right under Dumbledore's nose! She was Hermione Granger for goodness sake! Who was he to make her cower in her room; to keep her up all night! He would not control her.

Her eyes closed slowly and she allowed the side of her face to press up against the cool wood surface of her desk. No. He wouldn't...couldn't...She fell into a slumber...

.D.

Draco sat two rows behind Hermione, head resting on his hand while the other scribbled out lecture notes. The class actually wasn't half bad. Actually, it was rather interesting. Well more interesting then his other classes at least. Arithmancy had always been a subject of great interest to him - not that he would tell his father that is. His father had always pressured him in the direction of the Dark Arts so something as feble as the study of the magical properties numbers certainly would not appeal to him. Nor would the knowledge that his only son was oddly fascinated by them.

He looked up from his note to return his gaze to the Professor Vector as she drew in delicate loops over the chalkboard. The witch was aging quite well. Though he knew not her age, Septima Vector had relatively few wrinkles on her lightly rouged skin and long chestnut hair that almost reached her waist, and of course toped with a witches hat in a shade of midnight blue.

His eyes shifted to the back of Hermione Granger, who was surprisingly sitting up, rather than hunching over her parchment taking notes. It was not unusual to find the girl leaning so close to her parchment that little flecks of ink would adorn her nose like freckles from the speed at which she wrote with her quill.

She seemed to lean over, appearing to do just that, but surprised him when she lay her head delicately down on the desk. Only moments later, he was informed by the rate her shoulders were rising and falling that her breathing had slowed and she had indeed fallen asleep.

Granger? Sleeping? In class? Granger sleeping was rather peculiar in itself. He was certain that the girl did not require sleep to function and merely read through the night to pass the time. Granger sleeping in class was a completely different story. He was the slacker. He was the one that was supposed to be sleeping in class. Not her.

The girl lay so still that, had her shoulders not been moving, he would have assumed her dead. A bright prospect.

"Now. I would like you to complete the bottom half of page 42 and the first four questions on page 43 for homework. There is about ten minutes of class left," Professor Vector pointed out, "so if you work effectively, you should be able to complete at least half -Miss Granger?" Professor Vector said softly walking up to the unconscious girl, her high heels clacking lightly on the stone. She didn't move. It was not until the teacher lifted her hand to place it gently on her shoulder that she jerked awake with a small scream.

Her face reddened as she looked upon the other faces in the room. "I'm terribly sorry professor! I-I must have dosed off..."

"I was not aware that you found my lessons a bore Miss Granger. Last year I thought you were rather fond of them actually." Vector's eyes sparkled with laughter informing Hermione that she was only teasing her.

Draco looked up periodically to study the the Gryffindor, trying to...he didn't know what he was trying to do. But he was trying to do it without being caught.

.H.

After her little morning embarrassment, Hermione soon found herself in Auror/Law Enforcement. As she entered the room, she noticed a professor she had yet to see, nodding at each of the students entering the room.

"Hello everyone! Bonjour Mademoiselle," he addressed a girl from Beaubatons. "Welcome," he nodded to a tall male from Durmstrang.

As the students took their seats, Hermione was relieved to find that she was not required to take a seat bedside Malfoy, rather a petite girl from beauxbatons. He seemed to be just as pleased with this prospect.

She looked back in his direction and was not at all surprised when she was awarded with a smirk.

The young professor waited until the class had calmed before he began his speech.

"My name is Professor Sturning and it will be my job to prepare you for your education in the area of Auror and Law Enforcement. From my own experience as a Ministry Auror, I can fully appreciate your drive and excitement when taking such a course, though I must warn you, this will be a challenge to each and every one of you, and I will do my best to help you through this difficult semester. For those of you serious about pursuing careers in these areas, you will have very much to learn and perfect before you can even consider entering the field."

He turned his back to the class momentarily, to pick up a stack of parchment which began to distribute itself amongst the students in the class.

"Now the sheet that I have just handed out is the general framework for the lessons over the course of this semester, but it is just that. This course is subject to change if I feel that it will benefit the majority of the class, though I plan to sculpt my lesson plans around this list."

**Auror/Magical Law Enforcement Training**

Section 1 – Lecture Portion

-Auror/Magical Law Enforcement History

-Spell Review

-Responsibilities of professions

–Assignments: Writing prompts over the material each week.

Section 2 – Dueling/Combat Portion

-Hands on approach to defense/offense

-Blocking spells

-Casting spells

-Hand to hand combat

–Assignments: In class dueling/combat that will require out of class preparation

Section 3 – Field Trip/Detective and Stealth Portion

-Trip to Ministry

-Lecture/Interactive practice on detective work and stealth moves

–Assignments: Interview an Auror/Magical Law Enforcement member and spend the day with them. In class participation over detective/stealth scenarios.

Section 4 – Final Project

-Roleplay scenario

–Assignments: Students will be assigned a role in a "mock" mission that will encompass all of the information they've learned over the course of the term.

"I am sure many of you are probably tired of all the syllabi from your various classes, so I will designate todays lesson to a simple review of offensive and defensive spells that you will have covered in your past years in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will travel around to your pairs and I will correct or improve your technique."

The students stood, beginning to pair themselves up. Hermione scanned the room for a familiar face. She recognized a few from her previous classes, but she unfortunately did not know them. Where where Harry and Ron when she needed them. She sighed. This was going to be just like her old school, always getting picked last for teams, always been escorted to a random pair who were irritated having to forma group of three-

"Would you like to be partners?" Hermione turned to look at the student from beaubatons who had been seated quietly beside her.

"Uh, sure that would be great," she replied gratefully. The girl seemed to notice her relief at securing a partner.

"Yeah, I really don't know anyone here either." Hermione raised her eyebrows surprised.

"Really? But there are several girls from beauxbatons in your year in this class." Hermione motioned to the class. Just over a third of the class were students from beauxbatons while herself, Malfoy and three other students represented the population of Hogwarts. As she looked around, she noticed Malfoy talking with a girl with blonde hair that almost reached her elbows. Stupid git, already flirting with the girls. She turned back to face her partner.

"Yeah, but I really don't _know_ them. I was rather reserved for the first few years of school and well, I suppose they are rather frightened of me now because of it," she replied, smiling lightly. "No one really likes the outcast." Hermione nodded understandingly.

"I know what you mean. Before I found out I was a wizard, people thought of me a rather peculiar as well. And now it doesn't help that I have been bumped up several years and all of my friends are back in fourth year. Nor does my love for literature help here. Many of my peers don't find the beauty in it and often ridicule me because of it." Until Hermione said that out loud, she never realized to what extent that actually bothered her.

"Kids can be cruel," she replied sadly. " And yes, I overheard one of the teachers talking about you." Hermione's eyes widened. What teacher, what could they have said? Was it Derrick that had been asking about her? Noting her panic, the girl replied quickly. "No, nothing bad. They were just talking about the courses that you are taking and how proud they were that someone your age would take them in your year. I think the lady's name was Mcgonagall ." A wave of relief passed through her and she realized how tense she was.

"Yeah, well unfortunately I am not the only student to be bumped up from fourth year," she returned sourly. The girl seated across from her raised her brown eyebrows. "Draco Malfoy."

The girls face remained placid and she did not reply. Hermione did not even know if she planned to and she would never find out because at that moment, the professor chose to give them their instructions.

"Now I would like all of those performing the offensive spells to line up along the left wall facing your partner who will be situated along the right wall."

The pairs began to split. "Do you want to go on the offensive line up? I am not very inclined at offensive spells." A look in her eye told Hermione that the girl desperately wanted to avoid performing an offensive spell.

"Uhm, sure." Hermione shrugged and took her place in the lineup while her partner did the same.

It seemed to be a great class, having met a new friend, who would hopefully turn up in a few of her other classes. But of course, her great mood diminished with the appearance of the Malfoy.

"Heya Granger. I am beginning to get the feeling that you somehow charmed your schedule to reflect my own," he chided as he advanced towards her.

"Get lost Malfoy!"

"I am merely setting up with my partner just like yourself." The pretty witch went to stand across from him.

Hermione would have assumed he was innocent with his words had a small smirk not began to pull at the corner of his lips. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

The professor walked between the two lines. "Now, like I mentioned earlier, I think that we should be reviewing much of our spell work. I want to be very certain that you will be able to handle what will be dealt at you through the course of the year. So we shall be starting with the simplest of spells."

"You are going to need a lot of skill to pass this course," Malfoy said, lowering his voice to a hiss as their professor strode by. "Skill which a mudblood can't possibly possess."

Hermione did not flinch at the term. Though insulting she had become accustomed to the name. Mostly.

Across from her, her partner, whose name she did not know yet stood quietly observing them.

"What are you looking at?" Malfoy hissed at her. She did not react, but returned his gaze calmly. "You would have to be a brick short to agree to being partners with her!"

"On the contrary, I asked her to be my partner."

"Then it looks like you don't have a single brick then. That shows what kind of a witch you are I suppose." The smirk grew wider while Hermione's partner continued to stare at hi calmly.

"Pay attention! You will learn that I only say things once!" Professor Sturning shouted over a group of giggling girls from Beauxbattons. Across from her, Hermione watched the girl roll her blue eyes.

"Offensive students. I would like you to begin with the Expelliarmus to disarm your opponent. Defensive students, do not resist. After a few successful attempts, we shall switch roles. Begin."

Both line-ups had had equal chance to practice the Expelliarmus spell, though, Hermione noted that her partner, though she completed the spell was apprehensive. For the most part, Malfoy remained out of her way, what with a few jabs here and there. But that was to be expected.

Following, Sturning announced a series of other simple, rather harmless charms that they were to complete.

In the remaining twenty minutes of class the professor told them that they would have the chance to practice the Reducto spell. This would be the first offensive spell that would not have to do with disarming your opponent.

"You first," her partner laughed nervously.

"No no, it's your turn! I have gone first for every other spell. Now, go on I'm ready."

"Offensive students. I would like you to project your partner to target drawn clearly on the cushions behind them." Sturning motioned to a series of rather plump pillows that he suddenly made appear behind one of the rows of students. "Defensive students. At the moment, you will allow the full extent of the Reducto to work."

"I ask that the defensive students do not use a Protago or any other methods of protection because this experience will inform you as to what to expect if you happen to be unfortunate enough to get hit with it, and also so that you might discover your personal method of recovery. You do not want to be out of a fight simply because you were not adequately educated on recuperation. Now some of you will be fortunate enough to simply able to get up without any ramifications. Others, will need to find strength within themselves as the spell might cause you to experience dizziness, loss of footing ect." He continued on. "Note that this is merely an introduction to recovery that we will be examining in greater detail." Sturning turned to look at the clock. "Now the remaining fifteen minutes will be doing practicing such. Commence."

"Please, will you go first?" the girl pleaded. Though it was difficult to see, Hermione could see the fear that swam in her eyes. Hermione didn't understand what she could possibly be frightened of. She was the attacker! She was in a better position than herself, who could do nothing to stop a spell that she knew the ramifications for. Hermione considered her words but thought better.

"No, this is how you improve. If you are frightened of something, face it head on." The girl raised her chin and nodded.

"But only if you promise to do the same. The next thing that frightens you. You must do it without question. Promise?" Hermione thought for a moment. What kind of a person would she be if she did not take not of her own advice?

"Of course. I'm ready...take your best shot!"

.D.

"Reducto!"

Beside him, Draco felt the air whoosh by him as a body was hit with the reducto. As the air-born body flew past, the pleasurable scent of coconut and vanilla engulfed him. Granger.

He heard the resonating thud that her form made from colliding with the mats.

He shook his head to rid him of the scent. It was disgusting. It really was! Who in their right mind would like to smell like coconut and vanilla? What kind of combination was that? Pathetic.

He went to shake his head once more for good measure, but was interrupted when his own partner sent him hurtling across the room. Damn her! Cursing him when he was not expecting it. He had been rather surprised to find his cousin Fleur had arrived at Hogwarts, he never really saw her as the tournament type. She had told him after they had agreed to partner up that she had put her name in the goblet that morning. He did not exactly see her as the whole 'Triwizard Tournament Champion' type.

He landed back first on the pillow, knocking the air from his chest. Noticing he was in very close proximity to a disoriented Granger, he sprung quickly onto the floor.

He was not affected by the charm in the least. He had become accustomed to several curses and charms, one of them happening to be the reducto spell. Though useful, it was one thing that he would thank his father for.

He made to make it appear as though he was brushing some dust from his silk robes as he watched Granger struggle. He liked to watch her struggle.

She seemed to be very unsteady as she pushed herself to the end of the cushion. She stood, placing both arms out as wide as she could to balance herself, managing to resemble a very peculiar breed of bird. He was just about to make a comment about this fact when the girl stumbled.

Reflexively, he reached out to catch her waist before she hit the floor. She felt light. So much lighter than he thought someone could be. She was a slim girl, no doubt, but her lack of weight surprised him. He pulled her waist to right her. Such a small waist. She regained her footing and clutched onto the sleeve of his robe trying to steady herself.

The witch was in complete disarray. Her uniform was also twisted awkwardly from her fall.

He gently pushed her back to the mat to take a seat. Draco pretended not to notice as she took a quick inhalation of breath upon noticing the front of her uniform. Quickly, she began to button up the top few buttons on the front of her blouse.

He also didn't miss the piece of material wrapped around her chest through the open shirt. It confused him. Granger wasn't the type to be looking for attention from the male sector of the school. Enhancing the size of her breasts was a great way to do that, but it didn't fit. Though dangerous, breast enhancing spells were always a possibility. If done correctly safe, but incorrectly, not...An image of his father's sister came to mind and he shuddered. He was also certain Pansy had an experienced wizard/witch perform the spell on her, hell, her mother probably took her to get it done and payed for it as well that scum bag! It wasn't cheap.

He loved an ample set of breasts as much as the next guy, but it really bothered him that some girls were too insecure and had to do something about it. Had he not known Granger, he would have lost some of his respect for her. But Granger and breast enhancement...it just didn't fit.

"Good catch Mr. Malfoy, 5 points to Slytherin!" called Sturning from across the room. "And Granger, before standing, you must first try to clear your mind's vision of the unstable floor. It is merely an aftershock of the spell. Once you realize this, you can overcome it's effect."

She nodded weakly at her professor and looked up at Draco, confusion pooling in her eyes. He turned from her and walked back to his mark.

Why on earth had he helped the mudblood? He had only done it because the Professor had been watching, he told himself. Had Sturning seen him avoid helping her, his grades would suffer. He couldn't have that. Also, he was able to earn five points for his house by doing so. It wasn't much, but anything would help their victory over Gryffindor.

Satisfied with his conclusion, he turned back to his cousin, who was giving him a questioning look.

.H.

"Are you okay?" The petite brunette quickly ran over to her.

"Yeah. Uhh. The room is spinning like you wouldn't believe!"

"Here." The small girl took her hands and pulled her up into a standing position. Hermione nearly retched. She kept her hands firmly on Hermione's. "Now take a deep breath in and close your eyes. That's it. Now stand up straight." Hermione did as she was told, willing the world to stop spinning around her.

"Now I want you to imagine yourself standing on the top of a rotating sphere." Hermione opened her eyes and looked into the girl's crystal blue eyes. She sighed. This will sound really really stupid but please trust me when I say it works." Hermione nodded, closing her eyes tightly. "Now I want you to imagine yourself standing on the top of a rotating sphere...like a spinning planet. Allow yourself to spin with it for a moment. Now spin in the opposite direction for several seconds."

Hermione suppressed the urge to ask and understand this girl's theory and did as she was told. She let go of her hands.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked genuinely curious.

"I-I feel much better. Normal in fact. How did you know how to do that?"

"You know, you pick up this and that from experience you know." Before she could ask for further clarification their professor spoke.

"Class is dismissed. For homework I want you to look over page 23 in your textbook! Have a good rest of your day!"

Hermione was thankful for the girl's help and wanted to properly thank her. She also seemed easy to relate to. From their earlier discussion, they seemed to have a lot in common.

"So Hogsmead weekend is coming up at the end of next week and I was wondering if you wanted to come along with me and a few other friends of mine," she questioned happily.

"Are you sure I wont be intruding?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione smiled warmly. "I owe you a butterbeer in any case!"

"Well, in that case, I would love to join you! I am looking forward to trying this butterbeer that everyone is on about!"

"Alright, how about we meet you at noon in front of the Great Hall?"

"Sounds great to me! I'll see you then Hermione." Hermione gave her a questioning look. How did she know her name? She was certain that she had not yet mentioned it... Noting her reaction the girl replied, "Oh, Professor Flitwick mentioned your name once or twice after class." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"I never did catch your name, sorry," Hermione admitted sheepishly.

"Oh don't worry about it! I am Stephanie."

...

* * *

**WHEN WILL HERMIONE MEET DERRICK?**

In the next chapter of course! What do you think is going to happen?...Draco and Hermione are in the same DADA class. Will he notice?

_"Would you all like a demonstration of the curse?" Everyone in the class looked at one another in shock. "It will be our little secret!" They knew perfectly well that unforgivable in a classroom were not acceptable. That was the only knowledge they needed to encourage him. The whole class burst out in agreement stating that it would improve their understanding. _


	16. Chapter 16: Macarena!

**Hey oh my gosh, I am over 100 reviews... *jumps up and down* When I started this fic, I honestly did not think anyone would read it let alone review it!**

**misfitgirl92, brenna963, StarKiss666, FigrSk8r13, EmmaJones15, Sum, Sylverquill, SweetTies, desirable69, Vanessa85, puelloa, and CantBuyLoveRentIt (I love the name by the way :P ) You guys have honestly made my week with these reviews, I am glad to hear your thoughts on everything!**

**On with the fic! (Sorry about the shortness...I will have the next chapter out on the weekend for sure! And all the quicker if I get reviews :P)**

* * *

_"No, this is how you improve. If you are frightened of something, face it head on."_ I cannot believe I said that. How could I be so stupid?

She hit the palm of her hand to her forehead several times._ "But only if you promise to do the same. The next thing that frightens you. You must do it without question. Promise?" _She had promised. But this was not what she thought her next fright would be. She continued to pace back and forth between Lavender's bed and her own.

_What kind of a person would she be if she did not take not of her own advice?_ Yes, she did think that, and still believed it for that matter, but this was just ludicrous!

She had to think of another excuse. Honestly, she would be able to produce a novel by the end of this year on ways to avoid social interactions. Should she fake a sickness? She was certain that Fred and George would still have some of those puking pastilles. They after all were the geniuses of skipping class without being penalized for it. The professors knew that they were faking it, but there was no way to prove it so they always got off scott free. When they came back from lunch she convinced she could easily get them to give her a Skiving Snack-box free of charge. They certainly owed her for all of their deeds she had overlooked.

Should she just go hide in the room of requirement? Between the shelves of the library? There were so many options that Hermione had to consider. She was not going to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was not going to see Derrick. He would use every opportunity to play with her mind that she could.

She sunk onto her bed and placed her head in her hands. What could she do? She would go to class. Ignoring the pains of fear spreading through her chest and her limbs, she stood. She would go to class, not because she promised to face her fear, but because he did not want Derrick to steal yet another thing from her. He had stolen her virginity and innocence, but he would not steal her soul, her confidence, her life!

She slipped out of her shirt and pulled the roll of clean gauze from her bag. Unwinding her bandages around her midsection and chest, she noticed her blood had seeped through her opening cuts and had begun to stain the white gauze. It was a good thing she remembered to change the wrapping before class. Quickly, she healed her cuts with a temporary charm. She would need to go down to the library to see if she could find out any information on the dark magic that had slit her skin.

She used her wand to remove the blood and slipped the other roll of gauze back into her bag.

She fell to her knees, pulled up her bedskirt and reached her hand underneath the frame. Her fingers closed around the small cauldron she had hidden beneath. Sliding it out, she stirred the crimson liquid several times with the metal spoon. The scraping sound of her spoon was not a pleasing sound to her ears. Once filled to the brim with the viscous liquid, it was almost gone. She would soon need to search for some ingredients in Snape's potions cupboard. She still had half a bottle left in her bag for safety measure, but she would need to get started on a batch soon if she wanted to avoid letting her secret slip.

Though it took only an hour to make, it was a stressful strenuous hour that she would need to lean over a steaming cauldron. She especially did not want to be put in that stressful position if she desperately required additional blood in her system. She did not want to die because she was hiding a secret. But she could not tell that secret for fear that Harry would die as a result. Harry took prescience, she told herself.

Judging by she amount left in the cauldron, she would have to do that by tonight! There was so little that she did not bother using a spoon, so she lifted the cauldron to her lips and stifling a gag as she swallowed the last of the blood replenishing potion.

Taking up her bag, she felt a new surge of strength flow through her veins, diluting the prickles of pain. Derrick would steal nothing else from her. It was not for her education, nor the promise that she walked out and through the portrait hole, but for her own peace of mind - she would not let an asshole like Derrick bring her down. No more.

...

Her heart hammered in her chest as she walked down the last corridor leading into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She knew she would be late. She left the common room five minutes after the period commenced. That would ultimately make her ten minutes late with travel time.

Her mouth seemed to become drier with every step and her breathing became shallower. It felt like she was permanently stuck in that phase between apparating where it felt like a boa-constrictor could compress one no further and was about to eat their victim. She would not become a victim. She forced a deep breath into her lungs.

There it was. The door was a mere twenty paces away. She could do this. She was strong. Pressing on, she attempted to keep her pace even. She felt her hands shake so she clenched them into fists.

.D.

Again. Granger was missing again! Where the bloody hell was the bookworm. He didn't care really. He just needed a person to vent his anger on...that was it.

He leaned back in his chair as the Professor finished with his attendance check. Really, one would think that they had outgrown such a thing in first year.

"Today's lesson, will for the most part be review. Professor Dumbledore, for what ever reason, asked me specifically to cover the three forbidden curses that you learned in sixth year. Now at the present -"

The door behind Draco opened slowly, the aged hinges emitting a low groan. All the eyes in the room turned to look at her as she closed the door as quietly as she could manage. She turned to face the class.

Grangers face was pale. Her usually rosy cheeks lacked luster and her eyes darted around the room. This was the first time Draco had ever seen her lack confidence. Finally the termites had finally chewed their way through the bookworm's hard exterior! He thought he would enjoy a moment such as this. Her defences would be shot and any irk would set her over the edge. It was true, but in truth, seeing her in such a state frightened him a bit.

"Nice of you to join us Miss?" The professor paused to wait for her response. She looked at him disbelievingly.

"My-my name?" she replied stupidly. For goodness sake, the bloody girl had forgotten her own name! Man, she really had cracked!

"Yes your name. I will need it to address you in class," Mr. Burnwick replied smartly. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

Draco groaned inwardly. Don't tell me that he was going to flirt with the mudblood too! It made him sick to watch him make eyes at the other groups of girls gathered so closely at the front of the room, but to see him do the same to Granger was sick. The bloody charmer. He was probably double their age and yet he still had the nerve to lay it on. Even if he did try to turn on his charm, he was certain Granger wouldn't fall for it anyway. She wasn't that type. Not that he knew much about her, but he knew enough.

"It's Granger sir." Draco voiced. He was not sure why. He half expected her to look at him and make a sly comment about how she could most certainly state her own name. But she did not speak, or even look in his direction for that matter. Great. She couldn't be under that nutter's charm already...

"Ahh, Miss Granger," he looked down at the attendance. He clicked his tongue as he slimmed the tip of the feather on his quill down the parchment.

"Yes, there you are, now why don't you take a seat." Granger was about to pass his desk when he added "Oh, and also, you are expected to remain here after class."

At his words, he noticed her knees give slightly. She put her hand on the double desk he was occupying alone and her face seemed to, if possible, pail further.

"And why would that be? Professor," she gritted out. It seemed to take her a great deal of effort to raise her eyes to Burnwick smiling at her from the front of the room. It was more than clear in the expression on her face.

Draco could hear the suppressed rage in her voice as it shook. Had he not been looking at her, he would have thought that she was crying.

"Your late arrival has delayed by class. Now take your seat and we shall get started, shall we?" He smiled at the bookworm before walking back to place his clipboard on his desk and unsheathing his wand.

Granger still stood leaning against his desk, breathing notably hard. He had a strange urge to pull her into the chair next to him. To get her to shut up, that is. But he resisted. When he reconsidered, she straightened, lifted her chin and went to sit down in the seat in front of him. That was weird in itself as well. Normally the girl would have scouted the furthest seat from him, of course situated at the front of the room where she claimed 'she learned best'. Though the front desks were taken by girls from all houses and schools swooning over the charming Professor Burnwick, there was still available seats closer to the front. She had chosen the seat closest to the back. Other than the one next to his own of course.

"Well moving on from our little distraction..." He looked over at Granger thoughtfully. "Can someone please name the three forgivable curses," Derrick began, winking at a girl in the second row.

He half expected Granger to pop out of her seat, hand raised, desperately wishing to provide the answer to the question like she had since the first class he shared with her. She didn't. On the contrary, she sat stiffly in front of him. She didn't even seem to breathe.

"Miss Spinnet?" He flashed a smile. The girl seemed to be momentarily distracted as she gazed dreamily at his pearly white teeth.

"Uhm. Uh. Oh right uhm there's the Imperius curse, the Cruciatus curse and of course the Avada Kedavra."

"Yes, yes, very good. 10 points to Gryffindor! Now I think that we will start with the Imperious curse today then move onto the others in proceeding classes. Can anyone tell me about what the Imperious curse does?"

Again, Draco noticed as Granger seemed to shrink in her chair.

"How about you Miss Granger? You have yet to contribute."

The stool creaked slightly as she stiffened further. She cleared her throat before she answered, clearly trying to control her voice. It didn't work.

"The Imperious places the victim in a trance or dreamlike state, leaving him or her under the complete control of the caster." Her voice seemed to crack as she completed her sentence.

Draco released a breath that he was holding and tightened his grasp on the wood piece in the pocket of his robes. He pulled his hand out of his pocket upon recognizing this. Stupid habit. He wasn't quite sure why he was so on edge. It was probably the casserole that he had eaten during lunch.

"Yes very good, 10 points." A few of the older Gryffindores gave her a thumbs up, but she ignored them.

"Now, it's more than clear that you all know the theory very well. Alastor Moody seemed to have done a very through job indeed." He smirked, seeming to recall something amusing. Were professors supposed to smirk? Now that he thought about it, this man before him seemed oddly familiar. He was tempted to try continuous usage of the rememorai charm to evoke this memory that seemed to be embedded beneath other useless information. And...his eyes. They looked familiar. They appeared so very much like...He pushed the thought away. He was being an idiot. Stupid casserole.

"Would you all like a demonstration of the curse?" Everyone in the class looked at one another in shock. "It will be our little secret!" They knew perfectly well that unforgivable in a classroom were not acceptable. That was the only knowledge they needed to encourage him. The whole class burst out in agreement stating that it would improve their understanding.

"Well, do we have any volunteers?" This time, no one raised their hand and everyone looked at someone else, hoping that they would raise theirs.

"How about you again Miss Granger? Seeing as you did such a wonderful job on explaining the function, why not demonstrate it?"

He heard Grangers intake of breath to argue but she did not get a chance.

"Imperious!" Professor Burnwick flicked his wand at the student. The whole class looked at her in awe. He tweaked his wand and she stood up obediently.

"Now what shall we have her do?" he smirked. The air again was filled with hands. Draco was too surprised to raise his own. This was his chance to have something else over her. Why was he not taking it? "Mr. Francis?"

"Have her clean my quill! The nib is getting rather inky" the Slytherin said maliciously. That should have been him, Draco thought. It should have been him giving orders to Granger. He just couldn't bring himself to do it today for some reason. Stupid bloody casserole. The elves in the kitchens would hear about this!

Granger did as she was told, wiping the nib of the quill on her robes and handed it back to him.

"Anyone else? Miss Hail?" The girl lowered her hand and returned Burnwick's smirk. Her eyes narrowed in a most Slytherin-like fashion and her tiny freckled nose crinkled as she did.

"Have her kiss Draco!" He paled and the Slytherin girl began to cackle uncontrollably.

.H.

Kiss? Malfoy? Hermione fought against the hold of the curse. It felt as though she were a puppet and he was pulling the strings. No, it didn't _feel_ like that, it _was_ like that! Never had she felt so utterly defenseless in a public classroom. This was an outrage! She much preferred Malfoy's taunts over this! A thousand times!

She shifted her eyes as far to the right as she could, desperately trying to see Derrick's reaction to the proposition. Her position did not allow her much of a view but she was startled by what she saw. Or she thought she saw at the least.

A flicker of fear passed behind his brown eyes as he looked at Malfoy. A momentary crack in his demeanour, which he expertly hid a second later.

"No." he replied harshly. A few of the students looked startled. "Any other requests?" The girl pouted and shook her head, crossing her arms indignantly. Everyone remained quiet, evidently shocked by his sudden change in attitude. He sobered immediately.

"Alright then. Let us all indulge in one of my own!"

Hermione felt herself reach for her robes and slide them over her shoulders. What the bloody hell was he doing? He was going to have her strip in front of the whole classroom! There had to be about fifty school rules against that!

She threw her cloak on the desk and walked 'confidently' to the front of the room. Well, she appeared to be walking confidently to the front of the room. In reality she was screaming internally the whole way as she was unable to voice anything past her lips.

She turned to face the class standing motionless in the wide area of space in front of the teacher's desk. From out of no where, music began to play. Before she knew it, she found herself doing the chicken dance.

Several of the pureblood wizards in the room seemed oddly unamused at the peculiar dance she was performing until Burnwick explained its muggle origin. They joined the rest of the witches and wizards in a chorus of laughter. Each time she twisted and bent her knees, she prayed to god that she was not giving a show to the male audience. As the song came to a close and she was returning to the front of the room, she twisted her hips one last time, having her spread her legs slightly wider so that he could get a peak at the color of her knickers. The class did not notice. No one ever noticed.

The music changed into another song - the Macarena.

.D.

"I thought this song would also be suitable for such an occasion as this. Miss Granger being a muggle born would be more than familiar with this piece!" Draco did not recognize it. From looks of glee on a few other students as they laughed at the girl dancing in a peculiar fashion before them, it was clear that this was a popular dance that they wished to avoid joining.

His eyebrows furrowed. According to his professor, it was a muggle song. From his little show at the beginning of class, he had never met the girl, yet he already had knowledge that she was of muggle decent? That didn't fit either. He must have missed something. Nah. Teachers were probably informed of each student's heritage. Everything seemed to be confusing him so he brushed the thought aside and returned his gaze to Granger.

Her movements were perfect. Her hips swayed seductively along with her hand motions. It was a rather terrible looking dance to perform, but she seemed to do it very well.

But that was only because evidently a pureblood was controlling her movements. Someone with rich magic could make anyone dance the way she was now, he thought smugly.

The song ended and the crowd erupted into applause.

"Sadly the class is over and we must conclude this lesson. Now I will not be assigning any homework for this class for tonight, so have a great evening! As for you Miss Granger," he added, removing her from the curse, "you will be required to remain with me after class." The class began to file out the back door without looking back at the girl standing before her professor. Granger hung her head.

Oh fuck me, thought Draco standing up and walking to the front of the room toward the pair.

* * *

**Any guesses on what the all mighty and attractive, wonderful, sexy...cough...I mean...does anyone have an idea of what Draco might do?**

Don't you just love when people end on cliffies...And doesn't it suck when authors don't finish their fic after ending on one! GAHH LOL WELL I promise I will finish!

_She didn't dare move should he hear her. She did not know who it was, but she did know that she did not want to be found. The shadow began to come towards her and approached the left side of the statue. _

_On the stone by the base of the statue, she could see the shadow of her pursuer. It was a man judging by the broad shoulders and tall frame._


	17. Chapter 17: Snape's Potion's Cupboard

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.D.

"Yes I think that because of your late arrival to this period that you owe me a night of detention-"

"Excuse me Professor." Draco drawled. Professor Burnwick looked up at him surprised, but allowed him to continue.

"She actually cannot stay with you at the moment. She and I are prefects you see, and we are required to monitor the halls during dinner and after hours tonight."

Hermione looked at Malfoy trying to mask her shock. She did not have to patrol until Saturday. He did not meet her gaze, rather choosing to set his full attention on his professor.

Burnwick looked at Draco bewildered and did not speak for several moments. His lip curled. "I see Mr. Malfoy. A prefect. I am sure your father is very...proud." He looked between himself and Granger before ultimatly transferred his gaze souly on Granger who had momentarily been forgotten.

Draco risked a glance at her and noticed her jaw clench.

"Well then I suppose you got lucky today then Miss Granger." The professor replied smoothly. "I shall see you next class. Do-not-be-late."

He nodded at the professor and turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the door. What the bloody hell was that! _"I am sure your father would be...proud."_ What was that supposed to mean. How did he know his father anyway. Then again who didn't know who his father was. His family was one that was very distinguished in the wizarding world. That chap definitely had a hidden agenda. But not that well hidden if someone could figure it out! He continued walking at a brisk pace, fully aware that she was following him and hoped that she would eventually be left behind. He couldn't be seen by anyone, especially a Slytherin. How would he go about explaining his affiliation with someone of her stature. He needed to think.

.H.

Not wanting to be left behind, Hermione raced to catch up to him. She reached his side, failing miserably at matching his strides.

"Hey Malfoy. Wait-Malfoy!" The pair turned down another corridor heading for the Great Hall. All the while he did not acknowledge her existence. Hermione continued to huff behind him, desperately attempting to keep up with his quick pace. The boy did not seem to be out of breath at all. One of his strides seemed to be the equivalent of two and a half of her own.

Once they were out of the DADA corridor and in view of the foyer, he slowed, evidently deciding to take note of her presence. Hermione took this opportunity to sputter, "Why did you do it?"

He surprised her by spinning on her, malice in his ice blue eyes. If they were any colder, Hermione was certain that little flakes of snow would begin to fall from the ceiling. "Would you rather I go back and tell him I lied?" he spat at her, crossing his arms. He was clearly annoyed. At something she did? She stood there and did not say a word, so why was she getting blasted? She took a breath trying to backtrack and take a different approach.

"No, that's not at all what I was-"

"Just drop it then would you mudblood. You made such a bloody fool of yourself today so shut your mouth now before you continue to do so. Your sorry arse is saved this time, but don't expect me to come around again, you got that?" He muttered angrily. He turned his head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small group of students walk by. He evidently did not wanted to be recognized with her. She scowled. How could they not with his bright blonde hair and tall form! He lowered his voice so not to be heard by the group. "Now leave me alone. I have to eat before patrols-"

"Get away from her Malfoy!" Ron shoved Malfoy out of the way to grasp her arm. He stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. Malfoy turned to smirk back at the red head.

The group of students turned out to be a pair. Ron and Harry stood before her crossing their arms. From behind her, Malfoy took a step forward.

"Ronald what are you-" He held his hand up to silence her.

"You missed a right show there Potty." His lips curled as he noticed her dark haired friend approach to back up his stupid friend. How cute. "Your girlfriend over there put on a great show today! She would even give your ballet a run for its money Potter!"

"What the hell are you doing here you snake? Shouldn't you be slithering around a tree or something?" Ron narrowed his eyes and flexed. Draco merely lifted the corner of his mouth in pure amusement.

"Well that depends. What are you doing here Weasel? Shouldn't you be burrowing yourself in a hole? Oh right. You don't need to. Your family shares a shit hole don't they?"

Malfoy started to walk away but paused with his back facing them. All of a sudden he turned and mocked the Macarena that she had performed during class.

"Drakie!"

He stood up straight and pushed his shoulders back. Hermione noticed him lock his jaw and roll his eyes at the pet name. He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes.

"See you in our next Defense Against the Dark Arts class!" sneered.

He turned and walked over to Pansy standing at the entrance of the Great Hall. Hermione watched at the pair disappeared through the doors.

"Hermione!" Harry waved his hand in front of her eyes, snapping his fingers for good measure.

"Sorry? Yes Harry?"

"You, Hermione, are joining us for dinner tonight. We have not had one full meal without you ditching. And for the past few meals, you haven't turned up at all!" She went to protest but Harry cut her off. " You are joining us!"

"But I have homework to do!" She whined, trying and failing to dislodge her arm from his grasp. "Ron?"

"Don't look at me Mione. Harry's right. It's just, we haven't seen you since you switched classes. And you not showing up at meal times makes it all the worse." Her gaze softened. They missed her. She missed them very much as well. She pressed her lips together.

"I'm terribly sorry guys." She pulled them into a hug. "I guess I can join you for a bit before I go to the library." Content with the answer she had given, they pulled her toward Gryffindor table.

"Where have you been Hermione! I miss having you to gush about boys with!" Ginny shrieked when she saw her bushy haired friend walking toward her, arms linked with her brother and Harry.

"You know, I've been around. Tons of homework in seventh year." The group nodded understandably.

"Come on now, tuck in!" Harry placed a plate in front of her with a lamb chop and sides of green peas as well as mushy mashed potatoes, just like she preferred. It was nice of him to fill her plate for her, but at the moment, it did not look so incredibly appetizing. The had barely eaten anything since her arrival at Hogwarts, and tonight, she did not feel like she would be able to stomach anything either.

"Go on Mione, before Ron snatches your plate on you!" snickered Ginny in her ear.

She looked at the plate and picked up a fork and a knife. She began to cut the lamb chop into smaller pieces and the attention quickly shifted from herself to Harry, who was talking animately about Quidditch to anyone who would listen.

Hermione continued to cut as she looked over at the head table. Derrick had yet to arrive. She couldn't tell whether or not, seeing him missing made her feel any better. Which was worse, knowing his is in the room with you and able to see him, or knowing he was in the school and not being able to see him. She did not know what was worse.

She took a breath to settle her nerves. She was here for Harry and Ron.

After her meat was completely shredded, she began to push it around her plate.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you haven't taken a bite yet," Harry narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"Well arn't you observant Mr. Harry Potter," she returned, using her fork to scoop up a small portion of potato. Harry watched as she slid it into her mouth. She made it apparent that she was pushing the mound around in her mouth for a second, the whole time trying not to gag, before pretending to swallow. She lifted her napkin from her lap and placed it to her lips where she deposited the food.

She hoped that anyone watching her would assume that she was merely wiping her lips.

"Mhmm. That was delicious," she lied. Harry continued to observe her as she began to pile another fork-load of food. "So are you going to watch me eat the whole time?" Hermione joked.

"Of course not. I just miss you," he shrugged before biting of a bit of pork chop.

Again Hermione repeated the process of putting food into her mouth and spitting it out into her napkin, then placing it on her lap beneath the table. Several times she slid out her wand to make the quickly growing pile of food on her lap disappear.

Her meal was almost completely gone when she noticed Derrick walk through the double oak doors and look over at her table. Upon noticing his gaze was on her, she stiffened and looked down at her plate.

"You okay Mione, you seem tense all of a sudden." Ginny leaned over to put an arm around her friend.

"Oh no, not at all. Oh my gosh what are Fred and George up to!" The twins really were doing nothing wrong, just eating their supper, but it provided Hermione with the distraction she needed. The whole table turned to look at the twins as Hermione had hoped. She pulled out her wand and made the rest of the food on her plate disappear.

"What are you talking about Herms, they arn't doing anything...for once." Ginny stated rolling her eyes.

"Erm..that was my point.," she saved. "They aren't doing anything! That is why it is so peculia-"

"That's what you think Hermione." George replied sneakily, leaning over Ron so that she could hear him over the chatter of the Great Hall. Himself and his other half winked at her before standing and walking towards the doors leading from the Great Hall.

How on earth did they hear their conversation? Her question was immediately answered when she saw Fred rolling up the cord from an extendable ear.

...

After dinner, Hermione returned to her common room and opened her books. As usual, she only nodded to her room-mates as they entered, and they knew better than to disturb her.

It was not until 12:45p.m. that the girls climbed into their beds and their breathing had slowed, informing her that it was time to go.

She pushed back the covers to reveal her dark muggle clothing that she had thoughtfully picked for this occasion. She slipped from her bed and sprawled out on her stomach to reach for the list of ingredients that she needed to begin her brewing of the blood replenishing potion. Her fingers closed around the single sheet of parchment and she pulled gently. It didn't budge. She pulled slightly harder against the resister, but not so hard as to rip the parchment.

CLANG! Hermione froze as she heard her cauldron topple over. The paper was now free so she must have place it on top of the list when she had slid it back into place earlier that day. Thankfully she had already drained the liquid so she did not have to worry about a spill.

She turned her attention away from the cauldron, still shifting slightly under her bed, to the girls laying in their beds. She let out a sigh of relief and pushed herself from the ground noting the pair was still unconscious.

Hermione tiptoed across the room, down the stairs, through the vacant common room and out of the portrait hall.

It felt strange to not be in the company of Harry or Ron. In the times that she had snuck out of the common room, she had always had them for company, always had someone to watch her back. But now she was alone. Alone just like she had been for the past few days at Hogwarts without their company.

She continued down the dimly lit hall. Several times on the way, she jumped at the sight of her shadow dancing up the side of the wall, and she wanted to slap herself. No one was up at this hour! Sure, she needed to be careful that she did not run into Mrs. Norris by chance. But that was about it.

Her foot steps echoed quietly as she turned a corner and she attempted to quiet the sound by walking on her toes. The sound did not decrease in volume. Someone was following her.

Looking behind her, she saw a shadow approaching from down from the corridor from which she had just come.

She turned down the closest corridor and before she even thought to hide, her body reacted and jumped behind one of several statue situated in a small eclove in the wall. It was only behind the statue that she realized exactly how loud her breathing had become. She cupped her hand over her mouth and resorted to breathing only through her nose as she listened.

The footsteps were fast and light. As they approached the junction between the corridor she had darted down and the previous one, the steps slowed. Stopped.

Her heart rate quickened as the steps again commenced becoming slightly louder than before. Whoever was following her was getting closer. She heard them stop outside her hiding place and just stood there.

On the stone by the base of the statue, she could see the shadow of her pursuer. It was a man judging by the broad shoulders and tall frame.

She didn't dare move for fear he should he hear her. She was not certain of the identity of the figure, but she did know that she did not want to be found. The shadow began to come towards her and approached the left side of the statue.

As quietly as she could, she made her way around the other side, preparing to make a dash for it. She thought better of such a plan when she heard the footsteps coming up beside the statue. If she did try to run, they would hear her. Instead, she skirted the statue and entered once again through the front to hide behind it.

Hermione took a deep breath in to settle her nerves. Immediately she covered her nose and tried to refrain from coughing or sneezing out the smell that permeated the air behind the statue.

It was not a bad smell. But to Hermione there was not a more foul oder. She never wanted to smell it again. The cologne was a rich musk that was all to familiar from the summer and immediately pulled her back to the Dominican Republic. Derrick.

He had seen her and was now following her! She resisted the urge to cry. What was she doing to do? She knew she could not play ring around the statue the entire night. Something would have to give.

She held her breath for several seconds. The footsteps began once more, only quicker this time as they raced to the other end of the corridor and turning down another. Evidently he had concluded her had gone in that direction.

She waited only until the footsteps receded to risk taking a breath. The scent again plagued her mind with memories that she wished to forget. With every breath it felt like someone was performing the rememorai charm on her continuously without rest.

She dared to peak around the statue and saw no one in sight. She was almost to the dungeons where the potions cupboard so there was no use turning around. Even with a sex predator on the loose.

Stepping out from behind the statue, she took even more care not to slip soundlessly through the corridors, and stopped occasionally so that she did not hear any footsteps.

It took her only two more minutes to reach the dungeon and the temperature, she noted was much colder than up on the ground floor. Goosebumps began to prick on her arms but she ignored them as she continued to her destination.

She now stood in front of the door leading into Snape's beloved potions cupboard. Though she knew it was locked, she pulled the handle for good measure. Of course it was locked. Sliding out her wand, she whispered "Alohamora."

The lock did not so much as jump when she uttered the incantation. Blast. She really didn't expect it to open, though it still came as a disappointment. After experimenting with several other spells that she had read about, she ultimately ended with the same result.

Of course. Snape would not make it so terribly easy for a wizard to break into his store. A wizard...Perhaps...

She got to onto her hands and knees and pulled a bobby pin from her hair. Maybe Snape would have taken persuasions against spells, but what about muggle methods?

She inserted the end into the lock and began to jiggle it back and forth to loosen the teeth inside. Then, as she had learned from a book she had read when she was ten, she began to push each tooth up individually until it clicked. There was up to twenty teeth depending on the lock so she knew it would be a time consuming process.

Click. Click. Click. She had created a great pace when she heard a scuffling coming from the other end of the corridor. Footsteps. Derrick!

She continued to push the pin in as quickly as she could. She was almost done. In her haste, she lost her grip on the lock causing it to clang noisily against the wood of the door.

She slid the pin back into the hole and to her dismay, each of the teeth had lowered to their previous positions.

Dropping her pin in angst she stood quickly and looked for a place to hide. Nothing. No ecloves. No pillars. One statue. That was too obvious, but there was nothing else. She began to run for it. As she turned to run behind it, her foot caught on its base and she skidded forward on all fours.

She scrambled to her feet, adrenaline temporarily suppressing the pain in her ankle. She rushed forward to remove the stone from view that she had dislodged with her fall and she was struck with an idea.

As quickly as she could under its weight, she hauled it over to the lock and smashed down with a clang. She had to hurry. The sound would clearly draw whoever was approaching.

She tossed the brick aside, not caring whether or not it was visible and slipped into the cupboard. Once she closed the door, she was enveloped in complete darkness.

Taking a deep breath in she pressed her ear against the door. She did not hear a sound. No footsteps. She waited another moment before removing her ear from the wood.

She had been lucky once again.

"Lumos." Shelves upon shelves of beakers and vials containing various solutions and potions ingredients were nailed to the walls which seemed to continue up forever.

She didn't have all night so she knew she had to complete her list quickly.

She lowered the tip of her lit wand to illuminate the parchment. Five-Finger Grass was the first ingredient on the list. She lifted her wand higher to illuminate the upper shelves. The ceiling was not yet in view so she assumed that it would be another seventeen or eighteen feet up, possibly more. Her stomach churned at the thought of having to climb to the top.

Hermione sighed. She was frightened of heights so the prospect of climbing the latter was not at all appealing. Her ankle was also a problem, but that could be worried about later. At that moment, she needed nothing more than the grass.

She tucked the parchment into the waistband of her black pants so that she had easy access to it and put the wand between her teeth.

Examining Snape's method organization as she climbed the first few rungs, she managed to determine the approximate location of her first ingredient. The grasses were located somewhere near the top of the ladder on what she thought to be the north wall.

As she began her ascent she began to feel more confident. She could do this. Each step made with her left foot hurt terribly, but not to the extent that it prevented her from walking.

She stopped climbing at the correct shelf and reached out for the glass container containing the grass, holding onto the ladder with the other hand. She knew Snape was meticulous and would notice any obvious reduction in ingredients so she resided to take only the required amount. She removed the jar and noted the circle that was left as a result. Years of sitting unused on the shelf allowed for the accumulation of dust around the base. She would have to be careful to place it back in the correct position. Knowing Snape, he would surely notice.

Bringing back the jar she bravely removed her other hand and leaned forward to press her knees against a rung to keep her balance while she extracted the correct number of grass shards.

Without warning, the door below her swung open several feet below her. She jumped surprise, bringing her knees back. The glass jar slipped from her fingers as she reached for the ladder. Her hand missed the rung and her wand fell from her mouth as she let out a scream.

As she fell, the light from her wand went out and leaving her tumbling in complete darkness. Toward her death. Toward Derrick. Which one was worse? She didn't even have to ask herself to know the answer. She knew the answers was Derrick, and she knew before she hit the ground. Or rather...before she almost hit he ground.

She did not hear the glass break as it crashed to the floor, however she did feel a strong pair of arms catch her, preventing her from crashing into the floor along with it. But the arms that caught her, she was sure, would cause her to break into just as many peaces. This time she was unsure if she would be able to piece them together.

She flailed in her saviors arms in attempt to escape his grasp. The figure put up little resistance and lowered her to the ground all the while she was squirming. As soon as her shoes hit the floor, she reflexively reached into her robes to grab her wand. Crap. In the darkness, she dropped to her hands and her knees, feeling around for her wand before Derrick had a chance to get hold of her.

"Stupid Granger," a voice muttered. "Lumos." Hermione squinted at the sudden amount of light that began to pour from his wand, bathing the room in light.

Malfoy stood above her, looking down at the grass she had just been sorting through, a slight frown on his face. Hermione turned her gaze to do the same and suddenly understood his frown.

Tiny shards of glass glistened on the palm of one of her hands, causing small red droplets of blood to come to the surface of her skin. Amidst the piles of grass that she had been furiously picking through in the dark, she had pressed her hand down onto some broken glass.

She didn't notice. The pain was minimal and she had experienced far worse cuts. She was just thankful that the small amount of blood that stained the blades of grass scattered on the floor was not from the various other cuts that littered her body.

She ignored Malfoy as he silently watched her pull out her wand and mutter a spell that caused the glass shards to dissolve and her scrapes to disappear.

She stood and walked over to the ladder to support her ankle. Man she really was turning to quite the accident prone.

.D.

It had only been a few hours but he would bet two-hundred galleons that Granger felt lighter. When he had walked through the door, he had been expecting to find a first year hiding in the cupboard. Not a girl hanging from the top of the ladder. Or a girl with a hand full of glass.

When he saw her pull out her wand, he had a strange urge to push hers aside and do it himself. But as soon as that thought came to his head, he pushed it away. He was a Malfoy. His father would have a shit-fit if he heard about him assisting a mudblood. It was a good thing he didn't. He risked dirtying his hands with her blood.

He looked at the floor stained red. There really wasn't much there...but for someone who was not used to the pain inflicted upon them, it might hurt slightly.

Granger in her perfect little world had no idea.

His blood had looked very similar to her own after the many times he had failed to satisfy his father. Did he just think that? Granger had blood that looked similar to his own. Bullshit. Well, it did sort of...resemble his own. But his was far superior, what with the strength of the magic that saturated every blood cell.

He watched her stand and attempt to stride evenly over to the back wall to lean against the ladder. 'Casually'. Her slight limp gave her away.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here Malfoy!" He didn't miss the pain threatening to surface through her cold gaze. Damn him. Why was he beginning to notice such changes in her facial expression.

"Well Granger, I think I am in a better position to ask you the same question." He replied smartly.

"I am doing my patrols." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have no business being out at this time of night." Draco nearly burst into laughter right there.

"Don't even try Granger. Why else do you think I am wandering around these halls in the middle of the night and not shagging some girl right now." That was a lie. Had he not had patrol, he would probably be avoiding any advances made by girls. He had not been in the mood. "And don't think that I don't know who else is patrolling with me tonight. And I am more than certain her surname does not begin with the letter G."

She stood silent and continued to stare at him.

"How did you know I was in here?"

"You aren't exactly the stealthiest person I know Granger. Though that is not surprising in the least considering you learned from Potter and Weasel. Disregarding the noise, the brick and broken lock...you still need some work."

She didn't reply.

"What the hell are you doing in here anyway?" He added.

"Serving a detention. For Snape."

"Bullocks. I know you better than that. Snape hasn't given you detention." She looked at him questioningly. He swallowed. She was probably wondering how he knew that much information on her own affairs. He may have been paying more attention than he needed to be, but he certainly didn't have his nose in her business.

"That is none of your business," she replied. Her eyes widened in recognition. This is a game! It is twice already! You better tell me what your game is before I do something that could get me expelled you stupid git." Her face was flushed from the surge of anger that went through her. She thought that he was playing her for amusement. How wrong she was. It would have been so much simpler if it had have been that easy.

Twice. He had helped her twice. God damn it. If any of his friends got wind of this, they would surely involve the Dark Lord or his father.. His father would hunt him down and kill him, while the Dark Lord would torture him to the point of death. And then they would Imperious his body just so they could do it again.

"Listen. No one hears about this. Are we clear." It was a statement, not a question.

Granger opened her mouth to reply, but it went slack. He watched as the color seemed to drain from her face; previously tinted red in furry, now white with fear.

"No one hears about what Mr. Malfoy?" A male voice drawled from behind him.

Draco turned to face Professor Burnwick. "What do we have here? A Griffindor and a Slytherin in a cupboard. I must say that you should have taken more care in finding a hiding place." Tension in the room seemed to mount...until...he laughed.

"I'm just teasing. Though it will not escape my mind that you are out after dark. Mr. Malfoy, run along you have prefect duties to attend to. As for you Miss Granger, you will be coming with me for detention. Being out after hours is strictly forbidden for all those but-"

"All those but prefects sir. As her and myself seem to fit under that category I do not see the problem." Draco replied smartly. His eyebrows rose as he seemed to remember Draco informing him of their partnership. But then he smirked as he found an edge to catch onto

"I did not understand that it was apart of the duty of a prefects to break into potion storage cupboards" He returned with a smirk.

"Part of a prefects job is to investigate any peculiar activity in the halls after dark. She and I heard a sound and naturally, we came to investigate." This teacher was really beginning to get on his nerves. His eyes lingered on him before moving to Grangers. She looked down.

"Oh I see. You and your partner for this evening?"

"Yes." Draco replied flatly.

"Well that's peculiar. I was talking to a young girl by the name of Miss Parkinson you see, and she asked me if I had seen you. She said something about you two agreeing to meet up after she patrolled the second floor, while you, the dungeon. I understand that she too is a prefect." He raised his eyebrow.

"Well," he replied, pulling Hermione's arm. He ignored her wince, only trying to get out of the situation. He knew there was something wrong with her leg, ankle or foot bit he didn't care to be around Burnwick when he did find why. Judging by the fact that she was obviously exceedingly uncomfortable with his presence, she was not very found of the professor, which was pretty peculiar for the bookworm. He was certain that the happy-go-luck bookworm loved every subject and every professor that taught it...that was until he witnessed the interaction between her and Burnwick that was.

"We better go find her and inform her that her shift is not until tomorrow night and that she need not be walking the halls at night. Good evening professor."

He turned and began to walk quickly down the corridor away from their professor.

"Move faster you dunderhead," he hissed. Granger only whimpered in return. He didn't like him. There was an air to that guy that bothered him to a great extent. He just didn't know why.

"Will you hurry up!" He growled.

"I can't!" The pair turned a corner and she collapsed to the floor holding her ankle. Stupid Granger. He used his wand to heal her ankle and roughly pulled her up.

"Now get back to your common room. I can still dock points from irresponsible prefects." He turned leaving Granger behind.

She took off after the blonde. She would not be left behind with Derrick skulking around the corridors if she could help it.

"You come to tell me why you were in Snape's potion stores?" He asked boredly without looking at her. He was very interested to learn why Miss Perfect was snooping around in the potions cupboard in the middle of the night.

"None of your business Malfoy."

"Whatever. Get lost then. I still have a half another ten minutes before I can return to my dormitory and to be blunt, I can't stand the sight of you so get lost."

In all honesty, meeting Granger and Burnwick was the most entertainment he had all night - Disregarding the twelve times Pansy tried to get him to shag her against the statue of the Hog.

"You get lost. I am walking in this direction to return to my common room!"

Draco shrugged and turned to leave, but something caught his eye.

"Hey! Malfoy! Give that back!" She reached for it, but Quidditch had served him well and before she could close her fingers around the parchment being pulled from the waistband of her pants, he whipped it away. "Seriously Malfoy!" She attempted another grab but again, he thwarted it.

He began to stride quickly away from her, aware that she was attempting to make up the ground he had put between them. His fingers quickly unfolded the parchment to find a list of ingredients written in Hermione's scrawl. Before she noticed, he pulled out his wand and made a copy of the sheet, slipping in back into his pocket along with the wand.

He turned on her. "If I give this back will you leave me alone?" She nodded mutely. He took her word and handed her back the sheet. She regarded him fearfully for several moments before turning around and racing in the opposite direction.

What a strange girl. He began heading back in the direction of the Dungeons, opening the copy of the paper as he went.

* * *

**Hmm... so Draco now has the potions list...WILL HE BE ABLE TO PUT SOME OF THESE FACTS TOGETHER NOW? Who am I kidding...of course he will. He is Draco Malfoy after all... **

**In addition, Hermione no longer has any blood replenishing potion...that is a problem...what do you think is going to happen?**

_As he entered, he saw Granger talking with Madam Pince. Of course she would. The girl lived in the library after all. _

_He considered entering, but interrupting up a conversation was quite rude...so he decided to eavesdrop instead. _


	18. Chapter 18: The Nobody

**In all honesty, I planned this chapter to continue on, but I will just post the next bit in the next chapter. Sorry for the long period of not updating. I still have A LOT on my plate at the moment, so bare with me if I don't update for a little bit. I really promise that I will finish the fic though! It would bother me forever if I did not finish it after so much work was put into it! Anyway, special thanks to dracolover, j, StarKiss666, Vaneesa85, Emma Reyes, Sylverquill, halabaloo, LeahKeehl13, DracoandHermione, PirateKitten11893, CantBuyLoveRentIt, Say, TheMalfoyHeiress, Edward'sCutie, TrueKelpa, Emily, FigrSk8r13, fireflyshollow, desirable69, Billie, Brena963, SweetTies. (I sincerely hope I got everyone! - if I missed you, preen me out in another review! This is the largest number of reviews I have gotten so far so I am sooooo happy! Also I would have included a rely to each one of you on here, but I am sooo incredibly busy).**

**A concern brought up in one of the reviews was that I was being a bit unclear about unlaying the plot. I definitely want to be certain that everyone understands what is happening, so if I am being unclear, could you help me out by telling me which aspect I need to improve? That would really help my overall writing skills I would think, so don't be shy to do so. Just no flames :P I have feelings too! hahah**

**NOTE: The poem in this chapter was written by a faithful reviewer, StarKiss666! So all credit is given to her for that! **

* * *

Draco made his way to the dungeons, unfolding the worn parchment in his hands to reveal a page full of Granger's cramped scrawl. Once out of sufficient view of Granger, he walked over to one of the multiple torches that bathed the corridor in an eery glow to hold the parchment beneath the flickering flame.

In Granger's small slanted script, he read:

_Ingredients: _

_- Five-Finger Grass_

_- Cinnamon Twig_

_- Echinacea_

_- Rosemary_

_- Yellow Gentian_

_Steps for Making a Blood Replenishing Potion:_

_1. The cauldrons fire must be high and the water boiling (about 2 cups of water)._

_2. The Five-Finger Grass bark needs to be stripped, chopped and crushed into a power. One teaspoon must then be placed in a tea strainer and needs to brew in boiling water for 10 minutes._

_3. A half dozen Cinnamon twigs must be grounded into a fine powder. One table spoon needs to be added to the cauldrons boing water._

_4. The handful of the needle shape Rosemary must be dropped into our cauldron and stirred slowly._

_5. Echinacea roots are next and need to be sliced into small pieces and stirred quickly into the now forming potion._

_6. A dozen of the thin bright yellow leaves of the Yellow Gentian must be crushed and folded into the boiling water._

_7. The fire under the cauldron must be reduced to a very low simmer for one hour._

_8. Removed cauldron from the fire and allow the potion to cool._

9. Draco would have assumed that the sheet he was holding was a mere copy of Hermione's homework...had he not found her rummaging through Snape's ingredients in the middle of the night. The fact that they shared virtually every class was also a tell tale.

She was making a blood replenishing potion. He snickered. Potty must have had a little accident. Maybe that was why he sent his golden girl to fetch him the ingredients for a potion. His low chuckled reverberated off the stone walls and back to his ears. Even to him, the sound was hollow.

Folding up the paper, he slipped it into his robes before turning down a corridor void of light. He sure had been learning a lot of interesting facts about Granger this year, merely upon observation. The bookworm had proved to be more of a mystery than he had originally thought. Unwrapping this one would prove to be a challenge, yes, but one that seemed well worth its prize.

He had learned that she supposedly was not as innocent as everyone thinks, judging by the hickeys on her neck...well, that also proved to be a thorn in Draco's side. She didn't have a boyfriend, or not one that she had knowledge one. Frankly, he had never seen Granger in a romantic relationship, unless you counted that sick friendship she had with Potter and Weasley as romantic. Hell, he had never even seen Granger kiss a boy, let alone allow one to go at her neck.

The lies he had heard her telling Potter was obviously not in her character of the goony grinning Gryffindor's goodie grade grubbing (SweetTies, this one is for you!) self. It would have been tremendously simpler to assume that her perfect persona had finally cracked to reveal her inner manipulative little bitch hiding inside, however, he knew better than to think that. The stupidly perfect Gryffindor wasn't capable of such.

It also seemed that, based on her rapid weight loss, absence from the Great Hall, the two times that he had noticed her throwing out her food, and her little act when she actually did sit down with Potter and Weasley, that she was on some kind of diet. Yes, he noticed. Out of all the girls he knew who would undertake such a scheme, he would have considered Granger to be the last of them. She was not a physical being, judging by her atrocious sense of style.

There was also her bizarre behavior towards their DADA professor. Fear was not usually an emotion easily drawn out for the girl, he had learned that through experience. As much as he had tried to visibly evoke such an emotion in her for his own satisfaction, he had never been capable of pushing her to the point that Burnwick had.

In addition, her sudden craving of male attention? That didn't seem very Grangery either. Stuffing her bra/wrapping her chest in gauze to make her chest appear larger? Well that explained the gauze he found in her bag when he had been rooting though her items. He froze.

The bottle in her bag. When he had smelled it, he knew he recognized he faint aroma, the maroon pigment. And he was certain if he tasted it, he would also recognize the burning tang the liquid made as it ran down his throat. His mother had made him that very same potion several times during his young and recent life.

He recalled the numerous times Granger pulled from her bag the metal bottle and had taken a long swig. It wasn't Potter that required the blood replenishing potion, it was Granger. The parchment in his robes further solidified that fact.

.H.

Hermione sighed in relief as she mounted the steps leading to Gryffindor tower. That was close. That was way too close! She couldn't imagine what could have happened should he have read what was on the parchment, though he probably wouldn't have made too much of it anyway. It was after all just a potion. There was no ties to her but the fact that it was written in her hand. All the same she was happy it was in her possession alone and it could have ended in hundreds of different ways, each terrible in their own way.

Following Draco's departure, he could have run and told Snape for one, and that would surely cause him to be more miserable than normal and possibly fail her!

She was not convinced that he would have told anyone to be honest with herself, after all, he had previously aided her in her escape of Derrick, twice now, that he wouldn't run to their potions professor. Though she did not put it past him to use the information to manipulate her in the future. If he wasn't a complete prat, she would owe him more than he would ever know.

As long as it never got back either Dumbledore or Harry, she would be safe. More importantly, Harry would be safe.

_._D_._

Draco sat in the middle of Slytherin table looking down at the letter before him in complete and utter disbelief. As his eyes moved over the familiar scrawl, he made certain that his features did not betray his true emotion.

When he first noticed his father's seal on the lip of the envelope, he was more than a little surprised. It wasn't uncommon for him to receive owls, but usually they were from his mother sending his favourite sweets.

The owl that carried the crisp white envelope sealed in green wax crushed with the Malfoy crest was unfamiliar, informing him that whatever information the letter contained was for his eyes only.

It would have been suspicious for him to leave the Great Hall after receiving a letter, so he made certain that no lingering eyes would find their way to the parchment and peeled back the seal. He was uncertain of what he would find, but what he found was not at all what he ever would have expected.

_Draco,_

_ I have been informed of your sudden, unexpected alliance with a Miss Hermione Granger from none other than the Dark Lord himself, and to be frank, I am rather appalled that you would affiliate yourself with such scum. You are not a child anymore Draco, therefore I expected better behavior out of you, especially as next year will be the year that you formally pledge you allegiance to the Dark Lord. You have disgraced our name and I expect that you will do your duty and cut your fruitless alliance with the mudblood before you or myself get punished further. The Dark Lord is not pleased Draco. You best learn that it is not wise to spar with fire. Especially flames that erupt from around the Dark Lord. You __will__ be engulfed and you __will__ be consumed as I will do nothing to stop them from lighting it. _

_ I hope that you are not getting into too much trouble at school and that your classes are going well, rather as well as they could be considering the excuse for a school that you are attending. It is always best to fly under the radar, something again that you will soon learn. _

_L. Malfoy_

He never usually signed his letters. On the rare occasions that he did, he had never signed his letters, 'Love father' or 'Dad'. Only a cold 'L. Malfoy'.He supposed it didn't really bother him. It was something that he had become accustomed to.

He folded the letter and placed it carefully in his pocket.

His father's use of the word "alliance" bothered him a great deal as well. There was no fidelity between himself and Granger what so ever. He supposed that his assistance to the girl was extremely out of character, but that would not cause a snitch to run to the Dark Lord would it? Evidently it would.

There was no possible way that anyone had known, especially the Dark Lord. How had such information trickled to such a high power, only to be syphoned down to his father? His class mates had not been present when he had first assisted her in escaping detention with Burnwick, as they has already exited the class..nor was anyone present in the middle of the night when he had caught them inside Snape's potions cupboard.

Only Burnwick, Granger and himself had been accounted for. Granger was a close friend with Potter and had too much loyalty to the scar-head than to double-cross him. Burnwick was ruled out as well as it was clear, based on his profession under Dumbledore that his allegiance lies with Dumbledore.

Draco stood from the table, without saying goodbye, returned to his dormitory and pulled out a quill and parchment to reply to his father.

_Father, _

_ It must have been a misunderstanding as I have no affiliation with the mudblood. You may inform the Dark Lord that his source is mistaken. They are nothing but a threat to the wizarding world and I want no part of encouraging their spread. _

_ School is decent enough. The old oaf of a headmaster allotted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to another insufferable idiot, very similar to Lockhart by the surname of Burwick. Do you know of him?_

_D. Malfoy_

He decided to leave out any apprehension towards the man, should his father mistake it for fear. A Malfoy never showed fear.

Content with his letter He stood from his seat and made for the owlrey.

.H.

The following morning she had lost her nerve to go to breakfast. Her episode with Him the previous day had drained her of strength. It was more than evident that he was attempting to worm his way back into terrorizing her life. She was not sure if she was more frightened of this, or the idea itself. In his presence, she felt so exposed and frightened, that if he ran into her, despite the fact that she could be with Harry, Ron and Ginny, that he would find a way to make her go with him.

Hermione knew at that moment she would do anything to keep up the facade of normalcy that she had worked so hard to construct.

That beings said, she knew that she was going to face him again. Her pride would not allow her to back down so easily. She was Hermione Granger, not some little girl who broke at a first glance. No, she was not going to be that girl. Even if it involved her being put into situations she wasn't exactly fond of. But all the same, she wasn't going to put herself in such situations just for the hell of it! She would not allow such bravery to cloud her vision.

Regardless of this recollection, she avoided the Great Hall by making a trip to the library. After she gained some more strength, she will go to the next DADA class and she would not allow the fear that she was sure swam in her eyes break through her facade.

Hermione hurried to the library, taking as many shortcuts as she knew of. This time alone allotted her the opportunity to do some research about the blade that Derrick had used to slice her skin, without the praying eyes of Harry or Ron.

Then perhaps she might be able to find a way to make the cuts on her body disappear for good. She could not imagine having to cover up her problem for the rest of her life! It was like having her period...all over her body...ALL OF THE TIME! Having her period once a month was bad enough. There were tampons for that! And birth control pills! But for what she had to deal with...it was like wrapping herself up in a giant period pad and acting like nothing was wrong! All she needed was to start PMSing!

She finally arrived in the library and wasn't surprised that there were no students in sight. It only made it easier for her to search around a bit, only putting her in a better mood to commence her research without fear of interruption.

However, this good feeling soon disappeared following a morning of fruitless searching. She wanted nothing more than to scream in frustration.

She had a stack of several books piled high in front of her, each having to do with various dark charms and enchantments that could be placed on muggle objects. She had found historical information to do with several medieval artifacts that had been charmed to brutally attack a muggle borns without a wielder, but that was as close as she had come. Perhaps what she needed was permission to enter the restricted section of the library. She would need the assistance of Madam Pince to enter however.

The thought nerved her slightly. She couldn't exactly walk up to the woman and say 'Oh good morning Madam Pince. I was wondering if you had a book that might include information on charmed muggle items, specifically blades. The cuts on my body don't seem to be healing so I was wondering if I could find any information that might lead to me finding a solution!' NO she couldn't do that.

She pondered for several minutes before coming to a conclusion. She would ask for access to that sector of the library and for her assistance in locating a book, however she would claim that it was for a class assignment. The only problem with her tale is that she was required a signed permission form, but she was certain that if she told her that she had either forgotten it, or that her professor had forgotten to administer her one, that she would be granted access regardless.

_ S_he began the long trek back to the front of the library, and as expected, the woman was seated primly behind her desk, wand out, flicking several of the volumes out of the return bin and back on their way to their proper shelf.

"Oh Miss Granger!" She looked up from the pile of texts to smile at her I didn't hear you at all!" she replied as she continued to sort through the books.

"Yes, I was in the back actually," Hermione replied, trying to come up with an excuse to ask about a book. She should have done that on the way. Pince nodded.

"Is there anything I can do for you this morning?"

"Well yes actually," she said carefully. "I was looking for a source of information regarding charmed muggle artifacts," she tried. Pince's face lit up as it always had with the prospect of searching between the shelves for new knowledge.

"Oh yes, there is a section on the shelf right beside the-"

"Beside the charmed animals section," Hermione finished for her. "I know. I was looking for more information regarding the dark arts. I managed to find a few historical references but that was about it." Madam Pince nodded again.

"Why may I ask are you fixated on such a subject?" she narrowed her eyes. It was very uncommon for a student to seek information on the dark arts, so that was another strike. She had to come up with something quick.

"I was assigned the topic on tuesday...in Auror/Law Enforcement class." Hermione replied evenly. She had openly lied to the librarian! Her heart raced as Madam Pince looked her over, internally analyzing her tale. Worry began to creep into her. Would she buy her lie? This could ruin the reputation she had built for herself thus far. Nevertheless, it was a risk that she was willing to take.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pince smiled and nodded at her, seeming to buy her story.

"Dark arts...Miss Granger, Hogwarts has a great deal of information on the subject, however, all information to do with dark enchantments on objects is located in the restricted section, and as you know, I cannot grant you access without a permission slip." Damn it.

"Oh right. My professor gave me one the date that the topic was assigned," she mumbled, searching through the pockets of her robes. She made a show of looking for the parchment, though she knew was not there; the parchment that never had, and never would exist.

"Oh Madam Pince!" she wailed, her voice full of false anxiety. "I-I can't find it! I think I left it in my dorm!" The librarian pressed her lips together, a sliver of pity in her eyes.

"I suppose that you are a responsible student who has done nothing in the past to make me believe that you will do anything terrible with the information found in some of the books...nor that you would deface them in any way. Follow me."

Hermione almost screamed. She did it! She would be getting into the restricted section! She was more than certain that she would find something to help her in there!

.D.

Draco walked to the entrance of the library, a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages _under his arm. He had borrowed the book on the first night and decided to return following his trip to the owlery. There was still time before class.

As he entered, he wasn't surprised in the least to see the bushy haired Gryffindor talking with Madam Pince. Of course she would. The girl lived in the library after all.

He considered entering, but interrupting up a conversation was quite rude...so he decided to eavesdrop instead.

He stepped behind a bookcase at the entrance so he would not be seen. He didn't dare peak at them through the books on the shelves should he be seen. How would he explain that.

He had told his father that he was not affiliated with the book worm, however if he could see him at the present moment, he would not be proud in the least of his antics. He was only returning a book after all. That was no sin.

The voice of Madam Pince was muffled slightly through the thick wall of dusty volumes that separated them.

"Why may I ask are you fixated on such a subject?" Pince asked her sharply. What had Granger been talking about before he entered? He knew he shouldn't have stopped to terrorize the first years! Had he not done so, he might have actually heard that crucial part of the conversation.

"I was assigned the topic on tuesday...in Auror/Law Enforcement class." She replied smoothly. Assignment?

Draco narrowed his eyes. He wasn't aware of an assignment. Again? Granger was lying about an assignment again! Just like she had to Potter. It had become almost tradition for him to overhear Granger's conversations. He just hoped one of these times he would hear some information that pointed to a more concrete answer, so then he wouldn't feel so compelled to understanding her.

When the librarian asked for a permission slip, he was certain that she would get caught in the web of her lie, but he was surprised when Madam Pince overlooked the fact that she could not produce one. Had that been him, she would have shooed him out of the library on a whim!

Draco heard the pair recede toward the restricted section. He was curious. Why would Granger lie to get into the restricted section. She lied quite well actually. So well in fact, that he was unsure of why she did not get sorted into Slytherin. He frowned slightly. He knew why. Her blood status did not meet the requirement.

He followed the pair several shelves behind, so as not to be heard. He had nothing better to do, so why not find out why Miss Not-so-goodie-two-shoes was so keen on getting into that section of the library. What information was she searching for and why did she need it?

As he went, he passed a table piled high with books, and placed beside them, was Grangers bag. He slowed his pace and examined the area around him. No one was in sight, so he slinked quickly went over to the pile and began sorting though the books at random.

He felt like a creep. But he was so interested in finding the reason behind Grangers odd behavior that he pushed the thought aside. She owed him anyway! He had helped her out of a jam more than once this year. He didn't know why he did help her. He had no motive, nor reason, but he did all the same. So if Granger was not going to tell him what was up, he was going to find out himself.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. The books, seemed to be chosen at random with few minor attachments. Some pertained to the Dark Arts, to Charms, many were other unfamiliar documents, some of which related to muggle artifacts charmed with dark magic.

What was this girl up to?

He reached a hand out to pick up a book but stopped and stepped quickly behind a bookcase as Madam Pince walked by to return to her desk. She seemed to change her mind turned around, walking straight in his direction. Thankfully she stopped several paces before she could see around the bookcase, where he was currently hiding.

Unfortunately, she raised her wand, and with a little flick, the books that had previously littered the table flew to their positions on various shelves around him. He cursed the woman, knowing that he would now be unable to read each of the titles. He at least had an idea of the subject she was researching.

The clacking of the woman's heels told him that she was returning to the front of the library.

He stepped out from behind the shelf and noticed Granger's bag lying on the table next to where the books had been prior. He picked up the item and headed in the direction of the restricted section.

At least he had an excuse to see what Granger was up to. Then again, if he had not had the bag as an excuse, he would have slithered over regardless.

.H.

After being left alone by Madam Pince, she began to peruse the shelves that she had advised her to look over. The woman had already assisted her in pulling several books form the shelves, but Hermione decided to comb the shelves herself. That was when she noticed it.

A small volume with a black spine stood alone on the end of the shelf, evidently forgotten. The book did not seem to have anything special about it, but for a reason that Hermione could not deduce why, she felt drawn to the lone book. Perhaps it was because she felt so utterly alone as well. Alone in a castle full of people, just as the book was alone in a library with shelves full of books.

Hermione reached out and retrieved the book, deciding to move it back to its correct place, as surely another student had placed it there after removing it from another position.

She turned the book to view the spine, seeking the section in the library to which it belonged. The spine was blank. Clearly it did not belong anywhere. She flipped the book to read the cover.

The hard cover was a simple glossy black that shone behind the gold print. _The Nobody. _

Hermione had never been fond of poetry. There was something that was all too...abstract about it. She was a methodical thinker who much preferred losing herself in the world of non-fiction. She never did have the interest in digging deeper to sift through the millions of literary techniques used to increase the quality of writing. It is not to say that she did not admire it however.

The book seemed out of place in the Hogwarts library. Clearly it was not a book that was written by wizards Opening the cover, she proved her hypothesis correct. _Creative Communication Inc.,_ a muggle publishing company no doubt.

It was more than probable that a student with a muggle background had forgotten the book in the library and as it seemed to be in an incorrect place, Madam Pince had evidently not noticed it.

Turning the page she found that the owner had not inscribed their name, rather _Nobody_ was written in neat cursive along the faded line. She found that odd, as the title of the book seemed to relate to the 'owner'

She lifted the cover and turned to the table of content. _Release Me, Give Me Your Love, This is Me. _

The moment they met her eyes, immediately she felt overwhelmed by her mind's ability to infer the poems content before setting eyes on it. A title can reveal a great deal about the poem, or simply through the reader in one direction whilst actually leading them in another.

Hermione closed the book, pressing the spine to her knees. She inserted the nail of her thumb randomly between the pages to choose a poem at read through the poem quickly, admiring the elaborate and creative writing style. She understood the message the author was attempting to covey, however it did not capture her heart they way that she read in descriptions that poetry should.

Again she inserted her finger nail between the pages randomly. She continued to do so a few more times.

After reading her seventh poem, she began to feel guilty. She was supposed to be here to try and figure out how to break the curse of the dark magic that had sliced her skin - not reading poetry! No matter how good it was!

She stood, preparing to place the volume back on the shelf, but this time planning to slide it between others of its kind so it had a place. A place to belong so it was no longer so alone, so cold.

Before she could do so, she tripped on a fold in the antique rug beneath the chairs in the area and she was sent sprawling, the book flying from her hand several feet away. She internally cursed her clumsiness and stood to recover the book, now laying open on the ground beside another armchair. As she approached, she noticed the title of the poem. A single word, artfully printed at the top of the page. _Scars._

She was overcome with a compulsion to read the words listed beneath.

She stooped to pick up the novel, deciding to read this one last poem before she put the book away. As she did, she collapsed to lean against the side of the armchair.

_ Scars_

_Like needles piercing your heart_

_Etched into your soul_

_They fade but the pain still exists_

_They will never leave you_

_No matter how hard you try to forget_

_The memory is still with you_

_The scars from the depths of your soul_

_Will never disappear_

_They will always remind you_

_Of the things you would rather forget_

_The tragedy in our lives_

_The misfortune_

_The grief of losing our loved ones_

_Whatever it may be_

_We will survive_

_We will live_

_With our scars_

_By: S. Carter_

Hermione cupped a shaking hand over her mouth and allowed the tears to flow freely down her cheeks. The author, S. Carter, seemed to be able to see into her soul. To see into her mind, capturing each and every feeling that she possessed and recorded it on paper. To be able to write such words, she too would have experienced a traumatic event(s) for her words to project such a raw emotion.

_They fade but the pain still exists..._the words were so true. So beautifully true. As the poem mentioned, she had attempted numerous times to forget the cause of her pain but the negative experiences, she knew, would always be present in the form of memories and scars. Physical scars that the had tried to erase with magic, emotional scars that she had tried to erase by forgetting. But she couldn't forget. She put her head in her hands and began to cry. _She will survive, she will live, with her scars. _

She took a breath to collect herself and stood, shaking slightly. She needed to get back to work. She needed to push through this. Her hand reached up to pull a volume that she thought would be useful - at least her search was not completely fruitless.

She began her walk to the table with her other sources, bringing her new find back to the table, and slipping the tiny black book into her robes.

_.D._

Unlatching the lock, he pushed the antique door open, thankful that it did not groan in protest as expected. He entered the restricted section with caution. If he scared Granger too well, as much as he wanted to, he was certain that she would scream, thereby alerting Pince. He didn't need that old bat snooping around when he was digging for information.

He closed the door behind him and turned to look for Granger. She was no where in sight. He continued to wander until he found the desk that it was clear that she was working at. Already, a tower of books was piled high, nearly spreading over the entirety of its glossy oak surface.

He did not even have to look at the titles to realize what subject they pertained to.

Walking past the table, he began to weave in and out of the bookshelves that reached the ceiling. He didn't exactly have a plan yet; he didn't know what he was going to ask her. He didn't even know exactly why it was that he was there, but he was.

Draco stopped mid step, turning his head to the side to better hear the faint sound coming from behind the next shelf over. He listened for several seconds, almost managing to convince himself that he had imagined it. That was until he heard the sound again. It was a muffled...sob? That couldn't be Granger. Grangers do not cry. They just don't.

He pressed his lips together. Why him. Why could it not have been Potty that found her balling her eyes out and not him.

He remained, for the most part, concealed behind the bookshelf as he peered around the corner.

He tried to suppress the feeling of pity that was beginning to creep through him. Malfoys did not feel pity, especially for...for people like her.

It seemed to take all the strength inside of Granger to pull herself to a standing position; to wipe the trails that her tears left behind on her skin. Her body seemed so frail, so unlike her. It was almost as though he was watching a ghost of her walking between the shelves, where he was certain that her spirit would lead her.

He felt so terribly uncomfortable with his body's peculiar reaction to the girl, especially as she moved her thin arm to retrieve a book that had been previously lying beside her crumpled form. What had changed? Nothing. So why was his behavior so off?

He lifted his hands to his face, shaking his head to hopefully rid himself of the feelings of remorse he felt for the woman, knocking a book off the shelf beside him in the process.

She let out a small squeak and stiffened, noticing his partially hidden form. The volume slipped through her fingers, dropping to the floor with a thud. The impact with the carpet caused layers of dust to be disturbed, forming a cloud over top of the book.

"You are not supposed to be in here," she stated, seeming to attempt to suppress a hidden rage. The red blotches beside her eyes had not had time to fade. Oh Granger...She was supposed to be the example for girls to aspire to. She had morals, a good head on her shoulders, decently attractive, a girl that any man would be proud to take home to their mother...but she wasn't of pureblood stature.

"Neither are you," Draco replied. He had intended to make his voice sound a lot softer than it came out. She glared at him with presumably all of the strength that she possessed. Her eyes dropped to the shoulder, on which her bag was slung.

"And give me back my bag you pratt!" she seethed. He walked up to her and extended his arm holding the bag. She avoided his hands as she pulled the bag to her aggressively.

He smirked slightly. Leave it to Granger to so quickly rebuild her wall of defense after he had seen them crumble down around her. Curiosity was a bitch! How much he wanted to get inside her head and read her thoughts!

Taking the close vicinity to his advantage, he stooped to to pick up the book that lay forgotten on the floor.

He casually brushed of the cover has he spoke "So what is your little project on? You know, the one for Defense Against the Dark Arts?" He knew that he should probably be more compassionate to her, but he knew already that she would not accept his pity should he choose to give it. Not to mention, if she was going to play the game and cover her tracks, he would play along and uncover them all.

A surprised look painted her features, but before he could register it, she held out her hand for the book. "Give it back Malfoy. I am not playing your game today. Give it back before - before I hex you."

Draco flipped open the book carelessly and began to leaf through the pages, pretending to read them. "Tell me Granger, why are you so fixated on this book? If it is a good enough reason, perhaps I will return it to you."

She brushed a lock of hair back from her eyes in frustration.

"Just give it back to me. Now." What was so god-damn important about this book? He looked down at the cover. _Dark Deeds with Dark Arts Vol. 2. _

"Switching to the dark side I see?" He laughed, though he wanted nothing more than to make her tell him why she had the book in the first place. Seeing Miss Want-to-be-perfect lie to the librarian to read a book on the dark arts.

He hoped, though he knew it was a slim hope, that she would slip up in her rage and divulge this information.

She clenched her jaw and tried to reach for the book, but he was to quick.

"MALFOY!" She began to chase him around the table.

"I'll give it back if you tell me why you want it so much!" He skirted the table, trying desperately to infuriate her to the point where she would spill.

Soon enough, he realized that this was not the best approach, so he changed tactic.

He suddenly stopped, turning to face her. She bumped to his front, not expecting his sudden change of movement.

He reached out an arm around her waist to steady her. She looked up at him through slitted eyes, baring her teeth and pushed his hand away. "Give. Me. The. Book. NOW!" He didn't wince as her voice grew louder with fury. He had seen her mad before but not as mad a she was now.

.H.

Hermione looked up at the Slytherin before her, wanting nothing more than to throttle him. He had taken her book, and she was frightened that it was the one that would give her the answers that she so desperately needed.

She felt the warmth of his hand through her thick robes. She pushed it off quickly, not wanting to be burned. "Give. Me. The. Book. NOW!"

He leaned in slightly so the warmth of his words tickled her ear. "What is wrong with you Granger?" he whispered.

She sighed. She needed to tell someone or she would go insane. The way of coping that she was currently implementing was not working. She needed help. But not from a sadistic scaly snake. Not from Malfoy. She put her hands to his toned chest and pushed him away.

"You. Now get out before-" She was interrupted by the voice of Madam Pince.

"Okay Miss Granger, I must say that I think that it is about time that you headed to your first class-Mr. Malfoy? What might I ask are you doing here. Never mind. Off to class with both of you!" She shooed the pair out of the doors leading into the restricted section and locked them behind her.

Hermione protested all the while.

"Please, please, I didn't have adequate time to collect the information I require to write my paper!"

"Well then Miss Granger, I suggest that you come back after dinner this evening and continue. And seeing as you will have returned to your common room at least once by then, I expect that you will bring your permission form along with you."

Hermione glared at him with such intensity, hoping to burn a hole through his perfectly tapered silk Slytherin robes.

She nodded curtly at the librarian and took off down the corridor.

.D.

Hermione managed to avoid his gaze through all of their morning classes that day. Not that he was looking for her gaze...HELL yes he was! He wanted to know what was up with the stupid little mudblood! He wanted to know why he was so obsessed with finding out! He was certain that it was only curiosity that was tying him to Granger. So after he learned what she was so desperately trying to hide, he would be able to finally let all of this go and forget about Granger.

.H.

Following Advanced Potions was Runes.

The professor had gone to retrieve some ancient texts that they would be translating, while the class reviewed their notes. The class was to write a small quiz, only counting for a measly percent of their final grade, which of course put Hermione on edge. What made her more upset was the fact that she could not focus on the runes in front of her eyes.

Each class that morning, Hermione had gone out of her way to avoid Malfoy's gaze that she felt burning the back of her head. It had begun to worry her. A lot! How much information had he collected? He must have observed something; heard something, that would cause him to suddenly pick up the scent.

Harry and Ron had come close on several accounts, but she had always been able to thwart their attempts to discover her secret. With her consistent lying, she was more than certain that she had successfully lead them off the trail. But Malfoy would most likely prove to be a separate issue altogether.

Harry was stubborn, Malfoy was pigheaded-in more ways than one. At least Harry seemed to have the decency to leave her to her business. But Malfoy was not engrained with that sort of courtesy. She would have to be more careful than she had ever been! Especially under his watch. She couldn't be sure he was paying attention now, after all why would he? She could understand Harry and Ron, but what was she to Malfoy? A game. Well, she could play at that game to, couldn't she?

The Slytherin was probably all to familiar with the art of lying to get his way; he could probably recognize it better than anyone else, even the two boys who had known her since her first year at Hogwarts.

Her head began to spin while she tried to clear her mind by studying a water rune. Her sudden shift in equilibrium informed her instantly that she desperately required blood replenishment.

She had felt weak and fatigued all day, but she had avoided opening her bag to retrieve her bottle. She had only approximately a half a bottle left. Though it seemed like great enough a quantity, it really was quite the opposite. She avoided opening it though she felt dizzy at times so as not to waste the potion.

She had promised herself not to drain any amount unless she was certain she absolutely required it.

Throughout the day, she had been able to ride out her dizzy spells, but at the moment, the motions in her head were surely not relenting.

She reached into the separate pouch in her bag to pull out the metal bottle.

She would most definitely need to sneak out to get ingredients, this evening for sure. But this time, she would be certain to take Harry's cloak. She felt rather stupid for not remembering it in the first place.

The bottle felt lighter than she remembered. It did not worry her much as she would have bet her life that she had left enough in it the last time she had taken a sip. A mouthful or two would surely suffice until she brewed another batch.

She unscrewed the lid and tipped the bottle back. She waited for the biting taste of the potion to slide into her mouth and onto her tongue. It never did.

She shook the bottle slightly, panicking. This had to be a dream-no, a nightmare! She was certain that there was some potion left! After all, the last time she opened the bottle it had been half full! There had to be some potion left! There had to be!

She peered into the bottom of the bottle and her fears were realized. She saw the reflection of her brown eye filled with fear staring back up at her.

She set the bottle on the desk and brought her hand to rest on her forehead. Her neck was beginning to ache as the weight her head began to increase.

What was she going to do? She had to do something! If anything she had to see if she could get the ingredients even if it meant skipping class. If she did not find a way to bring up her blood levels, she knew that she could pass out.

She looked at her hands, willing the world around her to stop spinning. She started to push herself from the chair. She did not care if anyone saw her leave, she could die if she did not get to Madam Pomfrey soon. She would come up with an excuse.

She finally managed to stand but found that the strength had drained from her limbs. She fell back limply.

A pressure began to build up behind her eyes and spots of black began to obscure the double image before her.

One more failed attempt at rising and her body went into panic mode.

"Granger!-" She struggled to turn her head and peer behind her over her shoulder. Her lips felt thick and heavy so replying was futile. Had she been able to reply, she knew that in the state she was in she would even ask him for help.

Between her spotting vision she saw Malfoy get up from his chair and run toward her. The world faded completely to black.

.D.

He watched Granger fish through her bag and eventually pulled out the metal bottle. Oh no. He continued to regard her as she tipped her head back slightly to accommodate the angle of the bottle. She shook it several times seeming to will the content to slide into her mouth. Content which he knew was not present. She continued to struggle as she attempted to drink at least one drop of the potion. Panic ripped through him.

This was his fault. He knew what would happen if she did not find a method of bringing her blood levels up. He did not know how badly she needed the potion or even why. Depending on the rate at which her blood levels depleted, she would need to receive a supplement within a given amount of time. He had to let her know at least that she no longer had any blood replenishing potion left so that she had enough time to do something about it. Well, she already knew that she didn't any by now...But he had to check to make sure-

"Granger!" He noticed her head beginning to sway, her labored attempts to stand failed. She turned to face him and he watched the brilliant sparkle that usually filled her chocolate brown eyes vanish as her head slipped and hit the surface of her desk.

Draco jumped over the desk to her side. He felt his heart hammering painfully as he approached the girl with a speed he did not know he had.

He did not necessarily like her, but she did not deserve to die because of him. If she had passed out from blood loss, he knew that she only had a certain amount of time left. He needed to get her to the hospital wing. Pomfrey would surely have some blood replenishing potion.

He ignored the looks he was given from the rest of the class as he slid his arm beneath her knees and wrapped the other around her upper body.

Lifting her form with ease, he again noted her body weight seemed to have decreased. It should not have bothered him, but it did. Sure, he had been working hard over the summer in his spare time training hard for quidditch and that obviously heavy lifting would evidently come easier, but it should not have been this easy.

He hurried out of the classroom and headed in the direction of the hospital wing. Her head lulled back slightly revealing the pale white skin of her neck.

He dared a quick look at her face while he walked as quickly as he could. Her cheeks, he noticed, had hallowed slightly, giving her a similar attribute (though not quite as prominent) as his Aunt Bellatrix. Dark circles rimmed her closed eyes and her once rosy cheeks seemed to miss the color that had often infused them.

One glance told him this much, and he began to wonder exactly how much he had overlooked about the girl laying in her arms.

He wanted to kick himself. This was his doing. An image of the spilt potion glistening on the stone floor flashed before his eyes. If he had not been so nosy, he never would have opened the bottle, never would have spilled the potion, and Granger would have never fainted. And her stock, he assumed, was probably low if not all gone. Granger would not be so careless, especially if it was that terribly important to her.

"What have we got here Mr. Malfoy?" Drawled a voice from behind him.

"Professor, I don't have time to chat, I need to get her to the hospital wing," he replied in a clipped tone. Could he not see that a student was unconscious in his arms? Was he really that obtuse?

He continued to walk brusquely, aware that Professor Burwick traveled in his wake, closely behind.

"I see," the professor replied lazily, meeting Draco's stride. He stiffened, tightening his grip on the Gryffindor. "Well, why don't you give Miss Granger to me and head back to class? You wouldn't want to miss your class because of a mudblood would you?" He smirked at the end of his sentence.

Draco almost dropped Granger in surprise. He was taken aback. He had just called the girl in his arms a mudblood! Never had he heard a teacher refer to a student in such a manner. He didn't like it. Yes, she was a god-damn mudblood, but the teacher had no right to call her one!

His arms further tightened around Granger, pressing her thin frame tightly to his chest. "Professor Vector asked me to take her." Professor Burnwick looked at him suspiciously, a curious grin pulling at the corners of his thin lips. Alarms were going off in his mind. He needed to get out of there! Granger's life could be at stake.

Burnwick raised his eyebrow whilst observing the unconscious Granger within his arms. "Interesting. Until next time Mr. Malfoy." Draco caught a flash of excitement in his eye as he turned down another corridor, leaving Granger and himself alone.

He pushed the strange encounter to the back of his mind and continued his race towards the infirmary.

...

* * *

_"I am still not hungry," she replied stubornly. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer so she could hear him, his voice just above a whisper._

_"Just like you weren't hungry yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that." Her eyes widened. How could he possibly know that?_

_**Oh, Mr. Malfoy. You have not seen anything yet...I am thinking next chapter that Draco finds out a bit more about Derrick's hidden agenda...and perhaps a bit more, what do you guys think :D?**_

_*****Also, as you may have noticed, the chapter is un-named. If you have an idea for the name of the chapter, inbox it and I will choose the one that I prefer the most! You will get credit in the next chapter! :D**_


	19. Chapter 19: The Somebody

13, 318 WORDS! Prepare yourself!

**Hellooo Readers! Thanks so much I got the most reviews I have ever gotten! And sorry for the wait...this chapter is over twice as long as normal so it took me twice as long. Let me know if you prefer quick updates with shorter chapters, or long chapters with longer time periods between updates. Thanks :) So thank you to: HandD, undeniablebloodlust, Emz, 8, lalalolipop, Draco'sGirl98, chucktastic, Vaneesa85, raya2cool4u, TrueKelpa, Maisy, damonlover, SweetTies, Nala Moon, Sylverquill, julescapulet, smileylol, DramioneLover123, StarKiss666, jaspersluv1863, pirateKitten11893, Bookz24 (and to the iboxers that I can't thank :( )**

**Thanks to chucktastic (who through many of her suggested titles, gave me a lot of great ideas! - Because of one of her other titles, this chapter is named "The Somebody" because of her chapter idea "The Nobody and The Somebody") as well as, StarKiss666for suggesting the title, "The Nobody". I really loved all of the titles that you submitted actually, a lot better than my own so there will be a load more chapters to name in the future! **

* * *

Draco's arms tightened around the unconscious Hermione as he raced up yet another flight of stairs. How had he gotten himself into a mess like this. Here he was, a pureblood Malfoy, virtually the highest stature in the wizarding world, carrying a girl of a blood status lesser than the common parasite, to receive aid.

He was touching, carrying a mudblood. He forced himself to feel disgust, but to his dismay, he found it significantly more difficult to do so.

His hands were not touching any of her bare skin, as she was already wearing her heavier set of Hogwarts robes over her uniform. He had noticed, but disregarded the fact that she had already donned the robes usually reserved for the cooler months that covered her arms and fell past her skirt. She looked oddly out of place in a class with their lighter weight uniforms, as the weather had not yet been cool enough to bring out the uniform that she had sported since her arrival at the school. Then again, Hermione always had belonged to a peculiar breed.

As class was in session, he thankfully he did not meet anyone else as he continued his trek to the infirmary. His reputation he had built up over the years would crumple the moment anyone saw Hermione in his arms. No matter how delicate and defenseless she appeared to be at the time, it would provide him no slack from an onlooker. He could not be accused of having a soft sport, especially for a mudblood.

What he was currently doing in helping a mudblood, worst of all, a mudblood in support of Harry Potter, enemy and foe of Lord Voldemort, seemed to challenge virtually every single ideology that had been forced upon him since moment of birth. Yet, he still felt no compulsion to drop her as he knew he should, as society would have wanted him to. As much as he wished to dump the insufferable know-it-all, who had challenged him academically throughout his Hogwarts career into a heap in the corner of the corridor, he could not bring him self to do it! Damn this Gryffindor! Damn her vulnerable state!

He could feel the student had the smallest of issues, such as a scrape or a stomach ache, but now, when she was greatly required, she was no where in sight.

Calling once more, panic etched its way into his stomach, already ridden with guilt. Guilt. A Malfoy doesn't feel guilt. It was most likely annoyance that was twisting his insides. Annoyance.

He raked a hand through his hair in angst, feeling the copy of the blood replenishing potion written in Hermione's hand burning in the back pocket of his trousers beneath his robes.

He did not know what compelled him to bring it with him that day, but what he did know, was that he did not have nearly enough time to make an adequate batch. Even an expert potions master would take a little over an hour to complete the process. What could he possibly do? He needed to find a way to administer the potion, and quick.

Accepting her absence, he raced back to the infirmary and tried the door leading to Madam Pomfrey's office. Draco swore the worst cuss he knew. It was locked.

He pulled his wand from the inside of his robes, and shouted, "Bombarda!", with as much force as he could.

The door shot from its hinges and went sailing back, toppling over Pomfrey's desk, scattering papers every which way. He stepped nimbly over the debris and headed toward one of two doors within, that he was certain contained virtually every potion that one could think of, should there be an emergency. What better potion could you have than one that could replenish blood?

He opened the door with ease and his heart stopped. He was not sure whether or not he should be grateful that there were such a wide array of vials. The greater the number, the more likely his given potion would be on the shelf. However, that also proved to be a problem. The greater the number, the more difficult it would be to locate the _correct_ potion.

"Lumos." Further rows of potions came into view with the additional light from the tip of his wand. He forced himself not to panic as the motionless figure of Hermione plagued his mind, sending his stomach into yet another summersault of...annoyance.

Blood replenishing potion...he skimmed the list of names printed neatly on tiny metal plates mounted directly to the shelf that supported the vial. Looking over the first few shelves quickly he saw several very familiar concoctions that he had either read about or brewed in Snape's class, but none that would assist the witch lying unconscious in the other room.

He flicked the tip of his wand, wishing that he had thought of such sooner. "Accio blood replenishing potion!" A single vile from the shelf on his right flew into his open hand. His eyes centered on the space from which the vial had come, noting the numerous vials of the rouge liquid. He reached over and took hold of as many vials as he could hold before racing back through the door toward Hermione.

He placed the vials carefully on the bed-side table so that they did not roll off and break, then used his now free hands to clear a space beside Hermione. He then sat down beside her and slid his hand beneath her head, inclining it slightly so that she did not choke on the potion he was about to administer to her. He slipped the vial between her lips and tilted it slowly, allowing the entire content to drain down her throat before doing the same with several more vials.

He readjusted the pillow behind her head and placed it gently upon it, her brown hair fanning out every which way. He tucked it into place so that it did not swallow her face completely.

Perhaps lack of oxygen was the reason she fell unconscious, Draco tried to make a jab at her. Seeing as she was uncurious, there were no ears to hear his reasoning - that she was suffocated by her massive mane. Normally he would have congratulated himself on such a stab, but at the present moment, he couldn't care less. He just wanted the girl beside him to regain consciousness.

He had no knowledge of how much blood she lost or whether or not internal bleeding was the cause of her sudden fatigue. He did not see any sources from which blood could stem. If there were none present, why did she so desperately require the potion? He hoped desperately that he was correct in his diagnosis that he had conformed from watching Hermione's habits.

He reached over to the table to gather the remainder of the vials, slipping them into his robes. One could suffer from overproduction of blood cells so he did not risk making her drink another, regardless of how much blood she lost.

He readjusted himself on the side of the bed to watch the girl lying with her eyes closed beside him, hearing the numerous vials clinking together in his pocket with every movement. Her breathing was shallow, but she was still there. He could do nothing else for her, and knew from self experience that even the best medi-witch would also be able to do nothing for her besides the provision of a quiet resting area. It was up to the potion and her own body now. Worry disguised as annoyance was still present in his mind as he examined the girl's pale face.

Her face was so terribly sallow, providing a white canvas on which darker freckles, that he had not noticed she had, were painted. He supposed that they had begun to show from the stark contrast. Or perhaps he had simply never noticed the small a dusting of speckles that dotted her tiny nose.

He reached up a pale, slim hand to the corner of her mouth where a drop of the potion clung to her skin and delicately wiped it away. His fingers, though completely smooth felt rough against the silk-like texture of her skin.

Before his conscious self could prohibit them, his fingertips altered their corse and lightly brushed over her lips that were still parted lightly from drinking the potion. They were warm, and their smooth texture surprised him.

He snapped his hand away. What was he doing? He didn't know what had come over him. He had just willingly touched Hermione! On his own free accord, he had even touched her lips! The strange compulsion confused him. He was checking for breathing...even though he knew she was.

His fingers still tingled from the warm breath that escaped from her mouth. He clenched his jaw tightly and sighed.

What was his problem? Had he suddenly formed this false connection between between them, just because of her peculiar behavior? It wasn't like she and him talked on a regular basis, so why now?

He squeezed his hand into a fist and stretched his fingers out several times in attempt to disperse the unfamiliar tingling that still seemed to run through his fingers. He could no longer deny that there was something inside him that did not want to see, whatever her issue was, cause her more pain. As much as his conscious self desperately wished to deny such, his subconscious seemed to have other ideas. Ideas that he knew he would have to try very hard to suppress.

He could see it. He could see the pain that, even in her unconscious state, was etched in the faint lines in her forehead. He resisted the urge to trace them by lacing his fingers together so tightly they became numb. This act of self restraint however, did not prevent him from letting his eyes take in her face.

It saddened him. She truly was beautiful, despite the numerous discourteous comments that he had hurled in her way. She was really, truly stunning, even in her ill form. It seemed that her beauty was like that of a rose that had been starved of water. Beauty that would increase in strength in the rays of the sun; beauty that would remain even at the face of death or danger.

He knew he should leave. His presence was no longer required, however class was still in session and he did not see the point of retuning. Besides, he could not bring himself to stand. His eyes returned to her lips.

Breaking him from his...thoughts...was the voice of Madam Pomfrey, which floated through the open door. She soon enough followed. She did not look at the pair of students seated on the bed right away, clearly seeing the all too familiar head of platinum blonde hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh Mr. Malfoy, what have you gone and done this time-" she began cheerfully. Her tone automatically switched to as her eyes moved to the back of the room, toward her office. "Explain yourself! What in the name of Merlin have you-"she trailed off again, viewing the unconscious Hermione laying on the bed. Her tone again switched.

"What-What has happened here!" the nurse sputtered, rushing to their side.

Draco was caught between telling the truth, that for whatever reason the girl was consuming large quantities of blood replenishing potion, and a lie. From the look of panic in her eyes the previous night when he had gotten hold of the potion ingredients, Hermione didn't want anyone knowing.

He was certain that he had given her enough potion. Even in his worst cases he had never taken more than two vials and Hermione had already drank several. There was nothing else that could be done in that case.

All the same, he decided not to lie, though he did not divulge _all_ of the information he knew.

"We were in potions and she just fainted. I noticed that she didn't have much to eat lately so perhaps that might be apart of the issue." Yes, he had noticed. It was rather difficult not to, what with Potter and Weasel shoveling down the pile on their plates while the frail girl seated beside them stared at her own, disjointed - that was when she had, on rare occasion, decided to join them in the Great Hall.

The nurse nodded understandably and walked over to Hermione and began to examine her.

"It is best to let her rest for now Mr. Malfoy. You may stay if you wish," she smiled at her last sentence. As much as he wanted to make sure that Hermione was okay, he knew that it would be best if he left. If anything got back to the Slytherin population of Hogwarts, they would surely screw him over. And then he remembered. He was so stupid. There were several Slytherins in their class when he had hurdled the desk to save her. God damn it, he had really screwed up this time. His father would surely hear about this one, if not already from the nameless source.

"I should get back to class," he replied stiffly, looking down at the girl. His heart ached at the knowledge that he could have prevented what he currently saw before him.

The nurse nodded understandingly. Draco stood, and pushed his hand against the pocket of his robes in attempt to muffle the clicking that occurred with every step as he walked from the infirmary. He did not chance a look back at Hermione.

Following his return to class, several of the students regarded him curiously. Draco chose to ignore them and take his seat, just as the bell rang.

"Mr. Malfoy, might I speak to you for a moment?" Professor Babbling called, beaconing him to the front of the room with a veiny hand.

He stood and walked to the front of the room toward his professor. Surely she would be just searching for information of Granger's condition. His hypothesis was proven correct.

"Miss Granger-How is she?" Professor Babbling's eyebrows knitted together in worry. Her tone also confirmed her anxiety at the idea of Hermione in the hospital wing. Draco wondered absently if her reaction would be much the same if it were he that was in the place of Hermione.

"I understand little of the occurrence and I have become rather concerned," she finished, studying Draco carefully.

"She fainted sir. I brought her to the hospital wing and she is now under the care of Madam Pomfrey." He decided to leave out the whole part about him ravening the nurse's office in search of blood replenishing potion - an unimportant detail.

"I see. Well thank you Mr. Malfoy. As I was out of the class at the time, I could not have asked for more responsible behavior, especially from you." Draco would have been more offended but he knew his professors words could not have been truer in nature.

"Twenty points to Slytherin," she added, beaming. "The prefect position seems to have done you wonders!"

"Thank-you professor," he nodded.

Draco turned to leave, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went. He did not acknowledge the girl from beauxbatons as he passed, though he recognized her as Hermione's partner from charms, slowly packing up her books. It was more than clear from her leisurely pace, that she was trying to overhear their conversation, as the rest of the class seemed to be long gone.

Draco wished to tell her to bugger off and mind her own business, but the presence of Babbling did not allot him such an opportunity so he kept his mouth shut as he made for the door.

"Oh and Mr. Malfoy," Professor Babbling's voice echoed in the all but empty classroom. "Please be so kind as to return Miss Granger's bag. I assume that she would not be pleased in the least should she find that she does not have it in her possession."

Not again. Last time he had brought Granger her bag, it caused the whole mess. He didn't want to screw anything else up.

"I don't mind doing it." Draco turned to face the small girl. "I have to go past the hospital wing anyway, so I might as well bring it up. Babbling seemed appeased.

"Very well Miss Carter. Have a good evening Mr. Malfoy."

.H.

Hermione blinked rapidly to clear her blurred vision. She appeared to be what was...the hospital wing? She was not ill was she?

Memories flooded back to her immediately. Sitting up quickly she noticed a figure seated beside her, chewing absentmindedly on the end of her quill before violently scratching out sentence in what appeared to be a small red journal.

"Stephanie?" she croaked. The girl lifted her eyes from the book and smiled. She closed it on her lap and placed her quill neatly on top.

Stephanie and Hermione had become quite close to one another over the course of their classes. The beauxbatons girl was easily relatable, even seeming to share many of Hermione's corky interests.

"Hey Hermione, are you feeling any better?"she smiled warmly. Hermione thought for a moment before laying her head back down onto the pillow behind her.

"Yes, I suppose. I really do not know what happened," she replied, somewhat truthfully. The only thing she seemed to remember was the missing potion and...Malfoy? No, that was surely a hallucination. She had passed out, and that whole image of him was probably just her subconscious reminding her that she hated him. that couldn't be possible.

"Well, back in class you fainted..while Professor Babbling was out retrieving texts for us to translate for a quiz." Hermione's jaw dropped.

"A quiz! I missed a quiz!" Hermione sat up and began to rapidly disentangle herself from the bedsheets, only managing to get herself more muddled within them. "Oh no, this is not good, I am going to fail the course now that I missed it! Perhaps if I ask permission and explain my situation, he will allow me to-"

"Relax Hermione, I am sure that he will." She placed both hands on her shoulders and gently pushed Hermione back onto her bed.

"Well anyway," Stephanie continued, after noting her friend had successfully composed herself, "all of a sudden, I heard Draco call your name. When I looked up, you had passed out and he was carrying you out of the classroom."

"Draco?" The name felt weird on her tongue. "Draco. You mean Malfoy?" Stephanie remained quiet for a few moments before replying. "Yes...Malfoy."

"And-and he _helped_ me?" Hermione blinked several times, trying to discern wether or not the girl in front of her had told her a tale. She was waiting for her to burst out into laughter and tell her that she had fooled her.

"Yes. That he did..." Stephanie furrowed her eyebrows and clutched her book tighter. Hermione was curious about her friends behavior. She seemed to be almost frustrated or confused, she couldn't tell which, at admitting that Malfoy had helped her.

Stephanie must have noticed her behavior, for she cleared her face of emotion and replaced it with a smile.

"I'm sorry," she began slowly, looking down at her book. "It's just...The Malfoys..are not the nicest of people towards muggle born witches or wizards. It confused me when he suddenly was offering his assistance, that's all." Hermione nodded, agreeing with her friend.

"Yeah, he isn't the kindest person at Hogwarts," Hermione grimaced, "But how would you know anything of the Malfoys? You live in France, do you not? If you live there, how would you get a chance to meet them?" Stephanie chewed the side of her lip nervously.

"Well my parents and I lived in the city of Cannes...in southern France. I remember them telling me about the Malfoys. The family has quite the standing among witches and wizards, even across the world. "

"So you have never met them then?" Hermione confirmed.

"No." She looked down at her book to fiddle with the side of the pages.

"Wait just a moment," Hermione said. Stephanie looked up at her. "You said that you _lived_ in the city of Cannes. Does that mean that you do not reside there now?"

Stephanie looked away. "I still live there. With my mom. Dad was always away on business so it is a rare occurrence that I got to see him, so it is difficult to say that he lived at home with us. So for that reason, my parents opted for a divorce when I was eleven."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "I am so sorry I had no idea." Stephanie smiled sadly. "It's alright. I wanted to live with my dad, but business made it hard for him to be at home, so mom got custody. He lives in the city of Lyon."

Hermione nodded, unsure of how to reply, so she changed the subject.

"What have you got there?" she motioned to the red book in her lap.

"Oh, this. Uh, it is a journal that my father bought for me a while back." She smiled and ran her fingers along the sides of the cover lovingly. She seemed to become lost in a happy memory and Hermione remained silent, not wanting to interrupt.

"Seven twenty-five!" A voice sang. Stephanie looked down at her watch, which she had evidently charmed to sing her the time. "Oh Merlin...I-I have to go..." She stood quickly and raced toward the exit of the infirmary.

"Thanks for keeping me company Stephanie..." Hermione called after her. She was not certain if her friend heard her, for she did not respond.

Madam Pomfrey, who had been seated quietly inside of her office, chose now to emerge.

"How are you feeling Miss Granger?" She asked sweetly. The woman was always so terribly kind. Though exhausted, Hermione could not help but smile back.

"A bit put out," she replied honestly. "It's just, I cannot believe that I have been out a full day! I mean, it feels like I was just in Runes class, several hours later." Madam Pomfrey looked over at her in shock.

"Dear, it has been longer than a few hours, you have missed two days already-"

"You cannot be serious!" Hermione breathed. She could not have been unconscious that long! She could only imagine the mountainous pile of homework that waited for her.

"Don't fuss. Your professor have already heard of your condition and they have each been very understanding. You will be allotted sufficient time to complete your assignments. You must relax if you will regain your strength young lady."

Hermione sighed and rest her head against the headboard.

"I greatly appreciate you taking care of me. I don't mean to be such a burden." Madam Pomfrey smiled at her before walking closer to take her hand.

"To be completely honest child, I have yet to do anything. Young Mr. Malfoy was here with you before I arrived and seemed to know what he was doing." The woman pinched her lips together, thinking hard before she continued. "Whatever he did seemed to work, because your state seems to be improving by the minute." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Oh and dear, you are looking terribly thin. You really should eat more, especially while you are here, to build up your strength." She patted Hermione's hand before she turned, retreating back into her office. "There are some books that Stephanie brought for you on the table next to your bed!" she called out before she disappeared.

What had Malfoy done? She had passed out as a result of lack of blood in her system. Why was she awake right now? Logically, she should still be passed out in her body's last attempt to rekindle what little energy it had left, if not dead already. She shuddered at the thought. She had to have had some replenishment of blood, as she felt completely fine, strong in fact. She had not felt better in days.

No one knew of her precarious situation, so how would anyone know to help her? Especially Malfoy! Even if he had known, Malfoy would not have assisted her would he? He probably would have laughed and sold tickets to his Slytherin cronies to 'watch the mudblood wither away'. That surely would have the attention the whole Slytherin house! Malfoy would probably be sitting front row. It could not have possibly been Malfoy who aided her.

But that didn't explain why she was not dead, or close to death. Pomfrey claimed to have had no part in her healing. Stephanie. But Stephanie had arrived _after_ she was settled in the hospital wing.

No one knew about her condition, she had kept that a secret from day one. It wasn't like she could suddenly be cured.

She pushed the thought away. Her mind was still exhausted, so she decided she would figure it out later, when she had more energy.

Picking up one of the books on the bedside table, she buried herself in the words.

.D.

Draco walked silently though the corridors. He had patrols with Pansy later that night, but there was something that he needed to do before he began.

For two nights now, he had lay for hours in his fourposter, attempting to decipher what is was that ached in his chest; that made it hard to breathe. It was as though someone was sitting on his ribcage. At first, he considered that he was having a heart attack and that he should have went to the nurse. However the feeling did not go away. It was the guilt again.

He felt uncomfortable with this feeling of being...uncomfortable. It was obvious the feeling stemmed from Hermione, so he figured the best way to make this feeling disappear, was to remove her from his mind so that the guilt he felt for initially putting her in the hospital wing, would hopefully disappear.

However as hours passed and the ache in his chest increased and the guilt that had begun to chew at his insides through each class intensified proportionally. Each class that she missed seemed to hit him harder than the last.

Was she alright? Had he been to late? Could he have possibly done anything else? Should he have told the truth to Madam Pomfrey? Each question overtook him with yet another wave of guilt, and it took all of his self control not to run up to the hospital wing and check on her.

He soon realized that avoiding her would only make the guilty feeling that he should not be experiencing in the first place, continue, so he gave into his urge. Perhaps in seeing her, he would be able to quell this discomfort. He feared that should she be unwell when he walked in to check on her, that a worse feeling would come over him. How he hated that Hermione Granger.

.D/H.

So engrossed in her novel, Hermione did not hear the footsteps that approached the side of her bed. It was not until his Slytherin robes brushed her shoulder as he reached his arm out to place a small stack of papers on her bedside table, that she acknowledged his presence.

"Malfoy?" The blonde lifted his eyes to meet hers. Hermione's stomach seemed to do a summersault. She had seen those eyes many times before, each time full of malice. However the eyes of liquid silver that peered at her through the strands of blonde hair, falling delicately across his forehead, were not condescending in the least.

"I came to bring you up your homework. The professors knew that you probably have a hemorrhage should you fall too far behind." His comment, hid the wave relief that had washed over him as he took in Hermione's lively form. Well, as lively as it could be as she was still contained to the hospital bed. He set the small pile on her bedside table.

In truth he had not been once asked by a professor to deliver her homework. He used it more as an excuse - not only to himself, not only to Hermione, but to everyone else who might have asked him.

Blaise had stopped him in the corridor on his way up to the hospital wing and questioned him on his motive. Had Draco not been sure to scowl at the prospect of doing the professor's bidding, or arranged his features in disgust as he described Hermione, he was sure that Blaise would have suspected something, if he did not already.

He had not had an issue masking his discomfort in class, but he supposed this one let up could possibly give him away, and he didn't want to take the chance in someone finding out that he was actually capable of emotion. He who figured out such information would literally own him; be able to control him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, taking in his calm exterior. "So how many detentions did they have to threaten you with in order to get your arse all the way up here to drop it off?"

Draco raised both of his own in response to her cheeky reply. "As a matter of fact, I chose to do so out of the goodness of my heart." Draco lifted his chin nobly earning a laugh from Hermione.

It felt strange. Usually he wished for nothing more than to make her fall nothing short of enraged. It used to provide him with a satisfaction that he could obtain nowhere else. Now that he was the one to make her laugh, he felt like he was betraying himself in a way. But it felt sort of good to know that it was him that made her laugh.

Madam Pomfrey chose now to make her appearance once again. "I would prefer it if you chose not to go down to the Great Hall tonight," she hurried over with a tray of food. Hermione nearly heaved at the sight of it.

It scared her now, her reaction to food. At first, she had merely given up eating in the Great Hall because of her fear of Derrick. Now, it had become a whole other issue in itself. She didn't want to say that she had an eating disorder. But the association of food and the Great Hall just made her stomach ache.

"Uh, thanks Madam Pomfrey, but I am not really hungry. You see, I ate a lot during lunch."

In truth, she had not been down to the Great Hall that day. She highly doubted that her absence would have been noted by most, especially Malfoy of all people. He was probably too busy trying to snag a girl form Beaubatons. She wasn't unaware of the reputation that Malfoy had spent years building around himself. According to what was probably half the school, he was nothing short of a God in bed. The Slytherin Sex God. After all of the sins that he had surely committed in his life, it would be unlikely that he would rat her out on such a crime such as not eating anyway.

Pomfrey nodded and went to turn away from the pair, carrying the tray with her.

"Wait." Draco's voice rang out clearly, causing the nurse to stop in her tracks. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Malfoy as the nurse turned back to face them "I think it would be best if you left the food for her on the side table. Then if she get hungry, the option is always there."

Hermione wanted to slap him. How dare he! How dare that little snake! He had obviously noticed her distaste and was just using this incident as an opportunity to make her feel more discomfort than she was currently feeling! The nerve of him!

Pomfrey, on the other hand, thought that it was a lovely idea, and did as the Slytherin had suggested, placing the tray on the bed-side table.

"I am going to work on some paperwork in my office you two." She turned to Hermione. "If you have any problems Hermione, don't hesitate to call me, I will be in the room just off of my office." She lifted her head to look up at Draco "Good evening Mr. Malfoy." She turned and left Hermione with Draco.

The two stood in silence as she retrieved to her room and closed her door quietly. Hermione was the first to break the silence. She decided, that as angered as she was, that she would thank him. He would surely depart after such a blow to her own ego and she would be able to rid herself the sight of the food with a flick of her wand.

"Listen Malfoy. I-I just want to thank you. It probably wasn't easy for you to choose to help me. But I am glad you did." She swallowed the bitter taste on her tongue that came with thanking him. What else could be expected after all, he had spent the majority of his Hogwarts career tormenting her to no end.

He didn't reply for a few moments, rather he nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the foot of her hospital bed. After several seconds, he looked back up at her, smirking playfully.

"Well, it is not like I have not grown accustomed to the swooning of women. In my presence, I find, it happens quite regularly, so why should that exude someone like yourself Granger?" He artfully brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen to brush across his forehead.

He raised an eyebrow at her amusedly as he noticed a light blush beginning to fan beneath her freckles. As much as he wanted to continue to watch it spread, he turned to leave her with what little dignity she had left and walked over to the chair that Stephanie had recently vacated.

As he turned his back to her, Hermione used the opportunity to try to rid herself of the blush she knew had crept across her face upon hearing his comment. Damn him. Was he was toying with her.

He pulling the chair closer to the side of the bed and sat down.

Hermione avoided his gaze as he locked his eyes onto her. Several times she peeked through the curtain of her hair to find his blue eyes studying her. She remained in an uncomfortable silence, vowing not to speak until he did. He had come after all, and he had no reasoning for staying.

She resisted the temptation to look up and tell Malfoy to get lost by looking down and studying the simplistically woven linen that was draped across her legs. He had an opportunity to depart after she had thanked him for his help, so why would he choose to stick around. She would have thought he would race from the room after delivering her homework so he would not have to breathe the same air, as he had always complained. It was clear that Malfoy was not exactly fond of her, so this extra time that he was sitting next to her did not make sense, even with her intelligence.

Beside her, she heard him let out a deep breath. Before she could stop herself, she glanced up to see him studying her with his light grey eyes. A deep line ran between his brows as he pushed them together in confusion.

Hermione pressed her lips into a firm line before breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "What are you doing?" She did not use a rude, nor accusatory tone. It was curiosity that laced her voice.

She desperately wished to question him about his peculiar behaviors so far this year. Yes, he had of course made his tantalizing remarks about her appearance or her blood-status, but he had also proved to provide her with assistance several times in escaping Derrick. She knew that he did not understand to what extent that relieved her. He had lied to the professor multiple times so that she might avoid detention - she did not wish to find out what her cousin's idea of a detention would be. She shivered at the thought.

Malfoy had yet to return an answer to her question, so she considered asking him again.

"Why? Why is it that you-"

"Just eat Granger." It was a command. Malfoy's eyebrows relaxed back into their stoic placement. He reached over to place the tray on her thighs before sitting back and crossing his arms. His gaze, though it did not contain a shard of spite, still unnerved her.

"I am not hungry," she replied, Pushing the tray further down her legs so that the smell of the food did not reach her nostrils. She held her breath as the hot vapor from the soup reached her face. She could not be sure that she would not expel the little content in her stomach all over her front should the scent be too much for her.

The wooden chair creaked slightly as he leaned forward, folding his arms so that his forearms ran horizontally across the front of his knees. He lowered his chin while keeping his eyes locked firmly on her own.

"Humor me." His voice was deep, causing a vibrating within her chest. It wasn't uncomfortable, though it was something to which she was unaccustomed. Her mouth became notably dry. She swallowed before speaking.

"I said I am not hungry." She glared at him. He didn't react, so she hoped desperately that she didn't resemble a child throwing a fit. "I had a lot to eat at lunch today-" Draco almost scoffed. Hermione could not distinguish if he was upset or amused. Or both. He closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to massage the bridge of his aristocratic nose as though he was experiencing a migraine.

"Don't try that shit with me. We both know you didn't. Eat the bloody food." Somehow, his voice remained rather calm, possibly as not to alert the witch in the other room. Hermione could not tell that the frustration bubbling just below his calm demeanor threatened to break through his calm persona.

Hermione's own frustration turned to shock at his response. He noticed that she had not eaten today? He could not possibly be that observant! Not with all of the beautiful beaubatons girls prancing about! Occasionally she would sneak down to the kitchens in the middle of the night to retrieve a vial that contained a potion that would provide her with enough nutrients and vitamins to keep her body functioning, but they did not exactly supplement meals.

"I am still not hungry," she replied stubornly. He could not force her to do anything, the toad would best learn that now before wasting his time.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer so she could hear him, his voice just above a whisper.

"Just like you weren't hungry yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that." Her eyes widened. How could he possibly know that?

"Don't think I haven't noticed you haven't had a full meal in the Great Hall this year. And don't be so foolish as to think I did not notice your little tricks that you pulled on Potter after the prefect meeting or before class. Though, the classic napkin on your lap one nearly had me fooled. Nearly."

Hermione masked her shock by dropping her gaze to her hands, fiddling with the edge of the bedcover.

At the present moment, Draco was so frustrated that he wanted to literally shove the food down her throat! Why was she being so stubborn? It was just food! It was clear that without her daily requirements, Hermione was loosing weight rapidly, to the point where it was unhealthy, even if she herself could not see it. Perhaps she couldn't see the shadows forming within the hallows of her cheeks, but he could. Perhaps she couldn't see her wrist size getting smaller, nor her already oversized robes as they began to billow more freely as her frame became leaner, but he for sure could! It was a wonder Potty and Rodent-Brain did not notice. They were not the sharpest quill in the ink-pot, but they should bright enough to realize that something was dreadfully wrong with their side-kick.

Why was it he that had to be the one to notice all of this?It would just be so much simpler to remember that she was the same mudblood that she had been before the year started. The same ugly Gryffindor who had no trouble whatsoever confronting him in a verbal spars; the same annoying bushy-haired bookworm that burrowed through the shelves in the library. If he was able to do just that, it would not matter to him that Hermione was not the same girl that had left Hogwarts last year. But it wasn't that simple. She _wasn't_ the same girl who put her hand up following each question asked by an expectant professor - he had even noted that her hand went up less frequently. She was not the same Hermione. Hell, he was already mentally referring to her as Hermione. Where had Granger gone?

He sighed again, knowing that the tone he was going to use with the girl would disgrace the known hatred for all those un-pure.

"What's up Granger," he asked softly. He really did want to know, though he was pretty sure that Hermione would not be willing to tell him.

Hermione looked up at him with blank eyes that seemed to suggest the suppression of a raw emotion. He recognized such a stare instantly. As he grew up, every morning he looked into a mirror and he would see a reflection of such emotion in his own eyes. The only difference now, was that he had learned to properly shield such a reaction as he had matured.

"Just leave it alone Malfoy. This is nothing to you," Hermione's voice broke. She hoped that he didn't notice. It would only be more ammunition for him. Why was he pretending to care? What ever game he was playing, he was playing quite decently. He seemed to be genuinely interested in finding out her problems. His tender voice compelled her to spill the truth that she had been covering up the moment she entered the house in the Dominican Republic. She couldn't explain why she felt almost safe telling him her issue. Perhaps it was because he would have no interest what so ever about doing any thing about it. If he did nothing, Harry would not find out. But then again, he might tell him just to get under her skin. Saving Harry, or annoying her. It was all about who he hated more. Hermione was not willing to take the gamble.

She couldn't risk telling him. Other than the fact that she did not know what he would do with the information, she felt that informing him of this piece in her past, she would re-open many of the wounds that she was trying desperately to heal. They would continue to keep breaking open, just like the slashes littering her own body, until she found a way to permanently seal them. If that could even be done.

This had to be something bigger than he first thought. He had never seen Hermione so broken before. The tremor in her voice caused an uncomfortable stir inside his stomach that he had never felt before. It couldn't be remorse? He pretended not to notice it. Malfoys do not feel remorse. But nor do they feel the compulsion that he was currently feeling to discover the mysteries, the memories that lie behind Hermione Granger's deep brown eyes.

"I am going to find out one way or another Granger. It is your decision whether or not you going to tell me." He said those words in such a serious tone. Hermione was not sure whether or not she wanted him to find out. She needed to talk to someone. But Malfoy was...Malfoy. He couldn't find out.

The girl shuffled her weight around on the bed to turn her back to him. She needed to escape. He had terrorized her life for so long and she didn't think that she could just open up to him like he seemed to expect her to. She couldn't even take that step with Ron or Harry, how could she be expected to do that with Malfoy?

Draco would have laughed if the matter was not so serious. The way in which she shuffled onto her side made her look like she was having a fit. "Oh real mature Granger, you are just going to ignore-"

He heard a small snore. He sighed, standing to his full height and walked to the other side of the bed. Her lips were parted slightly and her one hand gripped tightly to the pillow beneath her head.

He smiled lightly as he pulled to sheets of the bed to cover her shoulders.

"Goodnight Granger." He murmured, a light smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He went to turn away but his feet held stationary. He looked over at the closed door leading to Madam Pomfrey's office.

Certain that there was no one watching, he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against the side of her temple.

No one would ever see the sin he had just committed. No one would ever need know that he did not regret it either.

No one, except the figure that stood in the shadow of the doorway watching his every move.

As Draco left the hospital wing, the figure hid from view, remaining unnoticed.

.H.

Hermione woke the following morning, and was thankful that she was permitted to leave the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was usually a much more difficult woman to crack, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised when she was allowed to leave without much of an argument. She only had to agree that she was heading straight down to the Great Hall for a large, healthy breakfast.

She was relieved that Pomfrey also did not push to examine her, something that was deeply engrained into her character. She supposed that the nurse only agreed to allow her to go because she was getting food into her system. Malfoy must have told her that was the reason behind her fainting, the little snitch.

She felt completely fine, right as rain. But she was worried that her episode would repeat if she did not brew some blood replenishing potion soon. It was already a wonder that she was walking right now, so she did not want to risk pushing her body to survive any longer than necessary. She would have to risk another expedition this evening, perhaps with the use of Harry's cloak this time.

In truth, the incident that happened in Runes seemed to make her stronger. She would be lying if she did not admit that it scared her, oh it did, but stemming from it, she felt a new strength.

For this reason, it was with confidence that she made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Screw Derrick.

As expected, Ron and Harry were ecstatic to see that she finally made her way to 'eat' breakfast with them. In truth, Hermione did not know who she was trying to prove her point to. There was Derrick of course, who, when the other professors were distracted, leered down at her (she smiled back cheekily), or Draco, whom she was certain was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She better eat something. She pulled a piece of toast off the plate in the center of the table and placed it on her plate. Then, she reached over to spoon some oatmeal into the bowl beside her.

"So whats new Hermione? We never see you anymore?" Harry asked her. Ron continued to shovel but grunted his approval of the question.

"Oh nothing, nothing. The courses are really intense, I am rather enjoying them. How about you guys? I hope you are holding up alright." She knew that if they were to pass the courses that they would really need to improve their work ethic.

She picked up her spoon and began to blow on the steaming oatmeal. She didn't dare look, but she was certain that she felt Malfoy's eyes on her. She forced herself to swallow several spoonfuls before she allowed herself to put down the spoon. Take that Malfoy, you prat!

"Ogh youknowhowitisHermione.." Ron replied. Hermione ignored his mouthful of food and nodded.

Just as she had begun to spread her butter and jam, several of the students pointed up at the ceiling where several of the owls were circling, looking for their destination.

.D.

_Draco,_

_I was pleased to receive your reply, informing me of the misunderstanding with the mudblood. That was until I was informed of several other accounts that shall not be discussed in this letter, though I must express my deepest displeasure. You have shamed not only yourself, but myself and all those associated with the Malfoy name._

_This mudblood issue has become one that has greatly angered the Dark Lord, and for this reason, I will be meeting you during your Hogsmead weekend to escort you to speak with him. I will meet you outside of Flourish and Blotts at ten minutes after noon. We will apparate from there._

_In addition, I know not of a Professor Burnwick. I do not associate with such people who agree to teach useless bits of magic to a halfbreed youth. You would do well to follow my example._

_Destroy this letter at your earliest convenience._

_L. Malfoy_

Draco folded his letter and hid it within his robes. Hogsmead weekend was the following day and he was not overly excited about seeing his father.

Draco lifted his head to observe the girl sitting on the opposite side of the Great Hall, wiping his lips with his napkin to shield the smile resulting from witnessing Hermione's look of surprise.

.H.

An owl that she did not recognize swooped down gracefully, gently dropping a small white package on the space in front of her plate. Hermione jumped in surprise.

She rarely received mail, but for the Daily Profit. Packages were very rare, unless they were from her parents, which was also not a usual occurrence as they had never become quite comfortable with the wizarding mail system.

Hermione's heart raced. Perhaps it was from them! She had yet to receive even the shortest of letters from them, something very peculiar. No matter how much her parents disliked the use of owls for transporting mail, they always sent her a letter her first week back. But that week had long passed and she was left without a shred of news from her parents, who seemed to exist in another world.

"What have you got there Mione?" Ron questioned, his mouth over flowing with food. Hermione closed her eyes in disgust.

"Chew and swallow Ronald!" Hermione replied in a bored tone. She reached over her untouched toast to recover the package.

She picked up the package and shook it suspiciously. She heard the light tinkling of glass. Gingerly, she placed it on her lap and peered inside. She smiled and folded the flaps closed.

She was safe. For the time being that was. But who would send her such a package? How did they know? Dumbledore seemed to know everything...She was not overly skilled at occlumency, but as the many books she had read instructed, she had been sure to clear her mind before she looked into the old mans bright blue eyes.

She looked up at the old man seated in the chair at the center of the table. He did not spare her a glance. No, it could not have been Dumbledore. It couldn't have been. She was more than certain if the headmaster had knowledge of her situation, he would have hauled her up to his office and somehow twisted the truth out of her.

It didn't matter at the moment who it was that sent them to her, but all the same, they bided her more time until she had an opportunity to break into Snape's potions cupboard.

Gingerly, she stepped over the bench while holding the small box containing a generous pile of vials of blood replenishing potion and made for her common room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a platinum blonde head look up to observe her. For this reason, she quickly reached back and snatched the toast from her plate. That will show him.

She left the great hall quickly, leaving Ron and Harry staring after her.

She looked down at the toast as she walked. She sighed. What had she become? She relied heavily on potions, just to survive, and she had limited her eating. It was unhealthy and she knew it.

Her mother had not bothered to have a discussion with her about the dangers of skipping meals. After all, who could blame her. On the outside, Hermione seemed to be a normal sixteen year old girl, however on the inside, wounds festered. She threw the toast in the bin.

"Toast belongs in your stomach, not in the bin." Hermione looked back in surprise to see the a tall, blonde Slytherin leaning his shoulder against the large oak door, one foot crossed lazily over the other.

"Yeah? And a snake belongs in the grass and not inside of Hogwarts," she shot back.

"There is not a beautiful rose without its sharp thorns," muttered Malfoy, though not loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"What was that snake? If you are going to insult me, at least be sure to make certain I hear it!" She crossed her arms indignantly.

"Nothing," he stated simply, straightening. He strode toward her, his eye locked onto hers. Hermione saw his approach and prepared to flee. She did not need any more crap from him today. She turned to leave but he grabbed her arm. The grasp was not rough, though it was firm.

Hermione turned back, fully prepared to slap him, but the look in his eyes stopped her. His light eyes seemed to harbor a storm in their grey depths. It felt as though she was apparating though a fleet of clouds condensing just before a downpour.

"Granger. I am being serious here," his eyes were gentle, though still ridged; still guarded. "It it more than evident that your stupid little friends have not picked up on your habits, but I for one, am not that daft."

"So you are stalking me now." She did not word the statement as a question, because it was just that. A statement. She thought Malfoy would become upset with her comment, however he appeared to be amused.

"Hardly," Malfoy scoffed, looking over her shoulder, appearing to be disinterested. "I am just not as painfully oblivious as the crowd you hang around."

"What is it to you anyway?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Really Malfoy. What is it to you? Do you care? No. Or maybe you do, but whatever you care for only benefits yourself. So then again, is that really caring?"

Malfoy pressed his lips together. "This isn't about me." He gripped her arm slightly harder. Hermione tried not to wince at the increasing pressure. It wasn't that it hurt, but the close contact to her best friends enemy was becoming too real.

"How on earth would something like this benefit me? What you are doing is just plain stupid! For someone so smart, you are really being stupid at the moment. Whatever is bothering you isn't worth...doing what you are doing. It's not healthy-"

"Get your nose out of my business snake. And for goodness sake, stay out of it!" She seethed, succeeding in pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Hey Drake! Leave the mudblood to herself!" Hermione's heated gaze shifted from Malfoy to an auburn-haired Slytherin behind him. He returned her gaze with almost as much malice as Malfoy had in his own condescending glares. Almost. The look did not phase her in the least. She looked back at Malfoy quick enough to see him roll his eyes before closing them in annoyance.

"Go on, go slither to back to your cold-blooded reptilian friends," she hissed. She knew that she did not need to be that cruel to him. It upset her greatly, the fact that Malfoy had noticed her peculiar behavior before even her own friends did. She thought that she had succeeded in hiding her emotions, but how successful could she have been if even Malfoy noticed.

Hermione turned and hurried up the steps to the next floor.

.D.

Hermione had successfully avoided him the first several periods of class, and did not meet his eye in the Great Hall. Well, it wasn't like she did normally, but he knew that she knew he was keeping an eye on her. He didn't miss that the girl seemed to go to lengths to avoid him in the corridors, even arriving late in a few classes so that he could not talk to her before the lesson commenced. Yes, it bothered him, but he supposed he might have been too direct with her, perhaps scaring her off. But what other method was there to make someone so head-strong as Hermione, change her views? Was it even possible?

Draco took his seat at the back of the room and fiddled with the wood-chip in his pocket, waiting for the class to commence. He ignored Burnwicks stare that he felt on him since the moment he entered the classroom. Curious.

Not a moment later, he heard the door close behind him and the bell that signaled the beginning of class sounded. Draco did not have to turn around to know it was Hermione.

"Ahh, it's truly great to see that you are back Miss Granger," Burnwick's lip curled. Draco's jaw clenched at the smug look on his professor's face. Now that he had become attuned to recognizing his professors shift in emotion toward Hermione, it was easier to pick up on; easier to become vexed with him for. The more Draco found that he was in his presence, the more tense he found himself becoming.

His irritation turned into surprise as Hermione walked passed him, holding herself with such a confidence he had not seen even before this year. She walked with her head held high, her shoulders back, calmly striding down the isle of desks in her last period DADA class. He was confused to say the least. Hermione, by nature, was more socially withdrawn, often holding her head down as she walked between classes. In standing straight, he noted her to be an inch or two taller than he thought she had be previous. In addition, he observed that upon entering the class, each time Hermione was reduced to a pile of shaking bones in the presence of the teacher, however today she had managed to pull herself together, exuding a boldness that was uncharacteristic. It was such courage that the Gryffindor house represented, and it seemed that Hermione had become even more Gryffindor overnight.

As a Slytherin, one would assume that he found distaste in such, and would possibly assist in the rapid disintegration of attitude. However with every assertive step she took, Draco found himself becoming more and more proud of the girl. He did not understand _why _he felt the emotion of pride so strongly, but he did.

Draco looked up expecting a snide remark from Burnwick on her absence, which of course, was no fault of her own, however Draco was shocked to hear the confident voice of Hermione fill the room.

"It is lovely to see you too Professor Burnwick! I just couldn't wait to get back to Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Draco could not see her face, but he could feel the smile radiating in her cheerful tone.

The look of surprise on professor's face was priceless. Draco coughed to cover up his laughter. Was Hermione toying with their professor, just as it seemed that he was trifling with her?

Burnwick looked over at him upon hearing his outburst and narrowed his eyes. Draco hid the disbelief he felt at actually being glared at, by a professor of all people. Actually the glare that he received looked rather familiar - almost Hermione-like. The glare lasted for several seconds, allowing him enough time to recognize the similarity. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Draco raised his eyebrows in false curiously to the sizzling glare. Burnwick turned his back to the class and took a few measured strides to his brazilian cherry desk.

The reationship between his classmate and his professor surely was one he did not understand. Hermione had a great deal of respect for all of her teachers, but for Professor Trelawney, that was. She also showed such respect for the professor and the subject they taught. Perhaps that was why they all liked her so much. Burnwick it seemed, she did not have any respect for either. Today especially, her cheery demeanour was probably meant more to annoy their teacher than to show respect for him. Draco smirked at the thought. Perhaps this girl wasn't so terribly Gryffindor as he had once thought.

"Well uh, right then. Today we will be having a quiz on everything we have learned thus far." The students groaned in unison. Burnwick turned to face Hermione once more to gauge her reaction. Draco noticed Hermione's already impecible posture improve further and imagined Hermione grinning at him from ear to ear at the prospect of having a test; at the prospect of being able to annoy Burnwick further by getting a perfect grade. He internally grinned at the thought. He supposed that was exactly what she did, as Burnwich promptly turned away without eliciting a smug response.

"Oh relax," he walked past the front row of desks winked at a group of girls in the front row, running his hand lightly over the fronts of their desks. This immediately caused their cries of despair to turn into a chorus of giggles. Draco rolled his eyes. What a flirt. He, himself had his fair moments, however he was also closer in age. "This is merely an assessment to see were we all stand regarding the curriculum."

With a flick of his wand, he sent a long sheet of parchment that held all of the questions to each of them.

Draco picked up his quill and read the first question.

For the most part, the quiz was not terribly difficult, though it did require a fair deal of thinking. He looked up at Hermione's back, already hunched over her parchment, writing away. She had missed several classes, yet she already seemed to be one up on him. He rolled his eyes and looked back down at his foot and a half loon piece of parchment. The thought alone that she could potentially receive a higher grade than himself seemed to bring out his competitive edge, and he set to work, determined to best her.

After completing approximately half of his test, he heard the scratching of Hermione's quill cease. It was an easy sound to discern, despite the numerous other quills writing away, because of not only the speed of the scratching, but the volume. It was quite distinct as she seemed to put a great deal of pressure on the tip of her quill as she wrote. On occasion, while writing tests with her, particularly exams that were worth a large percentage of the students mark, she would break several nibs in a sitting. Her stress levels seemed to correlate to the amount of pressure that she placed on her quill. Her confidence could also be exibited through the quick scratching, writing the answers down at such a great speed that her test was often complete before the rest of the students had time to write down their name at the top of the parchment. Then she would to proceed to check and re-check her answers until the allotted time was up.

Hermione's scratching had stopped suddenly, making him wonder, had she been stumped by a question? After all, the test was pretty advanced and Draco could already feel a headache induced from reading the same question multiple times.

He watched as she set her quill down on the top right side of her desk and lift the parchment to her nose to study it further. Occasionally, she set the quiz back down to add an additional detail or to scratch something out. Of course she was not stumped. She had clearly finished the quiz.

.D.

"Alright, quills down, time is up!" The parchment flew from everyones desk and into the outstretched arms of Burnwick.

Draco had just managed to fill in the last answer before his paper shot out from beneath his quill. He hoped that the sudden pull of the parchment from beneath his quill did not leave a line of ink that cut down the centre, as he had barely enough time to lift it from the page before they were summoned. His class mates, he supposed, were not so lucky in completing their quiz, as a chorus of protest rang through the room, which Burnwick ignored.

"Now, I do believe that we have enough time to correct them if we are quick." He flicked his wand and the papers randomly distributed themselves among the students.

A paper slid under Draco's elbow. He lifted, instantly recongizing the the tiny, cramped writing that could only belong to _Hermione Granger_, which was written in neat cursive at the top of the page.

He squinted at the writing and brought it to his nose. The font was far smaller on the quiz so that it would fit in the allotted spaces, which were large, but evidently not spacious enough for Hermione. No wonder the girl had a habit of bringing her paper to her face. He had often teased her about having ink flecks on her nose.

The font was so tiny that he thought he might require a magnifying glass to read it. It was a wonder that she wrote small. Had she written the characters any larger, he would assume that an extra three feet of parchment would be required. He also noted that the neat cursive in which she had signed her name changed to a messier set of characters as the test questions began. The letters and words were conjoined so closely together that it was clear she utilized all her energy in writing as quickly and as small as she could.

"Why don't you just magically correct them?" A student asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance at having to mark the work of another. Burnwick flashed a charming smile at the girl, who promptly blushed.

"I could, but what would you learn if I did that? In evaluating your peer's paper, you will not only learn more, you will be able to retain it." The girl became redder, nodding as she looked down at the paper and pretended to read the questions. If there was an award for the best player at Hogwarts, Draco was sure that Burnwick would win the award by a landslide.

Checkmark after checkmark, Draco graded Hermione Granger's paper. He was thankful that his answers were similar to hers, meaning his grade would be close, though she had included much more detail than he had ever thought to. Ultimately, out of thirty marks, she received twenty-nine as her last answer, though very detailed, did not answer directly the question being asked. Actually, the answer went significantly further into depth than he thought that the professor had taught.

The parchment soared back to the correct student and they regarded their marks. Draco wasn't too disappointed, it was only a quiz after all. Twenty-seven out of thirty was a decent mark, though his father would disagree.

He glanced at Hermione who had her face set in a disappointed grimace which remained stuck on her face as the papers flew back to Burnwick who sorted through the pile and smirked when he came to one.

"Miss Granger, I wish for you to remain behind so that I might discuss your test with you. Your absence has seemed to take a toll on your grade."

"Yes Professor," she smiled cheerfully. Draco considered the idea that she was still mocking him. Good for her.

He didn't like Burnwick's tone, but Granger's confidence reassured him. Slightly. Well, not really, but she was only discussing a quiz after all. Perhaps Burnwick knew that anything less than a perfect for Hermione _was_ a drop in her grade point average.

He stood with the other students when the bell rang. He was somewhat reluctant to go, understandably. He didn't trust Burnwick, not in the least. It seemed to Draco like he had a hidden agenda. Hermione was certainly more than capable of holding her own, but that didn't extinguish an oddly annoying protective instinct that had begun to bubble inside him.

"Come on Drake!" A dark haired Slytherin by the name of Adrian Pucey shouldered him as he walked past. "Let's get going! Quidditch tryouts are in an hour!" Shit. He had forgotten about tryouts. He took one last look at the euphoric Hermione before slinging his bag over his shoulder, and following his potential team mate out of the classroom. He couldn't remain back to keep an eye on her if he wanted to make the quidditch team. Yes, he was a Malfoy, who had bought his way onto the team years ago, but as the games between Gryffindor and Slytherin became closer, the captains were less likely to accept bribes if it meant that they would loose a decent quidditch player that could assist them in winning them the cup.

Draco was not in the least concerned about making the team. He had grown to be quite a skilled seeker, though he did not wish to take the chance of being late for the first try-out should their new captain choose to cut him because of tardiness. After all, the Slytherins _needed _to best Gryffindor this year.

All the while the pair walked through the halls, Adrain droned on about whom he thought would make the team; whom he thought would fall off their broom first; whom he _hoped_ would fall off their broom first.

"I think that Yulan is a brilliant beater, though I would think that Paul would beat him out for that spot this year. I heard that his father works with the best friend of Connolly from the Irish National quidditch team! That beater is a legend! Oh, and have you seen Bontrolva this year? Of course you have! She turned into quite the looker this year. My bet is that she will get picked regardless of the fact that she isn't nearly as good as Vossler..."

Normally, Draco would have joined right in on the conversation, however his mind remained back in the DADA classroom with Hermione. Was she doing okay? Burnwick wasn't exactly the nicest of people. The incident when he had caught him carrying her to the hospital wing did not quell the feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

"...going to make it for sure, there is no competition really...Drake? You alright mate? You are looking a bit tense?" Draco loosened the fingers that he had been clenching unknowingly.

"You know, I don't think I have ever seen you this nervous! You really have no reason-"

"Shit. I forgot my textbook," Draco lied. He had finally given into this bloody urge to return to check on Hermione. "I will meet you down in the changing rooms yeah?" He turned on his heel and fought the current of students, veering towards the now vacant corridor leading to the classroom. He ignored the shouts of Pucey, warning him that being late for try-outs was _not_ worth the loss of a textbook, as he strided away.

Damn that girl! The more he seemed to get involved, the more he seemed to be messing up his own life with worry and guilt - two emotions that he had never experienced before this year. Why was it that he was compelled to see that she was alright? Was it not the responsibility of her little friends to check up on her? He considered the idea of informing them just so he could get back to his own life, but squashed the idea almost instantly. He would trust Potty or Weasel only to mess things up and probably make the situation worse for Hermione. Screw that girl.

As he got closer to the classroom, he approached the closed door and pressed his ear to the crack where it met the wall. He could barely make out their voices though the thick door, so he held his breath, ensuring that he heard every word.

"Your test grade was unacceptable," Burnwick stated simply. Draco frowned. Since when had a twenty-nine out of thirty ever been considered unacceptable by Hogwarts standards? If such a grade were considered unacceptable, then his father would be expecting him to get thirty-nine out of thirty.

"You know as well as I do that my grade is nothing of such. The paper that I marked received a fourteen. Perhaps your time would be better spent talking to them, Derrick," she replied confidently.

Derrick? They could not already be on a first name basis with one another. She had been to how many...two classes? He was not sure of the number, but it was not enough to begin calling a professor by their first name. Such was another show of lack of respect. It would be acceptable in the case that perhaps she already knew the professor as a personal friend, yet that was not probable. He had asked her name when she first arrived so that threw the theory that they had met _before_ Hogwarts out the window. There was no other explanation for her knowing his name! But she had to have known him - she did not even call Professor Mcgonagall, her own Head of Gryffindor House, by her first name. But if she did somehow know him, _how _was it that they knew one another? He wouldn't put it past the girl if she had owled him during the summer so that she could get ahead, however, the tense relationship that they seemed to share did not seem to suggest the idea.

"Hermione-"

"Don't you use my name," she snapped harshly back.

"Don't you use that tone with me you little bitch, or you will be sorry you were ever born. I may be related to you, but that does not mean I care for you in the least." His voice rose to a higher level, but retained the hard tone that it had previous.

Draco's jaw dropped. So that explained it...well, not really. She was related to Burnwick? Thus far, the professor had treated her like...Draco, himself used to treat her, and how Hermione probably thought he still treated her. He wanted to slap himself. His eyes. His eyes were the same as hers, he had noticed on countless occasions but he did not admit it to himself because he had feared he was seeing reminders of Hermione everywhere. He even recognized their similar glare, yet he had not even thought to make the connection that they were related.

Professor Burnwick cleared his throat importantly.

"Your quiz is our discussion topic at the moment, so let's not veer from it, shall we?" he leered. "It seems that your absence from class seems to have taken its tole on your marks. I think that it is about time that you cease your playing hooky from class - yes I was once a teenager too! So back to your horrendous grades. Your parents would not be too pleased would they?" he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Then again, that is not the largest issue in their lives at the moment," he added quietly. "It is for this reason," he continued in a slightly louder voice, seeming to escape from his tangent, "that you will come to see me every tuesday, thursday and friday. For remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts." At this request, Hermione scoffed.

"Yeah. Okay Derrick," she retorted sarcastically. "I have prefect duties. And a life. Now get out of it. I don't know how the hell you got in here, but I am sick of you messing around here. And don't you dare talk of my parents." Draco heard a low chuckle that caused his stomach to twist. The more he listened to Burnwick, the more the unfamiliar instinct inside him told him to rush in to remove her from the situation. Her tone did not suggest that she was at unease, however his tone was not one that had humour, and that made him feel uncomfortable.

"You will come. You will tell them that you are failing the class. You will tell them you are coming to see me tuesdays, thursdays AND fridays for extra help. Do you understand?" he asked through clenched teeth. His agitation was tangible even through the heavy door between himself and the Professor. He silently encouraged Hermione's confidence.

"No one will believe me," Hermione replied smugly. "My record is immaculate! Grades are -"

"Well Miss Granger," he hissed. I greatly suggest that you begin to study to _learn_ how to _fail_ a course." He paused for a moment. "And I have got to hand it to you. You have done fairly well at keeping your, rather, our little secret. Now I hope that knowledge of our little meetings don't somehow seep back to The Great Harry Potter should you choose not to show up as you have done for many of my lessons..."

Secret? And how was Potter involved? Draco pressed his ear closer to the door, desperatly attempting to hear the voices that lie behind it.

"Yes, don't think I don't know why you aren't telling anyone..It is to protect Harry and Dumbledore. How cute. I could only imagine the despair, blame and hatred that would consume you, should something...terrible...happen to your little friend as a result of your slip up." There was a pause. Draco had to strain his ears to hear the girl's whisper.

"What time..." He felt his stomach drop. He had something over her. Something that he could use to control Hermione. The safety of her Potter friend and Dumbledore seemed to be the noose that tied her to this agreement. However it seemed that the noose was not only tied around her neck, but those of her friends. For this was the reason that she seemed to agree to his terms. Bloody Gryffindors always putting their own neck on the line in the place of their friends. Some called it bravery, while others called it stupidity.

"Nine O'clock."

Though Draco could not see the professors smirk, it was so prominent that he could literally hear it in his voice.

"Your...remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons will commence the following week. Now get out before I tell Dumbledore you are being a bad girl."

* * *

_"He is...awful...just awful. Just stay away from him, will you? Promise me. What ever he says to you. He is not worth trusting." Hermione could easily tell that Stephanie was not including all of the information she knew, but she decided not to press her on the issue._

**Hmmm...Burnwick is beginning to become unmasked...however there are still many...many layers yet to come :D**

**Also let me know - do you want shorter chapters with quicker updates, or longer ones with slower updates (or medium - let me know :D )**


	20. Chapter 20: Death Eaters UNMASKED

**Hey everyone! Thanks to drmsr4drmrs, StarKiss666, HandD, Blood-blossom16, LadyNorth76, Creidimha-Agus-Dochas, Edward'sCutie, LeahKeehl13, brenna963, smileylol, Orange-Coyote, Condar, Vaneesa85, Maisy Chaudhury, 8, Emz, NeonBiersack, iceskaterluvr, J, jaspersluv1863, readingtilldawn yoyoyobo (lol), ShadowDancer1629, and to my dearest SweetTies, who slaved over this chapter to make sure that it was suitable to post (she even added her own little section where I was having trouble!). **

**I know, lately my updates have been pretty pathetic, I am under A LOT of stress, and originally I began this fic hoping that it would not add to the pressure, but of course it has. I have been trying to take it easy in hopes that it does not fully eliminate my love for writing it. Summer is coming up in a one more week for me and hopefully updates will be more regulated. (as a reviewer said - I will have no more excuses ;P) As to chapter lengths and update periods, you guys are pretty much split down the middle in terms of that...so I might switch it up from time to time but I will most likely stick to a mid length with the acceptation of this fic. I am glad that so many of you love the fic - it definitely motivates me to keep writing.**

**(I doubt that anyone reads my blabs, but I feel like writing them anyway :P )**

* * *

.D.

Draco fought against the dark duvet covering his bed to flip onto his back. His muscles ached from the first quidditch try-out of the season. It was not unusual for him to, following a good game of quidditch, to descend the stairs leading to the dungeon, collapse onto his four-poster in pure exhaustion, and fall asleep. However, for the first time in his quidditch career, he did not drift off to sleep.

His mind had been quite occupied during the try-out and did not allow for much thought about the events that had transpired prior, but now that he was alone, and his mind was free to relax, he found himself mulling over the occurrence between Burnwick and Granger in greater detail.

He let out a slow breath and sat up. It was well passed mid-night and he had been unable to doze off. For this reason, the slytherin resided to stare aimlessly up at the green bed-hangings, hoping that sleep would overtake him. To his dismay, his subconscious mind seemed to be working in overdrive.

Burnwick, or Derrick, or whoever the hell this guy claimed to be, had a hidden agenda. It didn't take an auror to figure that much out. Hermione did not so much as disrespect professors, and her calling him by his first name solidified the fact that whoever that man was or claimed to be, she did not respect him in the least.

His connection to Hermione was also worth taking note of. He had been attempting to mull the relation out for hours since he had raced away. He was not quite sure why, but he did not want Hermione to know that he had been listening in on her conversation. Burnwick, on the other hand, he could use a good curse or two...or twelve, for saying all the things he said to her. As much as he had this unexplainable urge to burst in there and pull Hermione away from him, he knew that would probably not be the best approach.

The question that haunted him the most that evening was 'why did he care?'. Why did he? She was no one special; no one to him. He had been taught from infancy that her lot was nor more consequential than the mud that caked his robes following a rough quidditch match in the rain. They were not friends. Hell, they didn't even converse on a regular basis, well, unless you counted his numerous jeers and her rebuttals.

He felt a tang of regret upon recalling many of his comments. There was another interesting question. Why did he feel regret? He didn't know it was possible for him to feel such an emotion, as he had been brought up in an environment that did not support such feelings. He was not so daft as to recognize that was what the feeling was, nor was he about to deny it any longer.

Did he feel something for Hermione? No, his mind automatically replied. But what of his decision in the hospital wing? The kiss he had so delicately placed on her temple - that had been in the heat of the moment. It didn't even matter anyway - no one saw it. Hermione had been the only one in the room at the time, and she was sleeping. Had she been conscious, he was certain that she would have repeated a similar assault as she had in their third year. That feather-light kiss, it was a release of all the emotions he had been feeling since she feinted. Nothing more. It was guilt that caused him to do such an action.

Draco pressed his palms over his eyes. He couldn't deal with this right now! He was under enough stress as it was. Beneath his closed lids, he could still envision the words written on the letter inscribed to him by his father; he could still see them, curling and charring under the charm he had used to burn it.

The meeting that the Dark Lord had planned was a mere two days away. He had to suppress these...feelings?...emotions?...what ever they were, before they got him into trouble with the higher power. It was not only himself at risk, but his family as well.

To do so, he knew that he needed to stop meddling with her business; to stop trying to divulge the secrets that she was keeping. But of course, for Draco, that was not an option. Once his mind was latched onto something that he didn't know, or couldn't have, thoughts of only that consumed his mind. He thought that he had been sneaky enough to fly under the radar and his sudden interest in her affairs would go unnoticed, nevertheless, the letter he had received demonstrated his incorrect judgment.

This gave him two options. Option one would be to leave the mysteries that surrounded Hermione to remain unsolved. If he did that, his father would be pleased and the Dark Lord would no longer be on his case. The down side would be that he would forever be bothered about this lack of knowledge, and that of course, did not sit well with his character. His second option would be to continue seeking out the answer, though if he did that, he would have to take even more care to get around the snitch feeding information to the Dark Lord.

Obviously someone had to be watching him if the Dark Lord had somehow come across this information. He had never had a problem like this before. Then again, he reminded himself, he had never so much as glanced in the direction of the trio of Gryffindors, specifically Hermione, unless he had an insult on the tip of his tongue.

Yes, on occasion, he would admit, that he had gone out...once, twice...or thrice...in search of Hermione for the soul purpose of annoying the living hell out of her, but that would not cause such an up rise.

Draco knew before weighing his two options what his answer would be.

He purposely whacked his head against the headboard several times, not being considerate to the fact that several other boys shared the room with him.

Why had he returned to check on her after class! The knowledge he obtained only made him more confused than he already was! Obviously the occurrence was relevant! But that didn't make it any easier to decipher the situation.

For what ever reason, he wanted to see her after class, and she was to lie to any questioners that she was taking remedial DADA. Like anyone in their right minds would believe that. Even the older grades knew that Hermione was someone to aspire to academically, though the witch was several years younger than themselves.

In addition, even those who were failing miserably usually attended no more than two remedial classes a week. Hermione, smartest witch of their age, was expected to convince the students around her that she was taking _three_ classes a week! How was she ever going to pull that off?

She wasn't going after hours to see Burnwick for remedial classes because her knowledge was not up to snuff, that much was obvious. The question was, why? What did that man have to gain from having Hermione go to see him three times during the week? It could not be purely to chat over tea, there had to be something deeper. Something more ominous lurked in the shadows and Draco wanted to find the torch to set them to light.

Even if it was as simple as a cup of tea, he did not want her going. Simple as that. There was something about the professor that did not sit well with him. For one thing, he called Hermione a mudblood. Sure, he himself had called the Gryffindor by the name on numerous occasions, which he now felt sort of bad about. But Burnwick was a teacher. He should have been opposed to such language.

He definitely needed to look deeper into Burnwick. He did not have much proof to back up his hypothesis, but he felt that he was more involved in the mystery surrounding Hermione than he had originally thought.

The girl's cousin was not very positive towards her, nor did she appear to be particularly fond of him. For what ever reason, their relationship was not smooth in the least, and Draco felt that by finding out why, that perhaps he would be able to better understand all of the other pieces of the story. He would have to worry about that later. His first priority would be trying to figure out a way to get Hermione out of what ever Burnwick had planned for her. There was always the option of following her to her destination and eavesdropping further, but he had enough of listening in on conversations.

It was obvious from her reaction, he had something over her that made her agree to meet him. For this reason, Draco knew that it would not be easy to pull her away from the agreement, so it seemed he would have to do it without her knowledge.

While prefect duties would surely get in the way of Burnwick's desired schedule, they wouldn't cover all of the bases.

He pushed back the covers and walked to his trunk positioned at the foot of his bed to retrieve the prefect schedule.

"Lumos," he whispered after closing his green curtains around his bed. "Accio quill."

Hermione primarily had patrol during the early hours of the morning - well early hours to him such as seven or eight a.m. - and had two evening patrols, one on Saturday with Potter, the other on Tuesday with Randy. Draco began to examine the schedule in more detail, scratching out and re-writing as few names around as possible in order to attain a combination that he wanted.

Before the next prefect meeting, he'd owl the heads and tell them that his quidditch schedule and other commitments got in the way of some of his patrol dates. He could probably even convince them to switch some of Pansy's too if the need arose!

He figured that if he could somehow partner with Hermione on the evenings that Burnwick requested her presence, that he would be able to prevent her from going. After all, she wouldn't go to the professor while he was there with her. He just wouldn't leave her side.

Draco wanted desperately to cringe at the thought of spending extra time with Hermione, but he found that the sickening feeling of annoyance that normally flooded through him with the mere mention of her name did not come.

He ran his hand down his face, frustrated. Things really were so much simpler when he had completely disliked the girl. It seemed now, that the lines were beginning to blur.

Draco quickly scribbled a note to the heads and slipped it, along with his variation of the schedule, into an envelope, which he placed in his drawer next to his bed. He would send it off first thing in the morning. Hopefully a new timetable could be arranged in time for next week, when Hermione was scheduled to start meeting with their professor.

He was sure that Hermione would not enjoy his company very much, but he didn't trust her to be alone with their professor. There was something that was not right about him, and Draco was determined to find out what that something was.

.H.

Hermione struggled to stay awake during her first period class. While the rest of her class talked in hushed tones, she focused all her energy on reading the words before her.

It felt like she was encased in a warm bubble that made her slightly lethargic. Every word in her potions textbook seemed to blur into the next, every line seemed to become more jumbled than the last. Each time she could no longer make out a single line, she would shake her head to clear her vision - it remained clear for only a few seconds before, again, she became illiterate. Thank Merlin it was friday and she had the weekend to catch up on sleep and on her homework.

She stirred the pale blue potion in her cauldron lazily resting her elbow on the desk to support her head. Oh Merlin, she wanted nothing more than to curl up under the desk and have a good sleep, however she thought better of this desire as she heard Snape preen out a student for 'not chopping his ingredients into fine enough pieces' on the other side of the room.

She fought the invisible force pulling down the lids of her eyes. Shaking her head, once more, she tried to dispel the haze.

Hermione had spent the measly hours that she was able to fall asleep dreaming...no, night-marring about Derrick. His hands, his touch, his eyes. In her dreams, each of those elements always felt so terribly vivid, and often she truly believed that she had been transported back to the Dominican Republic, or forced into the corner of his office that he had assumed as DADA professor.

She could not believe that she agreed to his terms! She was still recuperating - no she could not even say recuperating...suffering through her last endeavor with him. But she was doing this for Harry. For Dumbledore. Greater sacrifices had to be made for the better of their world. Besides, she was used goods now. She had been defiled brutally and her innocence could not be returned. She was not the clean, virtuous, pure girl who had left Hogwarts last year. No, she was a spoiled, debased girl. Hermione thought that in recognizing such, it would make it easier to do her 'duty' to protect her friends. Though it did in a way, she still felt terrified.

She shivered, dropping the spoon to rest on the lip of the cauldron. The current created from her stirs caused it to continue revolving slightly around the circumference of the cauldron. Shea turned her attention to her ingredients.

Blindly, Hermione reached over to the pile of ingredients to her left and grasped a handful of what she thought to be Jobberknoll feathers. Her text instructed her to do just that - add one handful of Jobberknoll feathers and stir the concoction fourteen times clockwise, twice counterclockwise.

She made to drop her load into the bubbling cauldron, when a cool, pale hand enclosed around her wrist. She felt like she was being pulled from her daze and jolted back into reality.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you." She stiffened and looked up into the pair of silvery gray eyes that could only belong to a Malfoy.

"I don't care what you would or wouldn't do Malfoy." She responded coldly.

"Owch Granger. You might care after you find out that you are supposed to add the moonstone _before _the Jobberknoll." She glared at him as she allowed him to push her hand away from the mouth of the cauldron.

The nerve of him! How dare he interrupt her concentration! Should she loose it, she could fail out of the class!

Double checking the instructions, she was annoyed to find that he was right in his statement. She turned back to speak to him.

"Care to remove your hand from my wrist. One would think that you don't hate me as much as you care for everyone to believe." Hermione was pleased to see the shade of red beginning to spread over his cheeks as he looked down at his hand still wrapped around her thin wrist.

She didn't understand Malfoy's behavior lately. That was another thing. He didn't appear to be his vicious self, yet his cocky demeanor did not seem to diminish.

She did not know why, but the boy seemed to be popping up just about everywhere. This surprised her - would not he rather keep a lower profile, especially in the eyes of someone like her? Someone so very close to Harry Potter and The Order? Harry, Ron and herself had often discussed the possibility of his deatheater status. Was he one? She didn't know. Would it have surprised her? She really did not know the answer to that question either.

All she did know is that the blonde currently standing before her, cold hand wrapped round her wrist, confused her.

"Take more care to read the book Granger. You of all people should know how to do that." He dropped her hand and retreated to the back of the room where his own potion was brewing.

Yes, that boy was rather suspicious, mostly because she didn't have much proof that lead her to believe that he _was_ doing anything suspicious. Oh that Malfoy.

...

Hermione applauded herself for staying awake for the whole duration of potions class. There had been several moments when she had nearly slipped away, but somehow, she was able to remain conscious.

She did not know how she would fair for her next class,

"Hey Mione, you excited for Hogsmead?" Harry nudged her with his shoulder as he fell into stride with her. Though her pace was quick, Harry had easily become accustomed to it over the years of their friendship.

Hermione jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance. She was relieved that she could see her best friend out of the Great Hall, even though it was between classes. She had not had the time to catch up with either Harry or Ron and the guilt that filled her each time she saw their faces when she told them that she was too busy to talk to them cut her inside. Even if it was the truth, the countless lies she had begun to weave around her were really becoming thick, beginning to suffocate her.

"Well hello to you too Mr. Potter," Hermione joked. "And oh, I completely forgot, that's tomorrow isn't it!" She mentally kicked herself. Lately she had lost track of everything, including time. It was so very unlike herself. She had even forgotten to hand in an assignment for Runes last class! Perhaps it was about time to reconsider asking Mcgonagall for that time turner.

"Yes it is...I wouldn't have expected you of all people to forget that! Is everything alright?"

'Of course! Everything is just bloody fantastic! I have fainted because of a little issue I am having with blood loss, Malfoy is keeping an annoyingly close watch on my eating habits, I couldn't get any sleep last night because my cousin is here and has demanded that I see him several evenings a week, I got a terrible mark on my first DADA quiz...there was just too many issues to think of!'

Of course, Hermione did not really say that, it all remained in her head, though she very much wanted to scream and release all of the emotions that had begun to build within her since the beginning of the summer.

Harry had done absolutely nothing wrong, it was simply that her fatigue already made her irritable as it was. She felt terrible that she was being a horrid friend to him and Ron. She was angry with herself. Angry that she was still letting Derrick get so deep under her skin.

"Oh yeah, I just have had a lot on my mind lately, you know how it is," Hermione laughed. She instantly regretted it upon hearing its hallow nature. Harry raised an eyebrow evidently picking up on it also. He slowed his pace.

"Yeah. I don't know how it is Hermione. You don't seem to be acting very...Hermione-like lately." Hermione smiled lightly at his use of vocabulary, however the smile did not reach her eyes.

"What is the definition of _Hermione-like_," she asked in a joking manner. Harry did not take the bait and chose to remain on subject.

"No, seriously Herms. Is something up? You know that I am always here to talk...unless it is boy troubles. You have Ginny for that."

"It is nothing big. Just piled up stress. I really do have a lot of homework. I personally believe that the professors collaborated before hand to pile the worst combination of Homework in one week-"

"You know..." Harry began thoughtfully, a slight sarcastic tone laced his voice. "I have never heard you complain about homework. Yes, Ron and I have witnessed your panic attacks during late night work sessions in the common room, but I have yet to hear you complain about homework." Harry looked at her skeptically.

Hermione struggled to find the words to argue a different point, to change the subject anything. She was saved the trouble when Harry suddenly turned to her.

"Listen, I have to get to class. I don't think that Mcgonagall will let another late slide. Last time, I presume that she was upset enough to toss Ron and I into the Black Lake." He chuckled lightly, evidently recalling the expression on his Transfiguration professor's face.

"Anyway," he adopted a more serious tone. "We will discuss this later, no? And Ron and I will wait for you by the statue in the foyer so we can all head down together. It will be great to finally see you a bit more." He put an arm around her to squeeze her shoulder before turning to leave. Hermione reached out to catch his shoulder.

"Harry, I forgot to mention to you that I will be bringing a long a friend from my classes. Her name is Stephanie. I hope you don't mind," she smiled sheepishly. "I have become rather close with her as we share several classes." Harry nodded understandingly.

"That's alright with me, and I cannot see that Ron would have a problem with it either. We will see you both then!" With that, Harry turned down another corridor and Hermione continued on to her class.

.H.

"Are you certain that Harry and Ron would be alright with me tagging along? I don't want to ruin your trip..." Stephanie rung her hands nervously as they descended the stairs to land in the foyer where they were to meet Harry and Ron.

Hermione hooked her arm through Stephanie's and smiled at her reassuringly.

"Don't even worry about it I have already let Harry know you are coming and he would be disappointed if you backed out now!" Stephanie nodded.

Hermione didn't show it, but internally, she was shocked that Stephanie was so relaxed about meeting Harry. Harry was a normal person after all, but she had become so accustomed to fan-girls freaking out when the saw him, so used to ignoring the ogling and the comments, that it annoyed her to no end that they couldn't see him as a real person.

Stephanie, on the other hand, seemed to have no issues accepting the fact that he was indeed a human being.

Hermione spotted the Harry and Ron standing together by a statue near the front entrance. She veered toward the duo, Stephanie in tow.

"Hello Harry, Hi Ronald. This is Stephanie, Stephanie this is Ron and Harry." Harry stepped forward immediately to shake the girls hand, while Ron continued to stare at the girl perplexed.

"It's nice to meet you Stephanie."

"Likewise," she replied back.

Harry stepped back into line with Ron, and waited for him to shake her hand, then it donned on him - he had forgotten to inform Ron that Hermione's friend would be tagging along.

"Ron, I forgot to mention that Hermione told me that Stephanie would be joining us." A look of understanding donned on Ron's face.

"Gochha. Well, nice to meet you Steph." He extended his hand, which Stephanie took. "Now I don't mean to be rude and rush traditional introductory customs or whatever," Ron rushed, turning to everyone, "but I want to get down to the new broomstick shop before every student in Hogwarts is there."

Harry nodded in agreement and the four of them proceeded to walk down to Hogsmead in the cool fall air.

While the boys chatted animatedly about the new broom that would now be in stalk, Hermione talked to Stephanie, thankful that there was a girl within the group that she could chat with. Normally she would remain quiet as the two boys went on about their passion, but Stephanie kept her quite entertained throughout the whole trip.

That was until the bag that was on Hermione's shoulder decided to split, spilling much of its content onto the ground.

Ron groaned. "Only you would bring a bag full of books to Hogsmead! Now we are going to be the last to get to the shop!" He glared at a group of students that stepped around them.

"You lot go on ahead. I will be right behind you." Stephanie cocked her head at her friend. "Go on," Hermione urged. "I will be but a moment."

The group left Hermione to tend to her books, now scattered across the ground.

Hermione, after reaching the pile of the spilled contents of her bag, crouched down.

She pulled the bag off her shoulder, mentally cursing it for breaking. Taking her wand out of her pocket she pointed it at the bag and murmured a quick spell and watched the seems stitch themselves back together. Satisfied with the fix she reached out the grasp the first of her fallen books when she noticed another pale hand scooping up two of her books from across from her.

"Thank y-" Hermione froze as she looked up to meet a pair of stormy grey eyes. Malfoy. "What are you doing here Malfoy?" she asked, though not unkindly.

Malfoy gave no response, but continued to stack the numerous items her bag had lost. Though the gesture was strangely nice, Hermione was not one particularly keen on being ignored, especially by Draco Malfoy. She cleared her throat.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" She questioned once more, beginning to pack her belongings into her bag.

"Evidently helping you pick up your stuff, is that a crime?" He snapped, eyes narrowing in irritation. "Or maybe the crime is walking into Hogsmead, same as you I might add, on a day where students are allowed to."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but to her dismay, there was not much to say. The question did seem kind of silly. What else would he be doing? However, the sharpness of his voice caught her off guard. Recently, the times she had been unfortunate enough to come into contact with Malfoy it had all been rather…fortunate. His voice had been calm, and he was seemingly only looking out for her, though she wouldn't dare let herself entertain the thought that a Malfoy (especially Draco Malfoy) would ever be looking out for her. But even so, that thought did not make her cringe.

Not only was Malfoy's voice sharp, but so were his eyes. They were not steady like they normally were, like the calm the next storm but instead guarded and hostel. There was something wrong with him. This revelation shocked her. But the way she came about this little discovery shocked her more.

How, in the time she spent fawning over her work, trying to avoid Derrick, trying to see Harry and Ron in what little spare time she had, completing her Prefect duties, and studying, did she have the time to notice how Malfoy's eyes usually were? And better yet, why did she? She was curious, but not knowing exactly how curious she was, the words escaped her lips before she gave herself time to think.

"Is something the matter Malfoy?" She inquired. Normally Hermione would not think of asking Draco Malfoy, of all people, what he was experiencing, but a force seemed to draw the question from her lips.

The hand that grasped onto her remaining textbooks stopped short of her bag. Though his head was lowered, he lifted his eyes slowly to meet her own. His grey eyes suddenly became soft - again something that Hermione was unfamiliar with.

She noted his silence and deduced that he must be undergoing an internal debate. He looked away suddenly and lifted his free hand to comb his blonde locks away from his forehead, sighing loudly.

"You can tell me you know. If something is the matter-" Malfoy turned on her, his eyes now cold.

"Is something the matter with _you_ Granger? You always seem to have your knickers in a bunch whenever Burnwick is near. Got a little history?"

He smirked viciously at her. Hermione stepped back, hurt by his comment. She had only attempted to show him kindness and he turned on her - such a contrast from the Malfoy she had noticed lately. The other emotion evoked in her was confusion. 'Got a little history?' If only he knew. But perhaps he did know. But how could he? She had been sure to cover all tell tale signs.

"Keep your nose out of other peoples business and back in your book where it belongs." He pulled her bag toward him so aggressively that Hermione feared he might tear the stitching, and she would again be forced to repair it.

He prepared to slide her books back into their place, but took them into her own arms before he could do so.

"Terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you. Good day," she growled sarcastically.

Hermione raced to catch up to her friends, praying that her bag did not again choose to unstitch itself.

She found them standing in the main square of Hogsmead, outside the broomstick store. Ron and Harry did not acknowledge her approach as their eyes were plastered to the new edition of the _Snapflare, _the _Snapflare 3000. _

Stephanie, however, turned to greet her with enthusiasm.

"Well that was faster than I-" Stephanie's eyes looked down to rest upon the pile of books in Hermione's arms. A black book lay atop the others, its gold letters on the cover titled it 'The Nobody'

Stephanie picked it up carefully as though it would combust should she move it too quickly.

"W-where did you get this?" Stephanie's voice was strained.

"I was in the library and I found it on a shelf," Hermione shrugged. "I am not one for poetry, but I have grown rather fond of many of the pieces. Would you like to read it after I am done?"

Stephanie remained quiet, still eying to small volume.

"Stephanie?" She looked up, surprised.

"Oh, umm, yeah sure." She handed the pile back to Hermione, who stuffed it back into her bag. Hermione brushed aside her friend's peculiar behavior.

Once the group had finally reached the main square, from which the shops began to span out, Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Mione, Ron and I would really fancy seeing that broom! I think that it could really give us a better edge agains the Slytherins in the upcoming match! We are going to have a look, you coming? What do you think Steph?" He didn't expect Hermione to agree to come along, and she knew that. It was out of courteousness that he asked her to accompany them.

Hermione usually went into Flourish and Blotts when the boys went to ogle over broomsticks, so she was certain that they were only asking her to make sure Stephanie was not interested in coming before they took off.

Hermione made a face. Stephanie took that moment to reply.

"No, its alright." Hermione smiled at her friend gratefully. "We will just wait for you at the Hogshead. I have yet to try butter beer and I am too excited to wait!"

The boys shrugged and said their goodbyes before racing off to the broom shop.

Hermione and Stephanie entered the pub and took a seat at booth by the front window, where there would be enough space that Harry and Ron could later join them.

They placed their orders and the pub slowly began to fill up as more and more Hogwarts, Beaubatons and Durmstrang students filed in.

Hermione glanced up and watched the crowds beginning to form outside the widow. Primarily the groups consisted of Durmstrang students, with dark hair and robes. This made it even easier to notice a boy with platinum blonde hair walk past the window, heading in the direction of her favorite bookstore. It was not the fact that he stood out so starkly that she continued to watch him walk fluidly through the crowd. To be frank, she didn't know exactly why.

In the distance she saw another figure with the very same shade of blonde, held back by a tie by the base of his neck. He stood stiffly before Flourish and Blotts, turning his nose up at the passerby's, who ogled at his expensive dress robes. His aristocratic stance could only be an attribute of a Malfoy.

Stephanie turned to face the window also, seeing the scene before her. She turned back quickly and began to chew on the corner of her lip, playing with her glass of butterbeer, which by now was almost empty.

"I wonder what he is up to," mused Hermione aloud.

"You don't know the half of it," she replied rolling her eyes. She seemed to regret her statement when Hermione gave her a questioning look.

Knowing that she would not be capable of slipping that easily from beneath Hermione's radar, Stephanie sighed and looked down at her nails. "He hasn't fit the description that I have been fed by the media."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione was familiar with the various articles posted by the Daily Profit, but she usually skipped over many of them, as they often referred to the exorbitant balls held by the Malfoys, their clothing, or their recognized fortune.

Stephanie closed her eyes and shook her head. "He is...awful...just awful. Just stay away from him, will you? Promise me. What ever he says to you. He is not worth trusting." Hermione could easily tell that Stephanie was not including all of the information she knew, but she decided not to press her on the issue. It was, after all, her first trip to Hogsmead, and she did not want to ruin her time. She did, however, reside to find out more later. It seemed that her friend also wished to veer from the topic, as she quickly changed the subject.

"This is delicious!" Stephanie explained, taking another sip of the butterbeer. "I cannot believe that we never had this back in France!" She set down the tanker to reveal a thick mustache of bubbles.

"It is quite good," Hermione laughed, handing her friend a napkin. She graciously accepted it and used it to clean the foam off of her lip. She debated bringing up the abrupt change of subject, but she thought better of it, allowing Stephanie to get off the hook this time.

"It's just, I cannot believe that you have never had it before!" Hermione smiled "I don't know what I would do without it!"

Yes, my father actually attended Hogwarts when he was young, and he said that the butterbeer sold here in Britain was non-comparable to anything sold in Bordeaux! Though it is nothing compared to the_ beau joyau_! My father lives right next to it! Such a lovely boutique with the most beautiful accessories! This summer he bought me this necklace!" She signaled to a heart-shaped pendent that hung between her breasts.

Hermione set down her butterbeer and creased her eyebrows in confusion.

"I thought you said that your father lives in Lyon?" Stephanie kept her eyes averted, choosing to stare into the bottom of her glass rather than into the eyes of Hermione.

"Oh, umm right, he does doesn't he...I meant that he... I" Stephanie looked down at her watch hurriedly. "...have to go. I promised someone I would meet them at this time. I will see you later!"

Hermione's eyes followed her friend as she raced toward the door, opening and rushing through as Ron and Harry stepped in.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she pushed past them.

Ron and Harry walked over to her, confusion written onto their faces.

"What was up with her?"

"I'm not sure. I am really not sure." Hermione answered, shaking her head. She had lied about her story to her, Hermione knew that much. She could honestly say that it hurt. a lot to have her friend lie to her. Stephanie was naturally a nice girl, and lying did not seem to lie within her character.

Her reactions when she brought up the Malfoys also seemed to be very peculiar. She did not appear to have much liking for them, but neither did many other people. But her...was it nervousness, that always appeared when she discussed them was hard not to miss. What was up with Stephanie? Was she hiding something? Naturally, Hermione felt it was her duty to investigate.

"She has been acting rather strangely. I going to go check on her." Hermione prepared to stand and trail her friend out of the pub.

.D.

Draco approached the Hogshead, tuning out the irritating chatter of the second years in front of him. At the present moment, everything seemed to annoy him. The fact the squeaking voices of the boys not yet dropped, the girls accompanying who giggled just a bit too loud, the leaves that just seemed a bit too bright, barely clinging by their stems to the autumn touched trees.

The fact that everyone in Hogsmead seemed to be having a good time proved to make him feel a greater sense of misery. He would not have been in such a foul mood if he knew that the meeting, hosted by the Dark Lord, did not revolve around himself.

Also stocking the fire to fuel his cantankerous mood was his recent encounter with Hermione. She had not started the fire at all, hell she did not even add the wood - that was his own doing. He was not mad at Hermione, he was mad at his reaction to her.

He was not looking forward to meeting up with his father, nor conversing with with the Dark Lord, so naturally his tone had been clipped and uncalled for.

Her genuine concern touched him. Never had he been asked if something was bothering him. His family had not of course, nor had Blaise, Pansy or Nott. But Hermione had. Why did she care?

'Why do you care about her issues,' another voice countered. Why did he. Perhaps she cared for the same reason that he did - a reason that he did not even know himself.

As he approached the interior of the village, he caught sight of a familiar man with strands of long blonde hair, held back by a black silk ribbon. Even without the tell tail characteristics, it was more than obvious that it was the father of Draco Malfoy.

"Father," Draco nodded curtly. Lucius nodded in return before turning on his heel and striding away from the building quickly. Draco had to take a running start to catch up. The pair caught several curious gazes from passerby's, and Draco knew better that to acknowledge them. Father and son, almost equal in height, turned to walk down the crevice between the buildings, where the shadows masked their black clothing but did nothing to shield their twin blonde locks from view.

Lucius turned on the spot and disappeared instantly with a pop. Draco knew that his father had apparated to the first of three dinning rooms in Malfoy Manor, even without being informed. The Dark Lord was sure to be waiting for him there.

After taking a deep breath to steady himself, Draco followed suit, wishing that he could apparate anywhere but the image that, at the moment, flashed into his thoughts.

Following the familiar squeeze through the dark hole, his feet landed on the glossy floor of the main dinning room.

The heavy curtains covered the vast windows, robbing the room from light. The shadows of deatheaters hovered eerily over the walls as they stood stiffly around the lengthly wood table. The army did not so much as recognize them when the pair made their entrance. This could not be good.

The only light that made the objects before him discernible was from the flickering light of the candles hovering above, or the sliver of sunlight that barely slipped through a break in the curtain, cutting cleanly through the heavy vail of darkness.

"Draco," a raspy voice called from the darkness. Draco pushed his nerves to the back of his mind as he approached the dim corner. His father left him alone to join the ranks.

"Yes my Lord." He lowered himself to the ground and bowed.

"Rise." The voice was cold. Emotionless.

He did as he was told, all the while his heart was beating so quickly in his chest that he thought it would burst. He did not feel comfortable in the least being the subject of the meeting. That was never a good sign. The hard look on his father's face confirmed that.

Draco did not miss how he avoided his eyes. He was not proud of his son. He was _never_ proud of his son. No matter what he had done in the past, Draco found that attempting to please his father was a useless attempt.

"I am ever disappointed in you," Voldemort hissed. "After being informed of your actions, I decided to call a little meeting in order to discuss where your allegiances lie." He twisted his wand around in his long pale fingers that resembled those of a skeleton. His thin lips curled into a most cruel smile to reveal pointed teeth (in need of a good brushing might I add); a smile one that even Satan would be proud of.

"Of what actions are you referring, my Lord?" Draco asked placidly. He did his utmost to rid his voice of any trace of emotion. Should the Dark Lord assume that he was mocking him, he would be Avada-ed on the spot.

Voldemort cocked his head to the side and his blue lips curled further.

"It was my understanding," he began slowly, "that you have been affiliating with a mudblood."

The deatheaters standing at attention around the table, shifted their gaze to look up at him.

Draco inwardly cringed. Where had he gotten the information? "I was rather hoping that you would have become one of my most devoted followers, especially after the meeting we had over the summer, during which we discussed your future endeavors."

"You must have been informed incorrectly." Draco took precautions to shield his mind before he looked into the blood shot eyes of his master.

"Is that so? Well how about we speak to the informant." Draco looked around at the circle of deatheaters, waiting for the accuser to present himself.

A cloaked deatheater who had his arm draped loosely around another stepped forward. He lifted his wand, causing the silver mask covering his features to disintegrate, revealing the smirking face of his DADA professor.

Draco clenched his jaw under the stoic mask that he had set in place for as long as he could remember. Burnwick? Derrick? Whoever he was, he was not a friend to him. He recalled the look of fear that Burnwick had given him when his classmate suggested that Granger kiss him. It was a look of fear. Evidently the man had _once_ feared his stature. Once. But now that the bastard felt like he had something over him, the name Malfoy no longer seemed to cause him fear. It also explained his choice of language when he had intercepted him on his way up to the hospital wing. Why else would a professor use such language?

"Derrick. Do you care to explain the reasons behind your accusation?" Voldemort leaned forward, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Yes my lord." Burnwick said graciously. "There have been numerous times in which I have caught young Mr. Malfoy covering up for Miss Granger, Potters mudblood sidekick. There has been several accounts of such in the classroom, and I even happened upon them in a potions cupboard after hours, where he proceeded to form excuses for her."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows, which merely consisted of peeling scaly skin that rose slightly off of his forehead. The deatheaters around him mumbled to one another in hushed tones, while Lucius set his jaw. Draco was certain that if he somehow survived the wrath of Voldemort, which was unlikely, that he would end up being murdered by his prejudice father.

"Yesterday I also ran into Draco in the corridor during a time which he should have been in class and was surprised to see him carrying Potter's unconscious friend. At first I was proud of Draco, thinking that he had somehow bested the girl, yet also irritated as he had infringed upon my mission. That pride I felt diminished upon learning that he was on his way to the hospital wing to aide her."

His mission? Draco pondered his statement. So Burnwick had a mission at Hogwarts that involved Hermione?

Derrick switched his gaze from Voldemort to Draco. "It has occurred to me that, as much respect that I had for the Malfoy clan, their name might be tainted by the young wizard here, who seems to be in support of the mudblood population that stains our world."

Voldemort lifted his snake-like eyes to Draco's, and he returned his gaze, being sure to reinforce the barrier protecting his mind to the prodding he had begun to feel.

"What have you to say?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes and twirled his wand again. It was more than evident that his fingers were itching to use it.

Draco swallowed, hopping the involuntary action went by unnoticed. What was he to say? It was true. It was true that he had assisted Hermione on more than one occasion, how was he to cover that up? Did he regret it? Not in the least. But this mind set would not assist him here.

That bloody snake. It was Derrick that had been feeding the information about Hermione and himself to the Dark Lord! What was this guy's motive? Derrick didn't even know him! Those were indeed very valid issues, but not issues that he should be mulling over in the present moment, given the situation he was currently floundering in.

"I did not say that I was not affiliating with the mudblood," Draco began carefully. He had already come to terms with the idea that he felt something different than he had in the past, regarding the relationship between himself and the Gryffindor. But that 'relationship' if it could even be called one, was nothing of an alliance. He was interested in her activities alone. For the most part.

Draco wanted to hit himself. Now was not the time to allow himself to undergo such a senseless battle with himself!

He cleared his throat lightly before beginning his tale. Every word he chose was a lie, but he used every fiber in his body to make it appear to be the truth.

"In truth I was aiming to earn her trust. As you know she is a very close friend of Potter's and I was hoping to obtain information as to his upcoming plans."

Voldemort looked at him thoughtfully. "I see. And how is that plan coming."

"It does not matter how his pitiful attempt at a 'plan' is going! This is my mission!" Burnwick interjected, annoyed.

"Quite well my Lord." Draco stated in a dignified tone, completely ignoring his professor. Voldemort nodded pensively.

"My Lord!" Interjected Derrick, stepping closer. He was peeved. "This _attempt_ would be an inefficient use of our time! The boy does not have a strong enough relation with the girl to possibly attain any information, and the rift between houses would make this feat even more impossible! I feel that I am quite close to breaking the girl already! And as you know, I have already made...certain preparations...so that when the girl is brought to you, she would have a greater motive to spill Potter and Dumbledore's plans should she prove to be more difficult than expected!"

Draco felt his heart rate increase in speed. There already had been an initial plan with Hermione? He had attended his first official deatheater meeting over the summer and this subject had _not_ been brought to his attention. She was going through enough already to have to think of watching her back - that being said, she didn't even know she had to look out for herself! He remained silent, hoping that more of the initial plan they had for her would unfold if he held his tongue.

Voldemort thought for several moments before speaking. "The way I see it, is Draco's flowering alliance with the mudblood could prove more useful at the present moment than our current plan of breaking her. It is too blunt, at least for the present moment. If we allow young Draco to earn the girls trust, we could potentially gather information for a longer period of time if...no..._when_ he is able to maintain such an alliance. If it doesn't work out the way we want it to, which it better, we will always have our back up plan that Derrick has been so kind to prepare." The corner of his lip curled

The deatheathers began to hiss in laughter. Draco masked the confusion on his face resulting from their reaction. What was so amusing? Why did this plan evoke such a humorous response?

Of course, the torturing of individuals usually elicited such a response, but from his knowledge, they did not have anyone that had enough pull. He had not noticed the absence of any students from Hogwarts, and as there was no mentions of such from the professors, he assumed that no one she knew had been taken to execute such a plan.

The only way that Draco could see them ever getting to Hermione was through her mind. After all, they would be stupid to attempt a brutal approach such as torturing the information from her, especially within the walls of Hogwarts. Someone would be sure to notice. Of course they could, but Hermione would be too strong for such an antic. But then again, this group could break even the strongest of individuals.

A feeling still ebbed at him that he was still ignorant several pieces of information. There had to be more to it.

Voldemort cleared his throat to finish his speech. "And Derrick. I thought that earlier this meeting you proposed a strengthening alliance being built between the pair. Now you claim that the relationship cannot possibly withstand this inter-house rivalry," Voldemort smiled, referring to one of Derrick's earlier statements.

Draco's lip threatened to curl. The little shit thought that he had driven him into the corner, however it was his contradictory statements that turned the tables on him.

"Derrick, you are to stay off the mudblood's case for now and bring your other mission to the forefront. Speaking of which, how is that going? Well I hope."

Draco heard the grinding of Burnwicks teeth, even over the twelve foot distance that separated them. Obviously his professor was not entirely pleased about having his second mission given to him.

Though it made him feel better that Burnwick would no longer be praying on Hermione, Draco still felt nervous. How would he pull this off? He would be expected to suck information out of the Gryffindor. Especially when he didn't think that he wanted to! Heck he didn't want to, he wouldn't!

But what of Burnwick's, Derrick's, other mission? Until minutes ago, he had never even realized that he was a deatheater, let alone a datheater so deeply immersed as to be involved in two missions at Hogwarts. What other mission could he possibly be up to? It made sense, he supposed, that they would send a death eater in to gather information - Hermione seemed like a good link to go after. Potter was too closely watched, where as Hermione had breathing room; enough space to Slytherin in and strangle the boy who lived from the inside.

"Very well my lord. Dumbledore seems to be going out of his way to keep me quite busy," he began bitterly, "but I have begun to take strides to collect potential deatheaters and break the school down from the inside."

"I am pleased to hear that. What are our numbers like thus far?" Burnwick lowered his eyes, fixating his gaze on the hemline of his masters dark cloaks.

"It has been...difficult with Dumbledore's watchful eye to find safe environments to explain our ideologies-"

"I didn't ask for excuses. I want to know the number of recruits!" Voldemort stood swiftly, his voice rising.

"My estimation is of around two Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs and eighteen Slytherins for a total of twenty three recruits."

"That is just under half of what we had initially planned," Voldemort said, eyes flashing as he walked toward him. "How am I to wage a war, when my numbers are not sufficient?"

"Yes, yes, I understand my Lord! However I am taking precautions when implementing the measures-"

"Regardless. These results are inadequate! Crucio!"

.H.

Hermione stood from the booth that, moments before, she had been sharing with Stephanie, and began to race toward the exit. Why had Stephanie departed so abruptly? If she had other plans, she could have been a little bit nicer when explaining so. But for some reason, Hermione suspected that there was something more to her friends behavior.

"Hermione! Do you want us to come with you?" Harry called after her, ignoring the looks of confusion from the costumers at nearby tables.

"It's alright Harry, I will just be a second. Order me another butterbeer will you?" In truth, a butterbeer was not what Hermione felt like at the moment, but she felt that asking him to order one for her would ensure that he and Ron would not decide to trail her.

She pushed out of the pub and raced down the street, searching for the short brunette amongst the ocean of heads. Pushing her way through a crowd of Hogwarts students, she was finally able to spot Stephanie dashing toward a building on the left side of the street. The public lavatory.

Stephanie had noticed her trailing her and had attempted to slip into the lavatory, thinking that she would loose her. Her attempt was unsuccessful, for Hermione had gained much practice over the years, though usually it was she that was being chased.

Hermione reached the door shortly after, stopping just outside to catch her breath.

Why was it that Stephanie had lied to her about having to meet someone else? It was obviously just a ploy to get rid of her. If Stephanie had not wanted to accompany her to Hogsmead, then she should have just stated so, rather than lying to her to escape. Why was she hiding from her now? She didn't know, but she was planning to find out.

Pushing open the door, she fount the room unoccupied, but for herself and Stephanie, who stood before the furthest sink on the other side of the room.

At first, Stephanie did not notice her presence, however the moment that she looked up to see her friend's reflection in the mirror, she promptly covered her face with her hands.

"Hermione, please leave!" she said frantically. Hermione stood stationary. What was her issue? She felt that she had not done anything to make Stephanie displeased with her. Her odd behavior made her worried about her friend. She had only known her for a short period of time, but this new personality change that she had begun to notice following her placement in the hospital wing made her weary.

She found her friend leaving class for periods of time - which Hermione did not think that she had done before...or did she? She was always so preoccupied with her work that she tended to block everything else out in the process. But it couldn't be any of that. Stephanie was mad at her; wanted to avoid her. Why?

A million questions swirled around in her mind as she observed Stephanie.

Hermione decided her best approach was to apologize. If she had offended her in any way, she wanted to clear up the issue before it could fester further.

"Look, I apologize if I did something wrong. If you could only tell me -"

"You didn't do anything wrong!" she replied back, her voice slightly horse. "But if you value this friendship, you will get out!" She finished shouting. "Now!"

Hermione held her ground, but could not mask the look of surprise that sprang onto her face. Stephanie had always been a soft spoken creature. What had angered her so?

When Hermione did not heed her command, Stephanie dashed for a stall at the back of the room, her hands still covering her face. She removed her hand on the handle to open the door, but Hermione was too quick for her and thwarted her attempt by slamming the door closed once more.

"You, or I, am not going anywhere until it is explain to me what in Merlin's name is going on!" Hermione argued back, her own voice rising.

Stephanie stepped back, weakly. "Hermione-"

"I am worried about you!" Stephanie ignored her statement and began to walk back toward the mirror she had been standing before prior.

"You are not acting like...yourself..." her words were lost as she continued to gaze at her friend.

Before her eyes, Stephanie's straight brown hair began to gradually turn several shades darker, eventually stopping at a raven black. The strands began to lengthen and curl into thick ebony waves that reached to her mid back.

Her slim five-foot one frame sprouted several inches, now bringing her to a similar height as Hermione.

How was this possible?

She looked over at the side of the sink, noticing a flask that had been hastily discarded.

"Polyjuice potion," she whispered.

Before her, Stephanie began to sob uncontrollably. Hermione remained positioned in front of the door. What could she do? It was not her friend that stood before the mirror, or was it. It had to be. In the Hogshead, they had discussed and brought up matters that they had talked about prior. There was no way that this was an impostor of Stephanie. That only left one option - whomever resided in this body WAS the real Stephanie Carter; _was _ the girl that Hermione had spent her time with for the past several weeks. The person who had occupied the body of the girl that she deemed her friend was merely a shell for her mind.

Now the question was, who does that mind belong to, and why did they decide to disguise their face? Unless...unless she had something to hide.

Hermione lifted her wand and pointed it at the back of the figure. She could see in the reflection of the mirror that her hands still covered her face.

"Who are you?" Hermione said strongly. Her voice shook lightly, but it did not affect the power that emanated through her tone. She did not know who hid behind those hands, but whomever it was, she did not think that they were a friend to her.

The only motive that she could come up with to befriend her, was Harry. Could this person be trying to use her to get to Harry?

"Hermione, p-please. I just-"

"Now! Who are you? Don't test me! Don't be as daft as to think that I will not hex you!"

Stephanie, or whomever was crying in the corner of the room, inhaled deeply, shuddering. Hermione tightened her grip on her wand. Should this witch choose to attack her, she did not know her skill level. She had refused to participate in the offensive portion of Auror training, so she did not know her skill.

Stephanie, on the other hand, had a hand up, knowing her strengths and weaknesses when it came to wand fighting.

She held her breath.

Slowly, the girls hands slid down her forehead and over her closed eyes, her long fingers dragging with them, a trail of tears. They continued down her face to reveal a strong nose, and a pair of colourless thin lips that were parted slightly, taking in shaky breaths.

After her fingertips reached her jaw, she allowed her hands to drop limply to her sides, though her head remained bowed; her face was hidden in shadows.

Hermione waited on edge for the girl to lift her chin and allow her to see her face. The air around her was thick with tension, as she waited with baited breath to learn the identity of the figure in the corner.

Lifting her chin, the figure revealed her angled face that was somewhat pale in the artificial light of the bathroom. Her eyes remained closed.

Hermione squinted, racking her brain for any information regarding the girl before her. Her features seemed similar. Very familiar. She had seen them before. Oddly enough, her body remained on edge, for a reason she knew not of.

The girl, after inhaling deeply, opened her eyes to look at the reflection of Hermione in the mirror.

Hermione stepped back in horror, her mouth going dry. It was a wonder that she did not recognize the ruthless deatheater before.

A hundred questions plagued her brain at once, making her feel a bout of nausea. However, nausea was not the primary feeling that she was experiencing at the moment. It was fear. Fear that could only be elicited only by the dark cold eyes that were reflected in the mirror.

The black orbs that were saturated with a wickedness that could only be earned from decades of both witnessing and causing the pain of others. Hard, frigid eyes that could only belong to Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

_He out-stretched his arm to the right side of Hermione's face. She jumped slightly as his pale fingers came into contact with the side of her face by her ear, and began to tunnel through her hair._

**Naming this Chapter**

**Again I am accepting ideas for naming this chapter - If you have an idea, you can either send it to me in a PM or in a review :)**


	21. Chapter 21: The Night's Hidden Truths

Note to Readers: This chapter has been re-posted, for all of you who missed it the night I posted it * Also, there is an addition at the bottom!

**I am really really really REALLY SORRY about the false update earlier! I hope you can all forgive me :/ **

Thank you soooo so much to the following people for reviewing! brenna963, smileylol, EsemmeTresemme, vivalajuicy94, DramioneLover123, LeahKeehl13, gemma smells like apple cake , Maisy Chaudhry, TrueKelpa, Vaneesa85, IvoryDarkWolf, jaspersluv1863, 8, LionLovesTheLamb13, Hannah M 96, Orange-Coyote, SweetTies, DandH, Alexa, StarKiss666, BamBooks15, ShadowDancer1629, sum, RedLil and Sydney - To Sydney (If you wanted plot spoilers, I need an account to inbox, sweetheart ;P message me and we will talk XD )

I always like to see that the same people come back with something new to say! I begin to recognize your username after one review, and I become more and more happy when you review again!

Thank you to DramioneLover123! For the great title for the previous Chapter! - 'Death Eaters UNMASKED!' It was so difficult to choose, they were all soo good!

And a Happy Belated Birthday to the one and only SweetTies! This chapter was my gift to her! Well...considering she is the one who editied it (Thank you hun!), it is more like her gift to me...but let's not try to sort out the particulars...ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

"Bellatrix Lestrange..." Hermione stood, rooted to the spot, her wand shaking slightly as she pointed it at her opponent. How could she have spent several weeks of her year, multiple classes of this semester, sitting next to a Death Eater without even realizing it.

She wanted to hit herself. How could she be so careless. She had placed not only herself in danger, but Harry as well.

The impostor was good, she did admit. Her character had only begun to fray at the seams today. Sure, she had done some mildly peculiar things in the past - in their partnership in Auror/Law Enforcement, she had never practiced offensive spells, only defended the ones that Hermione shot at her. Yes, that in itself was strange that she was not willing to participate in the class, though not peculiar enough to become notably suspicious. In addition, her abrupt departure with no valid excuse was also strange.

Hermione clenched her teeth, and put on a facade of strength. Her 'friend' now understood her offensive, her strengths and her weaknesses. She would have to be creative if she tried anything. Regardless of the fact her opponent had not reached for her wand, Hermione kept hers trained on her target.

Her trust for the girl standing weakly before the sink seemed to drain the longer she stood and looked at her. She had been the closes thing to what she would call a close friend, a close girl friend. Yes, it was true that she had Harry and Ron, though Stephanie had provided her with the girl friend she always wanted. There was Ginny, but age difference and maturity still proved to be the barrier of resistance that prevented them from being the closest of friends.

"Hermione, really, it is not what it looks like-" sobbed the dark haired girl, covering her face once more with her hands. That was another thing altogether. Why would a Death Eater, cold in nature, be weeping so uncontrollably? Surely they would have acquired a greater deal of self-control after all of the atrocities that they would have been expected to commit.

Stephanie had done nothing but be a good friend to her. Gryffindors were often pegged with their forgiving nature; known for their ability to see the best in others. Not this time. She would _not_ take the risk of making a mistake and allowing for an explanation that would unhinge this already overwhelming evidence.

"Oh really?" Hermione spat acidly. "I have just discovered that the girl whom I had grown very fond of was only an illusion; she was a mask for whatever you are plotting!" The Gryffindor, who was on the verge of tears added, "And I hope that whomever you have stolen that identity from is still living!"

The girl said nothing.

"Is she alive?" she asked, pained. Somehow, despite her surge of emotion, her voice remained steady. She knew that whoever was the real owner of the body was _not_ the girl she had gotten to know, but the mystery girl deserved to be found. Hermione could only image what horrors the girl had to endure while Lestrange attacked her in order to acquire her DNA for the polyjuice potion!

"Hermione, the thing about that is-"

"Is she alive?"

The dark haired girl hung her head in response, more tears accumulating in her eyes. Her reaction said more than words ever could in confirming her verdict. Hermione's stomach dropped. The poor girl.

"Let me explain..."

"I think that you have explained enough Lestrange!" Bellatrix flinched at Hermione's hard tone.

"I did not kill her. Bellatrix Lestrange did," she mumbled. Though she was across the room from her, the zone between them did little to buffer the sound.

"Well then. When you are placed before the jurors at the Ministry, you tell them that. It will only confirm the numerous claims that you have indeed lost your mind," Hermione replied with gritted teeth.

The girl looked up at her, an expression of pain softened some of the sharp angles of her face. Her eyes retained their characteristic frigid nature, however they seemed to thaw before Hermione's gaze.

"I am indeed a Lestrange, but I am not Bellatrix. My name is Stephanie Lestrange." She paused for a moment before continuing, turning her body so that it faced Hermione squarely. Hermione's already tight grip on her wand could become no tighter. In fact, her fingers had already become numb.

"...But that name has been left behind. I am Stephanie Carter." Hermione studied the witch's features again. Unmistakably, she could see a definite relation. Bellatrix and this girl could be twins.

Now that Hermione looked closer, she became aware of the soft curve of her chin, contrasting Bellatix's pointy one. Her lips appeared much fuller, rather than Bellatrix's thin deflated ones. These were the only distinctions that could be made.

Hermione considered the girl's tale. Could it be true? She had her doubts, but supposed that it would not do any harm to hear her story.

"Then why do you look-"

"Exactly like her?" Stephanie supplied, a bitter edge to her voice. "Bellatrix is my mother." Hermione could not suppress the look of shock that sprang to her features. Bellatrix had a daughter?

"And what of the other girl? The girl who's image you stole." Stephanie knew right away that Hermione was referring to the polyjuice potion identity.

"My sister Kendra Carter. She was killed minutes after my father." Stephanie allowed her tears to flow freely, now, not bothering to shield her face.

"Bellatrix, your mother, killed both your father and your sister?" The shock that Stephanie was the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange still had not worn off. This new information was just as surprising. Stephanie nodded.

"So you made it all up," Hermione laughed sourly. "Everything. Everything that you told me was a lie!" she hid the tremor in her voice as it rose in volume. It hurt to find out that everything that you thought someone was, was a complete lie. A story specifically designed to fool the listener.

"I have not told you the whole truth. But I suppose that it is now time that I can trust you and your ability to keep this a secret." Hermione snorted skeptically.

"How am I to verify that you are not feeding me yet another lie, oh great Alêtheia, God of truth?" she challenged sarcastically.

From her bag, Stephanie withdrew a vial of clear liquid, supposedly veritaserum. Sensing Hermione's suspicion that it was a false potion, she tossed it to her.

"Check it by all means." Following Hermione's examination of the potion, she concluded that it was indeed veritaserum and tossed it back to her.

After swallowing the entire content of the vial, Stephanie looked up to face Hermione, her face mirroring the fact that she was searching for a moment in time from which to begin.

"You literally have thirty seconds to commence before I hex the living daylights out of you, Stephanie," she said impatiently.

She nodded. "I don't really know how to begin," she said honestly. "I guess I will start from my first violation of truth. I told you that my father had divorced when I was eleven. Well that wasn't the entire truth. It is true that the last time that I saw him was when I was of that age, but it was not because of a divorce. The last time I saw him was not because of a business trip. It was because _she_..._she_ k-killed him."

Stephanie bowed her head. "She wasn't always like that; a diabolical, malignant reprobate. When I was young, Bellatrix became...more involved with the Dark Arts. Infatuated with it actually. My father did not possess the same feelings that she had toward the Arts and was determined to keep her from pledging herself as a follower of Voldemort's. A brilliant man he was.

When my sister Kendra turned eighteen, she was legally eligible to become one of Voldemort's followers, and of course, Bellatrix supported the idea fully. I was protected for the time being, as I was only eleven. Father on the other hand, refused to allow his first daughter to take the mark as his wife had had. We went into hiding that summer." Stephanie paused, her eyes distant, possibly recalling their last moments together.

"They came for us; for Kendra. Despite my father's ingenuous ploys to get them off our tail, they found us after a month and a half. When told to pledge her allegiance, father stepped in to defend her, and was hit with the killing curse sent by her hand in the process."

Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth. Her anger had dissolved quickly into pity as her friend struggled to continue with her tale.

"Kendra, looked very much like dad. Every time I look in the mirror as Stephanie Carter, I am able to see both of them." She smiled a watery smile. "That was why it was her you know. That was why I choose to become her."

Hermione stood starring at Stephanie in shock. The information that she had just shared was difficult to digest.

"How is it that you are able to change into her every day? I mean...If...she...well if she..." Hermione instantly regretted asking the question. She wished to know how, if her sister was dead, she could continue to transform into her. She needed something of her sister.

Stephanie seemed to understand her question and replied right away. "Her hair. Before she died, I cut a lock of hair with the intention of keeping it as a piece of her. I had no intention of using it like this." She motioned to the discarded flask bellow the sink

Hermione nodded, understandingly. Her mother had a locket that contained small braid of her Grandmother's hair. She waited patiently until Stephanie resumed her story.

"She also had his ideologies firmly instilled into her - she would rather die than take the mark; a request that the Death Eaters decided to grant. A request that Bellatrix herself opted to perform."

"Your own mother?" Hermione asked. Her heart was torn by her friends past, a past she could only imagine.

"I do not call her mother. She never was one. Never ... As I was not yet of age, Bellatrix took me home, where she had already moved in with another Death Eater who shared her admiration for the Dark Arts, and of Voldemort. It was then that Bellatrix decided to teach me the ways of magic, rather than sending me off to a school that she deemed unfit for an aspiring Death Eater. It is because of her that I cannot practice offensive spells. I am terrified. Terrified at what they do, because I have _seen_ what havoc even the simplest, seemingly harmless incantation can bring."

All the while, Hermione nodded, listening intently to Stephanie rhyme off her life story. Without the veritaserum, she figured that it would have taken her a great deal longer to speak about what had obviously been haunting her for years. The potion seemed to be able to drag from her, the most important facts, even through the tears that streamed down her face.

"The Death Eater that she brought home - I must admit, he seemed generally kind at the time, and at first pleasantly attractive." Stephanie did not smile.

"I soon learned also that this man also had sick desires that surpassed the... satisfactions...my 'mother' attempted to give him." Her tone was clipped. Hermione's eyes widened in response.

"He didn't-"

"He did. Half a week after I moved in, I learned of his sick impulses. Experienced them. For five years, I lived them."

Hermione all but understood, probably better than anyone else.

"You were eleven!" she all but cried. Tears were beginning to burn behind her eyes. She blinked to hold them back and kept her eyes trained on the girl who stood calmly by the sink.

"I ran away at the beginning of last summer to enroll in Beaubatons, assuming that she would not think to look for me at a school. I never had attended. Nor had my sister. Bellatrix did not see the value in a ministry approved education, so she taught us herself. I knew also that this year the upper years were permitted to travel to Britain for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"But why now?" Hermione asked.

Stephanie took a shaky breath, "I am turning eighteen tomorrow."

Hermione understood the consequences of what her friend was getting at. She was obviously frightened to death that Bellatrix would come after her now that she was of age to take the mark.

"Will she not recognize you if she is that set on finding you? And what of your name? Surely your name could be traced through enrollment!" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"No I am not too worried about that," Stephanie shrugged. Yes, my first name is Stephanie, but Carter has no significance. It is my pen name."

Something inside of Hermione clicked. _The Nobody_. She was referring to the poetry she had authored! S. Carter. How could she have been so terribly thick! Her change in attitude when she had seen the book she wrote should have been enough to inform her. Hermione shook her head. She felt as though she was losing her touch.

Hermione remained quiet, not quite certain the way in which to continue.

"I'm sorry." That was all she could think of saying. What else was there to say? What could be said? Nothing. She was in a similar position - anyone who had not gone through a similar experience trying to relate to her was a laugh.

The two remained in silence for several minutes, neither knowing what to say. That was until the sound of Stephanie's footsteps on the hard floor brought Hermione back to her senses.

The girl walked to the wall and slid down it, now sitting on the floor with her knees brought up in front of her.

"You know something Hermione?" Stephanie asked quietly. Hermione approached and took a seat beside her.

"The emotional scars hurt so much more than the physical ones." The Gryffindor looked sadly at her friend. Yes, her friend. The pain that she saw in her eyes could not be faked, as her appearance was. It was then that Hermione made her decision.

Finger's trembling, she slowly rolled back the sleeve on her left arm. The pink initials had begun to scar, giving the skin a glistening look. It was the one scar on her body that did not repeatedly split open, as the blade he Derrick used to carve his initials onto her wrist.

She did not know what to expect from Stephanie, but she did not expect her to lift her own sleeve to reveal an identical piece of body art, if you could even be so callous to call it that, etched into her flesh with a blade held by the same man.

At this, Stephanie cracked, falling into Hermione's arms. Hermione did much the same. The two girls continued to sob in the arms of the other until the trip to Hogsmead drew to a close.

"_The memory is still with you, the scars from the depths of your soul, will never disappear. They will always remind you of the things you would rather forget."_

_..._

The tuesday following the long Hogsmead weekend left Hermione drained. She and Stephanie had spent every other moment together, supporting one another. Their common link in a chain of sorrow proved to be the bond that clasped them the closest together.

It was an unspoken rule that they never talked of the events that happened between themselves and their aggressor. It was a territory that neither of them dared to overstep.

Hermione did however take this new opportunity to question Stephanie. If she had experienced a similar trauma and had or was still combatting the very cuts and blood-loss problems that she was experiencing. Fortunately, the girl had not a cut, disregarding the scar carved into her wrist, on her body. The majority of her scares lay beneath the skin. Unfortunately, this left Hermione alone once more with her situation.

Why Derrick had begun using a charmed blade with Hermione was unclear, though they both came to the assumption that simply raping a woman had lost his interest - the Dark Arts further corrupted his mind and he resorted to both rape and torture it seemed.

Stephanie had offered to assist Hermione with her research, and though Hermione was certain that with the searching she had done through the library, that she had all but combed the shelves and there was no other valuable information to be found. That of course disregarded the restricted section, which she did not have a chance to completely go through, complements of Malfoy. Hermione vowed to return and search through every book in that section.

...

Stephanie lay, sprawled out on the couch opposite Hermione, watching disinterestedly as Harry and Ron battled out their game of wizarding chess. Hermione also, sat watching, though periodically looking up at the clock hanging between the two winding staircases that lead to their dorms.

In twenty minutes time, she would be expected to meet Randy and commence her prefect duties for the evening. Following their meeting, Hermione would have to, somehow, sneak away. For how long? Well that was up to Derrick.

Hermione rose from her armchair. "I better get going - I have prefect duties to attend to. Don't wait up for me." Harry and Ron both had taken habit to waiting until she returned from her rounds to go to bed. Why they did remained a mystery to her. Harry had always been watchful of her, as had Ron. They were the best brothers that a girl could ask for. Unfortunately, the gazes that she had been receiving from Ron this year did not support the brother-sister relationship she wanted to stay.

There seemed to be something else in his eyes as he stared at her. Hermione always dropped her gaze, pretending not to notice, so she never did figure out what it was. Finding out such information could prove to open the door to more that she had no interest in unleashing.

"You sure Mione? We don't mind you know. Actually we feel better knowing that you made it back," Harry said, moving his pawn one square, only to have Ron smash it to pieces by his knight.

"Bugger!"

"Yes, don't worry about me, Randy will be with me the whole time," Hermione lied.

Harry looked for a moment like he was about to oppose, but surprised her when he agreed. Hermione nodded at her friends and stepped out of the portrait.

It was seven O'clock and she would be expected to patrol until 11:30 that evening. Would Derrick decide to push their meeting time past 11:30? What excuse could she possibly come up with if she was out past her patrol time? Prefects were indeed allowed permission to walk the corridors at night without curfew, however it was looked down upon if they came across a teacher in the corridor, and they were out for no given reason. She could not use the Library as an excuse, as it closed earlier on week-days.

Hermione continued to ponder this as she walked through the corridors, where the torches that lined the walls began to self-ignite as she passed.

She was to meet Randy in the foyer. Patrols with Randy were always pleasant. The Ravenclaw had a great mind, often encouraging her explanations of books and telling her of ones he had read. It was a decent way to pass the time - prefect duties were _not_ a walk in the park. Hermione often returned to her dorm and began to massage her feet right away before falling asleep.

Hermione descended the broad staircase leading down to the foyer, thinking of possible excuses to ditch her fellow prefect. It would be difficult as the two had agreed that the conversations they shared kept them from dying from boredom. Or at least the death of their brains from lack of stimulation.

Her Mary Janes clicked lightly on the floor as she walked, breaking the silence that she had grown all too accustomed to in her late night patrols. It was less frightening now that she knew that the odds of her running into Derrick were much slimmer, however knowing that it would be her feet that lead her to his office struck a fearful pain in her chest.

She slowed as she stepped into the foyer. Randy was not in sight. Normally Randy was always here beforeshe was. She could not be that early could she? She looked down at her watch. 6:55. Yes, she was five minutes early, however this was the exact time that she always made her appearance. Hermione scanned the room for a second time, still not spotting Randy's tall frame.

Perhaps he lost track of time, Hermione concluded. She herself had become so engrossed in a Potions essay that she had arrived eight minutes later. She resided that she would wait the remaining five minutes to be certain that her partner did not appear, and then make her way down to Derrick's office. She would no longer be responsible for coming up with an excuse, she thought dully.

Hermione walked to the corner of the foyer and leaned up against the wall, facing the hall through which she knew Randy would have to emerge if walking from the Ravenclaw common room.

"Pleasant evening isn't it?" Hermione looked up in shock to see a blonde Slytherin standing to her left. He was not looking at her, choosing rather to adjust his green and silver stripped tie.

"Shove off Malfoy, I have work to do." Hermione pushed herself from the wall and began to walk down a random corridor. In truth, she was still peeved at him for the remark he had carelessly thrown out there in regards to her relationship with Derrick. It really did hurt. He couldn't have known anything about the fact that they really did have history, but the cut hurt all the same.

Hermione would not have gone so far as to say that Malfoy had become nicer however his recent actions did express an improvement. It was a disappointment to note that it was just a phase; a temporary moment of insanity.

"As do I Granger," Malfoy smirked lightly, catching up to her easily with a lengthened stride.

"Well, do your work elsewhere. I have prefect duties and I don't need you causing me any trouble with your existence," she replied coldly. She continued to walk, Malfoy easily keeping her brusque pace.

"As I too have prefect duties, it appears that my duty _does_ involve causing you trouble." He lifted his chin in a dignified manner, smirking lightly.

Hermione stopped abruptly, turning to face him. "I don't know what you're on about Malfoy, but frankly I am too tired to care! Get lost! Randy is just running a little late."

"Right," Draco drawled, pretending to come to a stage of understanding. "You have yet to receive the new schedule, the heads sent out." He raised his eyebrows aristocratically. "Seeing as you skipped breakfast this morning, you missed the morning post." He pulled a letter from inside his robes and handed it to her.

Hermione stared at the letter in his outstretched hand skeptically. Malfoy raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

After taking it, she tore open the seal and pulled from it, two sheets of parchment. She began to read the first sheet, but not before shooting another accusatory glare toward the Slytherin standing patiently before her.

_Miss H. Granger, _

_As discussed in our last meeting, the schedule that was provided to you is not concrete, and was subject to change. As it stands, there have been numerous conflicts noted because of the various clubs and teams that Hogwarts offers. For this reason, a new patrol schedule (which is attached) has been created so that the commitments of each member of the prefect team is considered. _

_Please note that a majority of your patrol evenings have changed to weekday evenings, rather than the morning patrols that you were to perform in the previous schedule. In addition, you will no longer be responsible for weekend patrols because of this new schedule._

_I am indeed sorry for the short notice of my owl, but please remember that you have patrols this evening. _

_Thank you,_

_Jeremy _

Hermione eagerly removed the top page to reveal a second sheet, on which, the new time table was printed neatly. As Jeremy had stated, many of her patrol dates had been switched. In fact, the majority of them had been moved, but for her patrol on Tuesday evening.

Hermione quickly scanned Tuesday's patrol list. It had to be Randy. It was supposed to be Randy. It couldn't be Malfoy! Sure enough, scrolled elegantly beneath the name _Hermione Granger,_ was _Draco Malfoy_.

"Well isn't this just peachy," Hermione growled under her breath, stuffing the letter into her own robes.

Malfoy obviously heard her, and replied. "But isn't it just." Hermione looked up at him angrily, hearing an edge of sarcasm and laughter in his voice. She held her tongue however. She would most-likely be forced to make up the time that she was late for her "remedial classes", so the time that she wasted here arguing with Malfoy would not help her in the least.

Hermione took a steadying breath before speaking, both because of the effort it took to calm her voice, and also because of the prospect of waking to her impending doom.

"Okay well, I guess I will start with the seventh floor and make my way down to the fourth, and you make your way up from the ground floor so we meet in the middle." Hermione stated in a business-like tone. "That way we have all of the floors covered and we won't have to spend any more time together than required. Alright?"

.D/H.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Now that he knew her objective, it should be easy enough to prevent her from escaping to see Derrick. He had been apprehensive of Hermione's agreement to go after he had heard her talk with their professor, but after his appearance at the Death Eater meeting, he was hard set to even let her set foot on the sixth floor. It was obvious that she sought to shake him off and head to the sixth floor for patrols. Not this time Hermione.

Hermione made to walk up the flight of stairs before her, but was surprised to find that Malfoy followed. She frowned.

"What part of, 'you start on the bottom floor and I will start on the top floor' did you not understand?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't think it was a matter of me misunderstanding. Just a matter of me choosing not to follow orders given to me by a know-it-all Gryffindor," Draco returned smugly.

"Be careful Malfoy, or I might assume that you have a crush on me," Hermione smirked back, not decreasing her speed. Hermione knew that Malfoy would not take well to such a statement, and she was banking that his pride would cause him to rage and leave her to her business. She was surprised with his reply.

"Nahh. I don't fancy patrolling alone for four bloody hours." Draco shrugged. Hermione was surprised at his statement. Would he rather take her company? He had told her numerous times in the past that he did not want her in his presence.

"I would much prefer to have a Gryffindor talk my ear off. It would make the time tick by a great deal quicker, wouldn't you agree?"

He looked down at Hermione out of the corner of his eye to see her eyes narrow. Even if he could annoy her for the next four hours, or keep her preoccupied, it would serve her better than allowing her to search for their professor.

This agreement they had bothered him. He wished that he could simply ask her about it, but he knew that if he did that, she would know that he had been eavesdropping.

"And I would much prefer if you would leave me alone to do my job Malfoy." Hermione replied simply.

"Considering it is also my job, I assume that I have as much right to go wherever I want." She felt him slow to follow closely in her wake. "If I happen to want to follow you around the castle, I very well will. I always get what I want."

Though she was not facing him, she could hear the smirk in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

Draco thought a moment before trying another approach.

"I am getting a bit suspicious Granger, I am not going to lie. You seem to be quite keen on outing me, to the point where I might begin to assume that you have ulterior motives."

Normally Hermione would have ignored his irk, however this was one too many that pointed in the direction that he knew something more than he was letting on. She would have bet everything that he knew nothing of her situation, but several of his comments and observations seemed to point in the opposite direction.

She turned to face him, mid step. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Of course. Hermione relaxed, understanding now that he was not referring to anything in relation to Derrick.

"What exactly do you _think_ I would be doing Malfoy? I am not the one who is so often referred to as the Sex God of my house now am I?" Hermione replied smugly. Draco shrugged.

"Perhaps not. But as I hear it, the weasel has been doing more burrowing into holes than I would have naturally assumed..." Of course, he had heard no such thing, but Hermione didn't need to know that.

He waited patiently as the ignorant Hermione tried to work out the notion of his sentence. Her mind was obviously attempting to look at his statement from all angles. When she found the one that Draco had been implying, Her eyes went wide.

"You aren't implying that I-I..." Hermione trailed off, her cheeks burning red with both anger and embarrassment at the change in topic.

"Am I wrong to assume so?" Draco questioned "If you ask me - "

"Nothing is going on you berk!" she replied hotly. Of course he knew that, but her saying it, for some strange reason, made him feel a great deal better. The thought of the Weasel touching Hermione made his skin crawl.

"Ahh, Granger. Ever the celibate," he chuckled at her rouging cheeks, causing her to become more agitated. The more agitated she became, the more she would talk, and the more time she would not be with Derrick. Draco applauded himself.

"I am not celibate you prude! Just because I don't go around screwing everything that walks does not make me some...some chaste church girl," Hermione returned, spite lacing her words.

"Oh, so you're not a virgin then, are you Granger?" He asked abruptly, half questioning, half stating. He was playing on her last statement, in which she claimed that she was not a chaste girl. He already assumed that she was, and a chaste virgin was an oxymoron that did not seem to fit her character. Her reputation was just too perfect to smudge.

Whatever a church was, he bloody well did not know, and he frankly did not care at the moment. There really was no point in asking the question. He was just attempting to distract her further.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but ended up chewing on her bottom lip instead. He guessed that this was a touchy subject for her. Was she ashamed that she was still a virgin? He noticed her face turn a deeper shade of red so that it resembled a beat, and looked down at her shoes.

"Oh good God Granger, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I was only asking," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

When she didn't reply, he looked over and saw a pain in her eyes that was immeasurable. A pain in his chest caused him to regret asking. His heart dropped. Did she possibly regret a choice she made? What if she wasn't a virgin? She had to be. She was Hermione Granger. Or it could be as simple as someone making her feel insecure about her virginity' people like _him_ making her feel insecure about her virginity.

Draco shook his head quickly. "Don't answer that. I should not have asked, it really is not any of my business."

Hermione's gaze, which had been fixated over his shoulder, shifted to meet his own. He noticed the dark cloud beginning to condense, to cover almost completely the pain he had previously seen in their brown depths. He prepared himself for her to tell him to "bugger off" or to "get a life", or one of the other various charming dismissals he had become accustomed to hearing and ignoring her say. He was not prepared for what she said next.

"No." Hermione replied lifting her chin. A bitter tone he had never heard her use clung to her voice. "No. I am not a virgin." Hermione turned on her heel and continued to walk.

* * *

_..._

_"Well, you might want to check again, because Malfoy is your partner for every single one of your evening patrols..."_

_"WHAT!" she shrieked, slamming down her fork._

...

**Again, Chapter titles are welcome - Maybe someone can come up with something more creative than simply 'Confessions'? If not that's cool :)**


	22. Chapter 22: Barriers

Thanks to everyone for the chapter name suggestions and reviews! I have chosen to name Chapter 24 "The Night's Hidden Truths", submitted by the lovely ShadowDancer1629 (Thank you very much, it was a perfect suggestion!)

Zailz-101, (lovely review xx), HyperChrome, Rendianami, pirateKitten11893, brenna963, DramonieLover123, ThornsXRoses, Starst, IvoryDarkWolf, NicolexXxDramoniexXxScribbles, chubbypenguin, StarKiss666, SweetTies, 8, Edward'sCutie, potterholic95, YoungWriter11, EveFidelius, jaspersluv1863, ShadowDancer1629, xXSLKing94Xx, TacoInLabor, KaAaArL, Alexa, Sylverquill, smileylol and J -You guys really make my day! (Let me know if I miss you! I type these in by hand, and I don't want to skip over anyone, because you are all important! xx)

J: I could not PM you :( I am pleased that you look forward to an update :) I suppose I can understand your frustration with lack of activity, and I am sorry that you have been disappointed with my content within the last couple chapters. I you want to suggest some ideas, feel free to! xxx :)

HUGE THANK YOU TO MY BETA! SWEETTIES!

**Gahhhh sorry for all of the times I have re-loaded this XD **

* * *

**Chapter 23 **

Draco lay in bed that night, once again condemning himself to a sleepless night. And once _again_, it was because of Hermione Granger. He groaned. What made him so in-tuned to her now, when before term started, he would not have given the bushy-haired brunette a second of his time?

Draco's comment seemed to have done the trick. Hermione spent the hours that she should have been with Derrick, walking about the castle with him. They did not exchange much conversation, and Draco did not push her to.

Most of that night, her eyes appeared to have glazed over in self-reflection. He assumed it was because of his choice in topic. He deeply regretted that he did not choose a different route in getting Hermione's mind off of Derrick and her obligations, though he did not regret that he was successful. He did note that her change in behavior was notably much less aggressive than it had been prior, and had him only asking more questions that he hoped to have answered.

His questioning her virginity was completely un-expected, even by him. He did not expect to ask her a question relating to a subject that he thought she would have deemed inappropriate, moreover, he did not expect her to actually answer it. He had also not prepared to receive the wave of possession that took hold of him the moment she had answered 'no'. To be frank, he simply should not care what the girl had to say at all! What was she to him? More importantly, what was _he_ to _her?_ More importantly, why was her opinion of him more important than his own opinion of himself? He groaned. The one sided feelings he was developing towards her were not making things any easier.

This was another issue completely. The growth of feelings for someone you were taught from birth to hate was really _not _good. She was a muggle, he was a pure-blood. Maintaining purity through the lines was something that his parents had stressed for years, and he had willingly believed that his future self would retain these beliefs. The day he had seen her faint had suddenly began to poke at the lines dividing those two separate entities, and the more time that he spent, either watching or interacting with her, only proved to blur the lines further.

The next question was, 'did he wish for the lines to be blurred any further?'

_Do I? _Draco asked himself. _Do I wish to blur the lines? _Who was to say that Hermione was willing to do the same; that she was willing to undergo the difficult task that was, breaking down the barriers that separated them. It would not be an easy undertaking, that was certain - society would be the heaviest of the bricks that would require dismantling (or simply crashing thorough). But then, would tumble down along with it, all of the other 'values' he was taught to prize in life. Pride was everything for a Malfoy. He had only just been able to earn the 'respect', or at least the beginnings of it, from his father. His mission, given to him by the Dark Lord, would only increase his father's opinion of him, and eventually build the man's pride in his son; something that Draco had desired for years.

With Hermione now in the mix, he knew that the tower he had spent his whole life building, would tumble down just as quickly, and he would never again be capable, or even allotted the opportunity to rebuild what he had lost.

_Will I be prepared to give up everything? My high social standing in society? The growing possibility of gaining father's pride?"_ The idea of giving up such things would have sounded ludicrous to him mere weeks before, though now, he considered with much more thought.

Would he be prepared? It seemed he had came to his conclusion long ago: the moment he had pulled Hermione from Derrick's clutches on her first DADA class, the moment he had dragged her from Snape's Potion cupboard upon coming across Derrick, the moment he had carried Hermione to the hospital wing following her loss of consciousness, the moment he had chosen to send Hermione the vials of Blood Replenishing Potion he had taken from Madam Pomfrey's stalks, and primarily, the moment he had decided _not_ to carry out out the orders given to him by Lord Voldemort of pumping Hermione for information regarding Potter.

Even if he did not initially intend for such repercussions, by completing the actions he did, he had lifted the foot that could _potentially_ step over the barrier. He knew he would eventually be forced to choose: his foot remained suspended, having the option to either return to the place from which he had lifted it, or use the force to kick down the wall.

The next issue would be how Hermione would react if he _did_ choose to trample the barrier.

...

Unlike the weight that had been lifted from Draco's chest that came with his success, Hermione felt just the opposite as she returned to her own dorm, aware that Draco had walked her almost the entire way to Gryffindor Tower "to make sure that there were no more students running about".

Though Hermione thought there was more to him following her up to the tower, she did not push her accusations. The steadily growing weight in her stomach caused her to keep her mouth shut. This heaviness was not a cause of guilt, but of fear.

She had not gone. She had not done as Derrick had told her. Malfoy had successfully followed her around for the duration of the evening; there was no possible way she could have escaped. How Derrick would react when she saw him next, she did not know. She also did not fancy taking a midnight stroll that evening to find out.

...

Wednesday, and the day following, the feeling of dread Hermione had been attempting to suppress did not decrease, rather choosing to instead swell monumentally in size. For this reason, she found that from the moment she forced herself to roll out of bed Thursday morning, her mood gradually decreased throughout her early periods, coming to a through at lunch.

"Mione, you are eating like a mouse!" Ron pointed out, dropping his own eating utensil in order to fork a greater mound of food onto her plate. Hermione tried, in vain, to swat his hand away.

"Ronald! Stop it! I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, I am not an infant!" Hermione replied, in a somewhat annoyed tone.

Hermione looked up to glare at Harry to come to her aid. Rather than meeting a pair of emerald eyes, she was surprised to see a flash of mercury. The silver eyes belonged to platinum blonde Slytherin, seated ceremoniously across the Hall. His refined table gestures showed clearly the polished lifestyle that he was accustomed to during his upbringing. His cultivation had done him well.

He was already looking at her, with an expression that displayed his amusement to her current predicament.

Hermione glared back, detesting the fact that he found mirth in her situation. The way that he could continue to look so polished in his amusement stoked the wood to her already growing tower of flames.

Even from across the Hall, Draco could see her growing discontentment, so he smiled lightly before turning to a Slytherin who had addressed him.

She was brought back to the present when Ron scooped yet another pile of chicken onto her plate. She knew that Ron was only looking out for her. His behavior was _somewhat _understandable. Her irregular eating patterns no longer went unnoticed by Harry and Ron, who now made a point to glare at her when she stood from the meal table without eating a bite.

Hermione turned the heat of her glare that she had been previously concentration on Malfoy, back to Harry. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and dropped his own gaze.

Immediately, the brunette felt remorse for turning on Harry. He had done nothing but try to help her with a problem he knew nothing about since she had returned from the summer.

"Oh, I am so sorry Harry! I didn't mean to glare at you like that! It isn't me!" Harry measured her reaction before replying.

"Hermione, you have been a bit peaky lately? Care to fill me in?" Harry said kindly. "I am always here for you, you know."

"Mefh-too!" Ron mumbled, shoving yet another chicken wing down his throat. Ronald, always the gentleman.

"I don't really know. I have been sort of knackered lately."

"I guess I can't blame you. I saw the schedule, tough break with Malfoy," Harry replied, looking at her sympathetically.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. But all the same, I will be glad to be patrolling with you tonight!" Harry cocked his head, appearing genuinely puzzled.

"What do you mean patrol with you tonight? Hermione, we don't have a single patrol date together. When I said I could not blame you for feeling drained, I was referring to the new schedule...you have read it, have you not?" Harry said slowly, as though talking to a two-year-old.

"Well I glanced at it." She pushed the mountainous pile of food around on her plate in distaste.

"Well, you might want to check again, because Malfoy is your partner for every single one of your evening patrols..."

"WHAT?" she shrieked, slamming down her fork. Last evening had been...tolerable. Yes, the Slytherin Prince had been rather annoying, but not to the extent that she expected. It was more the fact that he had successfully thwarted her attempt to visit Derrick that worried her. If he was able to do so once, would he be capable of doing it again?

Many heads turned to look at her, hearing her outburst. Again, Hermione looked across the Great Hall to see Malfoy smirking smugly at her. The bastard.

...

Afternoon classes that day went by all too quickly for Hermione's taste. With each bell that signaled rotation to the next class, she felt that she was taking one more step closer to that evening, where she would again have the 'pleasure' of seeing Derrick. She could not decide whether or not she was relieved she did not have to experience the pain that she surly would have, had she gone, but now she feared that it would be the pain she experienced that evening that would cause her to regret those feelings.

It was not long before Hermione found herself, again, standing in the foyer of the school, waiting for her partner. Almost immediately, she was joined by the blonde.

She was surprised to say the least. She had expected to be waiting a long time, after all, in the past Malfoy had made it clear that _he _was never late; everyone else was simply early.

"Malfoy," she nodded. She resided to be polite... until provoked that is...and hoped that by doing so, she would be able to slip away from him for a short period of time.

"Granger," he returned with the same formality. Something close to a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Hermione took the action as mockery, and as much as she wanted to wipe the excuse for a smile off his face, she needed to keep her head level tonight. She had business to do. The pair began to walk the halls in silence, searching for any signs of mischief.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak when Draco swiftly cut her off.

"Before you decide to order me around - No, don't deny it," he added quickly when she made an effort to disagree, "-know I will choose to disregard any directive from you that tells me to "take the bottom floors whilst you take the top," he stated simply, referring to her desired arrangement the evening prior.

She closed her mouth and scowled at him. He turned away from her so that she did not see the smile spreading over his face. She was so predictable, yet so capricious at the same time. It intrigued him to no end, though she could not know that; she could _never_ know that.

She turned back to him, a new flame in her eye. "Fine. Seeing as that arrangement does not appeal to you, how about you take the top whilst I take the bottom," she tried sardonically.

He cocked an eyebrow, amused. The smile returned, though this time he did not bother to disguise it. "Me on top, Granger? Who knew that someone like you would be so submissive. What with your caustic pugnacious tongue, I would have assumed _you_ would prefer to go on top."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, a blush slowly creeping over her face. Draco thought it was adorable to see the normally collected and composed Hermione Granger flustered. Though he would never tell her that.

"Leave it to the Slytherin to insinuate copulation in quotidian conversation!"

He rolled his eyes. "Leave it to the Gryffindor to say 'copulation' rather than simply saying 'sex'." Hermione blushed a more vibrant shade of red, and turned away to prevent him from seeing her sudden coloring.

A crease formed between his eyebrows as he pushed them together in confusion. What had he said? He had said more offensive jeers in the past and she had not batted an eyelash. The only word that he said that could possibly get the platonic girl to blush would be the word...

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips; he had an idea.

"I am going to be honest. I really do not understand the meaning of the word 'copulation'. Would you care to explain it?" He suppressed a smile at the look of embarrassment that spread across her face.

He knew that he had already proven to her that he knew what it meant, though she seemed not to notice, as she fumbled through her head for a reply to his question. He asked simply to see the discomfort she would experience attempting to explain; to see red creep over her fair complexion - if she took the bait that was.

Hermione looked up at him, an odd expression on her face. He could tell that she was internally attempting to calm herself, and he could tell it was working by the way in which the rouge drained slowly back to normal. Not for long Granger.

"No, really. I would like to broaden my vocabulary. _You_ of all people should understand." Hermione seemed to calculate whether or not he was being serious in his statement. He lifted his eyebrows in what he hoped she would take as curiosity or interest.

A moment later she sighed in defeat. He knew he had fooled her. He loved her ingenuous nature - again, another unmentionable.

"Well, when uhh, two umm you know...people...erm, well when they love each other..." Hermione began awkwardly, pausing here and there to restart her sentence, or add an additional detail. Draco rather enjoyed seeing her struggle to avoid the word that he had said, as though it had a taboo on it.

"I don't understand..." he tiled his head, leaning toward her slightly.

"Of course you wouldn't you are a Slytherin!" she snapped, mostly because she was upset at her inability to form a coherent sentence. "Love is foreign to people like you."

He leaned back, slightly wounded by the comment. Love. It was true that he never had experienced love for another woman, a love that would cause him to desire spending the rest of his life with someone. It also hurt that she classified him into a group 'people like him', and automatically assumed that he was like them. The sting quickly turned into another emotion when he realized that was exactly what he had been doing for years; classifying her based on her heritage. It hurt because he feared it was true.

"Oh, in the name of Merlin, Granger! Just say the word sex!" Draco groaned, rolling his eyes.

Hermione blushed.

Oh Hermione...He supposed that he could not _force _her to repeat the word. He realized that he could get a very similar reaction by simply saying it himself. As many times as he wanted. He knew it was immature, hell, a child would have better sense, but Draco wanted to see her squirm.

"Sex." he said plainly, waiting for her blush to darken. When it did, he repeated the word, lowering his voice in the process. He noted that the lower frequencies caused her blush to become more and more prominent. He would not lie and say he was not enjoying himself.

"Oh sod off Malfoy! You are acting like such a child!" She considered throttling him into the suit of arms to his left, but she restrained herself.

Seeming to hear her thoughts, he chuckled low in his chest, making Hermione huff in indignation.

It was rather humorous that the brunette could not stand to hear him say the word sex, especially considering the topic of their previous conversation, when she had claimed she was not a virgin.

"For you to be having sex, you should at least be comfortable to hear the word, let alone be capable of saying it Granger." Draco waited for her cunning remark, which , to his surprise, did not come. When he had finally surmised that she would not reply, she chose to speak.

"For you to have such sly remarks, you must have a forked tongue like a slippery serpent." Her voice was quiet.

"Well, for whatever reason, my forked tongue is a big hit with the ladies." Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. When she merely scowled in response, he added, "For you to have such venomous remarks, you too bare semblance to the serpent you so readily despise."

Though she did not show it, Hermione was acutely impressed with his quick tongue and genius reference to her comment. Never would she tell him such, for fear that his head might only increase further in size to the point of exploding all over her new robes. She kept her eyes forward.

Draco looked down at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Again it seemed that she would not respond to his jeer. He was expecting her to again play off of the subject of the serpent he had started.

"So who was it Granger?" Malfoy asked, not looking at her. His sudden curiosity surprised even himself.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione knew exactly what he was referring to, she just did not know how she planned to reply. In asking, she hoped to spare her some time to construct a cunning argument, though nothing came.

"You know very well what I am talking about. Who was it? Was it the Weasel?" he questioned. He couldn't think of many guys that would appeal to her interest. If it happened to be the rodent, he could not believe that she had lowered herself to such scum. Hermione glared at him.

"Why must you always assume that Ronald or Harry and I have a relationship other than friendship?"

"Oh, so Potter is in on this as well then? I should have assumed just as much. Gryffindors always were good at sharing." He winked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly "Us Slytherins on the other hand, are pretty selfish."

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Visually, Malfoy really was something to look at, though she would not inflate is ego by admitting so. It was difficult to ignore the way the flames from the torches made the silver in his eyes shimmer brilliantly. His calm, alluring demeanor was also hard not to take note of. The boy probably did not even know he had that effect on girls, though perhaps he did; his ego was pretty large after all.

"Slither away Malfoy," Hermione said lazily, waving her hand down in the direction of a random corridor.

"A little late for the metaphors Granger," he replied, alluding their earlier snake references.

"A little late for puberty? Grow up you halfwit!"

"At least I'm a halfwit, not a know-wit-all!" Draco smirked, pleased with his new word. Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting her own smile at his pathetic attempt. As much as she disliked Malfoy for all of his jeering remarks and actions toward her, she did admit that she was quite entertained by his witty come-backs.

Ron and Harry, though compassionate and loving, did not have the astute qualities or shrewdness that was required in the debates they shared. Malfoy, on the other hand, though a complete ass, had the arrogance and haughty nature required to not only understand her rebuttals, but participate in the spar as well.

"Well actually, if we are to take my grades into account in this whole debate then-" The blonde held up a long pale hand to silence her. She went to speak again, to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he flashed her a quick glance that told her to do anything but. She held her breath, wondering what Malfoy was on about.

She heard a clattering from down the hall. Before she could react, Malfoy had whipped his wand out and was already heading down the corridor toward the offending sound.

Hermione sprinted after him, though she could not compete with the Malfoy heir's long stride. As she raced after his quickly disappearing form, she cursed her slower pace. Before she knew it, his platinum blonde head had disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor.

Damn those Quidditch players! You would think that their cardio would not be so substantial, as they remain seated on a broom for the duration of the game! She slowed to a walk, already spent from her quick ten second sprint. She was so out of shape!

The bushy-haired brunette stood to lean against the railing, leading up to the next floor, a painful stitch tugging at her right side. She really was becoming softer than she'd like. Being a prefect, she _should _have enough stamina to chase down any miscreants who dared try to deface the school or reap havoc on her watch. This thought in mind, she resided to go for a run beside the black lake every other day or so.

Hopefully Malfoy would be able to keep up. The individuals causing all of the commotion would have a head start, though judging by Malfoy's speed, Hermione assumed that it would not be long before he overtook them.

Until then, she would just have to wait here for him to come back. Wait, all alone...Her eyes widened in realization. Now was her chance! Now was the chance that she had been waiting for! Malfoy was occupied elsewhere, which left her free to...to...she didn't want to think about what she would be doing, but it left her free to do it.

Though enervated from her pathetic attempt at a sprint, she pushed herself to jog up the staircase to the next floor, then the next, until she had finally reached the sixth floor. Her heart pounded, though she was unsure if it was a result of the much needed physical activity, or her body's response to impending doom.

The moment she had reached the final step, her stomach did a painful summersault. The corridor was completely empty; she was alone. Malfoy remained occupied on the second floor, and totally unaware that she was currently standing on the sixth. There really was no one else there to stop her. The thought scared her slightly, but she forced herself on, chin high, reminding herself of her duty to Harry.

She stepped cautiously out of the staircase and into the dimly light corridor. Without Malfoy's prattle, the corridor seemed rather cold and forbidding. The ominous shadows that were cast upon the stone, windowless walls, formed by the soft flickering of the flames in their torches, did nothing to quell the uneasiness that was beginning to brew in the pit of her stomach.

Demons seemed to lurk in every shadow, every shape, and every outline that was not illuminated by the fire burning away in the tarnished iron flambeaux. Swallowing loudly, she pressed on, forcing her stiff legs to move against their will.

She had gotten what she wished for, though she could not push aside the feeling inside her, the feeling that wished that Malfoy had not heard the sound at the end of the corridor; that he was still at her side, annoying her to her wits end.

All too soon, Hermione slowed her pace, finally stopping once she was in line with the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She had once seen that very door as an opportunity. In opening the door, she would be opening her mind to knowledge that she could have never dreamed of while living in her hometown of London.

The door was closed, suggesting that it was unoccupied, though Hermione knew better than to assume so. She closed the last few steps separating her, from what she feared lay behind the door. Not bothering to knock, she pushed open the door that emitted a loud groan that echoed through the empty corridor behind her, and stepped inside, sealing her fate, or so she thought.

Hermione closed the door behind her, instantly severing the source of light that had reached far enough to illuminate the closest row of desks. The moment it closed with a resonating click, all of the demons that had skulked around in the shadows through the corridors seemed to become more palpable in the complete darkness.

Blinking several times, she made an effort to allow her eyes the opportunity to adjust to the new setting. Seeing that the venture was futile, she took a step forward blindly reaching out for the desk in front of her. It would have been a great deal easier if there had been a window to let in even a shred of light that would guild her to the place she did not want to be.

"Owch!" She jumped as her hip came into contact with a desk to her left. The sound of the steel legs grinding against the stone floor created an ear-piercing sound that reverberated through the room. She flinched a the commotion she had made, as well as the pain that had begun to throb on her hip

The blanket of quiet that had settled in the black room was broken, and settled again all too soon, causing the sudden sound to ring in her ears. Derrick was sure to have heard that. Hell, if it were not for the thick walls, she would expect half the staff to barge to investigate!

She held her breath, as the silence settled back into place. Lifting her hand, she went to rub the spot on her hip, but was surprised when her hand met resistance by a hard object in the slide pocket of her robes. Her wand. Why had she not thought to use her wand? She was becoming less and less resourceful! She slid it from her pocket, thankful that it had not snapped as she had run blindly into the desk.

"_Lumos." _Immediately, a jet of white light shot from the tip of her wand, illuminating a path for her between the rows of desks. Before she lost her nerve, she followed it.

As she walked forward with her wand, the shadows that had filled the entirety of the room moments before, followed her, weaving between the legs of the desks. They followed her closely, though just out of reach of the light emanating from the tip of her wand.

She stopped when she had reached the door of her professor's office. Professor Burwick's office. Derrick's office. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hand that was not holding her wand and rapped lightly on the wooden door. She waited with baited breath for the door to swing open and reveal Derrick's eyes, dripping with the immorality she had become all to accustom to seeing.

She shook her head and knocked again. It was best _not_ to think, best not to feel. She thumped on the door, slightly louder, her heart echoing the quick beats she made with her hand. Where was he? Had he not asked her to come Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays? She was certain that she would _not _forget an agreement such as the one he had made to her.

Suddenly, the characteristic creak of the door sounded behind her. She froze, her left hand still suspended in air. The door to Derrick's office was illuminated by a light source behind her, casting her shadow on the weathered wood. He was here. Hermione stood frozen, still facing the door as the man approached. The door swung closed behind him, again causing the room to fall into semi-darkness.

Her wand shook in her hand, causing the light shooting out of the tip to shift erratically on the wall.

Time seemed to tick in slow motion as the footsteps continued to grow louder as he approached. There was no time to regret her decision; no time to remind herself why she was here. Even with the momentary stall in time, it was not long before the footsteps ceased directly behind her.

Hermione closed her eyes her heart beating frantically. There was no way that she could have planned for this. It was not like an exam, where she could stay up into the wee hours of the morning, reviewing course material so that she could be sure that there would no unexpected tricks in store for her.

She could feel the presence of the man looming over her. Contrary to Hermione's initial reasoning, the man did not touch her. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear in a low voice.

"I know how much you adore class, but we have other obligations, Granger." Hermione released the breath that she did not know she had been holding.

"Malfoy," she sighed, clutching her chest. Her eyes widened, realizing the tone in which she said his name. "Malfoy!" she restated with distaste.

She turned to face him, holding her wand up to his face, bathing his features in light. He squinted back at her.

"Get that bloody thing out of my face before I lose an eye!" The buildup of adrenaline accompanied with the sudden release, resulted in a surge of energy that caused her to become abnormally exhausted. For this reason, rather than supplying him with her infamous glare, she lowered her wand, grinning sheepishly.

Normally she would have been more than happy to poke out his eye! Though, at the moment, her great relief was enough to encourage her smile instead. She was not necessarily smiling _at_ Malfoy, she was smiling at the prospect of him being there, rather than Derrick.

He raised his eyebrow at her response. The blonde looked around the room curiously, before returning his gaze to her.

Hermione then realized how odd it appeared must appear for her to be standing in the empty classroom. The expression on his face made that much obvious, so she did her best to change the subject.

"So who did you end up catching?" Hermione had an inkling that it was Fred or George; she noticed the two had flown under the radar for quite some time.

He remained silent for several long seconds, making her think that he had seen through her desperate attempt. She was pleased when he finally replied.

"Peeves. By the time I arrived, he had successfully knocked down each of the twelve suits of arms by pushing the first in the row."

"Domino-style," Hermione interjected.

"Domino-what?" Draco shooting his head up, clearly perplexed.

"Dominos. It is a game! Sometimes, for fun, the pieces are stacked their side and-"

"I don't care to hear about the ridiculous methods muggles come up with to entertain themselves," he cut her off smoothly.

Hermione opened her mouth to inform him that muggles would also find wizarding entertainment peculiar, but the argument died on her tongue. He had not included a _direct_ insult as to the cleanliness of the muggle race. It was not uncommon for Draco Malfoy, pure-blood pratt, to scoff at their 'repulsive nature'.

"Anyway, after I arrived at the havoc zone, I thought about levitating them back into place. That was when I realized that you weren't there to do it for me," Draco smirked at her, or at least she thought it was a smirk; the dim light did not provide her with the privilege of vision.

"Oh is that all?" Hermione rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She knew he wasn't joking, though she found his comment quite humorous.

Draco's face fell slightly. "No. Actually, I also caught Der-Burnwick lurking about."

He measured Hermione's reaction; she did not seem to hear his slip up.

She could not help her eyes from bulging upon Malfoy's mentioning of their professor. He was out searching for her.

"I honestly could not say what he was doing, prowling around like that, but he seemed to be...searching for something." Hermione paled in response.

There was definitely something about being found and forcibly dragged off that frightened her more than voluntarily giving herself up. It was not that her Gryffindor courage had suddenly disappeared, but it was the feeling of impending doom, and not _knowing_ when that would happen that made her feel even less in control than she already was.

"How did you know where I was?" she asked quietly. Though her question opened the door for more inquiries, she was willing to endure them, if only to hear his reply. How exactly had he known that she would be in the DADA classroom? Surely he could not have stumbled upon it by chance, especially since she had been sure to close the door behind her, erasing all evidence of her arrival. She had not shown any hint in the past of this being her desired destination, she was sure, so how had he come to that conclusion.

They had been patrolling on the second floor when the disturbance had occurred, separating them, so what pulled him to suddenly travel to the sixth floor?

"Followed the poltergeist," Draco shrugged easily. "I lost him when he went through the wall outside of this classroom. Naturally I followed."

He was surprised at how easily she seemed to believe his lies. Gryffindors and their tendency to believe every piece of information that is presented to them. In all actuality, it really _was _Peeves who had caused the disturbance, however he had _not_ followed the poltergeist to the sixth floor.

After he had seen Derrick lumbering about, he had turned around to get Hermione away from him, but she was not behind him as he assumed. When he had come to the conclusion that she was no longer in sight, let alone on the same floor, he had known exactly where she would be heading.

"Oh," she replied, unsure of what to say next. She was a little more than surprised when Malfoy did not return the question. Hermione supposed it was because he really could have not have cared less as to where she was or what she was doing.

"Let's get out of here," Malfoy said in a low voice, eyeing the dragon skeleton that dangled ominously above them.

"Is Malfoy afraid of the scary dragon?" Hermione cooed, as though talking to an infant. "You know, the dragon is also a cold blooded reptile, much like-"

"No more snake jokes," he growled back.

"I wasn't planning to make reference to a serpent, Malfoy! I was going to make reference to you, and your cold blood," she replied smugly, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Come on," he rolled his eyes, grasping her upper arm to pull her from the classroom.

Hermione allowed herself to be literally towed toward the door, not bothering to point out that he currently had his flesh in contact with her robes, and was not screaming bloody murder.

The pair slipped back into the hallway, Draco closing the door lightly behind them. Hermione looked down at her arm, glaring pointedly at the pale hand wrapped around her dark robes. The boy followed her gaze, and upon seeing it rest on his hand, he dropped her arm.

"I think it best if we call it a night. I highly doubt that there will be any more trouble tonight," he said, peering over his shoulder.

Hermione sensed the waves of tension rolling off of Draco. They had become a great deal more prominent the moment he had stepped out of the classroom with her.

She nodded vigorously, and the two set off down the hall from which they had come. The two fell into a quiet as they descended the staircase.

They were fortunate not to have any run-ins with Derrick on the way, and before they two knew it, their quick pace had brought them to the staircase, at the end of which the Fat Lady's portrait was hung. The moment the two began to ascend, Hermione lost the game of silence they had been playing since they had left the sixth floor.

"What are you up to Malfoy?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you on about Granger," he replied in a bored tone, leaning against the railing, halfway up the staircase.

"Well," she said, climbing two more steps so that she was at eye level with him, "excuse me noticing the fact that you have been keeping a rather trained eye on my profile since we began patrol." Draco scoffed, though internally he panicked. He was not being overly obvious was he? If the girl figured out what he was up to, then she would _know_ that he knew more information than he was letting on. Her knowing could simply backfire in more ways than he cared to think about.

"I would not feel obligated to stare if I knew that you were not going to pass out on me like you did in Runes!" he replied. It was Hermione's turn to scoff.

"Since when do you care if I faint or not Malfoy! It is not like we are friends or anything! To you, I am just a stupid mudblood who does not know her place in the wizarding world, so drop the act! You're not doing anyone any favors!" she seethed. Malfoy's mask remained firmly in place, and his reaction did not betray his emotions. Actually his reaction was, well, non-existent.

Draco continued to stare forward placidly.

"Are you even listening to me you pinhead?"

He turned to her, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards slightly. "Since we are 'dropping the act' as you say, I no longer feel obligated to say yes."

She groaned, and muttered something about him not feeling obligated to say so in the past. She turned and hurried up the rest of the steps, whispered the password to the Fat Lady, and closed the portrait behind her.

Draco turned and walked down the steps that he had climbed moments before.

_'Damn it Granger. You may be keen, though your oblivious nature is proving to work in my favor for the time being. It only makes my already complicated life that much easier; you have not noticed that I am beginning to care too much for my own damn good. _

Draco ran his and through his hair. _No matter how much I wish it was not so, I think it is safe to say that you are not 'just a stupid mudblood' to me anymore. _

...

Hermione picked up her quill eagerly as Professor McGonagall begun to write yet another subtitle on the board.

"Oh my god!" A girl screeched beside her. Hermione looked at her in alarm to find that she was staring at her right arm, a look of horror on her features. She looked down quickly to deduce the reason.

The corner of her parchment was covered in what seemed to be red ink. She lifted her arms off of the table to search for the source of the spilt ink. When she could find none, her gaze flickered over to her arm to assess the damage it had done to her uniform.

As she examined her arm, she came to the realization that the ink had soaked through the sleeve of her robe and into the gauze she had wrapped around her elbow to stem the flow of... She froze. It was blood. The color had not soaked _into_ her robes, it was soaking _out_ of them!.

Heads turned back to look at the Hufflepuff student beside her, who looked on the verge of fainting, among them, Malfoy's.

"What is going on Miss Clark? Can you please tell us all why you feel it necessary to interrupt my class?" Professor McGonagall's stiff voice rang out harshly as she looked over the rims of her glasses to glare at the witch.

The witch said nothing in return and pointed at Hermione's sleeve. What was she going to do? How would she go about explaining this?

"Sorry Professor. I-I just spilt my pot of red ink and it has leaked onto my parchment and spoiled my robes!" Hermione lifted her dripping parchment as proof. "Might I go get cleaned up before my next class?" The professor's gaze flickered up to the clock situated on the far wall.

"You have three minutes before your next class, so I suggest you hurry." Hermione nodded as she packed up her items and _scurgified_ her desk.

She had become all to accustomed to the smell of her own blood so that she barely noticed it anymore. That thought scared her. She had built up her immunity to the scent of blood. She absently wondered if Death Eaters had done the same thing.

The class turned back to face the front of the room, though Malfoy remained staring at her, his eyebrows pressed together. She ignored his gaze as she threw her bag over her shoulder and walked into the corridor.

Once she was out of view of the doorway, she made a run for the closest bathroom, which thankfully, was only at the end of the corridor, five doors down.

She ducked inside and immediately began to strip her robes and uniform she wore beneath from her body. The gauze that was wrapped around her torso had begun to show signs of leaking, while both her arms were soaked. She should have been paying more attention to her body, rather than the lesson! Hermione thought bitterly as she began to heal her cuts before changing the bandages. She never thought that she would ever scold herself for paying attention in a lecture.

Once she was satisfied with her fix, she _scorgified _her uniform first, paying special attention to the red pools that seeped through the white sleeves and around the collar.

The class bell sounded and she heard the hundreds of students begin to make their way to their next class. She figured that she would be late, but it did not bother her as much as it should have. She would simply explain her situation to her Charms teacher. The situation to do with the ink, that was.

Hermione turned her attention to the remainder of her clothing. Her skirt was perfectly fine, and though her robes were of a dark enough color, she cleaned them as well so that they would not stain the dark material an even darker color.

Minutes later, Hermione heard the bell sound once more, signaling that she should already be in class. Not wanting to miss much of the lesson, she did her best to finish up as quickly as she could. She had not been to a Charms class since she had been taught the Rememorari Charm; the charm that had brought an invisible Derrick to feel her up, under the gaze of Draco Malfoy.

She shivered, remembering how real his hands had felt; how real his voice had sounded.

Her time in the infirmary following her passing out did not aid her in staying at the top of the class, though she had completed all of the required reading and homework.

She downed a blood replenishing potion to be safe and tried to ignore the drop in her stomach when she noticed she was running out. She quickly slid on her skirt along with the rest of her uniform and pulled her robes over her shoulders. Finally, she properly cleanedher gauze and slipped it back into her bag to replace what she had taken out.

Following a last glance in the mirror to be certain that her white gauze was not peeking out of her uniform, she stepped out into the deserted corridor.

Hermione made to take a step, but nearly tripped, hearing a voice behind her.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Miss Granger. What a pleasure it is to see you again," Derrick drawled as he approached her side. Hermione's heart increased in speed. Why was he on the second floor when his own classroom was on the sixth? It didn't matter. He was here now.

He approached to stand much too close for Hermione's comfort, but she was too frightened to speak, let alone move.

When he realized that Hermione was not going to return his fake pleasantries, he leaned towards her, whispering so that his breath hit the side of her face. Hermione winced.

"I do believe that you missed your remedial class yesterday evening," he rebuked in a low whisper. Hermione's mouth went dry. She found herself, uncharacteristically, at a complete and total loss for words.

* * *

**Oh dear, not again...careless, careless Hermione... :D **

**Chapter suggestions would be lovely, if you are willing to submit them! Thank you for reading, and if you feel up to it, a review would be very much appreciated :)**

...

_"As I was saying, we will be plunging even further into the complex mind of the wizard today with memory swapping charms. Now, the interesting thing here is that the donor of the memory may __not__ choose the recollection that is projected to the viewer, rather, the donor's subconscious sifts through every single memory in search of one that appeals to the wand of the viewer."_

...

**Cookies to anyone who thinks that they have an inkling as to which memories might appear from Draco and Hermione!**


	23. Chapter 23: Déjà vu

Thanks to J, brenna963, Edward'sCutie, smileylol, DramonieLover, TracesOfHumanity, HyperChrome, potterholic95, nk92, Maisy C, Cringo, humathepuma, Beloveddreamer, moonqueen, kaAarL, ThornsXRoses, FigrSk8r13, StarKiss666, atwtlover, 8, chubbypenguin, ShadowDancer1629, Saoirse Driscoll, JarethGril30028, Emz, Vanessa85, Svaler, magicalpotter, yoyoyobo, L LC. LM SL OT AND Mr. and Mrs. Goodfellow (sorry to those last two, whose names had to be spaced; for some reason even though I have tried reposting the chapter several times, it will leave blank spaces where your names should be, and leave only commas), Alexa (I promise that I wont drop this! I WILL complete this story, and if I don't you can assume that I have died :P It would bother me too much to just leave it. No worries, because tons of ideas are on the way!)

^If I spelled any names wrong/left them out, I didn't mean to (I don't copy and paste them in lol). If I happened to do so, it was not intentional, and let me know!

Special thanks to ShadowDancer1629 for her awesome submission of the title: "Barriers" for the previous chapter! Also, thank you to SweetTies, my lovely beta, who has done an awesome job to make sure that my chapters are suitable for publishing! XX Love you!

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"I do believe that you missed your remedial class yesterday evening," he rebuked in a low whisper. Hermione's mouth went dry. She found herself, uncharacteristically, at a complete and total loss for words.

"I-I was just..." Derrick raised his eyebrow daringly, silencing her pathetic attempt at speech. It as though she was the subject of the Tongue-Tying Curse, and her Gryffindor courage seemed to have been _scourgified _away, along with the blood.

She looked down at the tile floor on the verge of tears waiting for Derrick to slap her, scold her, threaten her...to do something. He did. He took a step forward and lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. In his dilated pupils, Hermione could see the reflection of her face, her features contorted with terror.

How could she escape this one? It appeared that she could not; she always seemed to be lucky in her escape, but at the present moment, she could see none.

Without warning, his hand came around to rest on her buttox, and pulled her close to him. Hermione could not suppress the whimper that escaped her lips. Her fingers itched to reach into her robes to retrieve her wand, though she did not dare reach for it, for if she did, she knew it would not prove to aid her.

Hot breath suddenly steamed across her neck, and she closed her eyes, cringing as his other hand began to travel up her abdomen, over her robes and up to cup her left breast. His fingers felt like slippery serpents, slithering sickeningly over her skin. In response, her body waited, on edge, for the tips to sprout fangs and impale her.

He moaned into her neck and squeezed the skin he was holding. It took all of the strength within her not to sob as he continued his assault.

Hermione allowed him, one minute her eyes shut tightly to fight the surge of tears that threatened to spill over, the other, switching to look down the corridor over his shoulder, fearful that a student on the way to the loo might happen across them.

Through the blur of the tears clouding her vision she saw nothing, not even the color of the robes her cousin was wearing, though she still was capable of _feeling._

His fingers then traveled lower, fiddling with the waist band of her uniform. _He couldn't! He wouldn't!_

She swallowed a sob that bubbled up in her throat, willing herself to be strong; willing herself to not give a reaction and please the man more. Though it was unlikely, she hoped that he might tire of her sooner or later. It was a pleasant thought, but all the same, she understood it would probably be better not to be too hopeful.

Rather than pulling her skirt down, he slipped his hand beneath it, brushing his fingers against her undergarments. The moment they made contact, she felt a sick lurch in the bottom of her stomach, and the possibly of vomiting all over Derrick seemed all too real. She would have enjoyed greatly to see the man covered from head to foot in the little content she held in her stomach, but she felt it would not do, and only make her situation worse, no matter how appealing the thought was.

Hermione jerked in response to the motion, putting her away from Derrick, who was smirking evilly.

Her involuntary movement had created a new margin of space between them, though the cousins were still uncomfortably close for such a relation.

"Now, seeing as I cannot exactly...teach you in the middle of the corridor," he said, straightening his robes, "I feel that it is important to inform you, that I have a free period at the moment, and I am sure your next professor would understand if I sent them a little note validating your absence for the duration of said period," he whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Hermione did not reply. She could not trust her voice to have any strength at all, and she already was in the weakest position she could be in.

The lust in her cousin's eyes was unmistakable. She feared that he would not make it to the classroom before he decided to try something, though, would also admit, that she feared all the more of the consequences if he _did_.

Derrick flashed his teeth menacingly, as though reading her thoughts.

"But then again," he whispered, though they were alone in the hallway, "It would be much more...exciting if we became a bit more risky, no?"

Hermione's eyes widened in response. Surly he would not attempt anything abnormally risque in the middle of the hallway when classes were in session, would he?

Whatever he had planned to do, he didn't get the chance, as at that moment, a force sent the two of them flying apart.

"What the-" Derrick fumed, searching for the cause of the disturbance.

"Oh, excuse me professor," Draco apologized almost gleefully, brushing off the creases in his uniform. "Tripped on my shoelace." The blond smiled euphorically.

Hermione regarded the Malfoy in awe. He had just stumbled between Derrick and herself. She had never seen him misstep let alone stumble! Had his refined bearing finally slipped up? Had his polished, graceful strides finally been foiled by something so small as a shoelace? Bloody unlikely.

Judging by the smugness in his voice, it seemed as though he had tripped on purpose, and if so, Hermione was not about to complain. The slip-up had provided her with an extra step between herself and her cousin.

Derrick appeared to be clenching his jaw as he regarded the blond, who seemed completely at ease under his professors scrutiny. She looked between them, puzzled by the waves of tension that seemed to be forming rapidly with each passing second.

Draco's calm exterior masked the fury he felt surging through him. The belligerent old bugger was told by The Dark Lord himself to lay off of Hermione. If his nightly attempts to see her were not enough, he had to search for her during the day? This guy seemed to personify adversity.

The moment he had walked into class and saw Hermione's empty seat, he made the decision to barge into the bathroom no matter what hex she threw at him. When he had turned the corner to the corridor that he had been standing in minutes before, and saw Derrick and a girl, who he could tell was Hermione from her abnormally bushy hair, talking in low voices. This was when he had decided to make his grand entrance.

The look on his face when he had 'accidentally' fallen between the two was priceless, though it did make him a bit more apprehensive when dealing with his professor.

Derrick looked down at Draco's shoes, searching for the culprit.

"You don't appear to have a lace undone Mr. Malfoy." The smirk that had previously been on his face returned in all its brilliance.

"Oh, I suppose you're right Professor," he shrugged easily. "The only other explanation is that I tripped on air then, isn't it?" Draco smirked back, knowing full well that with all the practice he had perfecting his malicious sneer, that Derrick's was no match for his own.

"I don't believe that this is _your_ territory, is it...Mr. Burnwick," he added when his professor did not reply. The distaste in his voice was more than evident as he pointed out that Derrick did not belong on this floor. He had chosen his words specifically so that Hermione did not understand the real gift of his statement - Hermione was _his_ territory. He ignored the sense of pride that swelled within him when this thought came to his mind; Draco pushed it down quickly, not bothering to scold himself.

Their professor ignored the blond's comment. "You best be getting off to class Mr. Malfoy. We wouldn't want your grades to suffer because you are incapable of placing one foot in front of the other without slipping on a shoelace, now would we?"

"Indeed not," he agreed. "Shall we?" Draco turned to look at Hermione expectantly.

He could tell Derrick was burning to protest, but he gave him a glare, daring him to speak. Within his glare, he projected his distaste for Derrick's intervention in his 'mission'

Hermione stood as still as a statue, regarding the scene before her. Even when Draco had addressed her to depart, she could not free up the tension in her limbs; it was as though someone had poured concrete around her.

Impatiently, the Slytherin gripped the upper shoulder of Hermione's robes and began to pull her roughly down the corridor. Beside him, Hermione did her best to remain silent, however when the pair rounded the corner, she could not stop herself.

"Malfoy! What the blooming hell was that all about!" Hermione hissed as he towed her along. Draco only grunted in response.

" 'I tripped on a shoelace', " Hermione imitated rather immaturely … REALLY? You better tell me what just happened or-or-or..." Draco just sighed loudly.

"Or what Granger? What will it be? You'll 'hex me to oblivion' or that 'I will be sorry'? Come on now, you really need to work on your threats," he contorted playfully. He did his best to suppress his rising anger levels. He was not mad at her; his blood was still boiling from seeing Derrick pushing the boundaries.

Hermione glowered at him from under her fringe and huffed. This was the side of Malfoy that confused her. One minute he was a complete jerk, and the next he 'contorted playfully' at her.

What was his problem? His fluctuations in behavior could certainly not be _all_ blamed on PMS! That would just prove that he had the most irregular cycle possible! Well, that was if the theory Ginny and herself had come up with in her second year was indeed valid: that he was indeed a female. It had made sense at the time, seeing as the boy was never caught with a hair out of place and had his nails perfectly groomed.

"But seriously, why did you randomly show up? You should be in Charms!" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. While the rest of the students were in class, he just randomly decides to saunter up to them? Not likely. Though she would not complain. He _had_ interrupted what could have turned into an extremely terrible period. He had been doing that a lot...interrupting...Hermione mused the number of times he had done just it. He seemed to be present each time something was about to go down. The thought comforted her, and frightened her at the same time.

Draco snorted. Why? Hell, he still did not even know why! He had been concerned, yes, indisputably concerned that she had left the class in a rush with 'red ink' on her robes.

"Why did you show up?" she asked again, clearly not enjoying being ignored.

Even if he knew, he would not tell her why. For starters, she couldn't know that he did not _completely_ hate her guts! Secondly, she couldn't know that he had seen Derrick in a Death Eater meeting! That would only lead to informing her of more things that she did not need to know. If she knew that he saw Derrick at a meeting that would give her enough information to assume that he was a Death Eater.

Though he was not technically one, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he was admitted into their ranks.

"Why did I show up? Because I was in the same hallway you, divvy." The pair continued to weave through the corridors in the direction of Charms class.

The Gryffindor resisted the urge to pull him into an alcove and beat the answer out of him. She wanted so desperately to understand what was going on with Malfoy, and why he had suddenly popped up the last few times.

Derrick had put her into a situation. Well, every time but for their discussion after class. He had even been there to find her in the DADA classroom.

She supposed it was good that he was not there to witness their 'quarrel' (if you could even call it that, as she had merely stood there) - It would only give him information that he did not need to know. But the reason he did could not be that he actually _cared_ about her well-being. He was too much of a snake for that; his blood was already colder than the water that flowed through the Arctic.

Hermione tried not to be discouraged by his remark and tried again.

"But there was another twelve feet of hallway! Why choose to barrel through us?" Hermione did not know what she wanted to hear him say, but she just wanted to hear him say it!

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked up at Draco's pensive reaction, hopeful. He deliberated for only a moment before replying.

"Why not?" He smirked and turned to walk through the open door of the Charms classroom.

_Jerk_! Hermione thought viciously before following him in…or she would have, had he not suddenly stopped, holding onto the doorframe. Hermione plowed into his back before she could alter her course.

"What the hell Malf-" she stopped short, recognizing the softness in his eyes she had seen only once before.

"Don't think that _I_ won't be questioning _you_ later, Granger." He turned and left her standing in the doorway, perplexed.

Hermione scurried in after him, disturbing the attentive atmosphere that had quickly descended upon the learning environment.

The two apologized for being so late…well, Hermione apologized for being late, while Draco sauntered up to the seat at the back of the class. Hermione took her own seat beside Stephanie, who gave her a questioning glance. She shook her head and mouthed 'later', looking up at Professor Flitwick, who jumped effortlessly back into his lesson.

"As I was saying, we will be plunging even _further_ into the complex mind of the wizard today with memory swapping charms. In the last few classes we have been working on the Rememorai Charm, which allows an individual to recall a memory from within _themselves_. The Veoir Memoria Charm, is very similar to the Rememorai Charm, but for the fact that it is not the hold of the memory that gets to experience its gifts, but the caster.

Now, the interesting thing here is that the donor of the memory may _not_ choose the recollection that is projected to the viewer, rather, the donor's subconscious sifts through every single memory in search of one that appeals to the wand of the viewer."

He received a few confused stares. "Did you not complete the required reading?" No one answered. The room was quiet enough that the landing of a single feather on the floor would not have gone unheard. He sighed, defeated.

"I think what you are referring to is the connection that will be made between the wand of one wizard and the mind of another. When a wizard presses the tip of their wand at the other and draw a memory from their mind, the wizards, while accepting a memory from the other, cannot choose what memory their partner gets." Professor Flitwich smiled brightly at Hermione.

"I can always count on you, Miss Granger. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

"But vy can't you chose vut memory you are giving away? Surely you can pick vut memories you vish for your friends to see, and vhich you don't!" asked a dark haired boy who was sitting in beside Krum.

It was Hermione that chose to answer for Flitwick. "It is the core of your wand that destined for you, just as it is the core of your wand that draws the memory, also destined for you. Though there have been many studies done, it remains unclear why exactly a specific memory is chosen by the core, though many hypothesize that, it is because of the close relationship a wizard has with their wand; like it is their blood, a part of them. For this reason, it will select a memory that appeals to the core of the wand, and thus the wizard wielding it as well."

The class remained quiet, absorbing her words.

"Very good! Well done, well done!" squeaked her professor. "Another fifteen points!"

The boy peered around Victor's large frame to question Hermione further. The bushy-haired brunette did not notice that the famous quidditch player seated between them had his gaze fixed on her also.

"But that does not answer my other question-now that we know we cannot chose what memory is viewed, can we chose which cannot be?" The boy asked, turning to Hermione instead of addressing Professor Flitwick.

At first, Hermione was shocked, but she quickly rebounded. "Well, I had a similar question when I first read the text, and could not find any information regarding such, so this is purely my thoughts. I think that if a wizard is extremely skilled at implementing Occlumency, they may select a group of memories to conceal. That being said, the pull of the wand core is very great, so I would assume that only a very _very _small number of items could be concealed. Though this form of memory revision is _not_ classified under legilimens, I believe that it will work in a similar manor, because of the close wizard-wand connection."

"Very good thinking Miss Granger! I can honestly say that it could not be put a better way. You really should consider a profession in this field of magic! Fifteen points!"

A few Slytherins glared darkly at her. She had earned a total of forty five points within a mere five minutes! She beamed. She had to tell Harry and Ron! They would be so proud of her!

"Also," Flitwick added, taking over for Hermione, "many wizards have attempted to thrust forth a memory, in hopes that the wand would absorb it, but attempts have all failed, unless it was that specific memory the wand was searching for. My assumption is that none of you are a practiced Occlumens, therefore, you will have little or no choice as to what memory, or memories cannot be displayed. Now seeing as the majority of you have _not_ completed your required reading, I suggest you do that now before pointing your wands at the brains of another. Following, I expect that you will organize into pairs to practice."

Each of the students pulled their copy of the textbook from their bags and opened it to the correct page number, so Hermione had no choice but to do the same and read it through a sixth time.

Beside her, Stephanie stood, pushing her stool back. Hermione glanced up at her friend questioningly, who gave her a small smile.

"Professor. I have already read the passage. Might I go to the loo?" Hermione presumed that she was excusing herself to go swallow another putrid vial of potion to keep her appearance up.

Flitwick nodded at her before turning his interest to Hermione.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly. "Are you well? I am sure you are! I am rather hopeful if you say yes, though I will understand if you still feel uncomfortable with this idea at the moment." The professor did not give her enough time to answer before her pressed on. "If you are willing, I really would fancy getting inside that mind of yours! What happened before you left the class we were working on the Rememorai Charm last working in partners was simply extraordinary! Might I do a few tests this period? I wish to test my hypothesis! Or do you still feel a bit put out and need a longer period of rest? After all, it was probably quite a shocking experience! What do you think? Is today okay?"

Somehow, Professor Flitwick was able to cram the entirety of the sentence into one breath. Though she was not even the one that was talking, she felt breathless at the end of his speech.

"Uhm-well-professor...I don't exactly feel up to it." Hermione felt fine, though she did not exactly want a professor poking around her mind for fun. Flitwick's face fell, leaving Hermione slightly guilty. After all, through the years in his class, he had always been willing to cater to her hunger for knowledge. "Perhaps at a later date?"

Her professor nodded vigorously, though he still looked disappointed. "Next class perhaps." Hermione rolled her eyes at her professor's eagerness and looked down at her book, simply to avoid any further conversation.

"Now, I believe that was enough time, please find your partners. You will have until the end of the lesson to successfully swap memories. Your homework for next class will be to record exactly what you saw and hand it in. Begin."

Hermione turned to the empty stool beside her and sighed. She would have to wait until her friend returned before she could go any further in the class.

A hand reached across the aisle to tug on the side of Hermione's robes. "Hello, I vas vandering if you vould like to be my partner for this lesson?" the voice asked in a thick Bulgarian accent.

Hermione looked up in shock to peer into a dark pair of eyes. "I-I-well..." Hermione did not want to leave Stephanie hanging, but she had been gone quite a while, and she needed to begin the memory swap or she was worried that there would not be enough time to complete it.

"You do not have to," he said, noticing her apprehension. He began to lean back toward his own desk.

"No," she grabbed the sleeve of his robes gently. "I would like to be partners with you," Hermione smiled genuinely.

Every eye appeared to be on Hermione as Victor Krum stood from his seat and walked over to take the seat that Stephanie had previously occupied.

Hermione ignored the blatantly envious glares that the entire female population concentrated on her. Obviously they really wished to be partnered with the quidditch star. _He's ju__st a bloody quidditch player! It is not like he is Brad Pitt or something! _She knew that quidditch players were the celebrities of the wizarding world...and ninety-five percent of her classmates would not have an inkling as to who Brad Pitt was, but that did not stop her from becoming slightly annoyed with the stares. So familiar was the feeling when she would venture about with Harry Potter.

Hermione admitted that the boy was very good looking, though she was certain in being a famous quidditch player, he would have a head full of sawdust.

She was pleasantly surprised when he talked to her quite knowledgeably about the charm they were about to practice.

After a few minutes, the concentration of glares decreased, however one pair of silvery eyes continued to flicker between Hermione and Victor.

...

When Draco had first seen Krum reach across the aisle to ask Hermione to be his partner, he had initially laughed, preparing for her to turn him down. He had thought that would have been the most entertaining! However, he was a little more than surprised when he had stood and taken a seat beside her. Close beside her. Closer than Draco would have liked him to be, which, in measurement would have been similar to the distance of a standard quidditch pitch

He picked up his quill absently and began to put a slight pressure on the nib with the pad of his thumb.

"Hello Draco," giggled a girl vacuously. He did not pay her any heed, rather choosing to continue glowering at Krum as he scooted, if possible, even closer to Hermione. _That womanizing imbecile!_ Draco seethed as his gaze all but seared a hole in the back of the quidditch star's cloak. How could Hermione be so daft as to actually agree to Krum's proposal to be her partner for the lesson? He was nothing but a philanderer! But of course Hermione being so painfully ignorant when it came to boys, her naive nature did not help.

The Beaubatons girl waited impatiently for him to address her. She was quite attractive - the type that he would not have minded introducing to his bed for a night. She had good assets and a pretty face to go with them. Draco, however, could not remove his gaze from the bookworm and the quidditch player. For whatever reason, he did not want him to try anything.

Eventually the blonde grew restless and leaned across the desk to give him a wonderful view of her cleavage. "Draco," she cooed in a sing-song voice. "I was wondering if you wanted to be my partner?" she smiled sweetly, displaying a row of straight white teeth.

"Actually," said a voice from behind him, "he already has a partner," Fleur said, though not unkindly as she took a seat beside her cousin. The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, but pushed herself up from the desk and restarted her search for a male partner.

Draco did not bother to thank her for kindly telling the girl to bugger off, nor did he even acknowledge her appearance as she took her seat.

His eyes narrowed as Krum began to talk animatedly with Hermione, and he became agitated as she laughed loudly at something he had said.

"So Hermione eh?" Fleur asked, smiling lightly. She did not appear to be upset in the least by this information. At this, he twisted his head rather quickly to look at his cousin.

"What about Granger?" Draco asked, emphasizing her surname.

"Oh drop the crap Draco. I can see it in your eyes." She tilted her head to the right, as though examining him. Normally such an action would have caused him to react in indifference, but for whatever reason, he felt extremely uncomfortable under her scrutiny and avoided her eyes.

Draco scoffed. "See what? The loathing that I feel when I look at the mudblood? Good! Then my parents taught me well! Perhaps yours should have done better judging by your acceptance of your incorrect statement!"

"You fancy her," Fleur sang. "Don't even bother denying it! And I may be related to you, but _my_ branch on the family tree certainly does _not_ have the same prejudices that you hide behind. We have outgrown them."

He looked up at her, annoyed. Internally, he was panicking slightly. It could not be _that_ obvious that it was not hate that he harbored for Hermione, though perhaps it was something else.

"Well it looks like we could use some pruning of the family tree then."

Fleur raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in response, eying him. "Hmm. Pruning is required indeed."

"Whatever," he drawled, understanding perfectly her implication; that it was _his _side of the family that needed to be fixed - he agreed, though he could not publicly admit such. A silence settled between the two of them. When he thought that Fleur was not looking, he chanced another look at Hermione and Krum.

Draco pushed harder on the side of the quill. The strain it took him not to simply walk over and drag her from that man-eater was extraordinary. He knew men; he knew that men only looked for _one_ thing, and once they had obtained it...well, that was the end of that. _I should know, I am no different._ The thought bothered him greatly. _ Perhaps I am no different from Krum. _

Regardless, the fact that he was over with Hermione still bothered him. He knew that he should not care, she was not his, nor would she ever be. They were from two separate worlds. He didn't want some muggle born to mess that up.

Draco gritted his teeth as Krum reached across to pull Hermione's textbook between them, brushing her arm in the process.

The quill in the blond's hand snapped. Fleur looked at him in surprise, which slowly turned into a knowing glance.

"Blasted quill. I knew I should not have settled for one under thirty galleons," he muttered under his breath. He threw it aside and dug through his bag for another with a gold nib.

After several more minutes, everyone had chosen partners and had turned to face one another.

Without warning, Fleurs shriek ripped through the classroom. "Draco Malfoy! You are ze biggest idiot I ave ever had ze displeasure of knowing!" Fleur fumed as she stood up, knocking the chair behind her in the process, creating a loud clang that echoed in the hushed classroom.

Draco's eyebrows rose in shock. He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she was suddenly on about, but she raised her voice to talk over him.

"You cannot understand even ze tiniest detail of vat is going on! I refuse to aid you any longer!" By this time, Professor Flitwick had recognized there was a problem brewing, and he scurried to the back of the room, bringing with him the gazes of every student in the room.

"What is the problem Miss Delacour-"

"Ze problem? Ze problem iz that the boy iz not understanding vat ve are to be doing! Ven I try to explain, he complains that he cannot understand my accent! He iz ze one with ze accent!" the french girl shrieked loudly, waving her arms about as though a flock of flees had decided to attack her. "It iz hard enough that 'e cannot understand vut I say at family functions, but in ze classroom! I could get injured very quickly!"

Draco went to retort, but was immediately silenced by a glare his cousin shot his way. He sank back into his chair, albeit a furious glare was set on his own features.

_ What the hell was she doing? She was making a fool of herself! And of me! _Draco thought darkly. What her outburst could accomplish, he had not a clue of.

Flitwick attempted to silence her by raising his hand, or telling her to lower her voice, but she would not hear of it. She simply talked louder about his 'ineptness' every time the man attempted to interject a thought.

"I demand a new partner!" she finally concluded after several minutes of criticizing. Crossing her arms stoutly across her perfect figure, she pointedly avoided looking at Draco, as though she was disgusted with him.

Flitwick, who looked worse for wear, complied. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that it was only to get her to shut her trap. The petit man looked around the room quickly, in search of a partner, obviously frightened that if he did not oblige, that the girl would spin off once more.

The short teacher waddled up to Hermione and Victor and wrapped his fingers around the sides of the desk they were currently occupied

"Mr. Krum. Miss Granger. I regretfully say that I will be separating you two so that Miss Delacour does not end up strangling Mr. Malfoy by the end of the period."

Draco's head shot up immediately, hearing his name being mentioned the conversation that was happening at the front of the room. He knew not the context, so he strained his ears to hear more of what his professor was saying.

"Miss Granger, you will be partnered with Mr. Malfoy. You have always been bright, so I assume that you should be able to aid him. Also, I have found that you are one of the many females in the class that have not succumb to his...charms. I know it may prove to be a struggle for you, but I expect that you will be able to handle it quite admirably."

He turned to Draco, raising his voice slightly so that the blond could hear him clearly at the back of the room, unbeknown that he had been listening intently the entire time. "You have always done quite well in my class. It surprises me that suddenly you should not appear to understand. Hopefully Miss Granger here can straighten that out."

He smiled at him before turning back to Fleur. "I do believe that Krum will so well with understanding your accent. Though you are of different nationalities, some of your pronunciations are similar, with exception of course. Now, if we are all happy, I suggest that you get on with the task at hand."

Fleur smirked at Draco triumphantly before walking gracefully to the front of the room, where Hermione was rising from her stool. _Smirked_? He had never seen Fleur smirk before. In all of the years of their childhood, when they met at his mother's balls or gatherings, he had never seen this side of her. She had always personified poise; she was his mother's idea of the perfect lady. He supposed that there was more under that sweet smile than he had originally thought.

Draco sat stunned on his stool as he watched Hermione approach. _So this had been her plan? To pair me up with Hermione? What was her reasoning behind that? What was her motive?_ Especially after he told her that he was not fond of the girl in the least. It could not be that terribly obvious that it was not entirely hate that he harbored for Gryffindor was it?

He would not admit it, though he was more than pleased to have Hermione with him! Especially the fact that working with him, meant that Krum could not!

"So what did you do to peeve Fleur off?" Hermione asked, pulling out the stool that Fleur had just vacated. She found it slightly easier to talk to him, as his attitude had not flared up to its daunting height during their conversation before class.

As she sat, Draco was suddenly all too aware of the light fragrance that surrounded her - vanilla and mint. It truly was intoxicating; it was a wonder why Krum had gotten so close to her. If her scent affected him the way that it did him, he was surprised that Krum had not had his nose pressed against her skin, attempting to find the source.

Draco cleared his throat. "To be honest, I actually don't know..." Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. Draco shrugged.

"Well you do have that odd way of doing _that_ to people...pissing them off for no reason, you know." A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

He turned to face her, amused. "Yeah, well you happen to piss me off for no reason as well, Granger." He grinned, taking the bite out of his remark.

"Well that is _only_ because I beat you at everything!" Hermione retorted, crossing her arms.

Draco laughed, and Hermione was taken aback by the sound. He was not cackling as he had sometimes done following an insult...directed towards her...no, it was a legitimate laugh.

"In your dreams! I seem to think that I am still above you in potions," he winked. "And don't forget quidditch!"

Hermione rolled her eyes in response to the mentioning of the game. "What? You don't like quidditch?"

Hermione shook her head, worrying her lower lip. Draco did not miss the action, and suddenly found that her mouth looked to be quite appealing...

"How can you not like quidditch!" Draco added, astonished.

"I-I don't know...the whole prospect seems rather...silly to me." The Slytherin continued to look at her strangely, until she added in a quiet voice, "and it does not help that I am afraid of heights..."

Afraid of heights? The blond chuckled lightly, though not loud enough for Hermione to hear him.

"Well, you might want to get used to it. Krum, after all, _is_ a quidditch player that plays at the international levels. I am sure that he will want to take you up on his _broom_ once or twice." The statement could be taken two ways, and he was interested to see how Hermione would interpret it.

"What is that supposed to imply." Hermione narrowed her eyes, her lips upturning slightly in amusement.

"Is there something that it could be implying," he winked at her. She looked back at her hands quickly, her cheeks rouging slightly. He liked her response.

"Not at all." Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. She had said that there was nothing going on between them, though her girlish reaction might support the idea of a crush. The idea made him jealous to say the least. Her reaction to his musings were adorable, but it bothered him that they did not result _because _of him. Normally he would not get jealous over something as insignificant as a girl, especially one that he could not be caught dead with. But for some reason, it bothered him greatly that Hermione might be developing an interest in someone like Krum.

He thought about throwing Weasley into the mix, but figured that would not be the best of his ideas, so Draco only nodded.

After a moment, he decided to change the tedious subject of the brunettes relation with crumb to that of the lesson. He pushed the textbook out from in front of them.

"So shall we?" Hermione, who seemed to be pulled from a stream of thoughts, nodded and pulled her wand from her robes.

The pair shifted on their stools so that they faced one another. He didn't miss Hermione's quick intake of breath as their knees brushed one another in the process. He smirked lightly at her reaction to him and she blushed again. Perhaps Krum did have some competition.

Hermione lifted the wand in her right hand, preparing to place it against his left temple, as stated in the instructions. She was unable to do, as Draco had leaned forward slightly, eliminating much of the distance between them.

He out-stretched his arm to the right side of her face, as though making to reach past her. She jumped slightly as his pale fingers came into contact with the side of her face by her ear, and began to tunnel through her hair, back toward her ear. The tingling feeling she received immediately following his contact felt foreign; it scared her.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked, leaning back quickly and swatted at his hand. Her sudden movement caused the balance of her stool to be disrupted and as a result, it tipped back balancing on the back two legs. The stool began to topple, Hermione seated atop it.

Reflexively, his arms shot out to grip around her waist, while instinctively, her own reached up to clasp around the back of his neck. He fought gravity by tugging her toward him to prevent her from tumbling back with the stool. The stool rocked forward as he did causing it now to balance on the front two legs rather than the back, bringing Hermione even closer to him and into his toned chest.

He felt her light weight push down on him as she struggled to push herself back, so the stool would again balance on four legs. He kept his hands firmly on her waist to steady her. Her breaths came in short bursts, obviously both surprised and frightened by her near fall.

"What were you playing at?" she gasped, glaring at him. Unknowingly, her arms remained enfolded around his neck.

He smelt it again - the warm aroma of vanilla with the contrasting mint flavor. His mouth watered subconsciously, and he took deeper breaths, wondering if he could become drunk on such a fragrance.

"I was moving your great bushel of hair out of the way so that I might be able to retrieve a memory without losing my wand along the way." It was true. Had he attempted to weave it though her hair, he would not at all be surprised if he ended up mislaying it.

Hermione blushed and looked down, missing Draco smirk once more.

"Oh-I...Right..." She went to lift her hand to push back her hair, when she realized that they were still clasped around his neck.

Draco looked at her questioningly as her face became a deeper shade of red. He had not said anything wrong had he? He had merely pointed out that he needed access to the side of her temple in order to correctly extract a memory. He was about to question her on it, when he realized the answer.

Sheepishly, she released the hold she had around his neck. As she did, Draco noticed now that his neck felt much colder than it had prior.

"I see the Golden Girl has finally succumb to the Malfoy Charm. Poor Flitwick, will you be the one to tell him, or should I?" he smirked, his hands still on her waist.

Hermione was shocked. _I suppose he heard Flitwick appraising me for not falling into the trap that every other girl in his presence had. _She did her best to look cool, though she felt anything but.

"Whatever Malfoy. You were the one running your fingers through my hair you twit."

"Touché Granger, Touché." He removed his hands from around her, and was amused, when she continued to shift nervously on her stool for several seconds.

Draco looked up to see if anyone had noticed their little event. After all, Hermione had shrieked as she lost her balance, though not loud enough to overpower the chatter of the other students, so he assumed.

From several rows in front of him, he met eyes with Fleur's, looking back at them over her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow knowingly before flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder, turning to speak to Krum.

Hermione slipped an elastic hairband off her wrist and fastened up her hair easily in a loose bun. Draco watched as her hands pulled the dangling strands up off her neck and away from her face. A she pulled them away, Draco's eyebrows shot up. He had known that she was not bad looking; after all, she did not resemble a troll, though the thought that she was beautiful had never crossed his mind; until now, that was, as her hair had always covered such a large portion of her face. With the strands secured away from it, he was now able to fully appreciate her delicate features.

He looked down quickly, not wanting to be caught staring at her. _Merlin, it is as though you have never seen a woman before!_ A voice in his head told him. He grudgingly agreed.

"Are you ready?" Hermione cut into his thoughts. He nodded in response, lifting his wand. Hermione mirrored his action and, in sequence, the pair lightly pressed the tip of their own wand to the temple of the other.

Draco forced many of his memories to the back of his mind in attempt to shield memories relating to Voldemort and the Dark Arts from her penetration. He supposed that he could deal with her seeing any other one of his memories, but he wanted to keep those ones private.

"Retroeve Memoria." One pale blue strand of a memory gripped the tip of Draco's wand as he pulled it back. What could memory could he be about to witness? As Flitwick had said, the memory chooses the wizard; you cannot choose what you see, rather what you see chooses you. What memory had chosen him? As long as it was not a memory in which he would be traveling around with Potter and Weasley, he would be content.

As he had read in the textbook, once his mind played the memory, it had no control over when he would be allowed out. The prospect of being caught in a memory scared him, especially with the daunting probability having to share it with her friends. But his curiosity to step into Hermione's life intrigued him too much to be overly concerned.

Across from him, Hermione was studying his own memory with interest equal to his own. What memory had chosen her? He did not have time to deliberate over such a thought, as Hermione chose that moment to look up and meet his eyes. She held his gaze as she lifted her wand to her temple. She smiled lightly as she broke the contact by closing her lids.

She lifted her wand to her temple. "Veoir Memoria," she murmured. She exhaled a long breath and her body relaxed as it became one with his memory, still present was the ghost of a smile that had graced her lips only moments before. The last time he had seen her eyes close, he had leaned in to kiss her temple.

As much as he would have been content to watch her in her slumber state, curiosity as to the content of her memory caused him lift his wand to his own temple Draco shut his own eyes, her smile appearing so vividly behind his own closed lids as he deposited the memory in his mind.

The moment that he spoke the spell that enabled him to travel into Hermione's memory, he felt the stood beneath him begin to spin - or was it the room? After several seconds, he was close to nausea, something he never would have expected after regarding Hermione's peaceful doze.

Draco chanced a glance at his surroundings, hoping that the sickness acquired from the illusion of spinning would wear off once he recognized a solid object. He instantly regretted the decision, as the room around him had dissolved in to a blur of color, mixing from his present in the Charms room, and Hermione's past, wherever she might have been.

He pressed his eyes shut again, fighting the wave of nausea threatening to pull him out to sea. As suddenly as he had begun spinning, he stopped. Cautiously, he opened one eye.

He was no longer sitting, rather, he was standing in the middle of what appeared to be a modest study, dressed in mahogany and navies. A vast wall of windows replaced a wood paneled wall at the back of the room, bathing the large wood desk situated before it in the last rays of the sun as it sank below the horizon.

He deposited his wand in his robes and squared his shoulders to face the window and squinted against the bright light, attempting to deduce the identity of a silhouette that stood on the yard. The strange outline looked oddly familiar.

He dug his hand into his robes in search of the wood piece that he had found on the floor of the Hogwarts Express weeks prior. He held up the piece to examine the picture painted on the front. He had looked at it many times, for some reason fascinated by the delicate paint strokes made to create a world he had never seen before.

He looked from the wood chip to the skinny silhouette. It resembled the image of what he presumed to be a skinny deformed tree.

Could he be in The Dominican Republic? Muggle territory? Draco looked around cautiously as he slipped the chip back into his pocket. He had not known what to expect; what memory his wand core would be drawn to. Still, should have been prepared for this. The muggle world had always been forbidden; his father had taught him to show no interest, telling him it was merely the land of parasites. Now that he was currently standing in such a world, even in a memory, he couldn't help but notice it appeared, to a degree, much the same.

Where was Hermione? This was _her_ memory after all was it not? She had to be present for it to be considered her memory, so where was the girl?

Draco turned his back to the window scan the room. Apart from the vast desk and the numerous bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, there was a wingback chair dressed in a horrid pattern and a small table with a reading lamp.

Of course she would be reading. Draco approached quietly, feeling that he would disrupt the blanket of serenity that had come over the room. Peering over the side of the chair, he saw Hermione curled up with a thick volume on her lap. A textbook, no surprises there.

He sighed. The memory chose the wizard eh? He should have supposed that he would be spending the duration of the memory watching her read, after all, had she had not given any inclination that her habits at Hogwarts would change once she returned home. Not that he minded simply watching her. It would allow him to do so without the worry of others seeing him do so, worst of all Hermione.

He would have been lying to himself if he had said that he didn't wish to observe a memory with more dynamic. He was thankful however, that he would not be required to be anywhere near Potty and Weasel as he had expected. Though it was a memory, he didn't think that he could handle their presence. Their limited contact at school was already too much for his liking.

Draco leaned his hip against the table beside the chair and began to memorize her face. Almost immediately, he noted the color of her skin.

Quite recently, he had grown accustomed to her unhealthy pallid complexion with the acceptation of the dark rims that formed under her hallow eyes, her emaciated limbs and her paucity of her usual vigor in lessons.

Her deep brown hair, hung over her shoulders loosely, much like he had become accustomed to seeing her at Hogwarts. The style obscured her features, and he wondered why no one had told her that by simply pulling it off her face, she could show the world exactly how stunning she really was.

Draco knew that for a lot of girls, beauty _was_ their hair. It was their long locks of hair that made them appear beautiful and distracted from their other, less appealing attributes.

He cocked his head to the side. Now that he had seen her face without the obscuration of her hair, he could more easily pick out her delicate features, even when it was down. He shook his head as his brain began to list them out subconsciously. He did not hate her, but he could not afford to like her either. That was a lie. He had it bad and he knew it. It did not make it any easier, the fact that he was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy the death eater, and she was-

"Hermione! Could you please be a darling and help me begin preparing for dinner?"

...

* * *

**This chapter is open for titling! Any ideas? Hit the review button and let me know! Thank you :D**

I don't think that this chapter even requires a teaser. I am pretty sure the subject for the next chapter is quite evident. :) Until next time my readers.


	24. Chapter 24: Matchmaking Memories

yoyoyobo, Arsenicsauce, Cass, TheInvisiblePrincess, Shaakirah, Vaneesa85, kittyboolady1, , Winter'sThunder, OuiSexSi, sports7, Marama, Oh. my. god. , LeahKeehl13, Alexa, atwtlover, smileylol, Saoirse Driscoll, chubbypenguin, svaler (I believe the spelling is correct this time :P), Sazziiole, Ntago, Emz, TrueKelpa, AnotherHarryPotterNerd, Kiki idiotonastick, xX-ChildOfTheShadows-Xx, Starst, DramioneLover123, StarKiss666, magic2011, Edward'sCutie, melliz1nz, JarethGirl30028, Fancymeetingyou, TheOceanWaves, RainyxDays, 8, TracesOfHumanity, Beloveddreamer, dracoxhermionex, Maisy C.

**OHHH MY GOD! MY PAST CHAPTER GOT THE MOST NUMBER OF REVIEWS YET :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Every review makes me so happy, so thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!**

**I know that it is the summer, but I am working a full-time job, so it isn't exactly easy for me to find the time to write, juggling work with the numerous other commitments I have. In combination with the lengths of my chapters, which can sometimes pass upwards of 10,000 depending on the chapter, it isn't easy to provide weekly updates :P**

This also brings me to my next 'thank-you', which goes out to the ever lovely SweetTies, who has been with me for quite a while now, reading through, editing, and critiquing even the longest of my chapters. If it were not for the lovely lady behind that keyboard, my fiction would be off the rails (of the Hogwarts Express of course). Thank you girl, you mean a lot to me! Another important acknowledgment should go out to **TrueKelpa****,** who happens to be the person who thought of the title: Déjà vu!, which is great for the last chapter! I think it fits quite well, so thank you very much! I saw soooo many creative suggestions that I would have LOVED to use here, so just because your submission did not show up in the previous chapter, does not mean I wont try to fiddle it into another chapter title in the future! Yet ANOTHER thank-you to **DramioneLover123**, whose chapter title submission was chosen for this chapter. I think that it suits it quite well, do you not agree?

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**Chapter 25: Matchmaking Memories**

.H.

Hermione tentatively opened her eyes, the nauseating sensation of gyrating ever prominent despite the firm, cushy surface on which she was currently laid. Though the woolly whirring in her ears finally ceased, her equilibrium remained out of place, leaving her to look up at the various crowned pipes that weaved across the white ceiling of the hospital wing while she regained her stability.

_Was I dreaming? How curious_. Hermione remained staring at the ceiling as she contemplated her current situation.

She could not for the life of her decide if her departure from the hospital wing had actually occurred. Hermione remembered that she had indeed left, however she was unsure if that memory was not also a part of the dream from which she had just awoken.

By this time, Hermione's head had begun to cease its spastic shifting, and her stomach was no longer as queasy. Perhaps her sickness was merely a result of a potion that Madam Pomfrey had administered to hear earlier, without her knowledge. Yes, that was it.

Accepting that she never had left the hospital wing, and everything since her feinting spell had _not _actually occurred, Hermione looked over the ridge of her cheeks for Madam Pomfrey, by doing so, she was sure that she would not upset the state of balance that had settled in her head. Another wave of nausea would do her no good if she was to convince the nurse that she wanted to get out of the ward and collect her homework. _Who knows how many classes I have missed! How far behind am I?_

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw another occupant with a thick mass of curly brown hair, seated quietly with a book in her hand, content. She turned the page, not bothering to acknowledge her. It did not bother Hermione too much, after all, she did not wish to involve herself in small talk anyway; she just wanted to leave the sterile confines of the hospital wing.

Not seeing any sign of the nurse, the bushy-haired Gryffindor relaxed further into her pillow, residing to gaze back up at the pipes snaking across the ceiling until the woman returned, and as she was known for her close eye on her patients, Hermione assumed that would be no time at all.

Her mind traveled back to the dream. _When had it actually started?_ It was always difficult to discern when a dream actually commenced, so how was she to tell how long she had been sleeping? She must have been, or else she would not be currently lying on a bed in the hospital wing. The dream had felt so real, so terribly vivid, so-

"Malfoy?" A familiar voice said, disbelievingly. The speaker was blatantly surprised at the boy's presence.

Hermione's head jerked in the direction of the voice, only to find that it belonged to the girl in the bed beside her own; the girl that she had so easily dismissed. Sitting on the bed, adjacent to her own, was Hermione, herself, propped up against the headboard of the bed frame.

She was not dreaming, she_ really was_ in Malfoy's memory - but this was also her own memory as well. What was Draco's subconscious trying to tell her though the projection of this memory when it was already clear that she shared the same one? After all, she _was _present, currently seated on the bed. Whatever the piece of information was, it was nothing that she couldn't already know, as her mind also contained this moment exactly.

"I came to bring you up your homework. The professors knew that you probably would not like to fall too far behind." He set the small pile on her bedside table.

Future Hermione was taken aback by his kindness. It really was a nice gesture that he gave her in bringing her study material. He didn't appear to be so terrible when he was not his pratty egotistical narcissistic self.

At the time, her old self had not exactly processed the simple act, nor had she noticed that his face had been wiped clean of all the condescending gestures and glares she was accustomed to seeing shaped in his elegant features. The look on his face was wholeheartedly sincere.

Wanting to get a closer look at the memory playing out before her, Hermione shoved away the crisp white linens that covered her legs and walked over to the pair to stand beside Malfoy.

_Who knew that I would willingly stand beside a Malfoy, let alone admire his appearance, _she noted, looking over at the boy beside her, who was currently fixated on her old self.

Hermione, though she would admit it to no one, could not deny the fact that Malfoy was completely and utterly gorgeous. His features were of a prestige that Hermione could not fathom, right from the tip of his chiseled chin, artfully shaped lips, aristocratic nose, his remarkably alluring silver eyes, his perfectly shaped eyebrows, to the tip of his silky platinum locks. Hermione shook her head to get her train of thought off the tracks that involved drooling over Malfoys attractive nature. Good genetics had done the boy well in appearance; however it did nothing to cure him of her distaste for his inherited spiteful nature. But that was not entirely true. She could not name one spiteful comment that had left the blondes lips, nor could she recall one hateful glare sent in her direction as of late. It was so much simpler to recall Malfoy as an individual that personified the evil nature of the devil. His drastic change in character was rather confusing, if not slightly frightening in itself.

As if sensing her presence...and her one sided staring contest, Malfoy looked up to meet her eyes. Her own widened in response. _How can he see me! I thought this was a memory! _It would be a compete lie to state that she was not at all perturbed by his sudden realization of her existence, even though he had suddenly become attuned to recognizing it more frequently.

"Malfoy-I..I..." He continued to look at her, his grey eyes shimmering in the artificial light of the infirmary. His gaze shifted, and seemed to go out of focus several times, though remaining level with her eyes.

How could he see her? This was not supposed to happen! This reminded her of her obligations while utilizing a time turner. In accepting such a device, it was agreed upon that one of the terms she was to follow prohibited her from exposing herself to other witches, wizards, magical folk, muggles, and very importantly herself, as she could drastically alter the present by simply catching a view of her false reflection. Would being seen by Draco in his memory alter their future? Or rather, her present?

"I would prefer it if you chose not to go down to the Great Hall tonight," a voice said firmly from behind her. She turned in surprise to see Madam Pomfrey hobbling toward her at record pace.

Hermione attempted to dodge the nurse balancing a pile of food atop a decently sized tray, however it did not matter that she did not do so successfully, as the nurse traveled right through her body.

The sensation was not at all similar to walking through a ghost, as the Gryffindor would shamefully admit she had done on countless occasions while riffling through one of her books in the corridor. No, rather than the notable decrease in heat, the memory simply felt like air; the nurse's movement past did not even disturb a hair on her head.

Draco's eyes followed the nurse as she came to stand where Hermione had been prior. The brunette sighed in relief, glad to be rid of the stress that had come from possibly changing their present. It was not herself that he had been observing; rather Malfoy had been watching the nurse approach. This explained why his gaze shifted or came in and out of focus with her own eyes when she had mistaken his gaze.

How could she be so thick? She laughed out loud, ridding herself of the nerves that had built up upon her thinking Malfoy had been looking at her. This was her memory as well! She should have known that Pomfrey would approach, a tray of food in hand. She also knew that in thirty seconds, her old self would refuse the food, and seconds later Malfoy would come up with his 'brilliant idea' of having the food remain beside her.

That is just what happened. As Malfoy ordered the food be returned, Hermione sat herself down beside her protesting form. It really was rather pathetic, her dislike of food. Now looking at herself, she really could see what Harry had pointed out. Her lost weight really was evident, and it was clear that, because he ordered the food be returned, that the blonde stationed beside her hospital bed noticed as well.

Once the nurse had disappeared from view, as she remembered, the Hermione beside her began her speech. She remembered it being rather difficult to find the correct words to express what she wanted to say.

"Listen Malfoy. I-I just want to thank you. It probably wasn't easy for you to choose to help me. But I am glad you did." The thank-you did not come out as clean as she wished, but she hoped it would suffice. Even now, Hermione was unsure of how she would rephrase her answer, had she been in the position of thanking him once more. Thanking people was not the issue; it was thanking someone who had done nothing but torment for years.

Malfoy looked down at the floor seeming to contemplate something. The Hermione beside her did not notice the boy's musings, as she was currently studying the bed sheets. Perhaps this was why she was here. She now noticed that she really had missed several things, and perhaps the memory's purpose, the reason that it had been called to _her_ wand, was to solidify the idea that he really was human after all; that he was not some empty shell that spouted insults to anyone that cared to respond. Hermione supposed that she had known that subconsciously for a while now, but seeing their memory without actually experiencing it really allowed her to absorb his _human_ responses; it was refreshing.

It really made sense, now that she thought about it. It was possible that the memory had been drawn to her wand because of his appearance before Charms class when she had been un-skewered from Derrick's sharp talons. Admittedly, thoughts of him _had_ lingered in her mind briefly as she ran through the events several times upon seating herself. Perhaps it was her confusion that ultimately drew this memory forth.

Hermione shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. There were better opportunities to muse upon her wand's reasoning behind attaining _this _particular memory, when she was not actually caught in it.

Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she noticed that he was _still_ deep in thought, appearing to debate an issue. The action was so evident on the boy's face, that she was surprised that by simply looking into his grey eyes, that she could not see a series of gears working in sync, generating an idea.

It was easy enough _now_ to deduce his thoughts, as she now knew what was to come. His deliberation swung between leaving the infirmary, or choosing to move the chair beside her bed. Now knowing it was the latter, she waited patiently as he contemplated his ultimate decision; to sit, or not to sit.

...

Hermione watched with limited interest as the events played out before her in their correct order as expected. She spent the majority of the memory, laying on her side, studying Malfoy's reactions to her comments and reassessing his responses. She had come to assume that Malfoy was a stoic creature, revealing little or no emotion, though through her careful observations, that she was proven incorrect. Yes, for the most part, he appeared to be well composed and guarded by habit, but if watched carefully, his grey eyes would betray the placidness of his features. At first it seemed that it was merely a trick of the light, reflecting out of his light-colored eyes, however Hermione soon found out that they would naturally lighten or darken, giving away his true emotion.

Hermione deduced that she had never come to such a realization before because she would rather avoid his eyes - that was unless she was glaring into them to prove a point - that she was not the weak muggle-born he assumed her to be.

"I am going to find out one way or another Granger. It is your decision whether or not you going to tell me."

The brunette recalled this moment very well. _He had done quite well actually _she admitted to herself; he seemed to come across her at the most 'opportune' times - times when she really wished for no one else to see her, for example while in the Potions cupboard or the hallway prior to the class she was currently in.

Hermione glanced over at her past self, who in turn looked up at Malfoy for a few seconds before rolling over on the sheets, turning her back to him. She remembered coming to the conclusion that she needed to talk to someone, but that someone could not be Malfoy.

The genuine interest in his eyes did compel her slightly to tell him, but what good would it do? She already had her confidant; Stephanie. What more could she ask for? Malfoy may have changed slightly, well, a little more than slightly, but not enough to open up to him, or anyone else. If she could not tell Harry or Ron of her feelings, why should she tell Malfoy?

This moment was the last that she remembered from that night. Upon closing her eyes, Hermione knew that her former self had already succumbed to sleep. Therefore, the Gryffindor took this as her cue to stand. After all, what else was there to see? Perhaps him retreating back to the cave that the Slytherins called a common room, or rather their little snake-hole. She had been in Malfoy's memory for probably about forty-five minutes now, it couldn't last much longer, could it?

She stood awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed. How was her mind to get back to the present? Her textbook had not exactly gone to such incredible depths as to explain. Would this room simply dissolve into thin air, begin to spin once more until she landed back in Charms? She was not sure. Groaning, she decided that she should have done further reading with the aid of an alternative source.

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the feeling of dizziness to overtake her; willing it to overtake her, just as it had upon her arrival.

"Oh real mature Granger, you are just going to ignore-" Hermione opened her eyes curiously. Had the memory not concluded? She did not remember this part - she had fallen asleep.

She stepped back as Malfoy skirted the foot of the bed to arrive on the other side, so that he no longer faced the rear of her sleeping form. She let out a little snore.

Immediately, Hermione was overtaken by embarrassment. He had heard her snore! She could already feel the blood coursing to her cheeks as she looked hesitantly to see Malfoy's reaction. _Why should I even care what that git thinks? He believes that everything related to me is repulsive. _

The girl was a little more than surprised at the responsive smile that tugged lightly at the corner of his lips. Had she not been searching for his reaction and actually seen his response with her own eyes, she might not have believed that a descendent of the Malfoy clan, was even capable of something as pleasant as a smile.

Hermione relaxed slightly upon recognizing that his response would not wound her. It was not a smirk that read 'I am going to tell everyone that Hermione snores and laugh at her in the corridor'. Heck she would not have put it past him at one point, to have convinced the entirety of the Slytherin house to start making snorting snoring sounds as she passed them in the corridors, or entered the Great Hall for meal time, possibly being known as the girl from Gryffinsnore. No, it was a sweet and genuine smile. The brunette found herself smiling as well upon seeing it. Perhaps Malfoy was not as 'evil' as everyone believed him to be.

"Goodnight Granger," he murmured, the smile still clearly evident, not only in his face, but in the tone of his voice. He looked away from her sleeping form to the doorway of the nurse's office, before again turning back to face her. _Why does he look so apprehensive?_

If the Gryffindor was at all surprised at the fact that the boy had bade her good-night, she was shocked at the occurrence that followed.

Hermione's heart rate accelerated as Malfoy leaned in towards her. No. He couldn't be - he placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

Her brown eyes widened in shock. He had just kissed her! Draco Malfoy, an individual known specifically for his family's status in Voldemort's cult, as well as their hatred for anything 'impure', example, herself, had just willingly pressed his lips against her skin. Why he did, she could not understand, but all that she could compute was the fact that he had indeed. She brought her fingers up to rest against her temple where he had kissed her; the very place that he had placed his wand moments before to extract her memory.

She thought that everything she did, everything she was, disgusted him to no end. Was that all an act? Was he simply confused?

Hermione looked up to regard Draco's reaction to his sudden, and obviously unplanned decision, judging from his earlier apprehension, however, a movement behind one of his broad shoulders caught her eye - a shadow against an open door. Had someone been watching them?

Hermione felt the edges of her vision begin to blur as she was felt her mind to be pulled back to the surface of the present, but she battled the impulse to succumb to the dizziness, as she wanted greatly to know the identity of the mysterious figure. If they had seen Draco kiss her, why had they not made it public, or at least approached her about it. A piece of gossip such as this surely would not be kept from spreading without a price, in the eyes of many possible viewers. Who was it?

She fought against the sick feeling in her stomach that was starting to build as she raced toward the doorframe - she was almost there.

The room off the infirmary was dim, the only light in the room being supplied from the main one she had just left. Hermione was unsure of the rooms' use, but she had always assumed that it was the place where students or staff with more severe illnesses would be quarantined.

She urged her eyes to adjust to the new light setting as quickly as she could, feeling the pull to the present become more incessant, the more she battled it. Already she could feel the cool surface of the oak desk against her face, the stool beneath her bottom, but the desire to see who had been watching them, encouraged her mind to fight against the overwhelming pull.

She did not have to wait for her vision to adjust, as the figure again stuck her head out into the light to peer into the infirmary, obviously making certain that the blond had left, allowing a safe escape.

The short figure stepped out from the room and her whole five-foot one figure was eliminated by the light, as was her Beaubatons uniform.

Stephanie Carter skimmed the room to make sure it was clear before slipping out of the hallway and into the corridor.

.D.

"Hermione! Could you please be a darling and help me begin preparing for dinner?" a male voice called down the hall. Draco froze. Had he not heard this man's voice before, he would have assumed that it belonged to her father. Unfortunately, it was not difficult to deduce the origin of this particular voice, as he heard it on multiple occasions during lectures in the DADA classroom.

He looked down at the brunette, currently curled up on the chair to gauge her reaction. Surely if it was Derrick, she would pale and be reduced to a pile of shivering bones, as he had seen her become on numerous accounts. Nothing of the sort occurred. Hermione only looked up from her book, reluctance being the only emotion laid out on her features.

Draco chuckled lightly at the face she made as she was forced to put down an _obviously _good read. Ancient Runes. How typical.

She slipped a wood bookmark between the pages with an image of a beach and swaying palm trees - the very piece that was currently resided in the depths of his pocket. It belonged to Hermione, so he should not have been surprised that it was a bookmark.

She stood and skirted the chair, veering in his general direction. Draco panicked. Should he move? He jumped out of the way as Hermione made to put the text on the small circular table he had, moments before, been propped up against.

"Hermione?" Derrick called, slightly louder, though the tone in his voice was not nearly as harsh as the blonde had heard him use, the last time he had seen him talk with her alone.

Again Draco looked to Hermione to measure her thoughts. Unlike himself, her face was an open book, no matter how much she obviously attempted to disguise her emotions. He would admit, however, that her face had become much more practiced in the art of lying, even doing well enough to pull a few over on Potter, her best friend.

His search was in vein, and her face did not reveal much, but her desire to continue her read. He was in her memory; however such did not provide him with the opportunity to read her thoughts.

"I'm sorry Derrick! I'm coming!" Hermione apologized as she nimbly hurled a rather tall stack of books then darted out of the study and into the hall. He was surprised at her speed; for a studious girl, he had assumed her to be much slower, and a lot less agile. He shook his head abruptly before his mind could wander to less practical thoughts.

Draco followed, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. She was 'sorry'? Had she not made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him when he had eavesdropped?

Curious, Draco followed her out of the room, and found himself running down a narrow hallway lined with small muggle photographs to keep up. He did not have to pause and look at them to recognize a younger Derrick starring back at him; the familiar brown eyes showed it all.

Hermione made a final turn at the end of the hallway into the kitchen.

Upon entering, Draco's nose met the small of fried onions as they were pushed into a frying pan; by none other than Derrick.

"What are we making?" Hermione asked over the sizzling of the vegetables in the frying pan. She turned back unexpectedly, nearly walking through Draco as she pulled her hair into a loose bun. As she did, her sweet scent of vanilla and mint permeated his senses.

_Who knew that her scent could be just as appealing in a memory?_ He shook his head to regain his focus. He needed his mind to remain present in her memory, not simply ogle at her smell; he could do that later perhaps, but at the time, it was imperative that he absorb as much information as possible. It was obviously important as Hermione's subconscious had chosen it specifically, and his wand had willingly accepted it.

She donned a while apron. "I was thinking just something simple. Like an omelet."

Draco screwed up his face. _Omelet? What is an omelet? They must be some sort of muggle food I am unfamiliar with._ His parents were not exactly welcome to the idea of house elves serving such 'atrocities'. It sounded disgusting. The blond was slightly relieved that, though his family's prejudices did not suit his current interest, that they did keep him away from 'food' that did not sound at all appealing.

"For dinner? Who has omelets for dinner?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

Derrick chucked. "Why on earth not?"

"Well-well-because...Well because omelets are supposed to be for breakfast!"

"Oh Hermione, always the methodical thinker!" Hermione smiled lightly.

The pair obviously participated quite regularly in verbal jesting, judging by the ease with which each produced their quip. Draco could tell from the light in her eye that she was already formulating a rebuttal. He had been witness to the spark in her eye, every time that he had tormented her, and she had returned his snide remark with another one, albeit with more fervor. Another twinge of regret overtook him at the thought. He was almost beginning to dislike thinking and being around Hermione because of the effect that she had on him. She made him feel regret, along with something else that he could not place, and worst of all, she _unknowingly_ caused him to feel this way.

Both Hermione's rebuttal along with Draco reminiscence were interrupted by a faint ringing that sounded from down the narrow hallway. The sound was somewhat familiar, though nothing he could recognize straight away. He therefore wrote it off as yet another muggle device. He knew of a few of the species peculiar trinkets; enough to allow him to pass first year Muggle Studies. His father, though he did not support the class, demanded that he receive the highest grade possible. "A Malfoy will succeed, no matter the subject," he recalled his father telling him in a letter responding to his own that displayed his original distaste for the subject. In truth, he had found numerous inventions rather intriguing, eventually blaming his interest on the idea that it really had been wizards that had invented them out of pity for those who were unfortunate enough to be born without any magical ability.

"I will be just a moment." Draco stepped out of Derrick's way as he started down the hallway, in the direction of the study that Hermione and himself had just exited.

The blond stood torn, looking between the witch and the vanishing wizard. He was unsure of whom he desired to watch more. It was Hermione's memory, and he felt that by obligation, he should remain with her; he was not even sure that he was capable of following Derrick, after all, he assumed he could only be present where Hermione was. Derrick's peculiar attitude on the other hand, was something that he desperately wanted to investigate, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity.

Though simply staring at Hermione would have been entertainment enough, Draco felt a peculiar pull from beneath his navel, propelling him towards the study; he was unsure if this feeling was induced from Hermione's subconscious mind within memory itself, or whether it was his own gut instinct. Regardless of the origin of the pull, he resolved to follow it.

He made his decision to follow Derrick, leaving a humming Hermione to complete the task of chopping vegetables. Never had he witnessed a fully qualified wizard choppingvegetables. Yes, she was underage, but was that not what house elves were for? Even in a muggle community there were bound to be a couple living within the walls of a wizards home.

Draco slipped through the door leading to the study that he had just left prior, to see Derrick holding something to his ear: a telephone. The bizarre ringing suddenly made sense, as he recalled one of Professor Burbage's lectures regarding the muggle telephone.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO BLOODY WELL CALL ME HERE!" Derrick turned on his heel, almost plowing into Draco as he reached to slam the wooden door closed.

The Slytherin had seen Derrick in a series of moods, ranging from his casual flirting nature with students, to his edgy tendencies with Hermione, however he had never heard anything remotely similar to the thunderous rage that he had just spewed.

Derrick threw himself into the armchair, obviously displeased at the identity of the caller. Squatting beside the chair in which Hermione had used prior to moving into the kitchen, and leaned in as close as possible in attempt to hear the voice on the other line.

He had never heard or seen a telephone work as Hogwarts did not have the correct supply of energy to power such a device, but he understood, in theory, how the item was supposed to work.

"Oh quit being so dramatic Daaairy!" a female voice drawled in a sickly sweet tone. "I thought you would _want_ to hear from your girlfriend!" The professors' face softened at her words. Slightly.

Squinting, Draco edged closer to make out the voice. From where he was stationed, it sounded oddly familiar, though he could not be sure. Yes, he indeed thought that he recognized the voice, though the tone that the woman was using did _not_ fit the characteristics of the woman he initially believed it belonged to.

"You know it's not safe to call me here anymore," he whispered, his voice coursing with anger.

The woman's falsely sweet tone did not drop, though now there was a clean edge to her voice. . "I only started using this ruddy muggle contraption to contact _you_, and you dare tell me that I am not to call you anymore?"

'Ruddy muggle contraption'? Obviously the caller was a witch, and judging by her blatant disgust, a pureblood at that.

"Tell me, is the brat getting suspicious of our calls?" Draco assumed the witch was referring to Hermione. Her voice was no longer sweet, rather it became quite miffed. "Remember, it was and still is _your_ duty to cover suspicions, seeing as apparition or Floo powder is not an option," she said bitterly.

Her change in tone immediately allowed for the blond to identify the voice. At this new piece of information, he nearly fell over. Of course. It made sense. In theory. When he had attended the Death Eater meeting, he did recall Derrick standing at the back with his arm around another. The other appeared to be none other than his Aunt Bellatrix. He had never thought that the woman had shown an interest in anything or anyone but the Dark Lord himself. Why now would she suddenly choose that she wished for a relationship? It did not make sense. His Aunt's characteristics did not support such a tie.

"She cannot possibly suspect anything!" Derrick muttered into the mouth piece. "She is in the other room! But if you keep calling of course she will get suspicious! She isn't a stupid girl after all!"

Draco's mind shot back to Hermione, currently in the kitchen - but if he knew her at all, she would be listening outside the door. Or would she be too trustworthy and noble to eavesdrop? He certainly wasn't.

"Well straight to the point then," the woman said sardonically. "The Dark Lord is getting restless! He wants results! Sure, her parents may be of use later, however he wants information! Now! Do whatever you-" a shuffling sounded on the other line as someone else took hold of the receiver. The phone was transferred to a lower masculine voice.

"I am thinking that a good Crucio would do you wonders with loosening her tongue. Break her though pain. You are her cousin; do what you must in order to acquire adequate information. Drain her knowledge about Potter along with her blood," a deep voice said, emotionlessly. A deep voice that Draco heard all too often.

"Oh do shut up Bellatrix," his father added his voice slightly quieter as he was obviously turned away from the receiver, though its characteristic sharpness remained.

His father? His father was in on this? How could he be involved without informing him? He really should not been as surprised as he was. It just bothered the blond that he did not think to inform his own son. Draco deduced that the conversation had taken place _before_ the start of the school year; prior to the beginning of his involvement in the Dark Arts. It was indeed true that he was not yet classified as a Death Eater; his arm was still clean, but regardless, he still felt that because a student from Hogwarts was involved, that he would be informed.

"She won't break that easily; she isn't like that," Derrick shook his head. They wanted information from Hermione regarding Potter, and if it was not for her relationship with that scar-headed git, there would not be such a high price on her mind. At that moment, if possible, Draco's hatred for The Great Harry Potter increased exponentially.

"Well, you know the other option," his father drawled. "If you drop her off here for a bit, I am sure myself and the other Death Eaters could...sort her out...if you get my drift."

Draco's jaw tightened. He got his drift. Hell, he got the whole god damn wind tunnel as far as that went! He had known for a while that killing was not all that Death Eaters did. Sure, in the past they had, however their tactics had evolved over the years to support a more...discrediting method.

"Is that so? Well I am going to get my share of the fun at least! That was the deal-"...

"Well then, I suggest you get a move on. We will be checking in with you later-"

"Don't call here again," he slammed down the phone. Immediately the man stood, a more distinct dark aura swirling around his tall height.

Draco trailed Derrick closely as he returned to the kitchen. He noted that Hermione was in exactly the same position as she had been when he had left her. The only difference was that her face was slightly pink, and her body had acquired a slightly more stiff posture; a defensive stance. A stance that he had become almost accustomed to seeing her use at school this year.

When the busy-haired brunette did not return his gaze, Draco knew that she _had_ in fact been listening in on the conversation. The Gryffindor may have had the stealth of the Slytherin moments ago; the soft pads on the base of the lioness's paws had done her well, however it was written all over her face that chopping vegetables was _not_ what she had been doing for the duration of the conversation.

The Slytherin suddenly had a feeling that Derrick would no longer be his cheery self; that the dark cloud had followed him from the office and into the kitchen. He was proven correct when he walked up behind Hermione and placed his hand over hers as she cut.

Draco narrowed his eyes slowly, not liking at all the scene that was happening before him. A knot began to form in his stomach, though he did not fully comprehend the meaning behind it. This knot only tightened as he watched his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher lean in to whisper something in her ear. By the reaction his classmate gave, he figured the man's words to be provocative and scandalous.

The discomfort that welled immediately into her eyes was killing him from the inside out. He had been punished countless times, more than he would like to remember, at the hand of his father. A Crucio held a great deal of pain in itself, but merely witnessing the scene before him was twenty times worse; it was killing him, and worst of all, he could do nothing to stop him.

The searing anger in his chest seemed to burn more powerfully as he watched his professor pressed his chest to her back. She leaned away; an attempt that Derrick quickly annihilated.

As he ground his lower region into Hermione, something inside the blond snapped. He whipped out his wand with the intent of blowing the man across the room, and perhaps a wall or two...or five, but nothing happened.

After a second attempt, he realized that his magic did not work in the memory. No matter; he surged forward to wrap his arm around Derrick's shoulders and pull him from the witch, however, his arm moved right through the aggressor's body.

He lunged once more, again falling through the pair of bodies. The only emotion that pulsed through his veins was hatred. Hatred for the man that dare lay a finger on Hermione's person, and this particular man appeared to have laid all ten. He had crossed the line. Fuck, the man had not only crossed the line, he had crossed it, and stomped on it, and began to jump on the other side. This thought antagonized Draco to no end. The ruddy Fuck.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!" Hermione growled turning and pushed Derrick's chest away from her. Draco clenched and unclenched his jaw several times in a row in a futile attempt to compose himself. There was nothing he could do, this was a memory; something that he could not change. He had to accept the memory before him as fact.

"You don't want to do this-" The fear in Hermione's voice made him hurt, an emotion that he was not exactly familiar with. It also made him angry, something that, this time, he was familiar with.

"You know what I want. Just be compliant and you don't need to get hurt. Much." He edged towards her causing Hermione to take a step back, pressing her lower body against the cabinets beneath the counter.

Draco continued to watch, rage already overflowing out of his pores. She was looking for an escape; an escape that was non-existent, and he knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. She was trapped. The wand in his pocket felt like a dead weight at his side, and though his fingers itched to use it, reaching for it would be a pointless waste of energy. Energy that he could be using to rip the shit out of Derrick.

Feebly, Hermione reached behind her to find a knife, and his professor only laughed.

"Frisky," Derrick chuckled huskily. "I always did like em' feisty!" he said huskily. He licked his lips visibly in anticipation. As he did, Draco's stomach flipped. He suddenly felt the sickest he had felt in a long time. The sick bastards comments were enough to make him retch. He just hoped to god that they would not lead anywhere. They couldn't. It was Hermione after all. She was perfect. She had to be.

He froze, mid thought, Hermione's voice suddenly sounding vividly his mind. The bitterness that it held on the night she spoke those words were ever prominent; it was a though she was speaking into his ear. _"No. I am not a virgin." _Draco tried to convince himself that this was not what she was referring to when she said that. Even the rabid Weasel, Potty or the bloody bobble headed Krum was better than this masochistic man.

He watched as Hermione flung the knife at him, missing her target. The force of her throw brought her hand thudding into Derrick's chest; Draco knew it was not nearly hard enough a blow to cause any severe damage, no matter how much he wished it.

Derrick quickly grasped her hand, bringing it his lips. "Don't. touch. me." She annunciated, pulling her arm roughly from his grasp. His lips curled over his perfectly white teeth with a smile so malicious that Draco thought he could feel the temperature of the humid room notably drop.

He did not like the look he gave her, right then and there. He had seen his fair share of glares, sneers and smirks however, the twisted smile he was giving Hermione was _not_ simply one of enmity, but one in which lust was more than evident.

Resisting the urge to fly at the man, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Run Hermione!" the blond shouted. "Get the fuck out of here!" His voice seemed overly loud in the tiny kitchen, though he could not refrain from yelling. His anger had spilled over the edge the moment he had touched her, but now it seemed to be exploding out of control. It had busted through the strategically built dam he had spent a lifetime building, quickly flooding the expanse of his mind. He could not remember the last time he had been this furious, but what he did not know, was that he was about to get ten times angrier.

Hermione remained oblivious to his shout. He knew that it could do nothing to change the memory, however he could not bring himself to remain silent for much longer. He just wanted Hermione out of that situation; out of Derrick's reach.

Suddenly all of Derricks actions toward Hermione made sense, and he felt like an idiot for not piecing it together sooner. He always seemed to want Hermione alone...

"You shouldn't have eavesdropped young lady. Haven't your parents taught you better manners than that!" he spat. Obviously it was not solely Draco that had these musings about Hermione listening in.

"I didn't hear anything!"

"Lies," He hissed. "Regardless, you will be punished."

A shiver went up Draco's spine at the possible punishments that could be administered by a death eater. This statement in combination with the glint of lust in his eyes made for a frightening prospective, in the Slytherin's opinion. He just hoped desperately that he was wrong.

"For the love of Merlin, Hermione run god-damn it!" The blond shouted again, wanting to punch something. He did not care that he was shouting to empty space.

As if she heard him, Hermione took his cue to run**. **

Draco followed close behind, screaming at her all the way. Her agile movement had placed her a decent distance ahead of Derrick and for a moment, he thought that Hermione had a decent chance of escape. That was until her turn caused her to slip on the rug runner and crash into one of the double doors leading into the hallway.

Draco reflexively attempted to bring her to her feet as quickly as possible, but his hands melted through her shoulders as he pulled up. His heart burned painfully, adrenaline coursing through it like acid, knowing that Derrick was close behind. Despite his efforts to assist the witch, Derrick was too quick and thundered through Draco's mist-like form to pick up the girl roughly.

He heard the sound of air being forced from her lungs as she was thrown over his shoulder, as well as her labored coughs as she attempted to get a breath of air. He could also see the glint of unshed tears in her eyes while she screamed in protest as Derrick took her down a dark flight of stairs that lead to the next floor down.

Draco followed uselessly. With every step they descended, his heart dropped proportionally. If the rage he had currently experienced in the kitchen was anything compared to what he was feeling now, then he would be damned if Derrick lived to eat breakfast in the Great Hall the following morning. He found that his hands were beginning to shake, and his legs were becoming harder to move.

Hermione's screams hurt his ears, not simply because of the volume, but because of who they belonged to. He had heard the screams of many innocent people coming from the dungeons of his manor, and he would be lying to say that they did not bother him, though Hermione's seemed to affect him marginally more.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks when they had reached their final destination. He supposed that he had known where they were destined the moment they had set off, though seeing that he was proven correct made the prospect seem so much worse.

He now stood in the doorway of a small room with a tiny bed in the corner. A bedroom. Draco pounded on the wall behind him, not knowing how to deal with his pent up rage.

"Go to hell!" Hermione choked out, moments before he threw her violently onto his cream colored duvet. Within seconds, Derrick was on top of her biting violently at her neck. Instantly Draco recalled his acid remarks regarding the rouge and purple marks marring her pale neck.

Draco watched helplessly as Derrick's hand cupped her breast in one hand, squeezing it gently before allowing his hand to slither down her side to rest just above the top of her muggle jeans.

He did not want to see this, but he could not turn away. He felt that in leaving Hermione alone in her memory would be like abandoning her. He could not leave her alone with Derrick. In the present time, she was already alone as it was. Potter and Weasley obviously knew nothing about this occurrence, as if they did, he was sure that Potter would come to the rescue as expected, bringing along with him his pathetic side-kick, who obviously had a thing for Hermione. Draco was not about to deny that it did not bother him; it did so immensely. The red head was not exactly competition, but the feelings that the boy held out on his arm did annoy him; like a fly that would buzz relentlessly around the head of a victim. If you choose to swat at it, it always returns.

Derrick moaned, bringing Draco from his thoughts. He could not describe adequately his desperation to beat the bloody shit out the man ravishing Hermione before him. He wanted to beat the shit out of him, force it back down his throat, only for the dual purpose of beating it out of him once more.

Derrick then whispered in Hermione's ear, loud enough for Draco to hear. His words made his skin crawl. "Too many clothes"

Draco's vision began to blur before fading back into place.

The blonde opened his eyes to face a still unconscious Hermione, and was thankful for that fact. Though the room in which he had roused remained silent as the majority of his classmates were still trapped in their partner's memories, the girl's screams as she was pulled down into the dank basement still echoed in his ears.

The fury that had surged through his veins not moments before was still ever potent, and his lack of control over his emotions frightened him. For this reason, Draco clenched and unclenched his jaw, willing himself not to do anything stupid, especially as his actions would be regarded by those around him. He would do his best to remain placid, as he had done for many years.

He remained rested on his folded arms, studying the girl beside him, taking deep and calming breaths. When he had regarded her before he had entered her memory, he had seen a completely different Hermione than the strange girl he saw now. For as long as he had known her, the bookworm had always been a nuisance, a menace to society. But regardless of his, or anyone else's opinion of her, she kept her head held high and fought for everything she earned, she appeared to be a million times happier than anyone else he knew. Something had changed her; he noticed such a fact long before now, but having witnessed the memory he had seen, he now thought he understood why. That memory had to be the reasoning behind many of the changes he had noticed in the girl over the year.

He could not say that he knew every single one of her secrets, but what he had just witnessed proved to be the reasoning behind _some_ of her behaviors. Again, this evoked much _more_ questions that he wanted answered, and after witnessing such a scene, he was not about to sit around and wait for them to unfold! But what bothered Draco the most, was the fact that she fought to be alone with a man that hurt her both emotionally, and deflowered her physically. There was so much more to this tale that just did not fit.

To his left, Hermione stirred as she was slowly detangling herself from the memory. He did not know how he was going to play this, or how he wanted to approach the subject. He wanted to pull her into the closest storage cabinet and demand that she tell him _everything._ However, knowing Hermione's stubborn nature, and her obvious attempts to keep this covered up, she would not tell him a word. The Gryffindor was proud, and if she learned that he had plunged into one of her deepest darkest memories, or what he assumed to be, then she would only retract from him. But he could not just sit there! He needed to find a way to get her alone to discuss this with her.

He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes in attempt to relax himself. It worked to an extent, though not as much as he would have liked. Hermione was waking up, and he needed to compose himself before he sat up to face her brown eyes staring back at him, full of questions. She would obviously desire to know what he had seen, giving him the perfect opportunity to breach the subject with her, but he could not do that. Not here. He had to figure out another method of talking to her alone, and he thought that he had the perfect idea.

...

Hermione's brown eyes opened in shock, her mouth wide. The blond sprawled across their shared desk was still obviously engrossed in the memory she had provided him with. His face appeared to be much more rigid, his mouth set in a firm line across his strained face. If Hermione had not known better, she would have assumed that he was caught in a horrifying nightmare.

She sat up, happy that he appeared to be still in her memory. She wanted to have time to absorb the information she had just witnessed. Doing so with Malfoy awake beside her might prove to be more difficult.

First of all, the last thing she had seen before she was sucked back into reality was Stephanie Carter. What was she doing there! Stephanie _had _told her that the night she had rushed from the hospital wing with so little explanation, she had desperately required another dose of Polyjuice potion, and had scurried off to the dorm that she was staying in with the rest of the girls from her school. Hermione had not thought to ask her what she did following getting her required dosage - obviously it was spying on her and Draco.

It hurt to think that she had seen Draco kiss her temple and had not told her about it. Why would she do that? Hermione recalled the conversation she had shared with her over their butterbeer at the Hogshead.

_"He is...awful...just awful. Just stay away from him, will you? Promise me. Whatever he says to you, he is not worth trusting."_

Her plea had been made _following_ her witnessing the kiss.

That lead to yet another event. Draco Malfoy had kissed her! Sure, she herself had done a similar action on the cheeks of both Harry and Ron, but they were her best friends, and the platonic nature of it was clear to the pair of them! The kiss that she would plant on their cheeks would be a chaste, and hurried one, meant for thanks.

Subconsciously, she lifted her hand to touch the place where Draco had kissed her. Draco and Herself were not friends. They were enemies. Were they not? Yes, recently they had gotten into the habit of socializing without painful remarks on his part, but she would not exactly classify Draco as a friend. Why then had he kissed her in the first place? It was not like he liked her in any sort of way.

She supposed that if Stephanie had indeed told her that he had done such an action, that she either would have assumed she was jesting or that the Slytherin was just taking advantage of her. But having witnessed the kiss he had placed, its sweet and delicate nature she realized that her theory was thus disproved. It was the type of kiss that she had seen many girls receive in the romance movies that she kept hidden out of view, beneath her bed; she was embarrassed at the thought of people knowing that she enjoyed watching the sappiest of chick-flicks.

She now saw the boy that rested beside her in a different light. He could not be all bad. It seemed that the dark shadows that surrounded him were slowly beginning to dissolve into the background. Yes, they were still present, but at least she could see that the man behind them was indeed human, and possibly even capable of emotion.

Draco squeezed his closed eyes even further shut, taking a deep breath. Little did she know that he had already been awake for several minutes before herself.

To Hermione's surprise, her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Why was she suddenly so nervous to be around Draco? It was not like anything should change. The kiss meant nothing, obviously. He had not followed it up with any other actions or had given any indication that it had happened, not that she would support him doing so, but he had not even made any mention to the fact that he kissed her, obviously wanting to keep it a secret. Her having not witnessed it, and him choosing not to voice it, was a clear indication that he did not want anyone else to know about the occurrence. She wouldn't blame him for being embarrassed to kiss someone like her. She was Hermione Granger, nerd-extrodinaire, and he was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex-God and best looking boy at Hogwarts.

Hermione's eyes bulged, uncaring if another student happened to see her expression and deemed her as a case worthy of St. Mungo's. She did _not_ just think that! 'Well he is!' another part of her brain countered. She had already established that he was good looking while ogling him in the memory! She did _not_ need to think it again.

As he sat up, artfully brushing the strands of hair from his eyes, Hermione's heart stopped. How could such a reaction illicit such a response from her. She had seen him repeat such a movement a million times, however before she had seen the movement performed with arrogance. Now the movement seemed so graceful...

How could she possibly react? Surely he would expect some response; she could not simply leave without talking to him, much like she wished to. Should she act normally? Like it never happened? She was not meant to know, after all.

He turned his head slightly, his grey eyes suddenly locking onto hers. Hermione swore that she was going into cardiac arrest from the simple movement. There was a sharp edge in their depths that frightened her, but was beautiful at the same time. She recognized the particular shade of grey from his memory. He was not pleased; they had changed that very color when he had told her that he had seen through her lie.

The rest of his face was emotionless, as though trying to read her before he reacted himself. Hermione wanted to say something, but her words were caught in her throat. It appeared that Draco too, wished to say something, but was also unable to do so either.

The brunette was suddenly worried about what he could have possibly seen. Really, there was nothing in her memories that she thought to be abnormally embarrassing per-say, so why was Draco being so quiet? She would have assumed that after surfacing from the memory, he would have much to complain about.

"Awe. Were you forced to follow me around the muggle world on foot?" Hermione asked, as though talking to an infant. "Is that why you are speechless?" The corners of her mouth twitched up slightly. She mentally applauded herself for keeping her voice sounding relatively normal.

Draco stared at her for a long moment, emotionless, before replying.

"Something like that." His voice was low and tired. Hermione was taken aback. Now she was really frightened. What _had_ he seen!

The bell rang suddenly causing Hermione to jump. Draco remained immobile, as though he had yet to hear the bell, signaling their final class. Chatter regarding the memory charm they had just performed was rampant throughout not only the classroom, but amongst the students who had already begun to spill out into the corridor. Draco ignored the animated jabber, rather choosing to remain seated, as did his partner.

Hermione was incredibly interested to learn which of her many memories Draco had the privilege, yes privilege, to witness.

"So?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows so high that they disappeared beneath her fringe. Draco finally returned her gaze, his lips pressed together in a tight line; the same lips he had brushed across her temple. She fought the blush that threatened to wash over her successfully. When he did not reply, the brunette mistook his silence for not understanding her question.

"What memory did you see?" Draco's stony reaction did not give anything away, and for this reason, a feeling of unease began to swell inside her. He did not reply, rather, he looked down and broke the connection.

Pulling out a quill and a scrap bit of parchment, he scribbled a note down quickly. After folding it twice, he handed it to her without meeting her gaze, before standing up to follow the rest of the students pouring out of the class.

Hermione allowed her eyes to remain trained on the blond until he had finally disappeared through the door. She had thought that he might be a bit curious to find out what she had seen, but she supposed that was not the case, based on his hurried departure.

She shrugged, altering her attention now to the note in her hand. She unfolded it to reveal three words, written in an elegant curly script that could only have come about through years and years of strict practice.

_Astronomy tower, 11:30p.m._

She flipped over the piece of parchment, already knowing that the back was blank.

* * *

_..._

_"It was __him__ again, wasn't it?" Draco asked gently. Hermione's head snapped up to look into a pair of silver eyes. Their usual hardness seemed to have vanish, melting away to reflect the tender tone of his voice. His light colored eyes seemed to extend so much deeper than she had ever realized, but then again, perhaps she had not taken the time to look._

_..._

_**What do you all think of that as a teaser :P Tell me, what do you think will occur in the next chapter? You might be a little more than surprised! Or perhaps not... (Heck, I still need to write most of it, so I too might be a little surprised by the end :P )**_

_Sorry if I don't get my next chapter out as quickly as I would like...I really am terribly busy, so I am doing the best I can, because I know how it feels to be so wrapped up in a story and the author isn't updating. I promise not to abandon the story! Also, I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to get over fifty reviews for one single chapter...that would be so cool, so please review! :D_


	25. Chapter 25: Everybody's Fool

Also. OMFG OMFG THANKS FOR ALL OF THE REVIEWS! I got so many more than I could ever have hoped! Thanks to these people: loveHP47, DramioneLover123, Edward'sCutie, beccky, Ahkasha , yoyoyobo, Maisy C, SweetTies, Charlotte, AnotherHarryPotterNerd, Arsenicsauce, Oh. my .god, TheInvisiblePrincess, Vanessa85, Emswarek17, Coley213, magic2011, Shaa-kirah7, smileylol, xX-ChildOfTheShadows-Xx, Winter'sThunder, Emz, StarKiss666, Starst, 8, XxX Fleur-Delacour XxX, Natalie1027, 30percentalpaca, desirable69, chubbypenguin, TheMalfoyHeir, Blood-blossom16, LeahKeehl13, TracesOfHumanity, Saoirse Driscoll, McKenzie Shea, Christine, liverpoolsunrise09, pirateKitten11893, May Stryker, Sylverquill, Orange-Coyote, Thetempest11112, Nala Moon, HyperChrome, Mariaxxx, ap149, Svaler, , sksprinter259, MelisaKaraDemetriaVolturi, , thelovelykay, Zoem2112, anninimouse, yumyums210, Alexa, and Evior.

**_IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ BELOW!_**

I am terribly terribly sorry for the wait. A bit of drama has been happening in my life, and for this reason, I have been having a bit of trouble finding the words in the chapters I have been trying to write. I would like to delicate this chapter to **Shane de Boer**, a wonderful young man who I have gone to high school with for the past three years. After all that you have done for me Shane, I wish that I could have given something back to you.

It was **suicide** that claimed his life on **August 27, 2011**. The number twenty-seven has always been my favourite number, however every time I think of it now, I will remember you, the person that noticed when I was having a hard time and came over to help me out, even though we never were close friends.

I realize that this is a FanFiction, but I want to take this opportunity to come out at talk about suicide. It is NEVER the answer. Even though you may feel that no one is interested in what you have to say as a result of bullying, or the world is against you, you will be missed by someone. Each person who is reading this has so many people that care about them, even though they may not realize it. I have been through it, and I can relate to anyone who has ever felt like it is the correct answer. If you ever need someone to talk to regarding an issue, I hope that you will PM me. I am not the type to judge. You also do not need to give me any personal information, you can just simply vent. I happen to have support on FanFiction for recent and past issues…you know who you are :)

Thank you very much to _SweetTies_, who happens to be a very wonderful beta and very close friend to me. It is because of her that I continue to post these chapters. If you are looking for a wonderful and personable beta, I really recommend her skills :)

**R.I.P. Shane de Boer. You will be missed. **

* * *

**Chapter 26**

"Gallopin' Gorgons Hermione! You're pacing is driving me up the wall!" Lavender covered her eyes with her palms, displaying a set of blood red talons. She had recently learned a charm that increased the length of nails, and she had obviously been overly keen on practicing it. Usually Hermione would argue that you could '_never_ over-practice a spell', though in this case, she was willing to make an exception to her vantage point.

"Really, would you just relax? You have already begun to give me a migraine! And I am pretty sure that you are starting to do in that floor you are walking on as well!" The curly blonde haired girl complained, giving up on hiding her face behind behind a gossip magazine with a picture of a rather alluring witch on the cover. Since the moment she had left Ron and Harry to complete their transfiguration essay, Hermione had been pacing relentlessly, wringing her hands.

"What's got you so terribly riled up anyway?" Lavender asked from behind the pages. Hermione dug through her brain in attempt to produce a believable lie, not that it would be difficult to fool the bubble-headed blonde before her. Hermione was certain that if she desired, she could even convince her roommate that Blast-Ended Skrewt, despite their outwardly frightful appearance, that they were actually cuddly pets.

"Oh, uhm, I have a History test second period tomorrow that I am not adequately prepared for." Obviously her typical 'Hermione response' had fooled her, as she merely shrugged in acknowledgment. The brunette would admit that it would be difficult to distinguish her lie; she did indeed pace like a mad-woman the night before a test. The nerves in her stomach would not cease; much like tonight.

Hermione continued to pace the floor at the foot of her bed. The scrap bit of parchment that Draco had given her earlier was burning a hole in the pocket of her robes. She was afraid to touch it, afraid to take it out, as though by seeing it, it would verify the meeting time that she was trying (and failing miserably) to convince herself was non-existent. The anticipation of possibly meeting Draco loomed over her, creating a feeling that rivaled even the most important of her examinations...almost.

She sat down on her red duvet with a huff. It was nine-thirty p.m., and in a measly two hours, Draco Malfoy had requested that she meet him in the Astronomy tower.

"It's only a test Hermione! Relax!" Lavender rolled her eyes behind her magazine, audibly pleased that the girl's pacing had ceased for the present time. Hermione did not reply.

She was not actually considering going, was she? Of course not. The rational section of Hermione's brain told her that this was bad news! Red flags jumped out at her the moment she allowed her mind to stray to even consider the meeting as a possibility, entertaining the idea that she might allow herself to be so foolish and go.

Another section of her brain, also used quite as much, played upon her curiosity. Gryffindors are naturally curious creatures, and Hermione would be lying if she admitted she did not fit this stereotype. Of course she wanted to bloody well go! It was in her nature! What was so terribly important that he had decided that he needed to talk to her in private? There was so many things that she wished to know! If this was her chance to get inside his head for a second time, she would entertain it!

Parvati walked into the dorm, flicking her wand as she went to extinguish the small fire in the corner of the room, placing them in complete darkness.

"Hey!" an annoyed Lavender shouted from somewhere in the darkness. She had clearly been reading a rather juicy bit of gossip before she was interrupted.

"Oh do shut up Lavender! I need my beauty sleep!" Parvati informed the girls, rolling over on her mattress. The girl huffed before shoving the magazine rather aggressively beneath her bed to accompany the piles of other magazines that described the scandalous behavior of famous witches or wizards Hermione had never heard about.

Hermione lay back against her pillow, in the darkness, adjusting her pajamas nervously. The silence that fell over the room allowed her mind to return to the debate that she was having moments before Parvati arrived.

Two hours. She had two hours to make up her decision of whether or not she wanted to take the risk and meet her enemy. _But he does not seem to be much of an enemy anymore_, another part of her mind countered. He had recently taken to assisting her. Though there could always be some underlying reason of why he was doing so; Malfoys did _not _just choose to help people; their hearts, if they even had such an organ, would be tainted with evil that flowed from the ink that supplied dark mark with its power. She was uncertain if Draco was indeed a Death Eater. Yes, Harry had his suspicions, but, judging by the age requirement that Stephanie had informed, her of, Draco was not yet allowed to be classified under such a foul title.

She closed her eyes and relaxed further into her pillow. The facts, fictions and possibilities swirled around her head, making her brain hurt. She resided to close her eyes for a short period of time, and allow her mind to make itself up. This momentary rest, slowly changed into a doze, which turned into a sleep.

...

Hermione took a deep breath in before beginning to mount the narrow stone staircase that lead to the tower that the Astronomy Class used for evening lessons at the beginning of every month. With each step, her heart-rate became faster, and her breathing became shallower. She did not know what to expect. Hermione Granger and not knowing did not fit well together.

As she came to the last of the steps, the open room came into view. Draco's back remained facing her as he gazed out at the Black Lake. He was leaning causally against the iron rail of the balcony, the whole of his body bathed in the pale moonlight that shone brilliantly from the full moon hovering above the tower in the cloudless sky. The calm surface of the lake resembled closely, a mirror, whose face reflected perfectly the image of the starry sky, and cast back the rays of moonlight.

Though his posture was casual, the blond managed to portray an air of nobility; he truly was a magnificent sight to behold, and even if asked, Hermione would not bother to deny such an obvious fact.

The boy's platinum blond hair swayed lightly in the breeze, causing the evening light to bounce off the strands of sliver.

Hermione stepped onto the floor quietly, feeling as though she intruded in on a quiet moment. She stood for several seconds, not knowing how to address him.

As though he heard her contemplation, he looked over his shoulder. She fidgeted uncomfortably, still feeling that, though invited, she was interrupting a quiet moment of reminiscence.

Draco pushed himself from the railing and began to walk toward her. The look on his face was unreadable, and for whatever reason, caused an unfamiliar churning in the pit of her stomach. _Butterflies? In the presence of Malfoy?_

Before she knew it, Draco was a mere step away from her; if she were to reach out her hand, she could easily come into contact with his chest. She noticed that the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and Hermione could not help but gaze at the top of his toned chest.

If her mind had have been clear enough to think of something comprehensible to say, the words would have been caught in her throat, so, instead of speaking, she looked to him to initiate conversation. He _had _been the one that requested her presence at almost midnight; surely he would have something important enough to say. Obviously he did not, choosing to stand and regard her rather than speaking as Hermione expected he would. What she did _not_ expect, was for him to take a half-step towards her and reach a hand out to gently run the back of his fingertips over the side of her face.

Her eyebrows jumped up in shock, not only because his fingers were lightly brushing against her jaw-bone, but because she was allowing him to.

Wherever his fingers seemed to go, tingles seemed to erupt. The brunette looked up to assess the look in Draco's eyes, curiously. He was not staring back at her, rather, his full attention was on her lips that she had parted in shock.

His fingers traveled lightly over their surface before his cool eyes finally flickered up to meet her own before returning to their previous focal point. The blond slid his fingers from her lips to a place them beneath her chin, where they tilted it upwards slightly in order to compensate for his substantially taller form.

Slowly, more slowly than Hermione ever thought possible, Draco leaned in to close the tiny gap of space that separated the lips of the snake, from those of the lion...

Suddenly, Hermione found that she was tangled in a mass of bed sheets. She straightened them out before returning to her previous position.

_Malfoy? I just dreamed of Malfoy, of all people? _ She lay still for several seconds entertaining the thought while she waited for the tingling in her lips where Malfoy had touched them to disappear. She pressed them together tightly, hoping to aid with the process; however the action did no such thing.

_How utterly stupid can one be? I just had a dream of a boy who seems to hate every fiber of my being...well the majority of them at least, showing interest in me!_ The more she thought about her dream, the more humorous it became. _Like Malfoy would ever fancy someone like me, even if I did have feelings for him. The dream's vivid nature probably belonged partially to a tiny bit of Malfoy's memory clinging to her brain, and in combination with her own subconscious, produced a happening that was obviously not plausible or even remotely probable. _Perhaps it was even as simple as her brain playing upon a fleeting thought she had produced following her witnessing the kiss he had planted on her.

She had spent the entirety of her Wizarding Government class, subsequent to Charm, thinking about it. The fact that he had actually made contact with her was startling enough, but the fact that he actually kissed her temple made the contact even more astonishing. She had herself convinced that the boy would not even prod her with a ten foot pole. This dream was indeed just her subconscious continuing to entertain this stupid idea.

She looked over at her clock; it was twenty-after-eleven. If she was going, she had ten minutes to arrive; she could easily make it on time, if she left now that was. When had she actually begun to refer to the Slytherin by name? She had been doing so subconsciously since she had been pulled into his memory.

The actions that Draco had done in the dream - she knew they were not real, simply her subconscious painting a picture on the canvas of her mind. Though, no matter how much she chided herself for her heart's hasty fluttering, she could not get it to stop.

Hermione managed to convince herself that it was simply her mind's way of attempting to make Draco appear to be more human.

Before she could change her mind, she pushed back the covers and tiptoed across the brilliant red carpet and down the winding staircase. The fire in the common room had burnt out, so the coals left in the fire-place were barely smoldering, leaving only a black load of char steaming on the bottom of the iron grate.

Hermione continued her departure as silently as she could, not wanting to wake the second year who had fallen asleep in one of the oversized armchairs, book in hand. She smiled, recalling the numerous times she had awoken to find herself in a very similar position in that vary place, an oversized book also unsurprisingly in hand. _Things were so much simpler back then_, she though ruefully.

Stepping out of the portrait, she made certain that the coast was clear before continuing into the hallway, in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Although she had convinced herself that she _was_ indeed going to go to the tower, she could not shake the ominous feeling; the cold chill that washed over her the moment she left Gryffindor tower.

_It is just my over rational mind attempting to convince me that this is a terrible idea. Well, it probably is, but at the moment, my luck could not get any worse. The most terrible thing that could happen to me while I am in the Astronomy Tower, is that Draco would be a complete git, but that would not be far off from the reputation he spent many years building. _

Continuing through the dimly lit halls, she looked behind her, already certain that no one was following her. She was a prefect anyway. If a teacher found her out of bed after hours, she would not have an issue.

She rounded another corner. She _would_ have continued down this corridor, at the end of which was the entrance to the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower, however a figure blocked her path. This professor, _would_ have an issue with her roaming the halls after hours.

"Out for an evening stroll are we?" Derrick smirked, grasping her upper arm. Before she could protest, her professor dragged her away, his destination obviously being the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

...

Draco leaned lazily against the iron rail of the balcony, off-shooting from the top of the Astronomy tower. His calm demeanor did nothing to express the tremendous amount of nervousness he was experiencing.

The blond looked down at his watch, for what felt like the fifteenth time. Where was Hermione? She had not exactly given him her consent that she would indeed meet him, though knowing her curious nature, he would have bet his new broomstick that she would have come, and that her punctuality would not have allowed her to me more than a second late.

But she was more than a second late. Eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes had passed since his desired meeting time. He resisted the urge to pace, knowing that it would only cause him to become more stressed, and possibly cause him to walk right off the tower by mistake.

He resided to running his fingers through his hair occasionally, eventually causing the artfully placed strands of hair on his head to stick out in odd directions. Normally, Draco would have fixed his hair into place once more, but he was too anxious to care at the moment.

When Hermione arrived, which he was sure would be any minute, how would he breach the subject? She would obviously arrive, demanding why she had been asked to meet him, of all people, at the top of the Astronomy Tower, at a time that neared midnight.

Even after thinking over their impending meeting in the class following Charms, all through dinner, until now, he still did not know.

Another fifteen minutes passed, followed another ten, before Draco had finally accepted the Gryffindor would not be joining him and left the tower, deeply bothered. He really wished to approach her on the memory that he had seen. In all honesty, he still did not know how exactly he would even breach the subject. Now he had a longer period of time, obviously due to his expected sleepless night, in which to prepare.

Silently, he moved through the corridors in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

His ears perked up as he heard a light scuffling coming from down the hall. He slowed his steps, making them as silent as the hard stone beneath his soles would allow. Stepping into a shadow, he pulled out his wand for good measure.

Though he was off-duty, he wished to catch any miscreants wandering the halls at night, and it would be most beneficial if he were to take them by surprise. The credit he would earn would be all the more brilliant for his name!

The faint outline of a student could be seen, just turning the corner. The frame of the body was small, obviously a woman. From the distance, it was difficult for Draco to discern the identity of the figure, though the moment the mass of hair tangled atop her head was illuminated by a nearby torch, he could easily determine her name; Hermione Granger.

Her hair, though naturally unruly, was in complete disarray. Her clothing hung loosely off her body, twisted and tucked randomly into place, as though hastily thrown on. The buttons down the front of her shirt were buttoned through the wrong holes, and odd creases littered the usually crisp piece of clothing. The base was shoved roughly into the waistband of her skirt that was twisted slightly on her waist. Covering the ensemble, was her standard Hogwarts robe, also wrinkled and scrunched in places.

Aside from noticing her clothing, Draco's attention was immediately drawn to her heavy breathing as she leant up against a broad stone pillar, stifling a sob. Fighting to hold her composure, she continued to the next pillar that lined the open corridor, but without warning, collapsed against the stone wall that she had been walking along to support herself. She allowed her body to slide down the length and onto the floor, allowing herself to break fully.

Before he could think, Draco rushed towards the girl, now crying softly on the floor, his heart pounding more painfully than he had ever thought possible.

"Granger," he said softly, crouching down to meet her lowered height. Her face was tight, in an expression of pain as she sputtered out her line.

"I-I don't. I don't k-know what H-h-harry Potter is-is-is af-ter," she stuttered, clinging tightly to the base of the pillar, as though by letting go, she would be pulled forcibly away. "D-don't touch me, I-I promise, I don't k-know!" she whispered over and over, her voice breaking.

"Oh sweet Merlin," Draco whispered under his breath. He reached out a hand to place it in what he hoped to be a comforting manner. Draco was not exactly comfortable with the comforting of a witch; he didn't exactly know how. Dealing with a situation such as this was foreign to him.

As his hand made contact with her shoulder, she jumped away from his touch and sobbed, clinging, if possible, even tighter to the pillar. Draco drew back, from her quivering form, his eyes darkening.

He had a very vivid idea of where Hermione had been; his blood bubbled at the thought. If his inquisitions were correct, a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts would not have that much longer to live.

Draco did not even bother to entertain the idea that she could walk back to her dormitory; it was clear that, from her last display, that she might make it only a few steps before collapsing once more.

Wrapping one arm around her legs, the other beneath her back, he cradled her to his chest. "Don't t-touch me! I don't know! I don't know!" She struggled feebly against his tightened grip, crying softly.

"Shh. Hermione, it's me," he coed. He had never said her name out-loud, though the moment he did, it just felt right, it felt smooth; like a knife sliding thought warm butter. The brunette stopped crying upon hearing her given name and looked up at him curiously, through red-rimmed eyes.

"D-Draco?" she asked. His heart ached at the sound of her broken voice. Defeated. If he had to think of one word that would never describe Hermione Granger, it would be 'defeated.'

"Yes, it's me. You're going to be alright, I'm not going to hurt you," he responded gently, standing to his full height.

Realization seemed to dawn on her, and her face lit up with shock. The reality that she was currently in the arms of Draco Malfoy was enough to break her from her stupor, sobering instantly. He couldn't see her like this! No one could see her like this! She lowered her chin so he would not see her attempting to dry her eyes without his notice. It was a failed attempt, as he had already seen her tears.

"Listen, I think I should get you to the hospital wing-"

"NO!" she shouted. Draco looked down the halls around him, to be certain that a professor or a prefect had not been drawn to the sound of her protest.

"But your injured, I-"

"No. I-I cannot go the hospital wing," she whimpered, again on the verge of tears, "It is not nearly as bad as it looks."

Draco looked around helplessly. He could not just stand around and do nothing. He looked down at her in attempt to assess as much as he could while walking. As she was completely covered with her robes, he could do next to nothing to diagnose her state.

"Well what do you want me to do?" Draco replied, slightly frustrated. He did his best to keep as much edge out of his voice, not wanting to frighten her. She appeared to have regained _some _of her composure, though he did not want to trigger anything that would set her off.

"Umm, just-just put me down. I am fine to walk from here." Draco could tell from the tone in her voice, that she was doing her best to keep it level and strong. It did not fool him.

Hermione expected him to believe her lie, expected him to set her down on the ground and allow her to go her separate way, but he didn't.

"I am not as terribly thick as your friends." Draco continued to walk in the direction of the hospital wing, despite her protests.

"Malfoy! Draco? Please! I cannot go to the hospital wing!" Draco stopped, defeated. There was so much anger, so much emotion pulsing though him at the moment that he did not know the correct means of which to cope.

He took a deep breath through his nose. Had his hands been free, he would have raked them through his hair until the delicate strands stood on end. He looked to his left in attempt to calm himself and saw a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, attempting to train trolls for the ballet. He knew that across from that portrait, was the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The blond had happened across the room in second year when searching for a place to hide various items he had taken from another student for fun.

Draco walked past the blank space of wall, thinking of a space that he could place Hermione, a place where she could rest, a place where he could talk to her.

After pacing past three times, an ornate wooden door colored in a dark, rich stain appeared. He pushed it open easily, swinging it closed with his foot.

The room was decorated primarily in various shades of black and silver with green accents. A large plush bed dressed in black linens rest against the opposite wall. The frame in which the generous piece was situated, consisted of black iron that had been welded together in long strips that curled to resemble branches of a tree that entwined with one another, occasionally budding off into silver leaves encrusted with tiny green emeralds.

A leather couch adorned with overstuffed green pillows faced two chairs situated before a crackling fire atop a detailed green rug embellished with carefully placed stitching in silver thread.

_This will do_, Draco thought, for the most part satisfied with his design choice. It was simple yet elegant - not that he needed an extravagant palace to house Hermione until she was stable enough, both physically and emotionally.

Hermione on the other hand, felt that the room surpassed the word extravagant. Had she more energy, she would have taken the time to examine many of the unique items that were scattered throughout the room on mantel pieces, tables and other various sculptures. As it was, her exhaustion and aching limbs were enough to again be thankful that Draco had found her, even though he happened upon her in an inopportune situation. She was far to fatigued to even think of feeling embarrassed.

Once inside the room, Draco made to carry Hermione over to the bed, however after taking three steps in the direction of the innocent piece of furniture, Hermione experienced a large release of her remaining adrenaline that had not been used up in her previous adventure. The surge of energy allowed her to make it perfectly clear that she would go no closer.

"And where the hell do you think you're going Malfoy!" Her screech, Draco would argue at that moment, rivaled even the ear-shattering cries of the Mandragora, causing him to wince slightly. The wince was suddenly replaced as a devilish grin lit up his face.

Not noticing his change in demeanor, Hermione returned to her initial struggle against Draco's arms. Being forcibly carried toward a bed was not something that she held well with, especially considering past events.

Draco slowed his pace, though continued toward his destination. As he did, he lowered his head toward hers slightly. The movement, so similar to the one she had experienced in the dream, had her heart accelerating to a pace that would probably convince Madam Pomfrey that she ought to be permanently detained for the remainder of the school year. It was quite pathetic, or so she thought, that even the knowledge that he was not going to try anything, did not help to cease the reaction that her body was making towards her savior.

Draco oblivious to her reaction throughout the duration of her episode, leaned in further and begin to talk in a low voice that Hermione felt reverberate through his chest.

"I thought that, seeing as I _still_ don't have an adequate understanding of your definition of the word 'copulation', you could perhaps give me a demonstration of sorts. Purely for academic purposes, of course," he replied in a seductive voice.

She felt like a child being carried, and disliked it; she preferred to be in control. Her immobility paired with his little comment gave her the strength to whip her head up to send him a particularly harsh glare, only to find that his eyes were dancing with laughter.

The Gryffindor stopped struggling, choosing rather to cross her arms over her chest indigently; knowing full-well that she was pouting like the child that she did not wish to feel like moments ago. She knew full well that the Malfoy would not try anything. The boy was all talk, always had been, and always would be.

_That little tosser, _Hermione thought wickedly as he laid her gently against the fluffy pillows at the head of the bed before seating himself at the footboard.

"Well if you really were trying to seduce me Malfoy, I am sorry to say that the colors do not at all aid in this feat," she replied, playing along. The quick witted conversation did wonders in clearing her mind of its earlier trauma. "Color choice is very important in setting an appropriate mood. I would have at least thought that, given your reputation with the ladies, you would have done your research and taken into account that I am from Gryffindor, not Slytherin," she retorted, referring pointedly to the color palate of the room.

"I did," he smirked, nodding at one of the tables on the other side of the room, on which a tiny lamp with a red shade stood.

Hermione snorted, not bothering to worry that the sound was not exactly lady-like. Who was there for her to impress anyway?

"Nice try," she replied sarcastically. It was rather humorous, the lamp.

"Ouch Granger. I thought that Gryffindores were supposed to be encouraging, loving and caring creatures. You just brutally shot down my best attempt!" Hermione merely looked at him, doing her best to hide the genuine amusement that she was feeling.

"Right you are...As you have made an obvious _error_, you have in fact played upon my compassion, so I will provide you with some much needed advice. Next time you try to make a girl swoon, try something other than appealing to her affections with a lampshade."

"That 'obvious error' as you so eloquently put it, was my best effort!" Hermione rolled her eyes. If it was not for the smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Hermione might have believed him, after all, the boy seated at the edge of the bed had probably never had the need to court a woman. It seemed that he had enough of willing participants already if rumors proved to be truth. Who knew if the boy even had a romantic bone in his body...bloody red lamp shade...it wasn't like he was trying to appeal to her anyway.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as a smirk made its way over his lips. The lips that, in her dream, had almost made contact with her own..._SHUT UP HERMIONE!_

"Besides," he added, his voice taking on a husky tone. "I learn much better from trial and _error_ anyway."

"Oh shove off Malfoy!" Her deterrence was only halfhearted. She found his jesting rather amusing, enough to distract her from...recent events.

Hermione shifted her back further up the cushion, wincing as a pain shot through her spine, and releasing with it a torrent of memories as to why it ached so terribly in the first place. She hoped that Draco did not notice; the moment her demeanor had changed, she did her best to set her face back into a neutral expression, though the millisecond between allowed him such opportunity.

If he did, Hermione wouldn't know. He chose to, like Hermione, drop the conversation where it ended. The two sat in a silence that, for Hermione, was growing more and more unbearable. In Harry's presence, such a silence would usually be comfortable, however with the blond sitting across from her, it was anything but.

Liquid mercury were his eyes as they lingered on her. They seemed to be doing their best to assess her current state. The scrutiny made her feel insecure, especially seeing as she did not exactly look presentable...that was an understatement; she looked like she had just been trampled by a herd of hippogryphs, and she recognized that. But what gave him the right to stare blatantly at her!

"What are you ogling at?" she said, slightly irritated. She refrained from calling him a rude name, as he _had_ aided her in her weakened state, something that she was deeply embarrassed about, but she pushed that aside. She had more pressing matters to worry about, one of which included how she was going to get away from Malfoy, and the situation she was now in. She was tempted to question him on the kiss, but now was not the right time, especially after her meeting with Derrick.

Draco did not reply. He just starred at her, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Several moments of silence passed allowing Hermione the opportunity to further relax into the tasteful silk pillow, her eyes drifting shut.

At the foot of the bed sat Draco Malfoy, torn between forcing her to talk about the issue that hung between them, and allowing her to sleep. Witnessing the battle she was having with her eyelids, he decided that the latter would be the best option for the brunette in front of him.

The moment they had closed completely, he shifted his weight off the bed and walked over to a nearby leather chair, over which was draped a soft green blanket. Turning back, he noticed that Hermione had managed to win out the struggle.

The shift on the bed at her feet, caused when Draco had stood, caused her to jerk awake, though the exhaustion she felt upon doing so nearly convinced her to curl up and resume her rest. Realizing that she was about to doze off in the presence of Malfoy, she was thankful that she had been awakened.

Draco looked down at the piece of cloth in his hands before placing it back on the piece of furniture, still standing. It was a sweet gesture, and Hermione recognized this, however she just wished to be alone, away from everyone where she could reflect. What she needed was a nice hot shower to wash Derricks essence from her skin. She knew it was for the most part impossible; his touch seemed to infect every cell he came into contact with, seemed to kill them one by one. Soap and water could not cleanse such wounds.

The Slytherin made no move, simply looking at her. Such an action made Hermione realize that the longer he stared at her, the more she felt that he could see the filth that had begun to accumulate on her skin because of her cousin. She nervously pulled at the sleeve of her robe unknowingly, pulling it further over the scarred initials.

Draco's eyes flickered down to her wrist, noticing that her attention was no longer with him. Her fingers were simply toying with the edge of the black material, tracing the stitching, stretching it slightly. Figuring that her movement was merely that of nerves, he looked back to her eyes which now focused on a point on the wall, just over his right shoulder.

He sighed inaudibly, squeezing his eyes closed. The blank expression she wore remained burned into his eyelids. He had done his best to make her feel comfortable in his presence with his playful jokes, but now it seemed that the time for questions was now.

The thing was, Draco did not know where to start. How do you initiate a conversation regarding something so inconceivably vial? It also did not aid his case that he had acted as her enemy for years.

The blond opened his eyes to find Hermione's gaze had remained fixated on the wall behind him. It was difficult to miss that her skin had paled even further from its already achromatic shade in the matter of seconds that had elapsed while his eyes were closed. The lack of color made him more perturbed, knowing fulfill that her body might react unpleasantly, Draco blurted out the first concern that came to his mind.

"Do you think that you require Blood Replenishing Potion?" he asked, seriously.

As if electrocuted, Hermione's head, along with her haunted brown eyes, snapped to his own. _Blood Replenishing Potion? How had he figured out that she drank blood replenishing potion? _She was certain that he had not seen the list of ingredients she had carried with her the night he had caught her attempting to knick a few ingredients from Snape's private stores! That was the only possible way he could have figured her secret out, given that he had not done so from observing her potion drinking habits in class. The latter would be unlikely, as it was not uncommon for a student to carry with them a bottle of water or two...

Unable to think of something to say, Hermione merely stared back, doing her best to raise an eyebrow skeptically in attempt to convince him that the idea that she needed a potion to regulate such vital occurrences of life was preposterous.

"I don't have an inkling as to what you're-"

"And this is no time to flaunt your Gryffindor brain," he cut her off, slightly sarcastically, ignoring her expression. Going back to his concerned tone, he added, "If you require it, than you require it! Even if you are feeling the slightest bit peaky-"

"Why would you just _assume_ that I drink blood replenishing potion?" she snorted rather sharply. Despite her rude tone, Draco did not appear to be put off in the least.

"As previously mentioned, Hermione, I am not as daft as your petty little friends are, regardless of your impression of me."

Hermione hated to admit that his statement was true. Her best friends did not have a clue as to the toil she underwent on a daily basis; Ron had not noticed...nor had Harry. They had not spent much time around her so far this year, that much was true, but in the time that they had spent together, Harry was the one to point out to Ron that she was looking a little thin.

Draco on the other hand, had also noticed her newly acquired angular appearance, as well as her potion drinking. Whether he had figured it out before or after he had warned her of his future involvement in getting to the bottom of the problem, she did not know. It did not matter anyway, he knew, but the amount of information that he had gathered and had yet to share was still unclear.

Again, Hermione chose an uncharacteristic approach; silence. She figured that more damage could be inflicted by simply opening her mouth, so she resided to keep it closed, but anyone knowing Hermione Granger, knew that would be an impossible feat.

When she did not reply, Draco added pointedly, "You don't suppose that Dumbledore sent you those vials of blood replenishing potions, do you?"

The bushy haired brunette's eyebrows shot up to disappear behind her fringe. She did not figure that their headmaster had been the sender, but she certainly did not think that it would have been Draco Malfoy.

"That was you?" she asked incredulously. He only smirked, but there was a sad note to it. "But how...?"

"You honestly didn't think a Slytherin would go by their word and return a sheet of paper that the owner desperately did not want them to read without making a copy did you? Not all of us are so Gryffindor-"

"You made a copy of my ingredient list!" Hermione seethed. Her anger quickly diminished and she let out a capitulating sigh. She supposed it did not matter much now anyway; Draco had found out regardless, and she could not change what had happened.

"Yes, though the vials I sent you were originally from the hospital wing-"

"You took medicine without permission? You did didn't you!" she accused. "What if Madam Pomfrey were to suddenly acquire an emergency patient! You might have jeopardized their chance at survival! It could have been down to life or death for someone!" Such information also confirmed that it was Draco that had given her the potion while she had been unconscious, saving her life in the process. Hermione was thankful for what he had done, knowing that it was uncharacteristic to admit that he had helped her; that was possibly why he had not mentioned he had aided her; a blow to his pride perhaps, or his ego. However, partnered with her thankfulness was irritation. How dare he take Blood Replenishing Potions!

"It _was_ a matter of life or death," he replied quietly. "It still is."

She looked up in shock to meet the azure eyes staring intently back at her. The intensity that they held kept her anchored to the spot on the bed as he strode slowly toward the iron footboard.

"But why? Why would you be so...so _willing_ to help me? Your past actions have done nothing to convince anyone, including myself, that you care the least about what happens to me." She really was genuinely confused as to why someone who had set their distaste towards all Muggle-Borns, especially toward herself, in stone for everyone to see, would choose to help her, going against all that was inbred into him from a prejudice family.

"It does not matter now. At the moment, all that is important is the answer to the question. Are you feeling dizzy at all? Do you need a replenishing potion?" The genuine concern, not only in Draco's voice, but his expression as well, really touched Hermione, but made her suspicious at the same time.

She paused before answering, knowing that if she did, she would be admitting to him a piece of her life that she wished for no one to ever know. "No, I am okay for now. I had a full vial before...before...never mind-".

She dropped her gaze to study the black duvet that covered the king sized mattress. Upon first entering, she had deemed it to be a simple black color, however upon further examination, she noticed that tiny silver stars were charmed to flicker lightly, contrasting their onyx backdrop. They reminded her of Draco. Upon first examination, his soul had appeared to be of a similar color, while remaining unseen, were the tiny flecks of light that fought against the dark.

Hermione choose to study them, considering her comparison as they fell into another silence, her unfinished sentence looming in the air between them. It was Draco who chose to break it. He knew it was too soon, though he could not keep his mouth shut. He _needed_ answers, as he was on the brink of insanity.

"It was _him_ again, wasn't it?" Draco asked gently. Hermione closed her eyes, her head still tilted downward toward the duvet. In her eyes, she knew he would find the answer to his question. She did not understand how he would know who '_he' _was, and Hermione could tell that his statement was not a bluff.

Collecting her courage, she lifted her gaze to look into a pair of silver eyes that were becoming less and less foreign, while the emotions linking to their shade remained to be discovered. Their usual hardness seemed to have vanished, melting away to reflect the tender tone of his voice. His light colored eyes seemed to extend so much deeper than she had ever realized, but then again, perhaps she had not taken the time to notice.

The sympathy she saw in his eyes made her feel even worse; it further verified that Draco had successfully detangled her artfully crafted web of lies; had avoided the spiders that were to protect her secrets from everyone attempting to breach the entrance (A/N working well enough to also deter Ron :P). Somehow, Draco was able to sidestep her precautions and travel directly to the heart of her misfortune.

"I-I really don't know _who_ or _what_ you are talking about." Her voice gave away her fib.

Draco clenched his teeth, an action that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. He had already known that Derrick had seen her that evening, that he was not there to protect her from the beast. He knew that his loathing for the arsehole who did this to Hermione would _not_ assist him at the moment, so he did his best to control his rage and help the defeated witch in front of him.

"Hermione," he said, his voice constricted voice, holding back the anger that he had suppressed since Charms class. "You know _exactly_ who and what I am talking about."

Hermione kept her face calm. In their conversation thus far, the boy had used her name more times than he had throughout their years at Hogwarts; it sounded foreign coming from his lips.

"What ever happened to the name Granger?" Hermione asked bitterly, looking for possible way out, even if it meant creating an argument. "You suddenly decided to-"

"Don't change the subject," he replied quickly, though not unkindly. Secretly he didn't know the answer himself. He had subconsciously been calling her by her first name since he had assisted her in the hospital wing after her fainting.

"Well, if you won't answer, would you care to explain the state I found you in?" Draco challenged, taking an alternate route. His voice had risen more than he had expected; he hoped that the volume would not deter her from answering.

"I-I was walking," she began, blinking repeatedly. Draco did not bother to raise an eyebrow as she expected.

"You were walking..." the blond prompted impatiently.

"Yes. Walking. To-to meet you." Draco turned his head so she would not see him bite his lip...or to see the pain that filled his eyes to the brim. Had he not requested for her to meet him this particular evening, then she would be currently safe in her common room, curled up before the fire, most-likely with an abnormally thick book. He needed to press on, as much as he did not wish to; Draco blamed himself, and in getting her to admit her fate, he would also confirm further his own guilt.

"And how did such an activity ultimately place you in such a state?" he questioned with a bitter edge, not because of her understandable restraint in putting forth information and obvious evasion of topic, rather it was his own compunction and self-reproach. It was not her fault.

"I tripped down the flight of stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower," she said quickly, after a moment of thought. Even to her own ears, her lie sounded false, sounded forced, but she had no energy to even attempt to correct the words that had already left her mouth.

Hermione watched as Draco shook his head slowly, seeming to fight some internal demon; the conflict raged clearly in his eyes. "It was Derrick, and we both bloody well know it," he whispered, lifting his gaze to meet her own.

Had Hermione been in her natural mind-set, she would have utilized such an opportunity to observe the emotion in his eyes, however the scene before her seemed to fade slightly, the edges of her vision blurring. It felt as though the charmed knife that her cousin had used to assault her skin had suddenly sheathed itself in her heart. At the sound of her cousin's name, the world seemed to stop. Draco had learned many secrets that she had tried painstakingly to cover up. The little slips bothered her, but she did not actually think that he would have gone so far as to locate the source of her agony. How could he possibly know? This _had_ to be a dream! There was no possible way...But it was real.

"Listen Malfoy," she stood as primly as she could manage given her fatigue, straightening her impossibly tangled robes. Hermione did her best to maintain her dignity despite her current situation. "I don't know what you are talking about. I had a bad accident earlier this year, but you are jumping to conclusions..."

"Jumping to conclusions- That may perhaps be true, but you did not deny any of them," he pointed out, his voice strong.

"Stay out of my business!" Hermione eyed the closed door behind him on the other side of the room, searching for a door to lead her from it and into the corridor where she could escape. She could not just sit there while Malfoy unhinged her life, while he knocked over the brick wall she had so firmly built up to hide her private information.

Understanding her intention, Draco lifted himself to his full height in attempt to stop her. She was here and _appeared _to be physically okay, now it was time to see if she was alright mentally.

Hermione adjusted her stance to take a step forward, however her eyes widened suddenly upon realizing exactly how saturated the gauze was that surrounded her torso. Draco had already discovered too many secrets of hers for her liking; she had to get out before he learned yet another.

She decided to tell him the truth about her intent; that she wished to head for the showers. Hermione knew he would be more likely to allow her to leave if she had a destination in which he could not follow her, other than the common room.

"Listen, I just want to take a shower. It was nice of you to bring me here, but I should go..."

She made to walk past him in the direction of the Prefects bathroom, but he held out his arm to stop her.

"Bathroom is over there." He motioned his chin to the back corner of the room, where a door was slightly agar. Draco wanted answers, but he knew he could not push her for them. She had to be ready to tell him. Even if it meant that he had to wait for the girl to finish washing her hair, he would eventually get them.

Hermione eyed the room skeptically. Should she use that bathroom? As much as she did not want to shower off of a room in which Malfoy was also present, but walking through the halls looking like she currently did, would _not _be the smartest idea, even if there would probably be no one else up to see her. She also feared that she would not reach the Prefect's bathroom before the red fluid seeped through her entire uniform, leaving a trail of blood that Flitch would probably follow. Her dignity would not allow her to blame it on her period.

_Just a quick shower, _she thought. She hoped that getting the spray on her body as quickly as she could might lesson the effect that Derrick's fingers had on her that evening. Perhaps then she would not heave up her _entire_ dinner later that evening, or what little she had consumed.

She nodded at him, avoiding his gaze, and walked toward the bathroom, locking the door right away upon entering.

Hermione was not at all surprised that the color scheme matched that in the main room. The tiles were made of a white glossy marble with black flecks, and the walls were painted a dull grey. The sink, as well as the shower tiles, were a shimmering black. In the corner, a tower of fluffy green towels were perched on an iron shelf. Hermione figured that he had purposely forgotten to think of a red towel for her.

Hermione stripped her clothing as quickly as she could, feeling Derricks fingers on her once more. She hoped that she would be able to scrub them off with one of the various luffas that hung in the shower. Green luffas of course.

She stepped into the shower, knowing full-well that it would have been more intelligent to heal her cuts first, but she could not bare the thought of having to deal with feeling and smelling Derrick on her any longer than necessary. She had drunk enough potion to assure her that she would be fine until the following morning, even if she had lost half of her blood or more.

Residing to heal herself after she got out of the shower, she turned on the shower-head and stepped in, not particularly caring what the temperature of the water was. That was until the spray hit her skin.

It was freezing. She let out a little squeal that echoed in the titled room and jumped out. Not seconds later, she heard a violent banging on the door.

"You all right in there?" About to step back into the shower, she paused. It could have been the loud pulsing of the spray in front of her obscuring the sound of his voice, but if she had heard correctly, he sounded frantic. Malfoy? Frantic? It did not seem to fit, but somehow she was certain that it was not her ears playing tricks on her. When she did not answer, he continued hitting the door, harder this time, until Hermione responded, fearing that if she did not, he would soon tear the door from its hinges.

"Fine! I'm fine!" Hermione sighed as she stepped into the shower, but not before changing it to a scolding hot setting. She was not fine. She was a wreck, and no one else knew but herself. Stephanie did, but she still did not understand to what extent it still affected her. Though she could tell that Steph still harbored dislike for Derrick, she had made it clear that she had moved on from that period of her life to an extent. With time, Steph had told her, the wounds do heal, but they will always remain.

Stephanie. She had not thought of her since Charms class that day. Hermione knew that she needed to have a discussion with her friend.

Sinking to the floor, she allowed the scolding spray to wash over her and clean the new wounds that had been carved into her skin, along with the old.

Each new abrasion to her skin represented each time she had avoided Derrick's questions regarding the plans of Harry Potter. She had lost count of the number of times she had chosen to keep her mouth shut, rather than expel all of the information she knew, nor did she bother to look down and count them.

Derrick had never outright admitted that he was a Death Eater, nor had she ever had the suspicion of him being one; during the sweltering weather of the summer, she had seen him wear only long sleeves. It was when he had started asking about Harry Potter during the summer that she knew. He now prodded at the barrier between innocence that separated their two worlds between Harry Potter and Voldemort, good and evil, light and dark. It just so happened that she was stationed as that wall, and for the good of her friends on the other side of it, she had taken it upon herself to remain strong and not crumble under the weight she now carried - that meant keeping it a secret.

With all of the efforts she had made to make her situation unknown, how had Draco figured out it was Derrick who had so drastically changed her life? She desperately wanted to ask, but in doing so, she would only be providing him with conformation. How was he able to figure her out before her best friends could? Ron, well, Ron was not the most observant of her friends, but surely he would have noticed something out of the obvious, and Harry had caught on to her odd behavior to an extent, but not to the extent that the boy currently on the other side of the door of the Room of Requirement had. She thought that she had put on a close to perfect mask, or at least perfect enough to keep her secret, but obviously not. She had failed Harry.

Hermione started to scrub at her arms with the soap in the shower, her tears disappearing within the spray as they fell. The cleaning of her wounds were almost as painful as receiving them. Almost.

Eventually, she gave up, thoroughly exhausted, and let the soap bar fall to the ground in front of her folded knees. She had completely forgotten where she was, that she was in the room of requirement, with only one door separating herself from her worst enemy, or so she thought to be until Derrick materialized.

Time ticked by, but no matter how long she stayed, the water did not run cold; a benefit to showering in the Room of Requirement. Perhaps she would come here to shower more often. Without Malfoy.

The bar of soap that rest in front of her, previously as large as her closed fist, had dissolved to the size of a dime. That piece of soap was the only thing that held her focus.

.D.

Draco pushed himself up from the bed and began to pace. How long had Hermione been in the bathroom? He didn't know, but it felt like it was a long time, and it had begun to worry him.

He walked up to the bathroom door. Behind it, he heard clearly the sound of running water. Surely the woman would not have a shower _that _long.

He knocked on the door. "Oi, you okay in there?" Waiting for several seconds without a reply, he knocked slightly louder. Again, no reply.

Trying the door, he found it locked. Not expecting the simple _Alohamora_ to actually work, he stepped into the steamy room.

"Granger?" he called, squinting through the water vapor. "Granger?" His heart picked up speed when his ears met only that of the water slapping against the floor.

"What the hell Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked an octave higher than he had thought humanly possible, pulling a towel across her body. The wand, already in her hand that had been pointed at herself moments before, was now pointing in his direction.

Before Malfoy had entered, she was attempting to heal her injuries, a difficult feat under the restraints of exhaustion. Before healing each individual cut, she would rinse it with the water from the sink beside the shower.

He eyed the sink beside her, pulling out his own wand. The water draining away was not clear, having a pink tinge to it. That was most-likely the running water he had heard from behind the door.

"It _would_ be just like you to walk in on a woman in the shower!" Hermione said, pulling up the towel that she had hastily thrown over herself, not only to hide her unclothed body, but the cuts as well. Though her arms were exposed, she was thankful that the thick screen of steam acted as a shield, not allowing the blond to see the lines of red.

"I knocked and shouted several times before coming in, so you have no right to assume that I had walked in on my leisure!" he argued back.

The brunette admitted to herself that was probable; she had been so focused on her healing spells that she might have ignored the calls without realizing it.

"Well what else am I to assume! You knew I was in here taking a shower, and I had the door locked!" She couldn't see any other reason why Malfoy would choose to walk in on her.

"Now that you are done ogling, turn around so I can put a robe on!" she shouted at him. Her hair was still soaked, dripping down over her shoulders, covering the abrasions there.

At the moment, Hermione was too angry to be embarrassed that he was seeing her in such a state.

Draco obliged, turning around to face the door leading to the other room. Hermione quickly retrieved her bra and knickers from the pile of clothing that hung on a rack beside the sink and pulled them on before sliding her arms through a robe hanging on the rack. Green. Of course it was green.

"What did you want anyway," she asked irritably as she tightened the sash around her waist."

"You didn't respond when I called you," Draco stated emotionlessly, inducing Hermione's audible scoff.

"I am not a dog that will simply obey your every beck and call! How dare you assume-"

"How was I supposed know that you didn't faint again!" he challenged, overpowering her already thunderous choice in volume. Hermione paused, looking up at the boy facing away from her as he continued. "How was I to know that you had not drown in your bathwater when you did not reply, you stupid, stupid girl!" Draco was thankful that he was not currently facing the witch behind him. He knew, had she seen his eyes, that they would so easily provide her with all of the information that he had suppressed.

Hermione stood speechless. He had been concerned about her? Had she not heard the exasperation in his voice, she would not have believed that Malfoy even knew of such an emotion.

"You can turn around," she said quietly. Slowly, the blonde turned to face her, his locks falling haphazardly into his eyes, which stared ardently at her own. He combed his hand through them distressfully to position them neatly across his forehead, only succeeding in mussing them more. Involuntarily, Hermione felt her heart rate increase. Why did he have such and effect on her? He just moved his hands through his hair! That is all. She took a steading breath before speaking.

"So you were worried about me," she stated, a small smile creeping onto her face at the look of surprise and discomfort that sprung onto his face. She had over-looked the 'stupid girl' part because of what he had said during the rest of his sentence.

Draco looked uncomfortable. "Well...it wasn't exactly..." he muttered, indiscernibly.

"It appears that it was _that_ exactly!" She crossed her arms amused at how the tables had so suddenly turned. It was only moments before that she felt unpleasant, however Draco's current look of discomposure _almost _made his uninvited entrance worth it.

The light smile that had snaked its way onto her features dropped suddenly, recognizing that she was standing before Malfoy in nothing but a bathrobe. She had to find some clothing and get out of there. Hermione felt that the more time she spent in his presence, the more opportunity he had to figure her out.

The boy furrowed his eyes at her sudden change of emotion.

Making to step around him and out of the bathroom, she slipped over a small puddle of chilled water that had drained from her body following her exit from the shower.

However he had managed it, Draco was able to reach forward and grasp under her arm before she collided with the marble. As she had fallen forward, his other hand had gone to the inside of her sleeve, so he could feel the chill that had settled over her skin. The steam that blanketed the room suggested a hot shower, while her skin was as cold as ice.

Hermione bit back a hiss as his fingers enclosed around her wrist. He lifted her to her feet gently, keeping his hand around her wrist unconsciously. He looked up at the witch to gauge her reaction. Should she fall again, he would be prepared.

Her features were contorted with pain. He had not been too aggressive had he? Surely not, he had been careful not to hurt her; he would never physically hurt a woman. She angled her body slightly away from his, choosing rather to stare at the corner of the room than his eyes, and pointedly avoided the hand around her wrist. Looking down at it would only draw more attention to the red flaws that she wanted to remain hidden.

Cautiously, he turned to face her, rather than pulling her back in front of him. The Gryffindor lifted her chin. Draco could tell that, through her stance, she was attempting to project strength. It was her eyes that betrayed her.

He let his hand drop from her side. It was then that he realized his hand was wet. He did not bother to examine it, assuming it was just wet because of the contact with her skin, as she had just stepped out of the shower.

The initial pain that she had felt upon Draco first grasping her arm had subsided somewhat, allowing her to feel the warmth of his skin melt the chill of her own. When he had removed his hand, she looked down curiously as the feeling of warmth suddenly disappeared and she began to feel the chill creep back through her veins.

Hermione's great inhalation at what she saw caused Draco to follow her gaze curiously, as it went to his hand. He discovered that what he had earlier assumed to be water from the shower was actually liquid scarlet glittering on his palm.

Looking up at Hermione, she too, was staring at the hand that had covered her arm with a look of horror.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his own, her eyes saturated with fear. Hermione fought the strong urge to look at her shoes, battled the pull to run once more. By doing so, it felt that she was giving up.

Draco's eyes were now a soft charcoal. The dark shade told her of the anger possibly brewing below the surface, though the softness in them was unrecognizable. Surely he could not care about her _that_ much, could he?

The blond's gaze dropped to her green bathrobe wrapped tightly around her. He reached up to roll up her sleeve, but she stepped back.

Hermione's eyebrows were furrowed, her jaw set. Unconsciously, she pulled her arms closer to her body, snuggling her neck further into the collar of the robe, hiding.

_Surely she could not be so thick as to not allow me to help her. _Draco thought. The look she was giving him dared him to touch her.

"Hermione! Be realistic!" Draco half yelled, half pleaded. He was not angry at Hermione in the least. It was Derrick that caused the rise in his voice. He did not know the extremity of her injuries, and until he did, it would continue to nag at him. The girl winced, and Draco lowered his voice, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was.

"Just let me see your arm, I promise I won't hurt you." He went to reach for her robe once more, though slowly this time to show her his intensions, but she moved back quickly, leaning against the sink, shaking violently.

Hermione could not tell if her shivering was due to the sudden change in temperature, having recently stepped out of a hot shower, or whether it was fear; fear of revealing more of herself to someone that did not care about her...though his past actions proved this statement different.

The blond stood uncomfortably, not looking at her, his hands clenched. He wanted nothing more than to wring the bastard Derrick's neck for making Hermione feel this way.

Hermione looked down at his hands. The knuckles on both were white from his tight clenching. _He cannot be genuinely concerned. He is Malfoy!_ But the look on his face as he ran his hand through his hair before clenching them it once more seemed to convince her otherwise.

She turned around to face herself in the lightly misted mirror; much of the vapor having dispersed through open door.

She had _told_ Steph about her cuts, though she had never pushed her to see them; something she was appreciative of. Hermione had been mentally open with Stephanie, and was able to share her emotional scars with her, but now, she felt it was time to be open with her physical scars with someone...and it appeared, that person would be none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Are you any good at healing spells?" she whispered. She felt the warmth of his body as he stepped behind her, studying her features in the reflection.

The foggy mirror could not hide the apprehension, pain and unshed tears that swirled in their beautiful brown depths. He nodded.

Before she even realized what she was doing, before she had a chance to allow the rational portion of her abnormally large brain to interject, she slid her robe down and over her shoulders.

...

* * *

_"So what did you see?" His words hung in the air between them for several seconds. "Come on Hermione," he prodded. _

_Hermione looked over at the boy sprawled out, his feet up on the dark stained coffee table, seeming to measure him. Draco merely stared back. When her moment of scrutiny turned into twenty, he spoke. "It's my memory, I think that I deserve to know."_

**CHAPTER TITLE SUBMISSIONS ARE WELCOME MY FRIENDS! **

Will you please review also? So many more people reviewed when I asked...so please? :-D I would appreciate it!


	26. Chapter 26: My Secret to Share

**HOLY CRAP! I have reached over 500 reviews :) I cannot tell you all how flattered I am. I got 68 from this chapter alone, which is amazing! Thank you all! Here are the people that made that happen!**

loveHP47, liverpoolsunrise09, Starst, hazeleyez2, night23, nicole-hgr, 30percentalpaca, brenna963, TracesOfHumanity, StarKiss666, readingtilldawn, xX-ChildOfTheShadows-Xx, , kumangers54, Samantha, lexiie, HyperChrome, LeahKeehl13, TheInvisiblePrincess, Robyn, SweetTies, Dreamingmy t e a r s away, NinjaClarinetGirlBianca, Saoirse Driscoll, Lyssa630, puelloa, Evior, articcat621, magical2011, .god, Arsenicsauce, McKenzie Shea, DeaMD, misfitgirl92, DramonieLover123, Edward'sCutie, Emz, AsHisTreasured, xGURESU, KaAaArL, AnotherHarryPotterNerd, Ahkasha, Sylverquill, Orange-Coyote, 8, oldschoolsocks, yoyoyobo, Cat3, OuiSexSi, yumyums210, Caoimhe Rose, dracoxhermionex, anninimouse, Jessiepoo, Crissy Shadows, Love in the rain, Virgogirl9390, MoonKiss, Vaneesa85, kittyangel7501, Nene chan, Melly2014. If I misspelled/skipped over you, let me know please! You are all valuable readers!

Huge thanks to the namer of Chapter 26 by **AnotherHarryPotterNerd**, who came up with **"Everybody's Fool"**. For those of you who have not heard Evanescence, go find and listen to some of their songs! I sang quite a few for auditions and talent shows :) Anyway, The lyrics portray someone who pretends to be "perfect",yet someone knows who they really are, and is telling them that they aren't fooling anybody but themselves. Hermione is a perfect reflection of this. Thanks again for such a wonderful title!

I really want to thank everyone for their kind words as well regarding the incident that happened a month ago. Thanks again to everyone who showed their support through a message or a review. If I didn't reply back to your review, it is because I have invested my time into getting this chapter up.

**Sorry for the long wait. I know none of you really like to hear excuses, so I am not going to bother writing any out. Feel free to message me any time you want to see where I am on the chapter, and the date I am aiming to post it by.**

* * *

Chapter 27

_Before she even realized what she was doing, she slid her robe down and over her shoulders._

Hermione slid the robe gingerly around her body so that it displayed as much of her skin as she dared, but without providing him with a show of all that she had. She held the robe tightly to her front, thankful that she had thought to put on her bra and knickers after she had gotten out of the shower. Despite wearing those items, which now felt as though they had shrunk to an indecorous size, and having the robe pressed against her front, she felt surprisingly naked, especially before a boy who she had not shared a word with, unless it was to exchange an insult or to fire a retort.

The perfectly shaped eyebrows on his face pushed together, creating a crease on the smooth alabaster skin between them. She took a deep breath through her nose, her lips pressed together in a firm line as she turned to face the mirror behind her and display to Draco, what she had been hiding since the first couple weeks of the summer.

She did not know what she expected him to say, but she waited, all the while keeping her eyes glued to his face through the mirror. The blond several paces behind her, held it, unwavering, his face as stoic as a statue, or the rather the non-magical portraits that hung in the dinning room of her home. A few more seconds passed before his gaze dropped to look at the exposed skin of her shoulder blades.

Hermione's heart pounded violently against her ribcage, all too aware of the silence that met her, and she did her best to suppress the regret attempted to slam into the to wall of her mind by focusing on the top left corner of the frame of the mirror.

It felt strange. She had never willingly allowed anyone else to see her without every item of her clothing. Even in her muggle physical education classes, she would usually change in a bathroom stall, away from the other students; the Gryffindor had always been a little self conscious, even in her younger years, regardless of her thin physique.

Had the hairs on the back of her neck not been on end, had the humidity of the room not held the expensive masculine sandalwood cologne that she had only just begun to recognize, Hermione would have assumed that she alone, occupied the room. His presence spoke volumes for his wordlessness.

Draco stood motionless, transfixed by her tanned shoulders, abundant with tiny little gashes, each of which oozed small beads of scarlet blood that glittered luminously against her lightly damp skin. The glistening of the red liquid only proved that the cuts were fresh.

He tried to keep his breathing level as he gazed at her back. He did his best to ignore the indents caused by her spine pressing against her skin, or her shoulder blades that appeared to protruded more than he thought possible. Draco held his tongue, again, wishing address her eating habits, but he felt it best to focus on one issue at a time.

Lifting his hand, he traced the outline of her shoulder blade gently before following a strip of skin care carefully between two smarting gashes on her smooth skin.

Hermione shivered at the contact and clutched the bathrobe to her more tightly. The first step she had made to lower her barrier had been terrifying, and still was. She would be lying to say that she had removed it entirely; she was still hesitant, still terrified, but for some reason, she felt that she could trust him. He had seemed like such a terrible person, but she had come to realize that perhaps he wasn't completely consumed by evil. He had helped her out of many situations, and she had never exactly thanked him adequately. Perhaps he was simply misunderstood, just as she so often was.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed slightly as Draco continued to trace lines on her back.

Draco was disgusted to put it Frank. Weeks before, the current feeling of revolt would have resulted from seeing her face, her skin, or the 'dirty' blood that flowed beneath it. No, that just went to show how much things had really changed since then. Now, he was disgusted at the prospect that anyone could even think of harming the beautiful girl in front of him.

His fingers stopped where they rest against her skin, a sickening realization hitting him painfully in the chest. This was his doing. Even if it had not been he who wielded the knife that had wounded her, he had indirectly done the damage. He had told her to leave Gryffindor Tower without thinking there was a possibility of something happening.

"This is my doing," he whispered to himself, allowing his hand to drop from her back to fall to his side, as if by touching her, he would only create more damage on the innocent canvas before him.

Hermione looked up at him in the reflection of the mirror, her eyes, though slightly guarded, revealed more concern, confusion, and sorrow than he had ever seen. She shook her head causing wet locks of hair to slide gently over the delicate curve of her shoulder.

"What are you taking about? You are not involved in the least." How could this possibly be his fault. Unless he imperioed Derrick into defiling and cutting her, he had absolutely no connection with what he was blaming himself for.

"This," he replied horsely, lifting his finger as if to trace another line on her back, but lowered it, thinking better of the action. "If I hadn't asked you to meet me this evening...I..." He could not seem to lift his gaze from the nape of her neck to meet her eyes.

It was true; he blamed himself completely. Whether she had gone willingly or not, it did not matter. Whether she had chosen to find him, or Derrick had found her it did not matter. It was he who asked her to leave Gryffindor Tower, so the blame fell solely on his shoulders. He thought he was smarter than that.

Draco slipped his wand from his pocket and pointed it at nape of her neck before muttering a healing spell. The familiar heating and cooling tingles of the spells spread through her spine as the wizard set to work.

"How can you possibly think...It was not your fault," she whispered. Disbelief at his claim caused her to shake her head."If anything, it was my own. It was inevitable anyway..." Even if she had decided not to leave the tower, she would have found herself in a similar, or even more dire situation. She should have done something long before now. But what could she have done, what could she still do that would not have also have tied to it, unwanted repercussions?

The tingling stopped abruptly, signaling to her that Draco had ceased his actions. "This," he began, "was not inevitable." His voice was low and hard. Had Hermione not been listening intently, she might have mistaken it for a growl.

In the mirror, Hermione watched his face as he worked. He appeared to be completely focused on the spells, his perfect eyebrows pushed together in concentration. What she did not see however, was the darkening of his eyes behind his fringe with every new abrasion he came across.

Even in the humidity of the room, his hair somehow remained perfectly straight, hanging over his eyes delicately, while her own only increased in size as it dried, turning into a frizzy mat that she knew would take hours to comb through later. She could not quite distinguish the color to understand his mood, as his blond fringe continued to obscure his eyes from her angle. It was quite embarrassing to admit, even to herself, that she finally understood some of his emotions while the remainder of his face remained blank. It felt as though, during the memory she had viewed, she had gotten to know a piece of Draco that no one else had the opportunity to see, and if they had seen it, they would have overlooked it. She could only imagine what he would think if he knew that she could do such a thing. Probably hex her.

Desperately wishing to know the shade of grey his eyes had turned, she unconsciously leaned forward slightly to a move convenient angle.

As she stirred from her stiff stance, Draco's eyes flickered up to look at her reflection from beneath his eyelashes. She dropped her gaze immediately, embarrassed that she had been caught looking at him. Because of this movement, she missed the light smirk that tugged at his lips, despite the situation.

But for the low mutterings of Draco's spell casting, the room remained comfortably silent, or as comfortable as it could be, given their predicament, while their minds were loud with thought. Hermione was the first to break the silence, feeling the tingling of the spells ebb away.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, peering at him through the mirror. Draco was not looking at her, rather, he gazed toward the rack on which she had discarded her uniform, beside it, her bloodstained gauze.

Though he did not voice it, Hermione knew instantly the question that burned in his mind. He wished to know their purpose; what they were for. Little did Hermione know, he was not only thinking such a question, he was remembering back to when he had routed through her bag and had found the article, assuming that she was taking a muggle healing class.

She sighed. "They were...security. No one could no. No one can know." Her voice broke. It hurt for her to let him see her like this; to let anyone see her like this.

"But why the gauze? You could have healed-"

"The cuts. They don't heal," she whispered, as though saying the piece of information aloud would make the fact more true than her mind had made it appear. Draco only rolled his eyes, making her both slightly relaxed, because from his response she learned that he would not tread as though on pins and needles every time they came into contact, and also remotely perturbed, because he did not appear to put much faith in her spell-casting skills.

"I know that you cannot exactly see your back, but I have successfully healed about three quarters of it. Perhaps the greatest witch of our time should be working on her healing skills..." he teased.

"The greatest with of our time has!" she hissed, causing Draco to go silent. "You don't understand..." she paused. It was difficult enough to show him, but to actually tell him the extent that she was actually damaged was another. Verbalizing it was much more difficult.

"What is it that I don't understand," he whispered, leaning closer to her ear. His warm breath caused some of her hair to dance and tickle her neck. She shivered and reached out to clutch the black ceramic basin. How was it that he had this affect on her? This was supposed to be a serious conversation!

She forced herself to swallow as his hand came up to gently push the hair covering her shoulder blades over her right shoulder, his finger tips brushing against her neck lightly in the process. The action allowed him a clearer view of what he was going to be healing.

"Th-they wont heal correctly," she stuttered as he gently tilted her to expose the gashes situated at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Hermione blamed her unfortunate use of the english language on the fact that she was terribly nervous telling him her secrets, not on the blond's close proximity and that he was touching her skin with such a gentleness she did not know he possessed.

"Yes they will close, but only temporarily," she whispered back, frightened by her own words. It was one thing to recognize or come to a painful conclusion internally, but another to share that realization with someone else. "The gauze is there to make sure that when they re-open, they will not show through my uniform."

Draco closed his eyes. She had been hiding this all year. They were not exceedingly far into the year, though it was far enough in to know that she had been suffering for far too long. Many of the pieces of the puzzle he had collected were beginning to fit amongst the other shards of evidence he had accumulated, though there were still gaping holes where information ought to fit.

"Have you tried Vulnera Sanentur?" he asked. Hermione nodded solemnly.

"It would be much simpler if they were gashes simply caused by the Sectumsempra curse. The knife used was a charmed blade. Through the research I have done, I have learned nothing, but from what I have been able to deduce myself, is that my blood is tainted with the magic of the blade. That spell will heal the cuts like the numerous ones you are using right now, though it will not last for an extensive period of time."

"You mean these were not made by magic?" His voice was low. He had automatically assumed that it had to have taken a strong spell to create so many cuts. Now looking at the wide variety of lengths, thickness, and depths, it made sense. Spells produced uniform cuts while muggle methods did not. Voldemort, as expected, preferred magical methods of implementing pain measures, and the results were easily recognizable to the blond. His emotional attachment to the witch before him made it exceedingly difficult for him to step back and even thick of determining the method by which they had occurred. The fact that such damage had been created the muggle way frightened him. It must have taken a long time to accumulate every single cut visible on her shoulders, let alone anymore that would undoubtedly be found elsewhere.

She shook her head.

"How long? I mean, how long does it take for them to re-open?" he feared that as soon as he completed his healing, that each would began to rip open one by one before his eyes.

"The period of time between healing and opening has lengthened, though only slightly. I usually have to excuse myself about every few hours or so. Between classes I usually head to the bathroom on that particular floor." She did not know why she was telling him all of this, it was almost as though she had swallowed a bottle of Veritaserum. Perhaps it was the look in his eye when he had noticed the blood on his hand, or the way that he had said her name as he carried her to the Room of Requirement; she was not sure.

He returned to his work, aware of Hermione's continued gaze.

"And you didn't think to tell anyone?" he asked, angry at the fact that such an intelligent girl would allow such harm to come to herself. Draco wished to look her into the eye, however his desire to heal her was far greater.

The Gryffindor inhaled sharply, though did not resist when he moved aside more of the green towel textured bathrobe so that he could heal her lower back.

"I-I can't."

"Well I realized that you wont, seeing as I have been attempting to divulge this little mystery of yours since the beginning of the year, but I don't understand why you can't. You could have stopped all of this by going to Dumbledore..." Or by going to me. As soon as he thought this, he realized that he would not have done anything but laugh at her at the beginning of the year anyway. In fact, he probably would have encouraged her misfortune...

"If I tell anyone, including Dumbledore, Harry will eventually find out and-wait...you have actually been trying to figure it out since the beginning of the year?" she asked incredulously.

"And the problem with Potter finding out is...?" Draco ignored her last statement, not wanting to inform her of his constant infatuation with her wellbeing. He had purposely used the boy's last name, rather than one of the very creative nicknames he had come up with over the years, so that Hermione would answer his question, rather than choosing a different path to defend her friend.

Hermione, not having noticed his evasion, prepared to answer his question.

"The problem is that he would act all...all Gryffindor and go after him. And I know he would! He would do that rather than..." Hermione stopped, realizing that she almost revealed that Harry was trying to figure out a way to defeat Voldemort. She didn't know what he was planning this time, but she hopped that it would rid the word of the man for all eternity.

"Distract him from his duties as Saint Potter," he stated simply for her.

Understanding that Harry's intentions were already obvious to the world, and in that the dark side, she nodded.

Draco did not ask anymore questions for the time being, nor did Hermione volunteer any information. She knew the topic of the identity of the offender would come up, but she preferred to avoid it for as long as possible.

Hermione faced the mirror while Draco healed her for another few minutes in silence before his pale hands came up to rest on her shoulders. He twisted her, and dropped his hands to her waist.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked in an alarmed tone, looking from his hands to his face.

"Lifting you up to sit on the sink so I can heal your legs. Do you honestly think a person of such high stature as myself, a Malfoy, would crawl around on the floor?" he looked down at the floor a grimace laced with false disgust.

Hermione rolled her eyes in response as she adjusted the robe to wrap around her upper half, leaving her legs exposed. It did not appear so terrible when she covered all of her other cuts and focused on one section at a time, rather than seeing all of them at once. She could only imagine Draco's reaction if she simply dropped her robe. The shock that would spring onto his face following the action alone would be simply humorous.

She chuckled lightly, and Draco looked up at her as though she had suddenly turned into Luna Lovegood before returning to her legs.

But what she didn't know, was that Draco did not need to see all the cuts at once to recognize how numerous they really were; every single one of them had successfully burned themselves into his mind.

This was the first time he had seen Hermione's legs since last June when school ended. While all of the girls at the school had displayed them eagerly by galavanting through the corridors with their skirts hiked up to deplorable lengths, she had covered hers with a fall robe, even though the warmer fall weather did not support her fashion choice.

The Slytherins, admittedly himself included, had initially laughed at her evident 'incompetence' in dressing herself despite provided a set uniform. He now understood why she dressed the way she did.

Draco did his best to turn his attention back to his work. As he did, he could really appreciate the shape of her calfs, the smoothness of her skin. They were quite thinner than he had remembered seeing them the year prior; a thought which bothered him greatly. He resided to solve this problem as soon as possible.

He pointed his wand at a lengthly cut that spanned from her anklebone to the back of her knee.

It disgusted him how an individual could do this to another. Each wound that he pointed the tip of his wand at, made him fell more and more abhorrence to the man that gave them to her.

It was Derrick, and he knew it. Though Hermione had yet to admit it to him that Derrick was the cause, he felt that progress was being made; he was allowed to perform spells on her, even though she was obviously apprehensive about it.

"Tergeo," he murmured, lifting her leg slightly to heal another smarting gash on the back of her right calf.

Hermione blushed as she held down her robe, not wanting to give the Slytherin a free show.

His mouth quirked in an amused fashion. "Look, I am trying to help you." He almost chuckled at her flustered expression. "You are too weak to do this yourself and you know it." Hermione did not argue, knowing full well that the blond was speaking the truth, though his words did not erase the blush creeping across her cheeks; she tried to hide it by looking up at the ceiling as casually as she could.

"If you would feel more comfortable, I could take you up to the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey-"

"No!" He looked at her, surprised at her sudden change in volume. "Just no," she added quietly. She hiking the robe higher up her thighs causing Draco to smirk.

The Gryffindor remained completely silent throughout the remaining process of her healing; but for the repeated spell, there was no other sound in the room.

The procedure took the Slytherin a total of five minutes to heal her legs. Following its completion, he looked up at her, hesitation clearly etched on his face.

Though Hermione was uncomfortable, she could not deny that the look on his face intrigued her. Throughout her years at Hogwarts, the boy kneeling before her had emulated an affluential, assertive asshole. Never before had she witnessed the usually confident Slytherin as apprehensive as he did now. About what could he possibly be anxious?

He cleared his throat nervously."Erm. Do you mind?" Draco asked awkwardly, motioning to the green robe held against her chest. The boy was asking her permission to strip her of her shirt? Hermione immediately tightened her grip on the robe, pressing it if possible, even tighter to her skin. She chewed her bottom lip, deliberating.

When deciding to show him her back, she felt both frightened, but as soon as she did, she felt better for what ever reason. She assumed that it was the fact that she had someone to share her problem with, despite that person was the evil git that had tormented her for years.

With this thought in mind, Hermione nodded. She lowered the robe so that it rest just above her breasts. Draco leaned in without a word and began to heal.

She was thankful that he did not complain about her resistance to show skin. Though she would be wearing a bra if she stripped the robe completely, she felt unbelievably exposed already, not being one of those girls who, so willingly, pulled off their tops in the presence of every wizard that walked by. An image of Lavender came to mind.

Disregarding the expected gashes on her front, Draco's eyes narrowed as the robe that she had pressed against her so tightly was lowered to revile a patch of purplish bruises that had begun to flower by her collarbone. The purple spots trailed down to her neck, over her chest, and disappeared beneath the bathrobe pressed against her body.

When he looked up at her, she avoided his eyes. Bruise after bruise, cut after cut, he healed all of the visible wounds on her chest. After every single one above the towel line had been healed, he turned his attention to the front her neck.

She just about jumped out of her skin when his fingers came up beneath her neck to tip her head back slightly. Hermione felt a tingling, though she put it off to be the after-affect of the healing charm.

He leaned in even closer in concentration. As he did, a smell that was uniquely his invaded her senses. It was a good thing that she wasn't standing, as her knees surely would have given out on her.

Hermione's breathing increased in speed, nervous at how close he was. She did the best she could to calm herself, knowing that Draco would notice every inhale, being so close.

"Done," he breathed, leaning back from her. If only he knew the affect he had on her...This is Malfoy! No... She could not afford to have her senses swayed by expensive cologne, even if it did smell unbearably sexy. "Will you be strong enough to finish..." He motioned with his wand at the robe she clutched to her breasts and around her midsection. Hermione rouged before nodding.

"Already healed." Draco looked at her quizzically. "Before you came in..." The blond nodded as she trailed off.

"Then I guess all that is left is your arms." Hermione nodded gratefully. As much as she felt great discomfort, she was thankful for his assistance. The additional abrasions to her body would have proved to be a great challenge for her alone. Had she attempted to heal her old cuts accompanied with the new, she would have exhausted herself to the point where she was certain she would have passed out.

Slightly less apprehensive, she held out her right arm. Grasping it above her elbow and at the wrist, Draco twisted it slightly to examine all angles. Though they were not as brutally cut, he did not seem any more pleased. His mouth remained set in a firm line across his face, and Hermione found herself examining the shape of his lips, just as she had while entwined in his memory.

Recognizing that she was doing so, she took a shuddering breath in, causing Draco to look up at her. He smirked lightly before looking down once more. Hermione tried to think of something to say, but found that she could think of nothing, so she too dropped her gaze to the back of her wrist where Draco's wand was pointed and watched the skin knit together.

When the blond was satisfied with his work, he gently returned her arm to her side before reaching out to take her left, but she leaned away.

"You should rest. Healing spells take a lot out of a wizard," she stated in her best know-it-all voice. In truth, she did not want him to cross paths with the scar on her left wrist, for fear that it would bring up the topic that she wished to avoid.

The boy raised an eyebrow, still holding out his hand, inviting her to place it there.

"Really? What text book did you read that in?" Draco scoffed, reaching for her arm.

"Well actually I came across the piece of information for the first time in second year, page sixty-three of..." Hermione trailed off as the blonde lifted both of his eyebrows. "Never mind. My point is, you should take a break."

"I just have your arms to do, it will hardly expend any more of my energy," he scoffed.

Her movements were indecisive.

"Come on Hermione," he said in a low voice. Startled, she looked up at him, her brown eyes full of fear, almost as though she was a wild animal trapped in a corner, and had given up all hope of escape. What she saw in the cool blue eyes that looked back at her calmed her, so reluctantly she stretched out her left arm, being sure to hide the scar on her wrist by facing her palm down.

He accepted it carefully. His strong hand was surprisingly gentle as he held her shaking wrist steady so he could heal the abrasions.

He could feel the shuddering in her limb, and he was sure to move as quickly and efficiently as he could; she desperately needed rest, even if she would not recognize it.

Following the healing of the back of her hand, he made to turn it slightly. Hermione's intake of breath startled him, and he looked up at her.

"There are no wounds on that side." Draco looked at her skeptically. What else could she be possibly trying to hide.

"I-I've already healed them," Hermione replied, nervously to the pair of eyes that seemed to be peering right through her lie.

She gripped the bottom of her wrist as his grip tightened slightly to flip over her arm. When he finally managed to do so, he noted that Hermione had not been lying, his eyes met only clean skin. But then why was she so apprehensive of him seeing the underside of her arm?

The blond looked down at her other hand covering her wrist before looking back into her deep brown eyes. Not breaking the connection between their gaze, Draco put his wand on the counter beside the basin and brought his hand to peel away the one covering her wrist.

He felt her grip giving way as he tugged lightly at her hand. As it slid away, he was able to see the beginnings of tears glittering in her eyes.

Dropping his gaze, he saw, etched into her arm, what he assumed to be Derricks initials.

He allowed the pad of his thumb to run carefully over the ridged lettering that seemed to be embossed on the surface of her skin, the only cut that seemed to have fully healed.

Though his exterior was calm, his insides seemed to have been set on fire. He wanted Derrick to hurt. He wanted the man to hurt more than he, himself, ached inside upon regarding her wrist.

"You can tell no one," she annunciated, seriously. Draco looked up in time to watch as several tears fell over her cheeks and disappeared under her chin. Noticing his change in eye color as he did, Hermione snatched her wrist back, hopped from the counter and pulled on her robe swiftly. They had changed to a dark onyx, and if she understood his eyes correctly, he was furious.

She hurried out of the room, not wanting to hear Draco bring up Derrick's name again. As if she could hide from the name. It was she who said that 'fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself' and she still felt that rang true, however she feared the thing itself far more than the name, but the name seemed to still cut her like a knife.

Draco followed her out, not allowing her to avoid him that easily. "So you are just going to...to let that happen? I thought you were smarter than-"

"I don't have a choice!" Hermione shouted back, turning on her heel.

Draco stopped short a step, noting the tears that were beginning to fill her eyes again. "You don't understand. I cannot say anything. You cannot say anything. Lives depend on it."

Lives depended on her silence, and if it had something to do with her parents, having been pulled in the fire along with Hermione because of her stance between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. Little did Draco know, Hermione believed that her parents had experienced a luxurious cruise, and were already back in their homes.

"What? Potter's?" he scoffed referring to their earlier decision about why she did not simply tell Dumbledore. "You would honestly take the brunt of something for that weezeback?"

"Just because you don't like Harry does not give you the right to say that his life is not important!" Hermione fired back.

"More important than your own?" Draco asked, genuinely curious if the girl actually thought that Potter was more important than herself.

Hermione looked at him like she had never seen him before. "I am not one for house stereotypes, but that...You really are a cold blooded Slytherin at heart. I should have supposed that you would not understand..." Draco did not show it, but it hurt him deeply that she had just dismissed his view as that of his house. Hermione caught the flicker in his eye and immediately knew that she had hit a nerve, so she added quietly, "Yes. Harry's life is much more important..."

"But what does the pathetic life of Potter have to do with this?" He did not mention that he already knew that she was to be questioned for information regarding his movements, however he did not see how simply telling Dumbledore or Harry would cause his death.

"It has everything to do with it...Harry's loyalty to his friends would bring him to the ends of the earth. If he found out what...what He was doing, then he would loose focus on what was really important." Hermione did not have to say what she was referring to; the downfall of Lord Voldemort. "And his stupid head would cause him to..." Hermione trailed off, frazzled. Draco raised his eyebrows, never having heard her say anything negative about Potter.

"You think that you will be a distraction?" Draco asked, appalled. He was impressed at the girl's loyalty, though it made him angry at the same time. "Stupid Gryffindores and their loyalty..." Draco muttered. Hermione heard him and, thinking he was referring to Harry, unbeknownst to herself that it was she that he was actually referring to, she said, "Well, at least we have loyalty."

"We have loyalty, we just choose wisely who to be loyal to," he looked at her pointedly, "and why to be loyal to them."

He walked over to the black leather couch by the fire and took a seat, the cushion warm from the heat radiating from the flames. "I wont tell Dumbledore."

"Or-" Hermione began, however, Draco cut her off swiftly.

"Or Potter."

"Or anyone else..." the brunette added. The Slytherin nodded in response, knowing that this was the only reassurance that he could give that he would not betray her trust. "I promise." However he did not promise that he would not do something himself. The thought left him sitting quite smug.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She did not know why she was relieved that he had promised that he would not tell...in fact, she knew that she should be on edge, but everything she thought that she knew seemed no longer to be correct. For what ever reason, she trusted Draco Malfoy with the information she had disclosed.

She hesitated before walking past an empty chair to share the couch with him, though she sat pressed against the arm rest, creating distance between them that did not escape Draco's notice.

He knew that passing the chair, for her, would have been hard enough. Being as closed off as she was, it would have been natural for her to take the single seat as it would have felt more secure for a person who wished to stand alone. Choosing rather to share the couch with himself pleased him greatly, informing him that she trusted him. Or at least felt comfortable enough to sit on the same piece of furniture without pointing a wand at his throat.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, each of their attention set on the flickering flames that licked the inside of the brick fireplace.

Draco did not know how he had decided upon the subject, perhaps it was because he could think of nothing else to say, but before he could stop himself he asked, "How was stepping into my life today, Granger?" Hermione looked at him curiously, obviously not comprehending the subject of which he wished to breach. "Today's Charms class," he clarified.

"Oh," she exaggerated, feeling her heart race increase. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately, in the presence of Draco Malfoy. "Well, it was rather, enlightening, I suppose," she said, not knowing how to tell the truth, while still avoiding telling him what she had seen. If things were going to turn awkward between them because she had shown him herself, it would only become more so upon him learning what memory she had seen.

"Enlightening," Draco mused, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "And how might a memory of mine be enlightening to a knowledge-grubbing mind like yourself?" he teased, and Hermione made a face at the noun. He could see Hermione visibly relax away from the armrest at his reversion to his petty teasing that no longer seemed to bother her.

The truth was, Draco was unsure if he really wanted to find out what Hermione had seen. It could have been so terribly embarrassing, perhaps this was the reason she had chosen to breach the subject. His curiosity, however, overruled the rationality of the Malfoy.

"Knowledge-grubbing, my arse. There is a vast difference between having a thirst for knowledge and grubbing for it; I have an element of pride. Actually, I am surprised that you have not suffered from dehydration with your virtually non-existent thirst for knowledge," she growled back. In truth, Hermione recognized the fact that Draco was probably the most academically capable students in her wake, and not that she would admit it, up on her tail end.

Draco smirked, glad that her tone reflected the Hermione he was accustomed to.

"Oh, come on, I am honored that such an intelligent person has found a memory of mine 'enlightening'!"

Despite his tone being completely drenched in sarcasm, Hermione merely smiled and rolled her eyes. The witch did not realize that, hidden behind the sarcastic shell, lay a complement that the blond could not yet word. Seeming to see that she would not reply, Draco asked the question that Hermione feared.

"So what did you see?" His words hung in the air between them for several seconds. "Come on Hermione," he prodded when she did not respond.

Hermione looked over at the boy sprawled out, his feet up on the dark stained coffee table, seeming to measure him. Draco merely stared back. When her moment of scrutiny turned into twenty, he spoke again. "It's my memory, I think that I deserve to know."

Hermione scoffed, "Well if we are going to get technical, you already do know, because as you said, it is your memory!" Draco narrowed his eyes at her as she brought up her feet beneath her on the cushion and smirked triumphantly over at him.

Damn her intelligence. Had it been any other girl, Draco figured it would have been easy enough to coax the answer out of her by a simple enough means of...persuasion, but he figured that Hermione would not be all that open to such a methods. In fact, he rather enjoyed hearing her smart remarks. It made banter that much more enjoyable.

The brunette chewed on the inside of her cheek, analyzing his movements. Should she tell him? He wanted to know, but she was too nervous to inform him. What if he laughed at her? What if he turned it into some cruel joke? Having never been been kissed by a male, other than Derrick of course, she was inexperienced as to how one would react when approached about it, especially a boy like Draco Malfoy.

He was known for numerous his relationships, so surely a fleeting kiss meant nothing to him; he was most likely one of those guys that recorded his successes on the side of his bedpost. But someone like him probably would not have designated a post for merely kissing a girl.

Hermione came to her decision. She was going to question him about the kiss. He had learned something incredibly personal about her, now it was her turn to learn something about him; more specifically, why it was that Draco had chosen to kiss her.

"The memory," the brunette began, immediately earning the concentrated attention of the boy seated beside her, "took place the evening that I was in the hospital wing, and you came to drop off my books. Do you remember?" Of course he remembered! It was his memory!

Draco was a little more than surprised when Hermione actually chose to answer his question. Usually, once Hermione had set her mind, she was unwavering, unwilling to change it. He also knew what that memory could possibly entail. But surely his subconscious would not be stupid enough to allow her wand to pull such a memory.

Draco nodded, his eyebrows pressed together. "And how exactly was that enlightening. You have the exact same recollection, do you not?" he asked slowly, fearing the answer. It did not escape his memory, that he had kissed her temple that evening. Did he want Hermione to know that he had kissed her?

Hermione bit her lip gently, subconsciously brushing her fingers across her temple, an action which the blond did not miss. The movement gave him hope that she would not completely reject him, but also a slight tinge of fear that she wouldn't...

"Well, for the most part, yes. But your version had..more to the memory..." she trailed off. Draco ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the golden locks, before lacing his fingers atop his robes

"Am I going to have to ask you to further explain, or will you do me the courtesy?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher than he intended. He did not wish to lash out at her, it was an unconscious self-defense mechanism he had built up over the years, and paired with being more nervous than he could ever remember feeling, made him instantly regret his tone. He held his tongue upon noting Hermione was preparing to speak.

"Well, you...erm..yes, uhh, you kissed...you kissed me." Due to her lack of confidence, her voice rose slightly at the end of her statement, phasing the proclamation more like a question.

Draco, who had been avoiding her gaze while she spoke, lifted it from his clasped hands to meet her own.

"That I did," he mumbled back, barely audible.

Hermione's heart accelerated at his answer. He did not appear to be defensive about it, meaning that perhaps he did not regret it, or at least, that was her theory.

She swallowed quickly, to allow her to speak clearly, however her throat seemed to wish to be uncooperative. Though his reaction was not exactly welcoming her interrogation, she pressed on, knowing that if he had truly wanted to silence her, he would have already done so.

"Well, actually yes. I was curious as to why you did so," she said timidly. Hermione did her best to compose her face, attempting to look passive. Inside, her stomach was in knots. It was utterly humiliating asking such a question.

Draco remained pensive for a long minute, and during each passing second, Hermione further regretted asking the question...almost; curiosity won out, as it so often did in her case; a pro and a con to being a Gryffindor.

The blond considered answering her question truthfully, but thought better of it. His feelings for Hermione were better left untold lest anyone find out they were as true as he feared.

After a long silence, she thought better and retracted the question with a quick "Just...never mind." Draco kept his vision forward and remained silent.

Hermione struggled to rid the room of the uncomfortable silence that fell between them. "So, what memory did you see?" Again, Draco chose not to answer, his gaze remaining trained on an artfully crafted piece situated above the mantel.

"So it's alright that you push me to tell you what memory I witnessed, but heaven forbid that I ask you!" Hermione said, irritated at his lack of conversation.

"Must you always assume I am so conceited?" he hissed, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Well what else am I to assume! You have avoided every single question I have asked you, while I have provided the answer to every single one of yours!" Hermione stood angrily. "It was not easy, Malfoy! It really wasn't. I thought that you might understand. I don't know why I did, but perhaps I was wrong..." Hermione made to walk around the far end of the couch, but was stopped when Draco finally chose to speak.

"Why are you loyal to Potter?" Hermione turned around to look at him with a bewildered expression on her face.

"What is that supposed to mean?" returned with a slight edge. "What does that question have to do with anything?"

"Just answer. Why are you loyal to him?" The brunette considered.

"I-because I want to be there. To support him in his quest to vanish the Lord, so that all witches and wizards, regardless of their parentage, can study magic," she answered quickly. "And he is my friend."

Hermione had forgotten much of her anger following her short, apparently practiced explanation, as the emotion was quickly replaced with confusion.

"Yes, but why you? There are tons of wizards who would be more than willing to stand beside him, why you?"

Hermione unconsciously moved closer to the boy who remained seated on the couch.

"Something inside of me tells me that is my place. Something draws me to help him regardless of the danger he is in," Hermione replied honestly. She would do anything to make the wizarding world a place where her children, the children of the future, could go to school and live without fear of others judging them harshly for their blood status, as she had been and continued to be.

Draco looked at her seriously, preparing to explain why he had asked such a peculiar question.

"Well, what would you say if something inside drew myself to you that night as well? Regardless of the danger that separates our two worlds." He looked pointedly at the space that separated them.

Hermione's lips parted as she dropped to a seated position, a full cushion closer to Draco than she had realized, but Draco did.

Hermione did her best to absorb his words, however in her attempts to understand, her contemplation spiraled into confusion.

"Were you...are you not repulsed?" A flash of surprise shot across Draco's face. Why would she think that he would be repulsed? He shook his head, surprised that he was admitting this to Hermione. Perhaps it was because he knew how painful the internal battle she must have experienced before she had admitted all that she did to him.

"As much as I wanted to be...I wasn't." The blond did not have to explain to her why he wished to be; he knew that she would understand that the collision of their two worlds could only mean destruction.

Hermione nodded; a simple response that contradicted the ranging waves of emotion inside of her. She was not...pleased? No, that was not it. Or was she? The brunette could not make up her mind, and the fact that she had recently allowed herself to finally admit that the boy was...decent looking...did not help much in the least. For this reason, Hermione decided to ask a question that she had been wondering the moment he had lifted her from the ground and entered the Room of Requirement.

"Why are you here?" she whispered. Draco looked at her for a long moment, raw emotion swimming in the depths of his eyes.

"Must I really ask you again; why is it that you are loyal to Potter?" he whispered, edging slightly closer to her. Hermione understood. If what he was saying was true, in referencing Harry again meant that something compelled him to be with her that very second. It didn't seem real. Draco Malfoy would not say such a thing to her, but then again, Draco Malfoy would have also chosen to leave her in the corridor after Derrick had his way with her. Something compelled him. She did not want wait to find out what it was.

Then they were back. The fluttering butterflies in her stomach chose that moment to emerge from their cocoons and beat their wings against the walls of their cage violently.

The space that separated them became slightly smaller as Hermione shifted closer to him nervously. She felt drawn to him, but at the same time, she had the urge to hurdle the couch and hide behind the bed where she could not feel his gaze on her.

Her change in position earned another surprised look from Draco. "Finally warming up to me are you, Granger?" he winked at her, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter faster, or rather cease fluttering, and enter into a mode of full blown seizure.

"Or is it that your heart is finally beginning to thaw?" Hermione returned, her voice slightly weaker than she had intended. Draco quirked his lips into his beautifully crafted smirk, but it soon slipped away to be replaced with a more serious look as his eyes landed on her lips.

When Hermione realized this, her heart leapt and of their own accord, they parted to allow passage of breath. Was she really considering kissing Draco Malfoy?

Looking up from the minuscule space that separated their legs, Hermione found herself staring up directly into the blond's deep blue eyes, their noses mere inches apart.

Her eyes darted to his lips, a movement that did not remain unnoticed by the ever observant Draco Malfoy. He smirked lightly, causing her to return his gaze with a blush; his fingered stretched out to brush his fingers across the reddened skin before it disappeared.

She relaxed into his hand, remembering all to vividly the dream that she had experienced hours before. Hermione never would have guessed that his touch would feel that much better in real life.

The Gryffindor also recalled the dream ending before their lips had made full contact. This time, she did not want to wake up. Completely forgetting that their destinies were intwined at two different ends of the spectrum, she closed the distance between their lips.

All the while her heart was pounding violently, a company of butterflies fluttered violently in her stomach; it was a wonder that the combination did not shatter her ribcage.

It took a moment before Draco was able to respond. However much he wished to kiss Hermione, he did not dare think about such an action. It surprised him immensely when she had taken initiative.

Getting over his stupor, he began to return her kiss, drawing her slightly closer, though keeping in mind that Hermione would more than likely be apprehensive.

For a full moment in time, all in the world felt right. The soft kiss held more in it's depths than the thousand he had so carelessly given away in the past. The moment of bliss did not last for long, however, as it was cut off my several of excruciating pain.

He jumped back from Hermione, a burning sensation beginning to consume his right hand. Grinding his teeth together, he stood roughly, fighting the urge to rip off the ring on his right hand. It was an impossible feat anyway; Voldemort had charmed the ring such that it could not be removed while he was being called. Similar to the Dark Mark that he was too young to receive, the silver ring, embossed with his family crest, would exude an identically painful notification of their Lord's bid.

Looking back at Hermione quickly, he could see the surprise then pain flash upon her features. His hand continued to throb under the pressure of the ring, and the dark magic that flowed from within it. Draco resisted the urge to cringe as a result of her expression, and the pain in his arm. She couldn't know.

"I-I have to go," he ground out through his teeth, doing his best to ignore his current pain.

Hermione did not say anything in return, however her expression said it all. The work that he had done to prove himself to Hermione seemed to have slowly ebbed away, dwindling down to nothing. At the moment, she appeared to be outright betrayed.

He turned on his heal, trying to rid himself of the anguish he still saw in her deep brown eyes. Draco would have fought it if he could, but should Voldemort or his parents discover the reasoning behind an evasion of a gathering...he didn't want to think of the punishment for either of them, especially Hermione.

Draco managed to slip through the corridors of Hogwarts unseen by even the evenings' prefects, whom he remembered to be Potter and Pansy. The alterations he had made to the schedule involved switching an evening of patrol that he was forced to share with Pansy. It just so happened that it was Potter that was partnered up with Hermione that particular evening. For Hermione to be paired with himself, Potter had to be switched with his own name, and consequently, Pansy was forced with scar-head for an evening a week.

He snickered upon recalling the face that Pansy had made upon viewing the new schedule. If Potter was even only half as peeved as Pansy had been, than Draco would be more overjoyed than he already was at the convenience of the switch. Any opportunity to throw Potter under the trolly was one that he would gladly take, and if Pansy got dragged along, all the better. Since the schedule change, noticing that Hermione had more face time with Draco, Pansy had taken it upon herself to become even more possessive than the blond thought possible. It helped to have prefect duties to escape to.

But it seems that even switching the schedule did not protect Hermione as it should have. He thought ruefully. The hatred that he had felt burn through him had not yet been quelled. Draco feared that it never would be, that the only water that could put out the raging flames that engulfed his insides, was the skinning of his DADA professor.

The ring on his finger continued to burn, as he knew it would until he had reached the meeting place inside his manor. This was the first time that it had been implemented; he much preferred a letter in advance, but he supposed that was now too risky. While his hand throbbed under the stress of the ring, but his chest heart more, remembering all too well the hurt expression that Hermione had adopted when he had left in such a rude manner. He resided to work something out with her after he returned.

After reaching the apparition point in Hogsmeade, he spun on the spot, the familiar navel-gripping sensation pulling him to the dining room in the manor.

The figures that lined the table were draped loosely in a thin vail of noir cloth that hung lightly over their shoulders to pool at their feet, covering their hands, and allowed for their identities to be preserved with the aid of the looming shadows that obscured their face.

His sudden occupation of space from his apparition interrupted the stationary air particles, causing them to barrel forward and collide with the lightweight cloaks worn by each of the twenty-two Death Eaters positioned down the length of the expensive mahogany table. As a result, the fine dark fabric fluttered delicately in the breeze before floating softly down to rest again, over their forms. Drawn by the current of air, the hoods of each Death Eater looked up swiftly.

"It is nice of you to join us, Draco," Voldemort hissed from the head of the table, his voice interrupting the chilled silence that seemed to have settled over the room long before his arrival.

The blond nodded stiffly in response, seating himself as quickly as he could to avoid the sharp gaze that seemed to follow his every movement as he strode over to the table. Being that there was only two available seats left in the dinning hall were positioned at the end of the long table, he did not have to walk far to take his place.

"Ah-Ahh," Voldemort tisked as Draco made to sit. "You, Dolohov. Shift down one seat." The left side of the table grunted in distain as they shimmied down as their Lord requested. It was not uncommon for the seating arrangement to alter in such a manner, as table seating was designated by rank, or rather, importance of issue. As Draco now played a very distinctive roll in one of Voldemort's most recent plans, he had the 'honor' of being able to sit beside the man.

One humorless look from the Dark Lord, and the grumbling ceased immediately, leaving the only sounds to be that of the chair scraping against the dark marble floors.

"It seems that you have made record time," the man noted as Draco took his seat beside him.

Draco had become accustomed to his father's allowance of the snake-like man into his home when he was of a young age. While Lucius welcomed him like a god, Draco still felt uncomfortable in his presence, despite growing up in such close proximity to the warmonger. However, seeing him from afar, gliding purposefully through the manor every week or so since his revival was one thing; sitting beside him at the head of a table lined completely with supporting Death Eaters was another.

"Dare I say that Hogwarts has become rather lenient with allowing its students out after hours. Either that, or you have been gifted with your father's methods of persuasion," Voldemort's lips curled into an approving smirk. A few of the Death Eaters snickered at what the man had said.

Draco did not understand what 'methods of persuasion' that he was referring to, however the conversation that he had overheard that very day in Hermione's memory between his father and Derrick gave him a sneaking suspicion of what such a method would entail. Rather than replying, Draco curled his lips into the most convincing smirk he could muster, while only barely succeeding in holding down his dinner.

The Dark Lord appeared to be appeased, as he returned to his usual formality. "There is one more of our rank that must be accounted for, but as the evening draws on, I feel that it is important that we cut directly to our course of business." The group remained quiet as they waited for Voldemort to address the Death Eater of his choosing. No one was surprised when he turned his red eyes to the blond seated beside him.

Draco did not have to look over at the man sitting to his right, nor at any of the Death Eaters looking at him to feel the attention suddenly concentrated on himself. The blond appeared to be utterly unperturbed as scarlet eyes set about their unreserved scrutiny, though internally Draco felt nothing of the such. His well-practiced calm and composed demeanor did wonders in creating the allusion of a confident Draco Malfoy, though his internal self was uneasy. He felt exhausted from the strain of emotions that he had undergone while Hermione had spilled many of her secrets.

"What information have you to give me regarding the movements of Harry Potter." Draco had completely disregarded the Dark Lord's orders in squeezing information out of Hermione, and had focused on unraveling the mysteries that surrounded her person. Naturally, the blond had no new information to satisfy his master's hunger.

"She has not yet disclosed a information valuable to this council." He had been certain to include the word 'yet', as Voldemort would more than likely pick apart his statement, had he not.

The air suddenly felt a great deal heavier. The heads of the Death Eaters swiveled from himself to their leader seated beside him, gauging his reaction, waiting. Draco knew that his answer was not one that would please the Dark Lord, and it seemed that the followers agreed.

Voldemort brought his up is right hand and placed it underneath his pale neck in a fist, wresting his snake-like head atop it. Draco did his best not to cringe at the sight of the broken, yellowing claws that grew in the place of nails. The man returned his gaze for several moments in silence before speaking.

"So you have made no headway with the girl," he stated in a simple tone that made the air surrounding Draco's skin feel as though the temperature decreased even further. "Do I need to explain to you how crucial the information held in her brain is?"

"I understand, Sir. I have indeed made progress, but you must understand, she is not the type to willingly share information with one that has so obvious ties to a man as powerful as yourself. Especially regarding Harry Potter, their hopeful. It is only natural that she would be a little hesitant when conversing with the son of a Death Eater."

Voldemort considered his words, and as he did, Draco did also. It was true. He was the son of a known Death Eater. How could he expect Hermione to go closer to him. It now seemed like a miracle that she had even disclosed as much information as she did.

"Yes, I see your dilemma," he replied slowly, eyeing a Death Eater seated at the far end of the table, at least eight or nine seats down, that Draco presumed to be his father. Draco was sure that if he quieted his own breathing, he would hear the quickened breaths that his father took, resulting from the Lord's scrutiny, in the silent room.

"Perhaps we should cease waisting time on this seemly hopeless endeavor, and start down a new path. If this is done, you are to stay away from that girl completely. Though it should not be too difficult, as I am sure the stench of mudblood is unearthly and repulsive." A few Death Eaters laughed, nodding in agreement. It was Bellatrix, seated across from Draco, who squealed the loudest.

"No, my Lord. I do feel that I am making enough progress that I might be able to-"

" 'Might' and 'able' are two completely different terms Draco. It would do well for you to distinguish them. You have been unsuccessful by no fault of your own," he looked up at Lucius pointedly, as if accusing him for being the father of the boy seated beside him. "I am more than aware that you are a dedicated follower. You will not be punished as severely as you would have been, had it been under other circumstances. That being said, do not think that your failure will go unpunished." Voldemort paused. "I must think other arrangements to extract the information from the Mudblood, but that can be dealt with later," he added, more so to himself than to the other men that now leaned toward him, holding on to every spoken word.

"Now, rise." Draco did as he was told, mirroring Voldemort's actions. He knew what was to come. He knew that it was his turn to be punished, though he did not regret his actions in the least. He may have failed one mission, but he had succeeded at another. Both missions were important in the eyes of the seeker, and it just so happened he had caught one snitch of pure gold, while releasing an identical one of plated gold.

"Crucio," Voldemort said in a rather bored tone, as though he had used the curse so many times that it had actually become a chore.

The moment the word was uttered, Draco felt the familiar sensation of cold knives in combination with a thousand volts of electricity attack every nerve in his body.

Draco did not fight the uncontrollable writhing that came with the spell; to resist meant to hurt more later. The Cruciatus curse was not one that you could become immune to. It was a magical assault that did not dilute with time.

Writhing, he bit back a scream unsuccessfully, causing Voldemort to shiver in delight at the effect he was having on his follower. After another moment, he allowed he curse to drop, leaving Draco breathing heavily on the cold marble floor. He walked over to him before crouching down. The putrid stench of his breath, caused Draco to hold his own, despite the gasps of breath he so desperately required following the curse.

"Now, I hope that you will acquire from this experience, a greater desire to complete future endeavors to my satisfaction, even if odds are against you."

Draco nodded, not hearing what Voldemort was telling him, only trying to clear the pain that still lingered in his brain from the curse.

"Now get up." Obeying, Draco stood to his full height. "It is time that you return to Hogwarts before your absence is noticed." The blond nodded once more, hoping that he did not appear to eager; such an attitude would only cause further punishment.

After bowing, the Slytherin walked as normally as he could, given the severe trauma his body had experienced moments before. Or at least he did, until he noticed a figure standing silently at the end of the table.

A few of the other Death Eaters lifted their gazes to also recognize the presence.

"Derrick," Voldemort said with a sick smile. "How nice of you to finally join us. I didn't hear your arrival, I was...a bit preoccupied." Draco also had not noticed his arrival, as the unbearable pain that had swept through him squashed the possibly of producing a coherent thought, let alone paying attention to events outside of his brain; he had missed his arrival apparition.

The Hogwarts professor bowed low. "My Lord. I cannot apologize enough for my late arrival. The professors thought it necessary to hold a late night meeting of sorts." At this, Draco almost scoffed. Late night meeting? Yes, it may have perhaps been a 'late night meeting' however it was not Hogwarts professors that he was having tea with.

The blond considered outing him right there before Voldemort; perhaps he would receive his juste deserts, however he thought better of the action. He figured that Voldemort was most definitely in on the problem that Hermione was having with Derrick, that it was he who originally sent him after the innocent girl to get information, thus making it unwise to turn him in to him. But what really confused the boy, was the lie that Derrick had told. Why was it that, if he had permission to break Hermione, he would lie about his activities that very evening? It hurt his head to sort out the details. Besides. Draco wanted to be the one that caused the most pain to him, especially after witnessing first hand what Hermione had to deal with.

"I see," said Voldemort with a slight edge. "Do sit, I do not have all night." Derrick made to sit at the end of the table, just as Draco attempted upon his arrival, however before he could seat himself, Voldemort addressed him. "Beside me." He motioned to the seat from which Draco had risen minutes earlier.

"Very well, My Lord."

By this time, Draco had managed to, with a great deal of effort, brush away the beads of sweat that had begun to accumulate on his forehead without his notice.

Voldemort, nor any of the other Death Eaters looked up to acknowledge his departure, so Draco did not say a word and took the cue to leave.

...

Voldemort peered over his hands at Derrick, seeming to analyze his every movement. "It has come to my attention that things are going at a pace a great deal slower than I had originally hoped. Something must be done."

Immediately, Derrick prompted a response in an obsequious tone that rivaled that of the sniveling Wormtail.

"Yes my Lord. Recruiting has been a difficult task with the teachers on constant watch, but I have managed to-"

"This has nothing to do with our numbers...we will get to that later," he added in an icy tone. "But it does have to do with Miss Granger. It appears that Draco has not been able to extract the information that I required by this time, so something else must be done; tactics must be altered."

"I agree completely."

"But My Lord," interjected a nameless Death Eater positioned half way down the table. "How can we isolate the girl specifically? I can tell you that a great deal of precautions have been made, what with the Triwizard Tournament being held that the school this year. I fear that we will not have a clear shot with all of their security measures."

At this, Voldemort's serious expression turned to one of malice, with a simple curve of his thin lips. "The Triwizard Tournament," he mused. "Perhaps we can use such a function to our advantage. I have decided that it will no longer be simply Miss Granger that we will be targeting, but Harry Potter himself."

A majority of the dark hoods turned to communicate with one another, each unsure of what their master was plotting. With each passing moment, Voldemort's smirk seemed to become more and more pronounced, his eyes a continually darkening scarlet.

"A pen. I require a quill and a sheet of parchment," he barked. Several Death Eaters looked at one another as though designating jobs. That was until Voldemort's cry of "NOW!" brought about four or five of them out of their seats, causing each to trip over the other in search of a sheet of parchment and scurrying to seek out a quill.

When Yaxley returned with a foot long segment of parchment, he ordered him to rip a tiny scrap off from the corner. After placing the scrap before his master, he departed with a quick bow. Lucius followed, presenting his master with an expensive silver nib quill and an onyx ink pot.

Voldemort bent over the sheet for a mere two seconds, during which all was silent, but for the etching of the nib on parchment. It felt that as soon as he picked up the quill, he had replaced it beside the ink pot.

The group remained quiet as Voldemort took up his wand and performed a spell that caused the two words on the parchment to dry, thus avoiding the monotonous task of waiting. His long pail fingers, cracked nails and all, picked up the scrap, folded it once and slid it toward the wizard sitting to his right.

"This evening, I expect that, upon your return to Hogwarts, this piece of parchment will be placed in the flames of the Goblet of Fire." Without looking at the scrap, Derrick slipped it into his pocket.

"Yes, my Lord," he said eagerly. Satisfied, Voldemort turned his attention to the line of Death Eaters waiting patiently for their next order.

"Then I would say that this meeting is closed. Do not disappoint me, Derrick." The Hogwarts professor rose from his seat, bowed, walked to the door, and once through it, dispirited with a quick turn on the spot.

Taking his disapparition as their cue to leave, the other Death Eaters that lined the table rose also, each with the intent of doing the same, however, one follower did not receive the chance.

"Bellatrix!"

"Y-Yes my Lord!" she answered, with all the vigor she could muster, positively gleeful that he had addressed her.

"I wish to have a word with you." The witch walked proudly past the group of disapparating wizards, her head held high, proud that it was she who had the honor of being addressed by someone she felt was the greatest wizard of their time.

She bowed as a sign of devotion, her nose almost skimming the impeccable marble floor in the process.

"I wanted to inform you that the charade that you have been playing for the past few years will not go unrewarded. Your allegiance it greatly noted." Bellatrix's eyes widened.

"I wish to take no reward. I do you bidding willingly."

Voldemort's lips curled. "All the same. I am finding my work tedious, as I am sure you are as well. I am here to tell you that it is almost over. As much as I know you dislike your mission right now, it must be done to keep Derrick within the walls of Hogwarts. What with my suspicions with Severus, it is nice to have someone else inside. I believe that with this next plan, Harry Potter will not survive past the end of this year, and Derrick the mudblood can finally be disposed of. His vigor is well enough, however his blood status, I fear, will eventually contaminate my ranks."

"I agree whole heartedly, my Lord," Bellatrix nodded. "The farce has been difficult. Pretending to love a creature with a blood status as low as his own has been truly disgusting, but I do it all for you, and for the prospect of a world without such creatures to taint it."

"Well then. I expect that you will not have to continue it much longer if he proves victorious. He will die either way. It only matters that he places Harry Potter's name into the Goblet before he does.

...

The corridors were dark as expected, but light of the rising sun was beginning to make its way through the glass windows that lined the cold stone walls of the castle as Derrick skulked through the deserted hallways, his destination being the room in which the famous Goblet of Fire resided.

In his pocket, rest the folded piece of parchment that his master had given him not ten minutes prior, however, another slip accompanied the first, baring another name.

His footsteps were quiet, as was the door when he finally pushed it open to reveal the cup in the center of the room.

Without hesitation, Derrick lifted his hand which held the scraps of paper and cast them over the brim of the goblet. The two pieces of parchment immediately went up in flames, the corners being eaten away first, before the two names were swallowed completely and turned to ash.

The man left the room as silently as he had come, unaware of the presence that had been peering through the open door. Unaware of the pair of eyes that had just witnessed his every movement.

* * *

...

_When Dumbledore looked up to face the body of students before him, his blue eyes held a confusion that Hermione had never seen in her years at Hogwarts. Her heart froze when they landed on her. At first, she thought that she was interpreting his action wrong, however moments later, his voice confirmed her fear._

...

**Muhahah Can anyone tell me what they believe will happen in the next chapter! Please review, and chapter title suggestions are always welcome!**


	27. Chapter 27: What Lies Within

I combined Chapters 1 and 2 and reworked the beginning a bit to make it flow a bit better (though I will be going through the fic once more at the end). I cannot say thank you directly to everyone because I deleted the first chapter (bumping all chapter number reviews to different places or deleting them entirely…I am so confused - but I did read them, and thank you so much for all of your kind words!)

I hope that this **EXTRA LONG CHAPTER** will be enough to make you forgive me for my horrible updates! I was to tired after writing to edit so please forgive me for my mistakes. Please be gentle :P (20, 399 words is my new record, though I think I am going to stick to the shorter chapters now :P)

* * *

**Chapter 27**

Hermione groaned as she rolled over to press her face further into her pillow. The texture was not nearly as rough as she had she had become accustomed to, not that hers was comparable to sandpaper per say, merely the texture of the fabric was heavenly against her cheek, almost creating the illusion that her head was resting peacefully in a cloud.

She opened her eyes slowly to find herself lying amidst a tangle of unfamiliar bedsheets, encased in their dark shade. Where was she?

Sitting up, it took her only a moment to recognize, in her groggy stupor, that she was in the Room of Requirement. As her eyes fell on the dark leather couch positioned in front of the fireplace that had sometime through the evening, burned the last of its fuel, memories from the previous night began to flood back in painful waves.

Draco. Her. Room of Requirement. Scars. Kiss. The bombardment of memories potent with emotion was just too much and Hermione found herself falling back into the soft cushions of the bed.

Had she not currently woken up in a bed that was not her own, she would have believed that the thoughts swirling around in her mind at the moment were the reminiscence of a dream, much like the one she had before she had left Gryffindor tower to meet Draco. She had shown everything to him last night; she had essentially opened her soul to him through the map of her scars. As his finger had traced between them, he seemed to have found his way through the maze, and had somehow found her heart in the process.

His care had aided in the heeling of the abrasions that covered her body, and at the time, she thought perhaps a part of her soul had also been heeled in the process, but now she supposed, her heart was shattered in its place.

Draco had admitted to her that he had felt drawn to her, through an analogy he had made about Harry. Such a gesture, made her inclined to kiss him; a kiss that he returned for a moment before running for the door.

His departure hurt her more than the cuts on her body. It was a mixture of betrayal and self loathing that she felt now. After opening herself to him, he had left her alone without any explanation, and now she could not help but think it was her own fault. How could she open up to him? Had she not been level headed enough at the time to realize what a terrible idea it was? Even worse, why had she not been smart enough not to fall for him. It was undoubtably true; she had fallen for Draco Malfoy, and she had fallen hard.

Hermione stood from the bed and walked into the bathroom to stand before the mirror, where she had seen Draco's perfect reflection staring back at her. Had she not known he was standing right behind her from the waves of heat radiating off of his body, it would not have been far to wager that an angel was staring at her from a world beyond.

Hermione's gaze shifted to study her face in the mirror. Why was it that Draco had left? Was she not pretty enough? After studying her features, she really recognized what a valid possibility that could have been. She was not gorgeous like some of the girls she had seen travel around with the blond on occasion.

Her eyes were of a dull brown, why would anyone want to peer into their depths? A connection had to be made with the eyes, as she had so often read within romance stories. She could only imagine what was going through Draco's mind as she was staring into his beautiful storm colored eyes. Hers were no prettier than dirt on the ground that people like him tread on without a thought.

She traced a dark circle beneath her one of her eyes, pensively. Her appearance was a possibility, or was it her blood status? Or a combination of both? It didn't matter. Obviously Malfoy had come to his senses and left before he had gotten in too deep, but that did not stop her from continuing to descend, and now she was trapped, alone.

She did her best to convince herself that his departure was for the better, that it was better for everyone if she never found out what would have happened, had that kiss lasted more than a single moment in time, however she could not shake the dull feeling in her heart that had begun to grow, that had begun to consume her since he had left her alone in the Room of Requirement.

...

"Hermione, you know you can eat more than that!" Ron said, eyeing her oatmeal. Hermione looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to stab him with her fork. Déjà vu was becoming quickly becoming the norm during her breakfast social time. She could not count the number of times that he had pointed out her small portion sizes.

Hermione grumbled in response; she was in no mood to respond to anyone who wished to criticize her habits this morning.

Harry glared at his friend in warning, noticing the fire that burned just behind Hermione's 'dirt colored eyes'. The brunette pretended not to notice.

The impending doom, Transfiguration class with Malfoy, put her on edge. She could not help the fact that with each passing moment, the time that she would have to face him became close and closer.

"Herms, what has got you so on edge?" Harry asked, concerned. He chewed slowly on a waffle that he had just about drowned in syrup. His excuse was always that the Dursleys had never allowed him the privilege of condiments, and that gave him all the more permission to indulge before returning to a summer without syrup.

Hermione had noticed that Harry tended to skirt her eating habits, sensing that the outcome would not be pleasant if he pushed her over the edge this morning.

"Fine, fine. Just stressed about homework and upcoming examinations..."

"Hermione, those are a world away! There will be plenty of time to study later!" Ron said, slightly annoyed at her study habits that had not altered since first year. Hermione looked away before she could see him shovel more food into his mouth, as he so often did.

"I don't find the night before the exam 'plenty of time' like _you_ do," she snapped back, aware that her irritable nature was getting the better of her.

"Are you sure these advanced classes are the greatest idea? They seem to be a bit much-"

"Harry, don't get on my case! I know what I signed up for!" Hermione turned on him. "Just because you would not be able to handle the pressures that upper level classes have, does not mean that I cannot! Ever since I entered the school, save for this year, I have done two other course loads other than my own!" She glared pointedly at both boys, "And I feel that I have done quite well. Subtracting those extra course loads that did not belong to me, I am able to increase _my__own!_"

She knew that she had no right to reply in such a manner, however even knowing so, she could not bring herself to stop.

Suddenly, a small packet flew from out of no where, hitting Ron in the side of the head.

"Oi!" Ron shouted looking for the owner of the projectile. Hermione picked up the packet that had bounced off the side of his head to land beside her untouched bowl of oatmeal. She recognized it as a set of candies she had consumed while on the train. One candy would cause every hair on your body to stand on end, while the other would reverse the effect.

As expected, Fred and George strode up importantly.

"We can hear Hermione shouting all the way at the other end of the table," Fred said, eyeing his brother. "You certainly succeed in pissing us off everyday, but we didn't expect you to suddenly change to her."

"Yeah," George added. "We now feel empty inside, now that you have switched targets." The two twins laughed.

"None of your business," Ron said, rubbing the side of his head.

"Whatever," the two twins said together. They turned to Hermione. "Just ignore the git."

"Hey-"

"Shut up," both said together to silence him. Ron grumbled before turning his attention back to his food.

Hermione lifted her hand containing the packet of candy.

"You keep it, we have loads more where that comes from." Where she would ever have use for it, she would never know. Hermione shrugged before slipping it into the pocket in her skirt.

"Thank you."

Both twins bowed gallantly before heading toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall.

"Thanks a lot Hermione, your shouting just earned me a bruise!" Ron complained into his food.

The brunette narrowed her eyes. Harry did his best to defuse the situation.

"So Seamus blew up his cauldron yesterday. Sent Snape to the hospital wing, actually," Harry chuckled.

"You are going to have to excuse me," she stood up and headed for the door., ignoring Harry's questioning glance. As much as she wished to be sitting by her friends, she knew that her foul attitude would not improve, and to take it out on her friends, who were doing nothing but show their concern, was hardly fair.

...

Despite her natural instinct of arriving at least five minutes early to every class, she recognized that this was her first and only class with the boy that day.

Malfoy. Her blood literally began to boil at the thought of his name, as though the content of her veins had been placed into a cauldron over a fully stocked fire. No, she would not spend any more time than necessary with him. Her emotions were too muddled to be in his presence longer than required. Her heart had opened and hurt by him. He had exploited her weakness and had made a joke by playing on a feeling, an emotion that was suddenly beginning to bloom inside her when she thought of him. He had killed that blossom, not simply by starving it for water, but by simply cutting it in half at the stem and scattering the petals every which way. The fact that he had not made a rude comment as he left only proved that he was not heartless enough to tread shamelessly on the flower petals he had just dispersed.

The way that he had jumped back from her after their lips had touched had hurt her more than she would ever admit. In her mind, she even found that she had already begun to deny the occurrence she knew perfectly well had indeed happened.

The Gryffindor did not know how the blond intended to react, but in what ever manner that was, she would only ignore him.

By the time Hermione had arrived to class, over three thirds of the students had already taken their seats. The brunette was among the last that slipped down the isle and onto her stool before the bell rang.

Contrary to her normal class attention span, she found that she was unable to concentrate on the lecture that her Transfiguration teacher was providing her with. She blamed Malfoy subconsciously.

From a few seats behind her and one row over, she felt the blondes gaze boring into the back of her hair. As much as she desired to turn around and glare at him, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of winning her attention.

About half the lesson had passed before Hermione had just managed to focus the majority of her attention on what Professor McGonagall was saying, and push the Malfoy issue behind her.

It was then that the impatient Slytherin could take no more of her blatant disregard, and decided to take an alternative approach, waiting until their professor had turned her back to the class to motion towards a diagram depicting the transfiguration of a quill into an elephant.

Hunched over her parchment, Hermione was brought from her academic trance when folded note in the shape of a crane, swooped swiftly out of the air and hit her square between the eyes.

"Owch!"

"Is there a problem Miss Granger?" Professor Mcgonagall asked, not turning to look away from the piece of chalk she had just charmed to write beside the diagram of an elephant. Hermione only glared at the blond before turning to the front, not answering the professor's question.

"Miss Granger?" The woman said sternly, finally swiveling to face her student, long green robes pooling heavily around her feet as she turned.

"No, sorry Professor. I jabbed my finger with my quill. Clumsy me," she added darkly. The teacher gave her a look of skepticism before turning her back to her once more.

Resisting the urge to swivel on her stool once more and aim the projectile back at his head, she took a deep, calming breath. Hermione dipped her quill into the ink pot at the head of her desk and prepared to write at top speed in order to fill in the two paragraphs she had missed because of the blond's stupidity, however a sharp poke against her finger stopped her mid word. The sensation repeated several times, becoming more and more painful each second. They were not excruciating, but they were rather bothersome all the same.

She looked down at the pained hand that rest on her lap beneath her desk, from which the sharp stabbings were originating. Resting on her knee, was the paper crane that Malfoy had charmed to fly over to her to deliver the message that awaited within its folds. Hermione rolled her eyes and waved her hand to shoe it away, however the bird became more and more persistent with each swat.

Hermione wanted to growl, fully aware of the smirk that indubitably rest on Malfoy's pointed features.

After several failed attempts to propel the crane from her knees, she gave up. She figured that, as much as she didn't want to, simply reading it would kill the spirits of the bird, and she could finally get back to her lesson.

Beneath the desk, she unfolded the piece of origami to reveal the slanted script that she had read only once before.

_ Hermione,_

_ Sorry about the crane...I know that it was not exactly the most opportune measure, however your stubborn attitude eliminated pretty much all of my other options. _

_Anyway, I really wish to talk to you about what happened yesterday. Please meet me after class._

_ - D _

Hermione crumpled the sheet of paper not bothering to muffle the sound. She would _not_ meet Draco. No way in hell. Not after his departure. He was probably just wanting her to go so he could show all of his friends that he had successfully made a fool of her. '_Something__draws__me__to__you__'_. Bullshit.

"What do we have here?"

"Professor Mcgonagall!" Hermione jumped. The teacher had abandoned her post at the front of the class, and now stood beside her desk, peering down her long crooked nose at the crumpled note peaking through between her clasped fingers.

"Professor, I can explain!" Hermione cried, exasperated.

"Note, Miss Granger," she said stiffly, extending her boney hand to accept the message. The Gryffindor looked down, defeated and handed over the parchment. As expected, the professor cleared her throat to read it aloud. It had become customary for teachers to read the note to the class, should one be found circulating. "I did not expect you to be involved in such infantile activities as note passing...but rules are rules." She cleared her throat before reciting the content of the letter.

"Hermione," she began. "Sorry about the crane. I know that it was not exactly the most opportune measure, however your stubborn attitude eliminated pretty much every other one of my options." Mcgonagall looked down at Hermione before continuing. The brunette cringed, waiting for the rest of the letter to be read aloud. This would only cause more problems for her than ever! Everyone would be wondering why Malfoy was apologizing. To _her_ of all people. "I just felt that I should inform you that this lesson seems to have become not only academically enriching, but also rather enjoyable." She flipped it over to search the back for a trace of ink, but none could be found.

Hermione sat, dumbstruck at what she had just heard. "Hmm. Mr Malfoy, was this letter your doing?" she asked, holding up the piece of parchment. From her angle, the Gryffindor could read the words that her professor had done moments before, and verified that they had been indeed changed.

"Yes Professor," Draco stated. "I was just so excited to share my thoughts about the how great I thought this lesson to be so far with someone that would understand." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well..." she began, looking for words. "I am glad to hear that you have suddenly acquired a sudden interest for Transfiguration. Next time, wait until after class to share your epiphanies." She placed the sheet atop the brunette's desk before turning on her heel and advancing back to the board.

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at the blond, who was smirking devilishly at Mcgonagall's back. His smirk caused something in her chest to ache. As if sensing she was looking at him, his eyes flickered to her own.

'Prat,' she mouthed, crumpling the paper quietly and projecting it toward his head. She turned to face the front of the classroom before she saw it hit the target.

Picking up her quill, she hunched over her parchment, burying her face behind her hair. The dense curtain obscured her vision of the students around her, currently eyeing her down, and unfortunately the teacher as well. It was however, a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Not even a moment had passed before she felt the flutter of paper at her right side. Peering through her hair, she noticed a crane, identical to that which was moments before, prodding her hand relentlessly.

Before the bird could turn to focus its attention on the hand holding her quill, she lifted it and slammed her fist down, crushing the delicately placed folds. In the process, she spilled her entire pot of ink on her parchment.

"Will you stop it already?" Hermione shouted back at the blond. Draco's expression was mildly surprised, but what annoyed her the most was the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips...the lips that had touched her own the previous evening...

"Miss Granger! That is quite enough out of you!" The professor walked to stand beside her pupil's desk. "How dare you. Twice you have interrupted this lesson! I never thought that I would imagine that _you_, of all my students, would be so irresponsible as to waste class time with note passing and your outburst."

Professor Mcgonagall encircled her wrist, lifting it off the crushed crane that continued to flap feebly. Squinting at the parchment, a faint frown formed on her face. After a moment, the woman looked from Hermione to Draco curiously.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said coldly. "If you were having such trouble, as your note suggests, I would have much preferred that you talked to myself or someone _after_ class, not interrupt a student to ask for their aid..."

"I know professor. I should not have done it."

"That is correct, you should not have." McGonagall looked down at Hermione once more before returning her gaze to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy. Gather your belongings and transfer to this seat here." She gestured toward the vacant seat beside Hermione.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "B-but profess-"

The woman turned to look down her nose at the brunette. "If moving Mr. Malfoy, so that he can ask you the occasional question _quietly_ will save you two from interrupting my lesson, then that is where he will sit," she said, turning away from them.

Bushy brown hair fanned around her in a pirouette as she whipped her head around to glare at Malfoy. Her eyes narrowed further when she noticed the feint smirk playing across the corner of his lips as he packed up his books and made for the available seat. How dare he! He had done that on purpose! He intentionally made her angry enough to cause an outburst! And whatever he had written on that sheet would have caused McGonagall to assume he required assistance...assistance that _she_could provide! He was such a...such a Slytherin!

Hermione angled her seat so that she did not have to look at him, though she could still smell the scent of his sandalwood cologne; she had given up on holding her breath so as not to smell it.

"Hermione..." Draco whispered.

"Professor?" Hermione said, ignoring Malfoy. Professor Mcgonagall turned around to acknowledge her, as though daring to ask her to move the boy seated beside her.

"Might I go to the loo?" The professor looked at her watch.

"Make it quick Miss Granger." Hermione stood, nodding. She knew if she budgeted her time, her return would only allow for a moment in the seat next to the blonde before the bell rang, signaling for next class.

The brunette stood, not looking at Draco, and headed for the door.

...

Seeming to finally comprehend her will not to talk to him, Draco did not attempt to get her attention, nor did he venture to send her another message. Things were finally back to normal. For the most part that was. This finally left Hermione to her last class, a class that she did not share with Draco, and for that she was thankful.

The crisp sunlight shone brilliantly through the broad windows of the History of Magic class, barely keeping the sleep bound student from surrendering to their fatigue. It could have been easily assumed that the windows allowed for the projection of such a grand amount of light, simply for that reason.

While Professor Binns droned on relentlessly, heads began to droop from their perch on students hands to their desk, the dull thuds went unnoticed by the professor.

Hermione Granger was no different. For what ever reason, she could not focus on the words that he was saying. Her eyes seemed to dart on their own accord, to the strip of window that overlooked the quidditch pitch.

From her angle she could see a great number of players, each clothed in a set of billowing robes, but none with platinum blonde hair.

Hermione turned back to her desk and rest her forehead on her hands. Turning to where she was looking, a boy beside her shouted: "Oh look, they're working on quicks!" The boy stood, along with several other students, to walk to the back of the room, where the stretch of windows were located.

As Hermione was the last one in her seat, she too stood and walked to the back, hoping for at least one glimpse of Malfoy, to put her mind at rest. She did not know why she wished to see him so much, but she felt by doing so, she would at least get her mind to stop thinking about him.

A boy several inches taller than Hermione peered over her shoulder, looking up enviously at the group. "Hooch says that our class wont get to those until late next week! That is so unfair!"

Hermione could not tell if the boy with sandy blond hair was talking to her, as her eyes remained glued to the pitch, a question being tossed relentlessly around in her mind, like the quaffle she watched being passed from player to player.

As if her mind was speaking aloud, a girl with curly dirty blonde hair voiced the question that was plaguing her mind.

"Where's Draco?" She leaned closer to the window unintentionally or intentionally knocking Hermione girl out of her way.

"I'm not sure," another girl replied, also pushing past Hermione to search for the blond. "I am sure that he is up there somewhere-He is the only thing that keeps me awake during this dreadfully boring class!"

A chorus of giggles irrupted. "You know, I don't even care if he is younger...he is certainly handsome enough..."

"And rich enough!" another girl chimed in.

"Professor? Might I visit the loo?" Hermione asked walking back to a stunned professor Binns, knowing that it would be the most opportune moment to have time to herself to replace her gauze. After all, everyone was much too distracted with the Quidditch class. Also, that evening's feast was scheduled to occur much earlier than normal and continue for a longer period of time, as it was that evening that the Triwizard champions were to be chosen.

It was quite humorous actually. She deduced that she probably spent more time in the washroom than she did in class. She was thankful that no one in her classes knew her well enough to remember that it was always she who asked to leave.

"Of course Miss Granger," he squeaked. "Take all of your belongings with you; I don't think that I will be getting much more teaching in anyway," he looked at his students, who ignored his blatant attempt to regain their attention.

Hermione merely nodded as she weaved through the desks to reach the door leading into the corridor.

She sighed upon entering the corridor, feeling as though the air was a great deal easier to inhale. Hermione walked alone down the corridor feeling...she didn't know how she felt. The torrent of emotions swimming within her was just too much to unravel at the moment, so she pushed them to the back of her mind.

Turning down the last stretch of corridor before the entrance of the washroom could be seen, she slowed her pace, feeling as though someone was watching her.

Her suspicion was proved correct when, without warning, she was pulled into an empty classroom to her right, knocking the wind out of her. Before she could scream, her mouth was covered.

"I thought that it would only be a matter of time before you came out eventually," the voice whispered in her ear. Hermione froze, recognizing the voice immediately.

"Sweet Merlin, Granger," the voice whispered again, still keeping a firm hold around her waist. "Would you relax? It is just me." Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. The arrogant toe-rag had gone and stalked her schedule!

"Let go of me," she mumbled angrily into the hand still covering her mouth, while struggling against her bonds unsuccessfully.

Despite her voiced desire, Draco pulled her further into the dimly lit classroom she recognized as her first year muggle studies room. He closed the door quickly.

He turned her body so that it faced his own, holding her against the wall at arm's length, his one hand remained covering her mouth.

"If I remove my hand, do refrain from screaming," he said lazily. "It will only attract unwanted attention-"

"How dare you assume that I would scream-" she shouted angrily, the moment it was removed. He covered her mouth quickly, giving them enough time to hear her raised voice echo through the empty room.

"Good lord Granger, your shrieking is worse than the Mandrakes we potted in second year!" he hissed in her ear.

"And your grip is tighter than Devil Snare," she mumbled into his hand, but the blond did not seem to hear her; he had opened the door a crack to peer out into the corridor, listening for the approach of a teacher or stray student. On their own accord, Hermione's eyes dropped to examine Draco's chest. Though covered in the standard grey Hogwarts sweater vest, she could see the feint outline of his muscular stature.

Hermione looked up to meet Draco's grey eyes, not having noticed he had already turned back to face her. He raised an eyebrow to demonstrate the point he had made about her screaming, but Hermione knew that it more than likely applied to her blatant regard for his physique.

To cover up her slip, she pulled his hand away from her mouth.

"You know, I don't care if anyone hears me!" The brunette shouted at him, pleased by the strong echo of her words down the corridor. "I have nothing to loose Draco Malfoy," she whispered as she stepped forward, narrowing her eyes.

"Will you just relax and let me explain, you pig-headed-"

"Oh! That's rich! You calling me pig-headed! My advice to you would be to work on your persuasion skills. 'Pig-headed' is generally not something you would call someone if you are trying to convince them to listen to you! And you are the pig-headed one! You are the one that forgot that you could sound proof the room!"

Draco raked his hand through his hair, frustrated. Hermione narrowed her eyes, envying the fact that his hair had become all the more attractive despite its new disheveled look.

"Well, I wouldn't have had to call you pig-headed if you would just listen to what I have to say, nor would I have to sound proof the room if you did not choose to scream at me like a child." Hermione scoffed at his retort.

"And you would not have to convince me to listen to what you have to say, if you did not do anything wrong in the first place!"

Draco's grip on her loosened. His gaze went from her eyes to somewhere else on the brick wall behind her.

"I know...Hermione I know." His voice sounded a great deal weaker than she had ever heard it. A line appeared between his brows as he continued to gaze at the wall, thinking hard.

"What is it you want with me then? Hurry up, I don't fancy being caught in the shadows with a Slytherin, especially..." Hermione trailed off.

"Especially with the son of a Death Eater," he said in a low voice. "I get it. Sorry for frightening you."

Without warning, he pushed himself away from her, and before she could utter a sound, he had stepped through the door leading out of the classroom. That was not what she had intended to happen...That was not what she had meant! She did not want to be caught in the shadows with a Slytherin, especially a Slytherin that had stolen her heart.

It took her only a second to reach the corner that Draco had just turned. When she did, she saw his form striding quickly away. Before she could bring herself to call his name, the bell rang, and a mass of students obscured him from her vision as they began traveling to their common room to wash up before dinner.

"Damn him," she whispered to herself. She didn't want to listen his explanation, but for whatever reason, all she wanted to hear was his voice. His presence...she wanted him to come back. The space, the air around her felt cold.

_I__am__so__stupid.__He__is__so__stupid!_Hermione's mind screamed in frustration. Why did this have to be so difficult! Her mind was perfectly capable of hating the blond earlier that day, but as soon as he had pulled her into the classroom, their closeness broke her supposedly sturdy reserve. She had been able to save her pride by telling him that she did not wish for him to continue, but him not doing so made her realize exactly how much she wanted him to.

Her regret is what ultimately caused her to step out from the classroom, and before she knew it, she began heading toward the Dungeons, where she believed the Slytherin common room to be located. It was true that she had memorized virtually every hallway, classroom, nook and cranny in Hogwarts from her thorough readings of Hogwarts a History, however the book, no matter what volume she read, always failed to mention _where_ exactly the common rooms were, only their approximate location.

Adding to her certainty it was close to the dungeons, was a rumor that had formed in the among those in Gryffindor common room one night after Fred and George had returned late from dinner, claiming they had entered the common room after dark, and painted a mustache on a portrait of Salazar Slytherin that hung above the fire place.

She peered over the sea of heads the best she could, given her moderate size, in search of one with striking platinum blond hair, rather_his__stupidly__perfect__hair_. It took her but a moment to spot the light bouncing radiantly off the luminescent locks. To her surprise, the owner of the hair was walking toward her, fighting against the crowed. Involuntarily, her heart fluttered.

"Hermione, are you okay?" The blonde asked as she stepped toward her. The brunette closed her eyes, her heart having dropped after seeing who had emerged from the crowd.

"Yes, Luna. I'm fine," she sighed. She really, truly had been hoping that it would have been Draco walking through the halls toward her.

"You sure? You're looking a bit paler than normal..." she trailed off. "Perhaps your brain has been infested by Wrackspurts..."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "No Luna, that's not it." Luna looked at her with her characteristic far off gaze.

"That's what they all say," she murmured as she skipped away, her hair bouncing around her shoulders in every which way.

Hermione turned, once again merging with the crowd, only to be stopped by the call of her name.

"Oi! Hermione!" Again, she refrained from rolling her eyes. At this rate, she would never find Draco.

The brunette turned around to see a short girl elbowing her way through the crowd. "Hermione, wait up!" The Gryffindor narrowed her eyes as Stephanie approached.

"Hey, I bet you noticed that I missed Transfiguration. I stayed up all night finishing the essay for Potions, and ended up sleeping though first period," the girl laughed. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could make a copy of your note."

Hermione looked at her seriously. "So you are seriously still pretending to not have seen what you did? You didn't think to tell me?" she questioned, anger hiding the pain in her voice.

Stephanie looked truly puzzled. Hermione set her jaw. "The night I was in the hospital wing," the brunette clarified.

The tiny girl's eyes suddenly sprung open as though Hermione had suddenly been transfigured into a dementor.

"How did you find out?" she asked, visibly paling.

"Charms class...I saw Draco's memory, and it was of the night that he kissed me. Why Stephanie? Why did you hide this from me!" Hermione asked angrily. "Friends are supposed to watch out for one another. I thought that after all we knew about one another that you would have been smart enough to figure out that hiding something like that could hurt me."

"Oh Hermione, I couldn't have told you!" Stephanie said, shaking her head.

"And why is that?" she questioned, still fuming.

The girl sighed. "He's a-"

"A Malfoy? Yeah, I realize that," the Gryffindor replied coldly.

"His parents are Death Eaters, Hermione. What does that make him? He is one of them, with or without the mark! In fact, he would be even more dangerous if he doesn't have the mark!"

"It doesn't matter to me if he has it or not!" Hermione was surprised by the determination in her voice. "A scar on your skin or in your memory does not determine who you are, or what you will become. Do you realize that you are being just as prejudice to him as he used to be towards me? We all have scars Steph. Some more than others."

Stephanie looked down at her feet before returning the brunette's gaze. "I am scared for you. You are the closest thing that I have had to a sister since-since my own passed away."

Hermione's gaze softened. She stepped foreword to give her a hug. "We cannot be blinded by our prejudice. Please Stephanie, I have been blinded too long, and now I want to see again."

Stephanie pulled away from her embrace. "You really like him, don't you?" she asked, seriously. Hermione gave her a slanted smile and nodded.

"Well it is more than obvious he feels the same way about you." Stephanie replied, adjusting to the idea that Draco and Hermione were a possibility. "So what are you going to do?" she asked. Hermione shrugged.

"Find him, I suppose." She looked at Stephanie sadly. "I've really messed it up big time, Steph." Her friend stepped toward her, and placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad. What happened?" Hermione sighed and told her friend what had happened the previous evening, how she had shown who she really was, and how he had accepted her scars, had heeled them and a part of her as well. She told her how she had kissed Draco and how he had left so suddenly. Her tale ended with what had transpired throughout the day; the messages, the seat change, and being pulled into an abandoned classroom.

Steph made a low whistle. "Well it certainly looks like you have a lot of explaining to do then."

"Me?" Hermione asked, astounded. "Why would_I_ have some explaining to do. He is the one-"

"That attempted to make amends...get going before you fall too far behind and lose him." Stephanie pushed her gently in the direction Hermione had previously been heading. Hermione noticed that they were now alone in the hallway, their conversation having taken up a great deal of time.

Her bushy haired friend turned around to give her a smile. "Thanks Steph."

.D.

Draco pushed his way though the crowds of students in attempt to create as much distance between Hermione and himself as he could. It was an impossible feat; physical distance could easily be placed by pushing students out of his way, however cognitional distance was a great deal more difficult, more or less unattainable.

He sighed, not caring as he plowed through another crowd of students. What else was he to do? Was there nothing else that he could say?

Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps this was life's way of keeping her safe; keeping her from getting involved with a ruthless future Death Eater.

"Regardez où vous allez!" A beaubatons girl shouted as he plowed into her. Upon recognizing the owner of the voice, Draco apologized.

"Sorry Fleur, I just have a lot on my mind." He turned to push through another wave of students, but her firm grip stopped him.

"Where ez she?" The blonde girl asked in frustration.

"Where is who?" he replied, mirroring her exasperation.

"'Ermione of course! Why else would you be so...edgy?" Draco shrugged.

"A good old Transfiguration essay would make anyone a little edgy."

Fleur rolled her eyes and grabbed the blond's arm, pulling him behind her.

"It iz about time zat you grow up. You are acting like a child."

"Me? Acting like a child?" Draco asked, outraged. "Dare you accuse me? I was just ostracized by the girl I love because of my parents! Because they are Death Eaters. She obviously thinks I will follow in their footsteps and reep havoc on the wizarding world!"

It felt good to express his pent up emotions. So often he contained them because that was just who he was. He had learned to trust no one, especially with his feelings. It was nice to be able to talk to a family member that understood his situation.

The corner of the blond girl's lips twitched. "Well isn't that ironic."

Draco's hands balled into fists. "Ironic? Why the bloody hell would that be ironic?"

"The tables have turned, dear cousin. Was it not you that had ostracized her for the 'impurity' of her blood? Was it not you that called her a mudblood because of her parents? If you ask me, you are being very hypocritical..."

Draco considered. He _had_done to her just what he felt she was doing to him. It was a sea of blood that had always separated them, and perhaps it always would. Her 'dirty' blood was just that which made her different from every single girl on the planet. Now it was she who would not listen to him because his blood was tainted with the evil of the Dark Mark. Fleur was correct, and the irony made him sick.

"I know," Draco sighed, defeated. "It doesn't matter to me anymore. What I once considered her worst flaw just does not seem to apply the way it once had. Her blood does not change a single thing." Fleur smiled softly. "But now what do I do? She wont take me for who I am now...she didn't want to be in the same room as me, Fleur!" Draco said sadly, recalling their meeting in the abandoned classroom.

Fleur narrowed her eyes curiously. "Hermione does not seem like the type. She was dealt a bad hand in the eyes of numerous pure bloods, and has been shunned by many for it. She hardly classifies me as the type to do such a thing to someone else, it having happened to her. Did she actually _say_ that she would not accept you because of your parents?"

Draco frowned, doing his best to recall their conversation. No, she had not once mentioned his parents.

Fleur shook her head, rolling her eyes once more. "You Malfoys always have a tendency to jump to conclusions. Tell your mum I say hello in your next letter." The blond girl turned and began to advance down the hall away from her.

"Wait, Fleur!" Draco was thankful that there was no longer crowds of students in the hallway, so that he could easily catch up with her.

"What do I do now then?" he asked, hopeful that his cousin could provide him with a useful piece of information.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Draco asked, exasperated.

"Nothing. This is a choice that _she_has to make alone. If she wants to be with you, she will. Her strong will proves that enough."

"But is there anything that I can say to convince her?"

Fleur thought for a moment. "Well, let me ask you this Draco. If last year, Hermione had tried to convince you that her blood status did not reflect her magical ability, or who she was as a person, what would you have said?"

When Draco did not reply, Fleur smiled at him, before walking away.

.D.

Hermione traveled alone though the corridors, searching for any sign of the blond Slytherin. It was not as though she was expecting to find him standing in the hall waiting for her, but simply searching and hoping to come across him seemed to soothe her mind.

She internally groaned. Hermione felt stupid for not following a Slytherin directly to their common room, and asking them to see if Draco was inside. Then again, what Slytherin would offer to do just that? She knew that the common room would be somewhere near the Dungeons, but knew not where.

The brunette stopped, considering which direction would prove to be her best option, when she heard a voice from behind her.

"...Mother bought them for me last week for my birthday," an annoying nasally voice said. "Watch it Mudblood!" Hermione turned to find Pansy Parkinson standing behind her, both hands on her hips. "What are you looking at, filth? Get out of our way!"

Refraining from spitting a comment back, Hermione stepped away and allowed her passage, something that she normally would not have permitted. She needed Pansy to lead her to the Common room, and she would be losing time if she engaged in an argument.

The group of girls laughed shrilly. Pansy stepped importantly past her, the group of girls trailing behind, but not before smirking maliciously at her. The brunette did not give into the urge to lean back from her tyrant scowl.

As the group continued to walk away, Hermione let out a long breath, commending herself for holding up.

The Gryffindor knew that she was not the best at creeping. Harry and Ron had often told her that she should check out a book on the subject because her technique definitely required a great deal of improvement. She had never been required to sneak.

Traveling behind Pansy and her minions was a great deal easier than she had expected; the pug could not keep her snout closed for more than five seconds at a time.

The part of the castle in which she was traveling was foreign and unexplored. The transfer of the lines from Hogwarts' floor plans to her mind were comprehensible and distinct prior to shadowing the Slytherins though them. Now Hermione could reply only on the shrill giggling of Pansy and her cronies to guild her through the uncharted land. The standard grey stone bricks and hallway layout was familiar, however the way in which the corridors seemed to twist and turn was alien to her; it was understandable, as Hermione, along with virtually every other student that was not in Slytherin tended to avoid that section of the castle.

Hermione slowed her pace as she approached a corner around which the Slytherins had just turned. Nimbly, she peered around the corner, expecting to see Pansy and her group of minions retreating farther into the dungeons, however she was instead hit with a streak of panic when she noticed that the girls were nowhere to be found.

She was now lost in the dungeons of Hogwarts, with not an inkling as to the direction in which she had come. She knew that retracing her steps would be a near impossible feat; she had spent the majority of her energies on making sure that she would not be heard or seen as she trailed the group.

Before Hermione could contemplate her next move, an echoing originating from the end of the corridor behind her alerted the girl that she was no longer alone. Its gradual increase in volume warned her that the owner was growing closer, forcing her to take aversive action. The fear of being caught alone, face to face, with a Slytherin was daunting, however the possibility of being able to tail them to their common room caused her to silently rejoice.

Not wanting to be seen, Hermione slipped into the nearest door, set into the wall of stone, casting its wood frame in shadows. Finding it locked, she panicked for a moment before residing to press her back up as tightly as she could to the piece of wood, in hopes that she too would be obscured by the shadows.

She was not frightened, or was she? Hermione did not know if it was fear that the unknown owner of the footsteps would demand reasoning for her skulking, or the prospect of actually finding the common room, and thus finding Draco.

The footsteps continued past the opening to the doorway, and Hermione recognized to be a Slytherin she had once shared a first year potions class with.

She let out a shivering breath. Why did the prospect of talking to Draco suddenly seem so daunting?

_Because__you__might__actually__care__for__him,_a voice in her mind told her. Hermione Granger was not weak. She would not allow someone to make her feel so nervous for no reason. She knew that talking to him, though intimidating, would alleviate this...feeling inside of her.

Stepping out from her hiding spot, she returned to the corner where she had seen her former classmate turn. Again, no one was in sight one she peered down he hallway. _Their__common__room__cannot__be__too__far__from__here,_Hermione mused as she quietly walked down the corridor. She was close.

The entrance was more than likely a portrait; she knew that both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in addition to Gryffindor also had portraits in various places around the school, so it would be unsurprising if the entrance to the Slytherin common room was also a portrait. Where her difficultly would lie, would be determining which, out of the forty or so canvas' would open to reveal the common room. The password, she was certain, would be easy enough to rule out.

Hermione followed her hunch, and began to examine several of the paintings in the corridor, critically. As she walked past, the inhabitants of the paintings whispered to their colleagues and acquaintances, occasionally motioning or making a point to talk to her.

Obviously the painting would have to be distinguishable; the Slytherins after all, where known for their egotistical nature. Possible passwords also floated through her brain: Pureblood supremacy, pure, blood clarity...the list went on, each of them pertaining to blood and status...

"You know Granger, you really 'ought to work on your sleuthing skills..." Hermione spun on her heel to find a very attractive looking blond, leaning against the wall behind her. He looked as though he had been simply leaning there, observing her the whole time she had been studying the paintings. "I could hear you pacing through the wall of the common room!"

"Aha!" Hermione shouted. "So it _is_ close!" Draco scoffed.

"What makes you suddenly so interested in discovering the location of the Slytherin Common room?" He tilted his head to the side in a slightly arrogant manner, something that Hermione ignored, knowing that he was only acting that way because his ego was more than likely bruised by her unwillingness to hear him out.

"I'm sure a smart girl like you would already have deduced that it is not exactly a place where people would gladly invite you in. Those belonging to any other house but Slytherin are not exactly met with welcome arms when they are caught roaming about this area. Especially Gryffindors." His tone was not rude, though it was abrasive, and detached. Obviously he was still harboring emotions, as was she, from their last conversation.

Hermione nodded, knowing full well he had said what he did in place of the primary reason she would not be welcomed, her blood status. She took a steadying breath, and swallowed nervously to clean her airway. Why was it that Draco could always appear so elegant while speaking, and she felt like some incompetent troll that had literally just been taught the english language.

"Well obviously!" Hermione replied as a filler, trying to find a way that she could explain to Malfoy that she...she did not know what she wanted to explain, but she needed to explain it. She did not want him feeling that she despised him because of the path his parents had chosen.

"Listen...Malfoy, about-"

Draco lifted up his hand to silence her, but Hermione was determined to push on. "I-I wanted to say that-" The blond waved his hand frantically for her to lower her voice. Hermione crossed her arms in frustration, thinking that he was simply re-exuding her unwillingness to listen to him earlier that day.

"Stop being so childish. You-" Draco gave up motioning her to be quiet, and instead pulled her into an alcove.

"Why is it that I always seem to be caught in secluded places with you?" Hermione whispered as she stepped away from his tight grasp.

"Last time it was a secluded classroom, but this time we are not alone. Now do shut up." he growled quietly in her ear. Despite the circumstance, Hermione could not stop the feeling that began to blossom in her stomach when his lips had brushed against her ear during his whisperings.

In the silence, Hermione was now able to distinguish not one pair of shoes, but two. The footsteps continued to grow louder, and with them, a pair of male voices.

"...I completed the deed just as the sun was rising, I-"

"Not here you, you blubbering fool," Snape's frigid tone returned. Hermione looked to Draco's face to find his eyebrows raised curiously. When he caught her staring at him, he quickly composed his face into his characteristically stoic mask.

The voices continued to grow louder and louder, and with it, grew Hermione's tension. Snape. If he caught her down in this area of the school, he would more than likely be suspicious and allot her detention. Even worse, she would be caught hiding with none other than Draco Malfoy in a small, cramped space.

Draco also seemed to take on a new edge. Before she had assumed that he was displeased with her, but the approaching teacher seemed to make him a bit anxious as well.

Without warning, the blond blocked her view of the corridor and began to slide his robes over his shoulders. Hermione's heart began to pound. He wouldn't dare...

"What do you think you're-"

"Put it on," Draco whispered roughly, shoving his dress robes at her. "Now!"

As quickly as she could, she began to pull the robe on, however in Draco's eyes, apparently it was not fast enough. He took charge, pulling the robe quickly over her shoulders, hooking the top few buttons closed and lastly, pulling the hood over her eyes, hiding the characteristic mass of brown hair that would give her away. With one hand, he continued to push the last few strands of hair that refused to be concealed into the cloak and with the other, loosened his tie then untucked and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white oxford.

He pushed her against the wall roughly, his hand going up behind her knee to bring it up to his waist. The unexpected impact caused Hermione to gasp, winded. Draco took the opportunity to place his lips hungrily on her own causing her to gasp once more, wrapping her arms around his neck for support.

His mouth was hot, hard and possessive. She felt as though she could simply lose herself in his smoldering passion; just simply rise into the wind, clouds and sky, where she would soar free of the constant reminders of the history that she now felt defined who she was. It was a perfect heat.

His hand went up behind her neck to hold the hood that threatened to fall, while the other slowly made its way down her outer thigh to the back of her knee. Hoisting it to bring it to his waist, her new stance allowed for a trivially intimate position to be discovered in.

Hermione would never know if she would have pushed him away or not, for at that moment a hard voice echoed in the alcove from the corridor.

"Draco?" The blond turned to face a stone faced professor Snape, accompanied by none other than Derrick.

Hermione unknowingly began to tremble against Draco's warm body pressed tightly against her own. Every shudder, every breath she made pushed her even closer to his hard chest.

The blond made no effort to step away from the girl he was ravishing, lifting his lips a mere millimeter from their previous position against her lips in an almost sardonic manner.

"Yes, professor?" Draco mumbled, his lips unintentionally teasing Hermione, who now wanted nothing more than to pull his head back down to close the distance between them. The blond's tone displayed a slight annoyance to being interrupted.

"Would you not think it more suitable to postpone your...activities to a later date? You would not want to be late for dinner. Following, they are choosing the three Tri-wizard tournament champions, so I suggest you begin to wash up now." Snape's voice sounded as though it was spun of silk. Should he have happened upon a Gryffindor snogging another in the same alcove, there would have been detentions for a month.

"...or at least be productive with your time. If I remember correctly, you two have Potions essays due in two days time."

Hermione froze, her eyes widening beneath the hood. He knew! He knew that it was not another Slytherin beneath the piece of clothing, but indeed a Gryffindor in his potions class. Who else had an essay due at the same time? Surely Snape had not assigned a Potions essay to every single one of his classes.

Draco, who did not catch Hermione's epiphany, looked to Derrick in time to see the corner of his lip twitch.

Hermione did her best to further burrow her face into the cloak without her action being noticed. Her heart was still beating furiously. In only two seconds time, Draco had pushed her against the wall, had placed his mouth on hers, and had lifted her leg such that it was bent at his hip.

The brunette blushed at the realization that it was still there. She looked down at the hand holding her leg in place, in time to see him lightly drag his thumb across the top of her knee. The feeling of such a simple action nearly made her swoon.

Draco must have felt the sudden wave of feeling, because he subtly adjusted his posture so that he could better support her. Had there been no other witnesses, he would have wished to test her reactions further, however he resisted the urge, knowing that Hermione would have his head if she felt that he was taking advantage of her.

The blond shrugged at the professor's suggestion to prepare for dinner. "Sure thing, professor." Hermione's eyes widened. He would not make her leave the safety of the alcove, would he?

To Hermione's surprise, Draco obeyed his professor, but not before reaching into the hood to tip her chin up. She felt his breath on her face. Warm. Inviting. His lips skimmed the corner of her mouth, velvet soft, leaving Hermione wanting more.

The blond smirked at her wanting expression, before stepping in front of her and taking her hand, so that he could lead her around the suit of arms.

Normally, the combination of a kiss and the action of holding her hand, though simply for show, should have brought butterflies to her stomach, or perhaps they did...more than likely, they were crushed by the falling rock in her stomach that resulted from their approach to the pair of teachers.

As they stepped out into the corridor, Hermione suddenly felt more exposed than she thought possible. Draco tightened his grip around her hand reassuringly.

"See you at the feast, Draco," Derrick said, silkily.

"Professors," the blond nodded at them both before leading Hermione to a portrait right in front of both professors, making a show of putting his arm around her waist. The brunette did not dare look back to confirm her thoughts that both of the teachers were watching them.

"Merlin, you're such a prude!" the blond whispered into her cloak. He walked up to a considerably sized portrait of a tall, lean man, leaning against his sword arrogantly, as though daring them to participate in a duel a brilliant white horse stood grazing several feet behind him.

"How am I a prude!" she whispered back furiously, keeping her voice low, as the professors were only a few paces behind them. Draco ignored her question, to state the password to the Slytherin Common room

"Wait," a low voice called out. Hermione flinched recognizing the harsh tone of her cousin's voice. She felt Draco turn around to face him, though she did not dare do the same herself for fear his scrutiny would finally unmask her.

"Professor?" Draco asked, a false pleasantry blossoming in his voice. Subconsciously, the brunette gripped his hand tighter.

Derrick smirked slowly. "I was just rather curious of the identity of the lady you are escorting is. Young love is so very difficult to come by." His glossy articulation made Hermione's stomach do a painful lurch. He wished to know her identity! Should he find her to be with Draco, he would only make things more difficult for her.

His request also made Draco uneasy. Should Derrick relay such a love interest to his father, or even Voldemort, he could not imagine what consequences would be in store for himself, or for Hermione.

"It does not matter who the girl is," Snape said stiffly, annoyance clear in his tone. "It matters only that they are not late for the feast." The dark haired professor turned to focus the brunt of his gaze on Draco, seriously. "Get into your common room now. And no fooling around. I expect to see you both seated in your _appropriate_ place this evening by the time the ceremony starts."

"Yes Professor," Draco nodded, before pulling Hermione toward an artfully crafted portrait of a cavalier.

"Puritas regnum." Hermione refrained from scoffing at the password.

"Ladies first," murmured Draco as the portrait swung open. He waited patiently for the girl to enter. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"You've got to be joking...No!" she whispered frantically. "I am not a Slytherin!" She would not enter the snake hole! The fear of entering was fueled by the prospect of getting stuck within the narrow hole, meant only for the slippery snakes that resided within it.

"They think you are, now get in before I have to drag you in!" he growled in her ear menacingly as he placed his hand on her lower back. Such a gesture would have looked almost loving in the eyes of the teachers witnessing the scene, however Hermione felt as though he was preparing to throttle her into the mouth of the beast. The brunette looked down at the crest on the oversized robe she was wearing, almost wishing that she had have been labeled as a Gryffindor at the time and suffered the consequences, rather than further the farce. Damn him.

Knowing that both professors would become suspicious if they remained standing before the portrait any longer, Hermione stepped through, Draco only a step behind her.

The portrait door closed behind them, and Hermione immediately felt a great deal colder as a result of the sudden lack of light. A snake-hole, she was sure.

"Purity reigns? How very Slytherin." She said to mask her insecurity. Her fingers gripped the sides of her borrowed robe in attempt to keep the chill from consuming her body. "You might want to change that password. I am more than certain that about three quarters of Gryffindors could deduce it on their first guess..."

"The remaining quarter unable to do so being the entirety of the Weasely family then?" Draco asked, before he could stop himself. Hermione suddenly felt angry that he had insulted both the size and intelligence of the family. Before she could adequacy put her feelings into words, he spoke again. "Before I forget, I should shrink the robes a bit so you don't trip over the ends."

Hermione smiled sarcastically. "How courteous."

Draco ignored her comment, and preceded to shrink the robes so that she would not topple down the double flight of steps. "Let me go first. The are stairs are pretty steep."

The frightful thought of having to enter the Slytherin common room had momentarily obscured her vision, causing her to miss the existence of stairs entirely.

"What ever happened to ladies first?" Hermione challenged, wishing that she could see his face, calculating a retort. Slytherins and their lack of light... "And as difficult as it may be to believe, I _do_ know how to walk down stairs, you know."

"So you want to go first then, be my guest?" The Gryffindor could hear the laugh in his voice as he made a show of shuffling out of her way to allow her passage.

"No, that is _not_what I said!" she replied, backpedaling. "I am _not_ going a step further. I am going to wait out the professors a bit longer, then return to my own common room. You might as well carry me down."

Draco lifted his eyebrows, smirking. The short duration of silence that elapsed after her statement made her come to the realization that he could actually be considering.

"No. That was not an invitation to do so either," she clarified, crossing her arms, knowing full well that he could not see her show of determination.

"I don't know about forcefully carrying you down, but I would have thought you would have _wanted_ to go."

"Why on earth would I want to go farther?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.

"You heard what Snape said. The feast is soon."

"All the more reason to leave!"

"And if they aren't gone yet?" Draco challenged.

"I'll wait," Hermione said, determined. She would not willingly go one step farther.

Draco scoffed, and Hermione heard him descend the first few steps. "If you do, you will more than likely meet a crowd of hungry Slytherins in the dark, on their way up through here to get to the Great Hall," he said in a low voice that she figured he had adopted, simply to scare her. She heard him take another step.

He chuckled evilly. "And I wont be here to protect you from them." The sound of his shoes as he continued to descend the stairs frightened her. more than she would care to admit.

Hermione considered getting caught in the stairwell with Pansy and her crew for only a moment before bounding down the stairs after him.

"Draco I-" In her desire to not be left behind, she had plowed directly into the blond's back. To prevent herself from falling backward, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I thought you didn't want to be carried down." The blond looked over his shoulder at her and smirked. She glared at his reaction, now able to see it as the light emitted from room was now in view of the base of the stairs.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she growled, knowing full well that if he had not been there for support, she would have fallen flat on her backside. Then again, if it were not for him, she would not be there in the first place.

Unlinking her arms from around his neck, Draco continued down the steps. The frigid temperature of the stairwell warmed slightly as they stepped into the common room, before suddenly taking another ferocious plunge. The air of the common room was a great deal colder than she had expected, despite the crimson flames flickering in the fireplace, and wearing two robes over her uniform. The brunette suspected it was because of the presence of so many cold blooded people that made it feel so terribly unwelcoming.

Hermione stepped closer to Draco's side as a group of Slytherins, one of which Hermione recognized as a seventh year from her History of Magic class, shifted passed them to travel up the stairs. Draco gave her a pointed look, having just told her that if she remained, she would be trapped by a hoard of Slytherins.

The common room itself was not horribly uninviting. It lacked the warm rugs and brightly colored tapestries that hung in Gryffindor tower, emanating a sense of warmth, but the fire crackling away by a cluster of couches was much the same.

"Wait here. Keep the hood up, and don't say anything to anyone. You got that?" Draco did not wait for a reply, leaving Hermione nodding to thin air.

Hermione watched from the corner of the room as Draco approached a group of boys that she recognized to be Crabbe, Goyle and another she could not identify. His lips moved quickly as he spoke to them, and waited impatiently for the slow reply that was provided.

Her gaze drifted from the Slytherin to the various pieces of furniture, subconsciously comparing them to that of her own common room. The Gryffindor common room had the air of a relaxed lounge, while the common room she was currently in had a more aristocratical atmosphere. The floors were crafted entirely of stone, as were the pillars that stretched proudly to the ceiling. The lines in the room were crisp, contrasting the curving walls and sloping ceilings of those in her own common room. The absence of warm, fluffy rugs did not go unnoticed in Hermione's eyes.

Her examination was interrupted when a slightly familiar miasma of surely overly expensive perfume assaulted her nose, informing her that she was no longer standing alone.

"So," a voice said casually from beside her. Hermione dared not turn her head, for fear that if she did, it would only confirm the identify of the shill voice.

"You must be Draco's new love toy then...?" Pansy said with an edge to her voice, curling a strand of her raven hair around a long red fingernail.

Hermione's eyes darted toward the blond who was still talking intently to the group, a slight frown on his face. She could not call out to him, nor return any sort of reply, as she was certain the girl would instantaneously recognize her voice.

"You're a lot quieter than I would have expected," Pansy mused. "I know for a fact that Draco usually likes them to be a bit louder, if you know what I mean..."

At this, Hermione could not refrain from emitting a sound somewhere between a scoff, a laugh, and a cough.

"You know," the girl whispered, edging closer to her, causing Hermione to cringe, the sickeningly sweet scent of her perfume so potent that she could actually taste it on her tongue. "If I were you, I'd opt out now. You don't know what kind of trouble you are getting yourself into." The girl paused, leaning in even closer, to the point that her breath caused the hood of her cloak to move gently with her words.

"Don't be so naive as to write his name on your heart. Draco and I are destined for one another, you know. We _will_be together, so don't you dare be so terribly obtuse as to think that just because he might have shown a little interest in you, he might actually want to keep you." The girl smirked to herself, satisfied when no reply came from the cloaked figure. "So unless you're looking for a quick shag, I advise you to-"

"Pansy." Hermione instantly recognized Draco's voice and sighed in relief. Since when did Draco's voice become a source of comfort?

"Ah, Drakie," Pansy beamed, stepping between Hermione and Draco. "It's good to see you. I was just about to head down to the feast, care to join me?" Her attempt at distracting Draco from the girl positioned behind her collapsed.

"Actually, I'm going to be busy for a bit. You go on without me." Pansy let out an undignified snort when Draco swiftly sidestepped her to reach for Hermione.

The Gryffindor nearly jumped out of her skin when Draco placed a hand on her lower back to guild her to yet another descending staircase. The warmth of his palm could be felt easily through the cloak she wore, and instantly flooded her body with the warmth she had been lacking since she had stepped through the portrait.

"Busy? Busy doing what?" Pansy wailed, following the couple to the top of the stairs. Draco turned around to face the distraught girl while Hermione remained facing the staircase. "Busy doing something with her you mean!" she shouted. Hermione cringed. Though she could not see the girls face, she could judge from her voice, that her eyes held a fire that would surely blind her instantly, should she take a peek.

Before Draco had a chance to speak, Pansy asked, "Who is she then?" Her voice took a sweet tone filled with malice.

"It is none of your business Pansy. Go on with Theo and save me a seat." As much as Draco wished to have a seat as far as he could from her, he hoped that she would take the bait and leave.

"Not so fast Draco..."

Why could nothing ever be simple for her? What would happen if she was to be discovered? She would be singed by venom, and torn by fangs, that's what!

Nervously she began to fiddle inside her robes for her wand, making her movements as discreet as possible. She would not put it past Pansy to hex her when her back was turned, even if it was a fellow Slytherin. It seemed that in her eyes, the 'unknown Slytherin' was a threat.

Pulling out the wand, she recognized it as Draco's, and remembered that the silk robe was not her own, and began to slip her hands beneath it to her own robe.

"She Drakie, she is hardly worth it! The thing has no class whatsoever! She is feeling herself up right now!"

Hermione did not hear the girls comment, rather continued to search for her wand. Her fingers brushed against a packet that she had placed in the pocket of her skirt earlier that day. She smiled as she pulled out one of the candies from the packet.

All the while, Draco and Pansy continued to argue. No matter what Draco said, it seemed that Pansy was unwavering in her determination to divulge the identity of the mystery girl.

"You are going to be late if you don't leave now."

"So will you. I don't mind waiting..." Simply agreeing to wait for her, and taking another exit out of his dormitory was not an option, as this was the only way in or out.

Draco resided to get Hermione out of the range of fire at least, and then he could come up with something later.

"Whatever Pans. I will be up in five minutes then..." Draco turned to descend the steps with Hermione.

"Not until I find out who she is." Pansy said darkly. Hermione suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, and she was suddenly pulled around to face the raven haired girl. The girls small pale hands went up to the hood of the cloak to push it down and reveal the face of the girl, however she was met with resistance. Hermione fought the girls efforts, also pulling at the hood of the cloak.

Despite the girl's small size, the Gryffindor was taken by surprise at her strength.

A ripping noise by her ear suddenly alarmed Hermione that the hood was beginning to rip from the two opposite forces. Realizing if she did not cover her face, she would be recognized when the hood tore, she dropped her grip and used her hands to cover her face.

Pansy stood for a moment stunned that the girl had let the hood go before attempting to discover the identity of the girl, before her jaw dropped.

"You! I knew it was you, I just knew it." Hermione froze. She had been certain to swallow the correct section of the candy, but what if it was faulty? What if Pansy recognized her by her bushy hair alone? Pansy was an idiot, but Hermione knew that her hair was quire recognizable. She never should have let go of that hood!

"Wait...who are you!" Pansy squealed, outraged.

The only thing that Pansy could see was thick brown hair that flowed down to the waist of the robe, and it's straight, neat texture giving her no indication that she was of any relation to Hermione Granger.

Draco stepped in front of the straight haired girl, who was still covering her face with her hands. He did not know how Hermione had suddenly acquired straight hair, and nor did he care at the moment. His only care was that she escaped without the revelation of her identity.

"Go downstairs. I'll meet you down there." He turned back to subdue Pansy. Concealing herself once more beneath the hood, she felt slightly more secure. She nodded and hurried down the stairs, in hopes of avoiding further conflict with Pansy.

Unfortunately, avoiding a conflict with Pansy did note exactly rule out conflicts with other Slytherins. As Hermione came level with Draco's dormitory, she realized that his roommates had not yet left for the feast.

"Well hello there," a velvety voice coed, as he shifted from his seated position on the trunk at the foot of his bed to better take in her appearance. The hood and dark shadow obscured the figure's face, but her small frame and long flowing hair that poured out of either side of the cloak informed them that a girl was in their midst.

His black eyes glinted, not bothering to make his gaze discrete as they looked her up and down, from head to toe. Hermione was thankful that she did not remove the hood once she had entered the 'safety' of the dormitory.

He brought his foot to the floor, having just finished tying his shoelace, though he remained seated.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably under the heavy cloak. "I'm Blaise," the boy grinned up at her cockily. The brunette could not help but notice that the slanted grin on the boys face looked a great deal better on the face of a blond haired boy, with a pair of silvery grey eyes looking back at her.

"Theo," a voice introduced himself from behind her. Startled, she spun on her heel to face a boy leaning against the wall beside the doorframe that she had just stepped through.

The Gryffindor's heart dropped. She may have escaped one snake, by cutting off its head, however Greek mythology was correct in that two would eventually take the place of one.

Instinct screamed at Hermione to run back up the stairs from which she had just descended, but the fear of coming face to face with Pansy left her rooted to the spot, as did the thought of the snake that lingered by the doorway.

"Who might you be?" Theo asked, winking shamelessly at her. Hermione swallowed, unsure of her next move. The risk of speaking decreased now that she was out of range of Pansy. She considered altering her voice to give a reply, though she was still frightful of them recognizing her voice, especially now that she was alone.

"Shy are we?" Theo stepped forward slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Well I'm sure we can fix that, isn't that right Blaise?" Theo smirked over her shoulder at the boy somewhere behind her, again taking another step toward his prey.

In response, Hermione took a step back to distance herself from the advancing boy, however something behind her blocked her progress.

"Where are you going, delicate?" Blaise whispered into the material of the hood. His hand snaked around her waist to bring him closer to his chest. Theo took this opportunity to move closer to her front, sliding his hand over her hip.

"Get off..." Hermione said, attempting to alter the pitch of her voice so that she would not be recognized.

"Hey now," Theo whispered into her other ear. "What else would bring you down to our dorm." His seductive tone caused Hermione to lean away from him, bringing herself closer to Blaise, who took that opportunity to whisper in her other ear.

"You might as well drop the act, babe. It doesn't work when it was _you_ who so willingly decided to pay us a visit."

"Theo. Blaise." Immediately the boys stepped away from her, as though she had suddenly become a conductor of electricity.

"Merlin Draco!" Blaise said, regaining his composure. "You scared me. We thought that we were going to have to leave without you.." Draco only raised an eyebrow at his friend.

When he did not reply, Theo piped in. "So this lass is yours then?" The blond remained silent, still glaring slightly at his friend. "About time Dray. You haven't gotten any ass since you switched into those advanced classes with Granger. Had me a bit worried, actually."

Draco shrugged, doing his best to appear nonchalant. "Been busy." The blond walked between his two room mates to stand beside Hermione.

"You two heading up to the feast then?" Blaise asked Draco as he reached Hermione's side.

"No. We'll be joining everyone a bit later," Draco replied firmly, his eyes trained on the two boys. They nodded.

From beneath the hood, Hermione watched as the eyes of Blaise and Theo occasionally darted back to her for a split second, more than likely attempting to divulge her identity. Their flickering gazes made her uncomfortable. Draco must have noticed as well, as he pulled her closer to his side.

"Well then, make it quick," Theo smirked. "See you down at the feast."

Blaise nodded toward Draco, and winked at Hermione before following Theo up the stairs and into the common room.

Draco, who had been stoic throughout the exchange, sighed and walked over to the fourposter positioned in the corner of the room and flung himself upon it. He closed his eyes to rid himself of the growing tension within. Hermione watched him cautiously.

"Sorry about that," he said, looking up at the green hangings. Anything to avoid her eyes. "Blaise and Theo are a bit...forward," he added, unloosening his tie that had become something like a noose keen on strangling him, to prevent himself from passing out as a result of oxygen deprivation

"A bit forward? You call that a bit forward? " Hermione shrieked. "If you hadn't come down when you did..."

Draco smirked at the ceiling. "You looked as though you were enjoying it to me..." he teased. Secretly he was bubbling inside just thinking of the prospect of Blaise or Theo touching her.

Hermione glared at him, knowing full well that he was only trying to get her goat, and she would not let him succeed.

"Yes, actually," Hermione sighed, pretending to look embarrassed that he had pointed out the truth. "It was quite exciting actually."

Draco lifted his head from his hands behind his head and raised an eyebrow at her.

"It was just something about being ravished by two of my old classmates that seemed so oddly compelling at the time!" Hermione said sarcastically.

He scoffed. The two remained silent for several seconds, allowing Hermione to take in her new surroundings. Like the common room, the floor was of a cold stone, gray in color. A dark forest green replaced the bed hangings that were of a familiar red above her own bed. Predictably, the duvet was also green in color. Pretty much every item in the room was either green, black or silver in color, but for a few personal belongings on the dark wood shelf, placed artfully on the side tables, or posters of famous quidditch players that hung on the walls.

Unlike Harry and Ron's dorm, which she had been in numerous times, the place was spotless; not a sock was out of place. It surprised her that she was not required to lean around a mountainous pile of laundry that she so often had to climb while visiting the boys.

The only thing that appeared to be out of place were the crinkles on the bed sheet that formed beneath Draco's back, and that hardly counted.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Draco asked, bringing his hands up to support his head.

Hermione looked around for a place to sit, seeing beds as her only option. Noticing the Gryffindor's dilemma, the blond patted the stretch of bed beside him, smirking at her reaction.

"See, I stand by what I said earlier."

The brunette returned his gaze quizzically, unsure of what he was referring to.

"You're a prude," he annunciated as he leaned back against the headboard of his fourposter.

Hermione gawked. "I am not a prude you insufferable dunderheaded dolt!" He laughed, pushing her closer to the edge.

"You should have seen your face when I began to unbutton my robe outside of the common room!" He chuckled again. "And you are now giving me the same look when I am courteous enough to allow you to sit on my bed." He smirked. "It is an honor to do so; be proud!"

It was now Hermione's turn to laugh. "Well can you blame me? There you are, laying on your bed looking like you have just completed an intense shag session!" Draco looked at her confused. She motioned to his half-unbuttoned oxford and loose tie. He narrowed his eyes, his perfect lips forming a seductive smirk.

"Oh, I get it now. So you allow Blaise and Theo to ravish you, but you wont allow me to give it a go? I guarantee that I am a great deal more pleasurable," he said in an overly alluring tone. She brushed it off, hating the fact that his voice caused her skin to tingle.

Hermione scoffed, looking away from him.

"Hmm," he mused, his voice sounding even more seductive than Hermione had ever thought possible. "Perhaps that's not it at all, is it?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "I understand now." The brunette looked back at him, arms crossed. He smirked. "You afraid you are going to be sucked in by the Malfoy charm."

He wiggled his eyebrows spastically, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. He sat up from his lounging position to re-button up the top button of his shirt, crinkled from his lounging. Hermione was too proud than to admit that he was entirely correct. Though he had more than likely meant it as a joke, she knew that she had already been pulled in by his charm, and was frankly frightened that she would never be able to break free from its confines.

The blonde sighed and began to refasten the top three buttons of his shirt.

"Better?" he asked sarcastically as he tightened the noose around his neck. He took her answer as a yes, as she edged closer to the bed and perched rigidly at the very edge. "Prude," he said, in a sing-song voice, causing her to grumble and climb further onto the bed so that she now sat directly beside him, leaning against the headboard as well.

"You're a right barmpot, you know that?" Hermione stated, crossing her arms once more as she gazed up at his forest green hangings.

"And you're and insufferable know-it-all, you know that?" The brunette smiled at the familiar name-calling. It no longer seemed so terribly derogatory.

"Better a know-it-all, than a know-it-not." Draco scoffed, also gazing up at his bed hangings. As corny as it sounded, they somehow appeared a great deal brighter when Hermione was gazing up at them beside him.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, or as comfortable as it could be for Hermione whilst half sitting, half laying beside her former enemy. The warmth that seemed to creep from his skin somehow weaved its way over the material of the sheets and warmed the Gryffindor all the way to the inside of her chest. Though she would not admit it, she wished to snuggle closer to the warmth. Closer to Draco.

Hermione shook her head violently to rid her mind of the cloud that had settled upon it, knocking it against the headboard in the process.

"Merlin Hermione, are you daft?" His hand found the back of her head to gently run his fingers over her hair where she had bumped it. Without its usual helmet of heavy bushy hair, her head was susceptible to injury.

Hermione looked over at him curiously. Meeting Hermione's eyes, he seemed to come to a realization of his own and pulled his hand away quickly, clearing his throat.

He crossed his arms, again reclining against his bed frame, looking at her expectantly.

"So?" Hermione asked.

"So?" Draco smirked. "What do you mean 'so'? I find you snooping around the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and all you have to say is 'so'?"

Hermione began to fiddle with a piece of the silk robe she was wearing. "I-I well, I got sort of lost...?"

The blond lifted an eyebrow. "You got lost," he repeated skeptically. "Excuse my lack of faith in that statement. I would have assumed that someone like you would have had memorized the floor plan of Hogwarts before even setting foot on the grounds, no?"

Hermione did not reply, hating the fact that he was _partially_ right. She may have glanced over the floor plans of Hogwarts once or twice during the train ride.

"So I am right then?" he asked incredulously, not bothering to hold back the fit of laughter that followed.

Hermione only glared at him. "Fine," she huffed. "I was looking for you!" She did not dare look at him, did not want to see his silvery eyes staring back at her. Her fingers continued to play absently with the fabric of the robe.

"Why were you looking for me?" he murmured.

"I-I wanted to hear..." Hermione struggled.

"To hear what?" he asked quietly.

Hermione continued to fidget. Draco gently pulled one of her hands, busy fiddling with the robe. With the tip of his finger, he began to draw ambiguous patterns across the surface of her palm.

"To hear what, Hermione?" he asked again.

Hermione did not expect the trail of tingling to erupt behind the paths he traced onto her skin. Such simple action made it difficult for her to find her words.

"I wanted to hear what you had to say to me earlier, when we were in the classroom" she said quietly, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye.

His gaze remained trained on the palm of her hand, tracing the lines there, unsure of how to begin. He had such a great deal of things that he wished to tell her, but he was prevented from saying each one by another secret he could not say. Telling her the truth would involve telling her that he was essentially a Death Eater. Though the Dark Mark did not yet mar his arm, it was inevitable. Hermione knew that his father's skin and mind had already been tainted by the dark arts. What would she think of him if he admitted that he was already involved?

"Draco?" He looked up at her guarded eyes. He sighed.

"Before I say anything, you must know that I cannot tell you everything that I want to." Hermione pressed her eyebrows together before nodding. 'Not knowing', and 'Hermione' did not belong in the same sentence. Her agreement to such a term encouraged him to press on.

"Last night...I didn't want to leave..."

"Then why did you?" Draco could tell from the tone in her voice that Hermione wad deeply hurt by his departure. "Did you really mean what you said yesterday, about being drawn to me? Did you mean any of it, or was it some sick twisted joke?"

The genuine question in her voice made his heart ache. He had meant every word. Her tension resulted in her gathering her hand into a fist. As he spoke, he gently pulled back her fingers to reveal her palm.

"I didn't have a choice, Hermione. You have to believe that I didn't want to be anywhere else than with you last night. I can't tell you where I went, or why, but you must understand that I am bound...obligated...It is hard for me to explain." He stopped drawing on her hand to bring his own up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I meant every word I said," he added quietly.

Hermione could tell that there was more that Draco wished to share, but could not find the correct words. She knew all to well what he was feeling. She had thought that she had understood what she would say to Draco when she found him. But some of the feelings she felt could not be expressed into words, thus resulting in 'so?'.

The moment Draco had told her that he could not tell her everything, her mind instantly jumped to the conversation that she had with Stephanie before searching for Draco; his alternate life as a Death Eater.

The brunette nodded, and grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from the bridge of his nose. Draco regarded her curiously as she held it with both hands on her lap.

Without a word, she unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve of his oxford with the intent to to roll it up. He held his hand over her own to stop her progress.

"Would it really matter that much to you?" he asked softly. His warm breath caressed her cheek. She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes to find herself all but drowning in the pools of mercury that stared back.

"Would it change things if I did?"

Hermione did not answer. She had told Stephanie that it would not, and she still stood firmly by that answer. It _would_ matter to her, in that she understood the danger tied with the obligations that were tied with the mark, that it _would_matter because it could put them further apart on a desiccated field, where they already separated by miles of skeletons, prejudice and discrimination. It would not change the feelings that she had towards him. Her heart had already dove in too deep.

Reflecting in her eyes was much of the content in her mind.

What he found there caused him to lift his hand from Hermione's. He waited patiently for her to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. When, seconds later, she had abandoned the feat, he looked over at her curiously.

She smiled sadly in return. "You're right," she replied beginning to re-button the cuff. "It ultimately does not matter what lies beneath it or not. It would not change anything...anything I feel.." Hermione trailed off, embarrassed that she had resorted to talking about feelings.

It took only a moment before his lips were on hers. Hermione sighed at the contact, not releasing she had made a sound until she felt Draco smirk against her lips, deepening the kiss.

The moment of bliss she had felt the previous night when his lips had touched her own for no more than a second was magnified. Moment after moment passed, each one with more pleasure than she imagined could result from a simple kiss.

Recognizing that her inexperience rendered her unsure of where to put her hands, Draco gently gripped her wrists, putting them around his neck. Her fingers began to play with the platinum hair at the nape of his neck.

Following several more moments of bliss, Draco began to pull away, not wanting to push her past her obviously sturdy boundary, but was surprised when Hermione thwarted his attempt, closing the distance again, allowing for only a quick breath of air.

She had never experienced such a kiss. The fear of doing it incorrectly had prompted her to read several books regarding romance, only to find that they were of no aid to her. Kissing Draco was both frightening and invigorating, given his clear skill and knowledge toward the art.

His fingers caressed the side of her cheek before disappearing into her hair. His lips were soft against her own. The kiss that she was currently experiencing differed greatly from the one she had experienced out in the corridor. His mouth had been sizzling with passion, his movements vigorous; an aggressive passion. The passion she had experienced in the first had not dwindled in the least, but paired with it this time, was a gentleness that she did not know the blond possessed.

Though their lips could be pressed no closer, Hermione desired more contact.

Draco was surprised when Hermione moved gingerly onto his lap to straddle his outstretched legs. He loved the feeling, but at the same time, he was all too aware of the affect that she was having on him.

If it had been his way, he would have flipped her over right there and shagged her. It was difficult when the girl beside him had been for the last bit, an object in his evening fantasies.

His hand drifted to her waist, the other remained tangled in her hair.

Hermione smiled against smoothness of his lips, loving the feeling of his hands on her.

Hermione sucked gently on his bottom lip, pairing the action with a light moan that vibrated through his body, pushing him over the the edge.

He broke from the kiss, turning his face away, panting. Hermione searched his face, curiously, but was unable to gauge his response, as his eyes remained closed.

"I-I-Did I do something wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice hoarse. She had never kissed anyone before, and such made her suddenly unconfident and self-conscious. Could she really have been that bad?

Noticing the worry in her voice, Draco did his best to reply in a level voice.

"No, not at all," he breathed, avoiding her gaze.

"Then why did you stop?" She felt foolish for asking. Draco smirked at the bedspread.

"Because, you are giving into the Malfoy charm..." Hermione tilted her head to the side. Her eyes widened, realizing she was currently straddling the Slytherin. She did her best to regain her composure, along with any self respect that she had left.

"That doesn't explain why you stopped, Mr. Malfoy," she said in an a-matter-of-fact tone.

He continued to smirk. "Well it just so happens that I am not exactly immune to your charm either, so it is best that we stop now. Though I am not doing so for my satisfaction, do believe me. I would be more than happy to continue." Hermione blushed, crawling awkwardly off of the boy.

She noticed that his usually pale complexion was notably pinker on his cheeks.

"Oh Merlin. What did I just do?" she voiced her embarrassment. Climbing on top of Draco was _not_ what she had planned to do! Sure, she would admit that she had been _thinking_ or even _desiring_ to do just that, but she was Hermione Granger, after all! She wouldn't do that! But she just did. And she enjoyed it.

Draco smirked, pleased with himself. "Well, you just snogged the most attractive boy at Hogwarts. You deserve a plaque!"

Hermione tried to glare at him, but somehow her features did not understand the message, so she ended up smiling instead.

"We should go, you know. Snape is probably long gone by now..." _And__is__probably__just__entering__the__Great__Hall_, Draco thought. "Oh, and you have him to thank, you know. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't have re-learned what a great kisser I am."

"He knew, Draco," Hermione said, blatantly ignoring his comment. "He knows who I am!" The panic that Hermione had forgotten in the corridor came surging back to her.

"What do you mean he knew? How? I made certain that your face was not showing." Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know. But I do know that he does. He mentioned our Potions essay was due tomorrow!"

"Of course _you_ would remember him mentioning the due date..." Draco jeered.

"I'm serious! He also said something about making sure that we went to our appropriate tables. He knew that I was not in Slytherin, and he knew that we had essays due! What are we going to do?" she asked frantically.

Draco shrugged. "He probably just said that to get us on our way...I highly doubt that Snape would be that observant." Secretly Draco was concerned that Snape might run back to the Dark Lord and tell him of his continued involvement. Then again, that did not make much sense. If Snape wanted Hermione or himself to get into trouble, he would have done it right then and there. Derrick was the only other individual there, besides the three of them, and he too was a Death Eater, so why make sure that Hermione was rushed into the Slytherin common room before he could divulge her identity. Did he know that there was something going on between herself and Derrick?"

"You don't know that..." she replied nervously.

"I wouldn't worry about that at moment," Draco replied. "Let's just focus on getting to the feast so that we don't arrive too late."

She nodded. "You're right, you're right." She began to pull off the silk robe she was wearing with the intent of returning it to Draco.

"Ahh, the irony," Draco said, shaking his head.

"What?" she asked, pausing.

"Was it not you who nearly had a coronary when I was removing the robe in the corridor?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. "So does this mean that _you_ are the prude now?"

"Clever, but not quite," he winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled her wand from her own robe to repair the one that Draco had lent to her. She folded it neatly, preparing to place it atop his bed, however he stopped her.

"Keep it. All needs to be changed is the crest on the front." She looked at him, puzzled. He rubbed a section of the sleeve of the robe that she was currently sporting between his fingers. "Please do. What ever you're wearing feels like sandpaper to me, I don't know how you can wear that day in and out."

"But it's _your_ robe. I can't take it, it is so expensive!" Hermione tried to push the robe back into his arms, but he refused to take it. Her own 'sandpaper' robes were expensive enough. Silk robes were extremely uncommon among students at Hogwarts, unless they came from an exceedingly well off family. Hermione could name on one hand the number of students allowed the luxury. "Besides, what will you wear?" Typically the students would have five oxfords, two skirts or pants, depending on gender, and two robes.

Draco laughed. "Trust me, I have a great deal more where that came from, so don't worry about it."

Hermione hesitated. "Just hurry up and put it on before we miss the feast entirely and I have to sneak us out after dark so that I can get you a proper dinner."

The brunette did as he said, pulling off her own robe, and replacing it with his own. "But what am I going to do with the other robe? I can't just walk into the Great Hall carrying a second robe."

"Just leave it here. I'll get it to you at some point, if you are so terribly attached to it," he winked, folding it, and placing it at the foot of his bed. "And before we forget..." He transfigured the Slytherin crest to that of Gryffindor. Hermione wanted to slap herself for almost forgetting such a crucial element. Had any of her Gryffindor friends seen it, she would surely have been unable to provide them with an explanation.

"Now," he said, turning from her, "let's get going." Hermione made to follow him, looking at herself in Blaise's mirror as she passed.

"Wait!" Hermione said feeling her hair. Draco stopped and rolling his eyes. How long would it take them to get to the feast? At this rate, they would not make it until breakfast the following morning.

"What is it now? I am beginning to assume that you do not want to leave the confines of my dormitory." Hermione blushed as she began to search through her robes anxiously.

"What am I going to do about this?" she said, panicked as she stared at her reflection. "I don't no how long it will take to wear off, and I can't find the other candy to reverse the effect!" She pulled her hair over one shoulder and looked at it, terrified, as though her locks had suddenly resembled those of Medusa.

Draco smirked, walking up behind her. "Well lucky enough for you, it has gotten a bit messier after our little snogging session. If you care to have another go, I am sure I could restore it to its former glory."

He put a hand on her waist gently, and began to kiss the exposed skin of her neck, continuing up until his lips were behind the hollow of her ear. His warm body pressed against her back.

Hermione did her best to glare at him, fighting the urge to tilt her neck to grant him better access.

"This is serious. What am I going to do?" Draco stopped what he was doing, though still keeping his hand on her waist. He lifted his wand to her hair and muttered "Finite Incatatem."

Hermione waited several seconds, hoping that the spell would vanish the affects of the hair-straightening candy she had eaten. Nothing happened. "Oh no..."

"Relax Hermione. You don't look that different..." Hermione glared daggers at him. "Okay, maybe you appear slightly different," Draco backpedalled, "but I wouldn't worry about it too much. Everyone is going to be too focused on the proceedings anyway."

"I am _not_ going out there like...like this.!" She picked up a thick chunk of her hair and let it slide between her fingers

Draco thought for a moment. "You could always put your hair up...or..I have an idea." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her hair. Seconds later, it began to frizz and increase in size.

Hermione beamed as her hair began to approach normal size.

"How are you doing this?" Hermione asked looking over her shoulder, pleased with the result. He laughed.

"Pansy uses a straightening charm that cannot withstand the affects of humidity." He lowered his wand. "I think that should do."

Hermione turned back to face the mirror. "Malfoy!" Her hair stood completely on end, root to tip, in a manner that defied the laws of gravity.

"What?" he asked seriously. "It looks back to normal to me," he teased.

Hermione deflated her hair slightly, still glaring at him.

"Oh come on!" he grinned, causing Hermione to do so also. She rolled her eyes.

"Let's get going."

...

Following their last class on a chilly date in mid November, the students of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beaubatons made their way to that evening's feast, as they had since the first of September. This time was different, however. Collectively, the students poured into the vast room, as though pulled by an invisible string, in numbers that made it feel exponentially smaller.

Naturally, every evening in the Great Hall was crowded with students from all houses and schools, however with the loose times set so that students could arrive and depart when they wished, never at once, were each of the students from all three schools present at the same time.

"Where do you reckon Hermione is?" Ginny asked her brother, following the last bite of her evening meal before the plate, along with her fork dissolved into mid-air. "D'know Gin. I haven't seen her around a lot lately." Harry nodded in agreement.

"I can't help but think something's up. To be honest, I think something has been going on this whole year so far, but I just can't put my finger on it." Ron nodded.

"I've noticed her being a bit more edgy this year, though I just thought it was her time of the month or something," Ron added as he watched his plate also disappear. Ginny looked from Harry to Ron.

"Honestly! School started more than two months ago! Generally a girl's 'time of the month' does not last that long, you dunderhead!" Ron shrugged.

"I don't know about that Ron, but I have a feeling it is a great deal deeper than that. Usually Hermione isn't greatly affected by small things, so it must be larger than I anticipated...What!" Harry shouted, irritated at Ron's incessant tapping on his shoulder. The red-head pointed to the entrance of the Great Hall, where Hermione and Draco separated and went to their correct house tables.

"What is it?" Harry prompted.

"They are walking in..." Ginny said, narrowing her eyes.

"Together," Ron finished for her furiously. The boy narrowed his eyes before adding. "What the bloody hell is he talking to her for? If he said anything remotely rude to Hermione, I'm going to punch the git's face in! I don't care if I get suspended; without Hermione to help me out during class, I am failing everything anyway!"

He went to stand up, but Harry held him back, barely able to keep the Weasley subdued.

Hermione held back a smile as she parted from Draco to head to her section at the Gryffindor table. Her footsteps faltered when she noticed Harry, Ron, Ginny and several other of her friends narrowing their eyes at her, curiously.

Holding her head, she continued to walk towards them as normally as she could.

"What the bloody hell was that, Hermione!" Ron growled as she took the only available seat beside him.

She cringed away as far as she could into Seamus, who, though giving her a curious gaze, did not look as motivated to attack her. Ron on the other hand, looked as though the fire that naturally engulfed his head had somehow spread to his eyes, and threatened to jump out at her, burning her flesh.

"What are you on about?" she asked, pretending to be ignorant of the previous event.

"YOU! AND MALFOY! TALKING!" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's what classmates do, Ron." Her fingers found the material in his cloak and began to slide her fingers over it in attempt to calm herself.

He scoffed. "I don't recall you ever talking to him last year. Or the year before that, unless he was going to call you a-"

"Hey!" Harry cut in. "We were just curious why you walked in with Malfoy. We just don't understand how you two are getting along..."

Hermione turned to Harry. "After finishing up some homework, I was on my way down here when I ran into Draco. He wanted to talk to me about switching around some prefect patrol dates because apparently Quidditch is really getting in the way of some of his night practices."

"Draco, is it now?" Ron asked, suspicious. He spat the name as though the taste of the word was foul on his tongue

"Honestly, Ron, we are big kids now. I think I can handle calling someone by something other than their last name."

"But its Malfoy," Ron protested. "Mal-foy!" he said, as though annunciating would allow her to see light in his explanation.

While Ron and Hermione argued, Harry considered the possibility. He too had some of his patrol dates altered because of practice, so he understood where the Slytherin was coming from, even if he did not particularly like the bloke.

"So he was talking to you about switching some of his evening dates with yours then?" Harry said, pulling their conversation back on track.

Hermione nodded, glad that Harry appeared to be buying her lie. He could at least convince Ron that she was not plotting against the pair of them.

"That's interesting," the raven haired seeker mused. "I could not help but notice that all of your evening patrol dates are paired with him anyway, so would that not defeat the purpose of him switching dates with you?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed. Once more she had been caught like a fly in her web of lies. When had Harry become so observant?

"Listen, Harry, can we please talk about this later?" she asked, quietly. In his green eyes Hermione saw that he wished to question her right then and there, but did not have the heart to go against her will. He nodded, deciding against making a scene.

"Harry!" Ginny elbowed him from his other side. He just shook his head. Hermione was thankful that she did not argue further with him.

"You missed dinner," he said. "They are going to be choosing the champions in no time," Harry said, changing the topic of conversation. Ron unknowingly allowed himself to be lead on by the decoy.

"Who do you reckon?" Ron wrapped his arm around Hermione to thump Harry on the back. "My money is on Krum for Drumstrang." His friend nodded in agreement. Hermione did her best to suppress the feeling swirling in her stomach as a result of Ron's arm on her shoulder. It felt wrong.

"How can you possibly pick anyone else but Krum? Even if is only a bloody cup that is choosing," Seamus cut in, nearly knocking a goblet of water over in the process.

"It is a pity that Fred and George couldn't find a way around the age line though," Ron added.

Harry nodded in agreement. "I would have definitely liked to see the reaction of the twin who was not picked, should the other be chosen!" He laughed, until seconds later, his face turned serious. "But I can honestly say that I have not a clue of who will be chosen from Hogwarts."

"Easy!" shouted Ron, causing Seamus to jump and nearly send his goblet clattering to the floor once more. "It'll be Diggory for sure!"

"He is pretty cute...Don't you think so Hermione?"Ginny said dreamily.

Hermione shrugged in response. Draco is twenty times as attractive as Cedric could ever be...She suppressed the goofy smile that threatened to spring onto her features when she thought of him.

"But I'm just not sure about this whole thing," the red-head continued. She shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. "D'you suppose that it is random? I can't see how a cup can simply decide who is best for the tournament."

"Do you think that being sorted into Gryffindor was random, Ginny?" Hermione cut in.

"No, of course not," she replied instantaneously, her freckled face contorting into an expression that suggested that Hermione had grown a second head, at her audacity to ask such a question.

"Well, the magic behind the goblet is of a similar principle. I read about it in-"

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice boomed into every corner of the Great Hall, causing the mass of students to hush immediately. "It has come time for the cup to draw the names of those who will be choosing to embark on the journey to glory. All of those who have entered, know the uncertainty and hazards of the three tasks that they will be to complete, and know that once chose, they may not back down." He paused, allowing for the appreciation of the silence that had settled over the room.

"Now. As I have already given my speech regarding the Tournament at the beginning of the year, I think that, so as not to bore you, it is time for your three champions to be chosen!" A burst of applause rang out among the students, and as it ebbed away, the cheerful shouts turned to whispers, which eventually turned to a silence that held tension so palpable, that Hermione felt that she could taste it on her tongue.

Dumbledore lifted his hands to the ceiling, causing his brilliant lilac robes to slide down to his elbows as the bowls fire that lit the room was extinguished, one by one, before turing to the cup that stood proudly behind him.

As though sensing that all the attention was centered on it, the red flames that basked the room in a warm glow suddenly faded into a contrasting shade of cool blue, increasing more than a foot in size. Not a moment later, the goblet emitted a whooshing sound from its center before a loud crack, spitting out a slightly burnt slip of parchment which floated down through the air ceremoniously.

Dumbledore reached out to catch the embellished sheet, obviously submitted by a student from Beaubatons. A moment later, his strong voice shouted: "Fleur Delacour!" The blonde seated primly on a bench seat located half way down the length of the table stood and walked toward the front of the Great Hall, the mass of students from each school clapping enthusiastically.

After accepting her piece of parchment, she curtsied elegantly, earning another round of applause. She took her place to the right of Dumbledore as he motioned her to do so.

The Hall waited silently for Dumbledore to read the next name, as it had by this time been spat out by the goblet and had floated into his outstretched hand. No one was surprised in the least when it turned out that the rough, charred slip of parchment bared the name, "Victor Krum!"

The Bulgarian seeker rose from his seat and strode confidently to the front of the room. Hermione watched in awe as he continued with his chin held proudly; she mentally applauded him for not having already acquired an egocentric air, as so many males in his position would.

Previously stationed to the front, the Bulgarian's dark eyes suddenly flickered to her own as he walked past, on his way to accept the slip of paper. She felt Ron shift closer to her, obviously noting the quick connection. The male redhead was not the only boy in the room who had noticed the exchange; a rather jealous blonde stewed silently at the Slytherin table.

Such jealously remained unknown to Hermione, as she had spent the entirety of her presence in the Great Hall, despite her strong compulsion, forcing herself to look anywhere but at the blond for fear that if she did, she would blush uncontrollably at the memory of his kiss.

Victor nodded to Fleur, who smiled back in response as he took his place beside her, his scorched piece of parchment in hand. The two charms partners turned their attention back to Dumbledore as the final of the three names flew from the cup.

Dumbledores wrinkled eyes furrowed as his light blue eyes read the name on the small piece of parchment. "Harry Potter," he muttered quietly to himself. The entirety of the hall remained silent, attempting to hear the name that the headmaster had said. "Harry Potter!" he shouted, his tone more than slightly accusing.

The attention of every student turned from the headmaster of Hogwarts to the dark haired boy seated at the Gryffindor table, with an odd expression on his face.

Hermione took a great inhalation of breath, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder. He appeared to be even more surprised than she was; his eyes were wide behind the round rims of his glasses, almost matching the circular frames' size and shape. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Harry. Go on Harry, thats YOU!" Hermione whispered, tightening the hand she had placed on his shoulder, in what she hopped would be interpreted as a comforting gesture. The dark haired boy nodded jerkily before standing and walking up to the front. He received no applause, rather, as he made his way to the front, nervously, several students voiced their negative opinion towards his early age acceptance, despite their precessions.

Harry accepted his paper in silence. Standing beside the broad-chested Krum, Harry looked like no more than a pale toddler.

The brunette turned to Ron, whose eyes were following Harry with a betrayed expression. "Ron you cannot expect that he-" Suddenly Ron leaned around past her to look to the front. Hermione noticed that many of her classmates also seemed to be doing a similar action, so she too turned to face Dumbledore.

The bearded man was stationed before the cup, looking at its blue flames curiously. Hermione furrowed her brow. "Should they not be returning to their original color, red-?"

"Shh-" Ron whispered, not looking at her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he nodded. The contact made Hermione feel more than slightly uncomfortable, but she did not move. After all, Ron would never intentionally make her feel uneasy, so she did her best not to let the emotion show on her face. The Hall remained quiet as the humming sound that they had heard three times previously, repeated itself with full force.

Whatever Dumbledore who was stationed stupefied before the goblet, or the uncharacteristically quiet students students seated in the Great Hall had expected, it was not for an additional slip of paper to shoot from the goblet with a resounding crack. The tiny sheet flipped delicately through the air as it descended, one corner still alight with a tiny blue flame.

The headmaster snatched it from the air, not seeming to worry about singeing his hands, eager, and curious to read the name written on the parchment. Never, in all the years of the Tri-wizard Tournament, had their been a fourth champion chosen by the goblet. The question that now hung in the air was: who would the champion be?

Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles back up the bridge of his crooked nose. He did not speak, his eyes void of their characteristic twinkle. He remained silent for several more seconds as he read the name multiple times, unsure if his eyes, withered with age, were betraying him.

When Dumbledore looked up to face the body of students before him, his blue eyes held a confusion that Hermione had never seen in her years at Hogwarts. Her heart froze when they landed on her. At first, she thought that she was interpreting his action wrong, however moments later, his voice confirmed her fear.

"Hermione. Granger."

* * *

No teaser, sorry. Please review, I need some positive inspiration right now :) I would really appreciate it.


	28. Chapter 28: Late Night Snack

Lordy, that took me a very long time to update. Thank god for christmas vacation. I can FINALLY get back to writing! I hope that with my workload next year I can still be putting out updates. Of course I will be able to ;) Anyway, thank you all for reviewing, it really means a lot to me :) No beta work has been done on this chapter, so I am terribly sorry about distracting errors. I have only given pieces a quick read over, so errors will be abundant throughout, so terribly sorry in advance. If you see one that is very distracting, please PM me and let me know. Thanks again!

AGAIN SORRY FOR NOT PUTTING USERNAMES ON HERE! I have been having trouble because I deleted and combined a chapter a while back and my reviews are being pushed forward into other chapters...its all a mess. Anyway. Sorry XD

**NOTE: Italics in the centre of the page represents events occurring in a dream (I think that it is evident, but I feel that it is necessary to point out). **

* * *

"Hermione. Granger."

Hermione's head snapped up to look at Seamus sitting across from her, without really seeing him. Beside her, Ron's mouth dropped.

If the students had been shocked to hear Harry's name, they were utterly befuddled by the sound of her own. Hermione Granger; nerd, bookworm, a girl without any practical knowledge in the real world, had just been chosen to compete as a champion in one of the most recognized tournaments in the wizarding world!

Her mouth felt parched, the texture of her tongue comparable to that of parchment. It was as though she was being forced to swallow a cup full of desiccated sand, scooped directly from the Sahara desert. She did her best to swallow, but the little grains felt as though they were ripping and tearing the soft skin that lined her throat.

The hand resting atop her shoulder tightened. Reflexively she looked up to face Ron, the look of hatred that she had seen him display, back with full force. The flames that flickered behind his cool blue eyes, mirroring the inferno of hair that blazed around his forehead haphazardly.

"No...no, you can't assume that-that I..." Hermione trailed off. Ron merely shook his head, irked. Before Hermione could plead her case, or what little she had of one, Dumbledore addressed her once more, his voice a great deal clearer than it had been the first time, obviously having time to come to terms with the identity of the additional champion.

"Hermione Granger!" She stood carefully, all too aware of the copious pairs eyes scrutinizing her every movement. The brunette did her utmost to compose her face as she looked to the front of the room.

You're okay, Hermione. Deep breaths. Just relax. She chanted as a mantra with each step that brought her closer to the front of the Great Hall, all the way hoping desperately that she would not trip. This time, the advancement of an underage student received no bellows of protest, no shouts of contempt; she was met with pure, unmitigated silence. Hermione could not decide which was worse.

She did her best to ignore the thousands of eyes that followed her to the front, especially the pair that she could distinctly feel sitting across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table. As she approached the long table, at which the Hogwarts professors, as well as the headmaster and headmistress of Durmstrang and Beaubatons sat, she caught sight of their expressions of surprise.

From Dumbledore's long fingers, the Gryffindor accepted her slip of paper that bore her name, written hastily in back ink, in a script that she could not recognize, nor identify. The old man returned her expression of fear with one of pity, mixed with uncertainty.

"P-proff-ffessor..." she whispered, holding back tears. "I-I didn't-".

"Please, Miss Granger, at the moment, I wish for you to stand alongside your fellow competitors. I suggest that we have a short discussion with Mr. Potter this evening, perhaps over some tea." Without waiting for a reply, he guided her over to stand beside Harry, who looked just as astounded as she felt. She was not ready for this.

Harry gripped her hand gently, though applied enough pressure to make sure that she understood that he would be there to support her. She was thankful for the reassuring gesture, knowing full well that his stomach was probably churning as quickly as her own.

Looking out at the crowd, she noticed that only some of the attention had moved on from her, back to Dumbledore, who now spoke, but his words remained lost to her ears. Eyes were still on her.

She knew what this meant. Had she not already done the appropriate reading, she would have hoped for an escape route of any course. But as Hermione was quite meticulous in her research, she knew that there was not a chance of avoiding this misfortune. There was no way out; no way to escape.

...

At first he was angry. Now he was amused. Stupid Potter. However the git had managed to worm his way into the Tournament did not matter any more; the damage was done. Now Draco simply hoped that the series of competitions that were lined up for the three champions would be enough to knock the boy down a few pegs. Loosing an arm, a leg or an eye would simply be a bonus.

"He is not going to last a second longer than five minutes!" Draco said, the corner of his lip curling maliciously. A few Slytherins in the vicinity snickered.

"That Potter kid really had some nerve to stick his name where it did not belong," a seventh year added, perturbed that the scar-head had been accepted over himself.

Beside him, Crabbe's stomach let out another ferocious growl.

"Merlin Crabbe," the blonde shook his head. "The last time I checked, it was I who had missed the feast." The burly boy seated beside him, looked up, completely dumbstruck.

"That was me," said Goyle, leaning over the table so that Draco could see him clearly, without his vision being obstructed by the lump sitting between them.

"And that was no choice of your own?" Blaise smirked at him from a few seats down, obviously having overheard his remark. "You didn't exactly seem to be in a hurry when we left you and your lass in the dormitory!" he elbowed Theo.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the two. "And you two looked a little too cozy when I came down to meet my lass." Blaise smirk only increased, his confidence a great deal higher having positioned himself on the opposite site of the table. The boy knew that Blaise was trying to push his buttons, and he would be lying if he were to say that his friend was not successful.

To rid himself of the urge to hex the smirk right off of Blaise's face, the blonde looked to Dumbledore, waiting impatiently for the man to make his closing remark. Crabbe or Goyle's stomach let out an additional tumultuous rumble. If he had to listen to either one of his friends' stomachs rumble once more, he was libel to rip them out, without the use of a wand.

That was when he saw it; a tiny slip of paper fly from the brim of the goblet, soaring higher and higher, propelled by the rising heat. Once out of the currents, the still flaming sheet was grabbed eagerly by the head master.

"Never has there been a fourth name chosen," an anonymous voice whispered from somewhere down the table.

"Who do you think it is?" Pansy said in a low voice from beside him. He did not reply, choosing rather, to keep his gaze fixed on their professor. Draco waited eagerly for the name to be read, noticing that the old wizards silver eyebrows were pressed together in a method of contemplation. Who is it?

Draco's question was answered several seconds later. "Hermione." No. "Granger." His jaw dropped.

Even across the great distance that separated the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, he could see clearly the lines of surprise and fear that sprung to her features as her name was called. He also did not miss the dirty hand of the fire-head seated to her right, on her shoulder. He wanted to curse the fire-crotch to oblivion for an act so simple as touching her.

He now understood the reasoning behind the smirk on Derricks lips when he had seen him in the hall earlier that evening. Draco was more than certain, that it was he who put her name in the goblet. His reasoning behind the action would for the present, remain unknown.

...

At the front of the room, Hermione scanned the tables in attempt to draw her mind anywhere but the speech that Dumbledore was presenting to the school, further explaining the regulations of the Tournament in detail, though they had already heard them multiple times from their teachers and the older students. Her eyes continued to dance through the crowd until, upon their own accord, they ended up on a particular blond Slytherin, who was looking up at Dumbledore, a crease between his eyebrows. His jaw seemed strained also, contrasting his usually stoic behavior. As if she had spoken his name, his eyes flicked over to her own, concern written on his face, which, upon his friend turning to talk to him, quickly dissolved to indifference.

Hermione looked away from him, to a moody Ron in the crowd. She refrained from rolling her eyes, aware that hundreds and hundreds of eyes were on her, and the other champions at the front of the room.

"That concludes this evening's proceedings. You may retire to your dormitory." Dumbledore said, turning to face the champions as the rest of the students filed back to their houses. "Congratulations, champions, you have each earned an opportunity of a lifetime. I suggest that you all get some rest tonight. Your first task will be in exactly one week's time."

The group nodded, however Hermione was too frightened to move. She had done research regarding the tournament the year she had entered Hogwarts. The potential death of wizards was entertained and fully recognized.

"Professor..." Hermione began, meekly.

"Miss Granger, Harry," Dumbledore said, turning to the two youngest of the four. "I will be holding a meeting this evening to see if your fates might be altered. I can guarantee that it will not end before curfew, but as you are prefects, you are free to roam at night without repercussion. Should your feet cause you to travel in the direction of my office, I will explain the proceedings of the meeting. That being said, you can always come by my office before tomorrows classes, should you choose not to visit tonight."

The pair nodded. Dumbledore stepped back, an equivocal expression written into each of the wrinkles on his aged face. "Off you go then."

...

"What are we going to do, Harry?" whispered Hermione as she paced back and forth, nearly tripping over one of his practice cloaks and stumbling over a pair shin guards that had been impetuously tossed across the room following quidditch practice. "And have you ever considered cleaning your room!" she hissed picking up the garment, caked with dried mud.

Harry sat at his desk, hunched over a piece of parchment. "Not particularly, why?" He set his quill down and turned to face her. "You know, you should be encouraging me to finish my Runes homework, rather than lecturing me on cleaning my room," he replied, still facing away from her. "Besides," he added, "You tend to do that anyway whenever you come, so why should I spoil your obvious amusement?"

Hermione, in the middle of picking up the numerous pieces of his uniform, realized he was correct, and stewed as she placed them in the hamper. She then walked over to the desk in which he was sitting, to peer over his shoulder.

When Harry felt her presence behind him, he quickly covered up his work with his quill free hand, but the damage was done.

"Homework?" Hermione sputtered, lunging for the piece of parchment. "I would not consider a hideous cartoon of Professor Snape to be homework!" She waved the artfully drawn caricature before his face. Harry, for the first time in his life, was thankful that he wore glasses, for if he had not been wearing them at that particular instant, he feared that they would have been littered with paper cuts

"Fine, it's an extracurricular activity then!" he replied, snatching away the drawing. "Hogwarts encourages well-roundedness in students, Hermione. Speaking of well-roundedness..." Harry proceeded to draw a rather corpulent body beneath an oversized head with a hooked nose.

"I don't think that is what they meant, Harry," she sighed. Hermione almost smiled, realizing that Harry was actually a decent artist. "But really," she replied, attempting to get them both back on the pressing issue, "what can be done? We're trapped! I'm tempted to go down to the library to search for a way out of this mess, even though I already know that there will be none to be found!" Though she did not know if she could handle coming out from between the shelves without answers; she had already experienced that earlier this year already. The prospect that her beloved books did not contain all the answers almost made her doubt life itself.

Harry abandoned his drawing, swiveling in his chair to watch Hermione begin to make his bed so that she had a place to sit. He considered reminding her that she could simply use magic to achieve a similar result, but like himself, she had been ignorant of its existence for most of her life, and for this reason, it never was the first thing that came to her mind.

She sat down at the end of the bed and looked out of one of the numerous windows that looked out over the grounds. "Who do you reckon?" Hermione asked Harry. In actuality, she had a hunch, but she hoped that voicing her stress would improve her anxious mood.

Harry pressed his lips together and leaned back in the chair. His hands remained holding the quill, absently playing with the nib, ignorant to the fact that the ink remaining on the tip was turning the tips of his fingers black.

"You know Hermione, I have a hunch, though you might be a little surprised by my answer." The brunette looked up at her friend curiously.

"And why might that be?" she asked. Harry tilted his head, thinking hard.

"Well...because his is a professor, and I know how much reliance you place upon them." Harry waited for a negative response to his theory regarding the suspect being a professor, but none came, surprising him a great deal.

"And who might I ask, are you thinking of?" she asked quietly, fearing the answer.

"Professor Burnwick," he said pensively. Hermione did her best to compose her features, hoping that Harry did not hear her quick intake of breath.

"Why might that be?" Hermione almost whispered. Harry looked down at the quill, twirling it idly between his fingers.

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I ended up going out for a walk with the invisibility cloak. I traveled past the room in which the goblet was kept, and I heard a noise coming from within. When I looked inside, I saw him placing slips of paper into the flames." Harry paused before continuing. "I mean, it might not be our names that he put into the goblet, but I can't think of any other reason why a teacher would be entering names. Can that even happen, Hermione? Can someone else enter the name of another?"

Hermione took a moment to absorb what Harry had just told her. He had seen Derrick place names in the goblet. Was he hoping that by doing so, the two of them might die during one of the tasks? And how could he guarantee that it was their names that were picked?

Hermione considered her friends question. It was valid. "I don't know, Harry. When I read about the tournament, the rule book said _nothing_ about entering another's name, only entering your own name more than once. I suppose that it was assumed that a student would want the glory for him or herself, not for anyone else, so why would they every anticipate a rule for entering the name of another?"

Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure, Hermione. I don't know the bloke very well; I don't have classes with him. You do, so what do you think of him? Does he strike you as the mischievous type?"

Hermione looked away. "I don't know Harry. I haven't had much time to think, let alone read into his character."

The boy nodded and placed his quill on the desk beside his piece of art. He looked over at the clock positioned on his bedside table. It read 11:47p.m.

"Do you think that Dumbledore would be okay with meeting us now?" she asked, following his gaze. "He is more than likely finished his meeting, but it's pretty late, I wouldn't want to disturb him..." Hermione added.

Harry shrugged, standing. "Would you rather wait until morning to see if we are to compete in the tournament?"

She shook her head, rising as well. "I suppose not."

...

"I protest!" shouted a feminine voice laced with a french accent. "Zis, is not right! It iz not possible!"

Hermione looked over at Harry, frightened. The pair of them stood frozen, the heat of a blazing argument burning their ears, even through the protection of a closed door.

"I think we should come back later," she mouthed to him. He nodded his agreement and the two turned to leave.

"That won't be necessary," Professor Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind them, through a now open door. "We are all but finished. Do come in while I see my guests out."

Hermione and Harry looked at one another shocked by Dumbledore's unexpected appearance. The two students followed him into his office cautiously, walking passed the headmasters of the two additional schools participating in the tournament, who looked down at them skeptically.

"They will not stand a chance, Albus. They have not yet acquired the skills that are required of a wizard who is entering the tournament, nor do they have they developed the maturity. It will only benefit _them_ if they are pulled from the competition!" the headmaster of Durmstrang voiced. The female giant beside him nodded in agreement.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I will have you know that the witch and wizard standing before you at this instant is just as qualified as any other champion to be chosen for the tournament. That is not to say that I wish them in the tournament; I find this issue just as troublesome as yourselves."

"And why iz it zat you are represented by two students, while we are represented by only one! Zat is not fair!"

A balding man with thin dark hair that Hermione had not noticed standing at Dumbledore's desk with a large roll of parchment, stepped forward.

"The rules are absolute. Harry James Potter, and Hermione Jean Granger, are from this moment further, participants in the Tri-wizard Tournament. They were chosen without prompt, and therefore have no other alternative than to compete," he said slowly.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes.

"But sir! I did not even enter! How could I? There was an age line-"

"You are bound by the magical contract that tied your name to the tournament the moment it was burned in the flames of the goblet. I'm sorry Miss Granger, but Mr. Potter and yourself have no other alternative, regardless of who put your name into that goblet..."

Hermione balled her fists, preparing to argue back but Harry put a hand on her shoulder, prolonging her silence. Dumbledore seemed to be completely at ease as he watched the proceedings. His voice further complimented it as he spoke.

"I think that will be all for today Bartemius. Olympe, Igor, I cannot see any solution thus far, so I see it senseless to prolong this company any further unless you two have miraculously surmised a plan that could be implemented to remove Harry and Hermione from the tournament."

Each headmaster looked at the other hopefully. Realizing that neither had, the two begrudgingly left the confines of the office.

"I'm sorry Albus, but rules are rules." Bartemius said regretfully as he swiftly rolled up the yellowing sheet of parchment before following the two headmasters out. "Have a good evening, Albus."

The door clicked behind him. "Who was that?" Harry asked, obviously referring to the man who had last spoken to Dumbledore.

"Bartemius Crouch Senior," Hermione answered promptly. "He was head o the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the First Wizarding War, though he was demoted to the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Harry continued to stare at Hermione open mouth until she rolled her eyes and restated her sentence. "Being the head of that department means that he aided in developing the plans for this year's Triwizard Tournament, and will be one of the judges."

"Indeed correct, Miss Granger. Bartemius does play a major roll in this years tournament,' Dumbledore praised. "Tea?"

"Peppermint, sir," Harry responded quickly.

"Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore asked politely.

"No sir, nothing for me, thanks." As soon as Dumbledore left them alone to retrieve the tea, Hermione turned to glare at Harry, exasperated.

"How can you drink tea at a moment like this!" she whispered hastily.

"I find that it calms the nerves, Hermione," Dumbledore spoke serenely as he walked in, three cups of tea floating a few feet in front of him. "I decided to prepare one for you anyway."

Hermione nodded, slightly annoyed that they were discussing such a trivial event over something so pleasant and calming as a cup of tea.

"I'm afraid that I don't have much else to tell you, apart from that which you have already heard," the headmaster said, taking his seat. On their own accord, the teacups began to drift toward them.

"So we must compete as though we entered! But Professor, people die in this tournament! People who are much more qualified than ourselves have paid the ultimate price for glory, a price that I do not wish to gamble with!" Hermione fumed. She took hold of the floating cup, blew on the steaming liquid, and took a quick sip. She saw Dumbledore smile slightly.

Hermione found the minty taste a great deal more relaxing than she had expected and quickly took another sip. The bearded man's eyes twinkled as she did. Tonic for the nerves, she thought.

The twinkle faded away quickly as he continued on with the subject at hand. "I understand your frustration. It is indeed a terrible travesty to place upon someone. Though I do not commend your entrance, I can think of no better pupils than the two of you-"

"But sir, I did not enter...we did not enter," Hermione said, the fire returning to her eyes. She was angry and confused.

The old man sitting before her raised his wrinkled hands up to calm her. "I understand Hermione. I do not believe that you would intentionally enter yourselves into such a trying competition."

Hermione sighed. She was pleased that her professor believed her; she was frightened that he would accuse her of entering.

"Sir," Hermione began, addressing a question that she had been wondering earlier that evening. "Is it possible that our names could be summoned from the goblet? In other words, could someone have altered the outcome so that Harry and I were chosen?"

Dumbledore set his teacup gently on its matching saucer. "No, Hermione. It is not possible for someone to select a name from the goblet."

Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Then how was it that we were chosen?" Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"The strength of the person who bares the name shines in the ink, and when it is burned, the energy from that name is harnessed, causing the flame to blaze until the source is gone. The weakest of the names are consumed instantaneously, while those who the goblet deem to be superior in strength will continue to burn. Hermione, you and Harry were chosen because the goblet deemed your name more worthy than those of any other student from Hogwarts who chose to enter."

"Why are there two champions representing our school rather than one?" Harry asked. He was thankful that he had someone who could relate to him in this instance, however the fear that came with one of his best friends sharing such a horrible experience frightened him as well.

"Is it because our names had equal strength?" Hermione asked, curiously. Harry immediately thought wrong of such a conclusion, for if it was correct, then hippogryphs lived on the moon. Hermione's name surely had more strength than his own; she was a great deal more skilled with magic than himself.

"There is not a chance of that, Hermione. You know as well as I that you are more capable," Harry said in a matter of fact tone. Hermione went to argue, but Dumbledore raised his hands once more to silence them.

"Strength comes in many forms, Harry, do not doubt your abilities. It is entirely possible that you are correct, Hermione, though I fear that dark magic is to blame for this occurrence. Please be on your guard..."

Hermione considered mentioning Burnwick, but before she had a chance, a clock situated above the fireplace in the corner of the office chimed, alerting the group that it was one O'clock in the morning. Dumbledore stood.

"I think that it best you two go off to bed as quickly as possible. You both have had an exceedingly trying night." Hermione also stood, Harry right behind her as he finished the content of his cup.

"Thank you for the tea, professor," Hermione said politely. Harry nodded, also thanking the man. Their headmaster walked them to the door, his pale lilac robes brushing against the floor lightly. He opened the door for them and stepped aside to allow the pair to descend the winding staircase that would lead them back to the main floor.

"Oh, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. Hermione paused on the first step to turn back to face him. "It's the furthest pear on your left." Hermione looked down at Harry, standing a step below, with a confused expression written on her face.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know what you-" The door closed with a soft click. "-mean..." Hermione looked back down at Harry. "What do you think he meant by that?"

Harry shrugged. "From experience, I've learned that you never need ask yourself what Dumbledore means in saying something. The answer always seems to fall into place at the most opportune moment. Though I must say, it is a great deal funnier watching him put you in the dark." The brunette glared at him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded. A light smile found its way to Harry's lips.

"Well, you know a lot of things, Hermione, and when you don't, you make a point to look for the answer within a stack of books. Unfortunately for you, it looks as though you cannot search for the answer in the glossary this time; it has to find you." Harry paused for a moment before grinning evilly. "And even better, Dumbledore seems to know what the answer is, and this is the first time that you will not be able to ask a Professor."

Hermione glared at him."I am glad to see you are so terribly amused by this." Harry rolled his eyes at her comment before continuing down the steps.

"So the first pear on your left..." Harry mused. "I am rather intrigued. You must tell me what Dumbledore was referring to... when you find out, that is."

"You'll be the first to know," she replied sarcastically.

The pair walked through the halls until the portrait leading into Gryffindor tower was in sight. It was not until Hermione began to mount the stairs that she realized that Harry was no longer beside her. She turned around to find him standing a few feet away, watching her as she headed toward the tower.

"Are you coming?" Hermione asked. He shook his head. "Why not?"

"Have you forgotten? I have patrols tonight." Hermione nodded, recalling the schedule.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about that." Hermione stood motionless, feeling terrible that she was going to leave Harry on his own until he could find his partner for the evening, especially with the stress of being a new champion. "I guess I'll just leave you then..." she mounted a few stairs and looked back at him. He still stood, rooted to the spot, his eyebrows pressed together.

The look on his face caused Hermione to descend the few steps separating them.

"Harry, we'll think of something, don't worry. Just focus on patrols tonight, and let me worry about the tournament...I'll think of something."

He shook his head slowly.

"What happened today?" he asked bluntly. Hermione was taken aback.

"Well, several hours ago, we became the first students under the age of seventeen to be listed as Triwizard Champions," Hermione stated. "Hardly something that you could forget in he course of a few hours..."

"That's not what I meant, Hermione, and you know it. Are you going to tell you what's up with you and Malfoy? We have already distinguished that you blatantly lied to me in the Great Hall when you said that you were trying to switch patrol dates."

Hermione looked down, ashamed. It had become easier to lie to Harry, though the sting never completely faded. Reflected in his eyes was something that made Hermione's heart ache; something that wounded her a great deal more than lying to him in the first place.

"Harry..." she didn't know what to say. Telling him the truth was not an option, and she did not know if Harry would ever forgive her for lying to him an additional time. If she told him the truth, she was certain Harry would despise her for her interest in Draco.

The raven haired boy raised both eyebrows, as though waiting for an explanation.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Dra-Malfoy...he isn't that bad-" Harry began to laugh, cutting her off. She was thankful that he was oblivious of her slip-up.

"Not that bad? Very funny," he replied darkly. "That git is bad news. You've to promise me that you'll stay away from him. I don't want him corrupting you, or making fun of you like he has in the past."

Hermione looked away, recalling the numerous times that Draco had said something with the intent of wounding her. The Draco she now knew was not like that, he was much more complicated than the two dimensional character she would have once accused him of being; he had many more complicated levels to him that she felt she had yet to decode.

"It would be rather difficult to do so, providing Malfoy is my patrols partner."

"That's another thing! Don't you find it curious that following the schedule change, you suddenly have every single one of your evening shifts matched with Malfoy?"

Hermione considered. At first she had only found the schedule change infuriating, but now that Harry pointed it out, it was rather curious.

The brunette nodded slowly. "Actually, it is," she mumbled more to herself than to Harry.

"It isn't just Malfoy either. I don't know what has gotten into you lately, but it is really bothering me. I've caught you in a lie more than once this year, and to be honest, I am sick of turning the other way, Hermione." The brunette sighed defeated. "Your behavior...it just doesn't make sense." When the brunette did not reply, in a softer tone, he added, "Ginny seems to think it has something to do with a boy..." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"So you want to talk 'girl-talk' then Harry?" Hermione said, holding in a giggle. "If so, I should ask you a little bit about what's going on between you and Ginny Weasley!" He rolled his eyes, deflecting her response.

"Just answer the question, and put me at ease here. Are you skirting the issue because you like someone?" Hermione went red. She was embarrassed at the fact that throughout their friendship, they had never talked about feelings that either of them had towards the opposite gender. The fact that Harry was right did not help either.

"I-I well..."

Harry smiled. "So it is then." He resided to inform Ginny as soon as he could. The red head had been telling him for weeks that her peculiar behavior had more than likely stemming from a severe crush she had on someone. As Ginny had said, her lack of eating could have been her attempt to lose a bit of weight, though they both agreed that she had taken that several steps too far. In addition, her scarce appearance in the Great Hall could be due to the fact that she was too shy to sit near them at mealtime. That also supported her slightly nervous appearance when she actually did show up.

"Are you seeing him?" Harry asked, more for fear that Ginny would wring his neck if she found out that he did not ask.

"I don't know, Harry, not really..." the brunette shook her head. As soon as she said this, she wished it was another one of the numerous lies she had already told.

The dark haired boy smiled to himself. Unbeknownst to Hermione, he believed that he had deduced the identity of said person, and made a promise to himself at that moment, that he would do his best to get them together.

...

The crisp November wind blew gently against the windows of Gryffindor Tower, chilling the glass. The gentle rattles of the glass pressing against the window frame, and the gentle crackling of logs in the fireplace was all that could be heard, apart from the soft breathing of her roommates; a nice change from Parvati's unremitting snores.

Winter was coming, and along with it, the chilled air from outside which was somehow able to seep through even the smallest of cracks that lined the worn window frames in the tower, causing the dormitory to experience a lack of warmth in the winter months. To combat this, it became customary to perform a warming charm before crawling into bed. The charm, along with the fire that usually crackled with fervor on the other side of the room, was usually able to keep each occupant warm, no matter their location in the dormitory.

Hermione quickly slipped into her pajamas, ignoring the cool wood beneath her bare feet. As she fell into bed, Hermione was thankful that winter had not yet cast its cruel charm on the dormitory, and that she would be comfortably warm with only the heat from the fire, too exhausted to cast the heating charm.

Despite not having carried out any strenuous physical activity, every single muscle in her body was sore, and felt abused. Having been on edge for the last several hours was more than likely the greatest contributing factor for her discomfort, and somehow regardless of the quandary that she had been unexpectedly thrust into, her mind was only now beginning to loosen its firm grasp of the harsh reality; that she was indeed a Triwizard Champion.

A wave of extreme tiredness grew from the combined efforts of pool of ripples, and finally managed to pull her deeper into unconsciousness with the receding tide. However, before she could be completely submerged, a sound, incongruous with those of the rattles of the window,

prevented from reaching a dormant state.

_'Tap-tap-tap'. _Hermione rolled over in her bedsheets, bringing them closer to her head in attempt to retain as much warmth as she could. '_Tap-tap-tap.' _ She groaned and burrowed her face into the surface of her pillow. She was ever so tired, and the annoying sound from which she presumed to be an owl, had momentarily kept her from passing through the barrier to unconsciousness. She silently cursed Lavender, automatically assuming that it was a late edition of a wizarding clothing catalogue that could not be delivered to her at mealtime because of their tarty 'clothing'.

As Hermione entered dream world, she did not hear the rattling of the window beside her bed cease as it was unlatched and pushed open, nor did she hear the muffled footsteps of individual who stepped through the moon lit entrance onto the thick woven rug.

As the figure approached the side of the bed in which he knew that Hermione was currently residing, not having difficulty placing the owner of the puffy brown hair resting against a pillow.

"Hermione?" Draco whispered gently as he approached, not wanting to wake any of the other girls sleeping in their four-posters.

Hermione slept soundlessly, clutching her duvet just below her chin. Her breaths were soft and gentle, and a faint smile clung to her lips. The blond advanced cautiously and sat on the corner of her bed, careful not to wake her. He didn't think that such a pleasant feeling would arise from simply regarding her sleeping form.

The innocence of her delicate features seemed to become even more delicate, from the curve of her brow, to the shape of her nose, especially when caressed by the dim glow of the flames.

_ Hermione was in a field. A field laced with purple and orange flowers only just beginning to bloom. A field that she recognized to be situated in a park she had visited regularly when she was young. The landscape was beautiful, flawless. The only thing that made it more perfect than it already was, happened to be a blond boy, sitting on the lowest branch of a nearby oak tree, that had in her youth seemed so high when she had attempted to climb it. _

_The boy was faultless in form as always, wearing a navy v-neck to perfectly display his chiseled chest, and ivory skin tone._

_ As she approached him, his lips curled into a small smile that danced in his eyes. Oh his eyes. Sifting through the leaves, sunlight fell into their grey depths, causing them to sparkle in a way that took her breath away._

He had come to bring her to the kitchen for an evening meal, having missed the feast that night, but as she had already fallen asleep, he saw little to gain by waking her.

He made to stand and return to the window from which he had just entered, but he heard Hermione speak. Regretful for possibly waking her, Draco looked back to find that her eyes remained closed, the vary same innocent expression on her face.

"Mmm Draco, you have pretty eyes..." she murmured into her bedsheets, clutching them closer. The Slytherin smirked to himself, retracing his steps back toward the sleeping girl. He knelt beside her bed.

"Well you have pretty eyes yourself, love," he whispered back, brushing away a strand of hair that fell across her face. She leaned into his touch slightly, making Draco's lip twitch once more.

"Hmm," was her only response. Draco lightly traced a line from the edge of her brow to her cheekbone. He did not want to wake her, but he could not refrain from touching her soft skin.

_Draco slipped down easily from the branch only being three or four feet above the grass; a high distance when she was six. Effortlessly, he lifted her up so that she now sat in a place that she could not reach, no matter how hard she tried. He approached her silently, to rest his hands on her knees that were now level with his chest, gazing into her eyes intently. _

Kneeling so very close to her, Draco could feel her warm breath as she sighed.

He smiled to himself as he brushed his fingers over the flesh of her cheek, recalling the numerous times the skin beneath his fingers had blushed in his presence, and imagining the countless times in the future that he would make her do so. Continuing down her face, his fingers came close to her lips. The temptation to trace over them was compelling, however he refrained.

_His hand went up to the side of her face, and she could not help but smile at the gentleness of his touch. When his hand reached her jaw, he guided her toward his lips, but did not kiss her. His nose brushed against hers, his lips mere millimeters from her own._

"Kiss me..." she mumbled quietly, his hand shifting slightly on her face as she spoke. Her slow breathing informed Draco that she was still caught in dream world. Before he could stop himself, he gently pressed his lips to hers. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

_ His lips pressed lightly against her own. The short distance between them allowed for the familiar scent of sandalwood to overtake her senses, a fragrance that she recognized to be uniquely Draco's. Her fingers went up to play with the signature platinum blond hair that fell at the nape of his neck. His presence felt all too real. His movements, the feeling of his lips on her own, his smell, it was all too vivid. It was almost as though..._

Suddenly scenery changed around her. What was once a green park littered with flowers quickly dissolved into a dark dormitory. Though she had fallen out of her dream, the refined, woody scent of sandalwood cologne became all the more discernible, as did the slight pressure against her lips. It did not escape her notice that her arm was wrapped around something, and that something was _not_ her pillow.

"Draco!" she half-screamed, half-whispered as she sprung away from him. "What the bloody hell are you doing here!" The brunette sat up quickly, looking around at Lavender and Parvati.

She quickly pulled up the duvet to cover her chest and blushed. She had removed her bra before she had changed into her pajamas. Though she wore a thick collard night shirt, she still felt oddly exposed.

"What if they see you!" she motioned anxiously with her free hand toward their sleeping forms.

The moonlight coming through the window allowed her only the courtesy of distinguishing his outline.

"Well I was coming to see if you would accompany myself for an evening meal, as we both missed it, but I noticed you were asleep," Draco whispered back. Hermione huffed softly. "But seeing as you are now wide awake, I find it fair to ask if you would care to join me."

Hermione glared into the darkness. "You have got to be out of your mind!" she whispered angrily, clutching her duvet even closer.

"Perhaps," he replied, looking around. "Is that a yes then?" he asked smugly, turning his head back to face her.

"Of course not! I am not about to wander the halls in the middle of the night." When Draco looked as though he was about to protest, she added, "And I'm not hungry!"

On its own accord, her stomach began to growl. Draco lifted his eyebrow, causing her to blush.

"I think its settled then." The blond pushed himself up from his kneeling position. The brunette sighed, knowing that Draco would continue to argue with her until she finally agreed to accompany him, and she did not want to run the risk of her roommates seeing Draco standing beside her bed.

"Come on then." He turned back to find her still hiding beneath the blanket.

Hermione stood with her arms crossed over her chest, rationalizing that the dim light would more than likely shield her from his view. Besides, he probably didn't notice anyway; boys were usually oblivious to those sort of things, weren't they? But Draco was not.

His lip curled into a smirk, looking down at her crossed arms. He looked back up at her eyes to find them glaring back at him, as though daring him to say something. He only returned her gaze and stalked toward her, slowly.

Hermione's heart pounded as he approached. His pale skin lit up like alabaster as he stepped before the square of moonlight entering through the window. Just as suddenly, his flawless skin was cast into darkness as he transitioned from glass to brick.

She tightened her grip around her chest, and was now able to feel the frantic beating of her heart against her forearms.

The slim figure continued to walk toward her silently. Hermione remained motionless, attempting to gauge Draco's motive, but thus far, she could not. He now stood a few feet away from her, and in the darkness, she could only just make out some of the features on his face.

Unknowing, she took a step back. The corner of his lip twitched, and he responded by taking slowly taking another forward.

Hermione did not understand what he was doing. She wasn't frightened, but her heart could not seem to refrain from pounding violently against her ribs.

As the back of her calfs came into contact with the base of her bed, she looked up into his eyes, startled. He continued to look back at her, amusement, along with a hint of something that she could not quite place, blatant in his eyes.

Draco closed the last of the distance, such that he now stood a mere foot away. Again Hermione caught herself inhaling his scent deeply, and to keep her head clear, she abstained from inhaling.

He held her gaze as he held a piece of fabric to her forearms that defended her chest from his eyes. The unexpected contact caused her to look down, and she was surprised to find him holding out her red robe. She was shocked that she did not notice him grab it off the chair beside the window as he approached.

She looked back up into his stormy eyes to find them still holding her gaze. Hermione took the robe and held it to her chest, continuing to stare at him. Draco pressed his lips together in amusement as he turned away from her, something that Hermione did not miss.

She exhaled the breath she had been holding as the blond returned to the window to look out over the grounds below. They looked a quite different from such a high location on this side of the castle.

Hermione quickly slung a robe atop her night clothes, slipped on her fluffy red slippers and walked over to the window where the blonde was standing. "Enjoying the view?" she asked innocently, looking over the grounds that she had become accustomed to waking to.

Draco shrugged, a feint smile tugging at his lips. "I've seen better." He winked down at her, causing her to blush once more.

She covered herself by turning from him, hoping that he would not think her to have some sort of skin disease that caused her skin to sporadically change color. She began to head toward the staircase leading down to the Gryffindor common room, oblivious to the laughing of the Slytherin. When she looked around, Draco was not trailing her as she had expected, rather, he stood elegantly by the window, staring at her.

"Are you coming?" she whispered. She did not want to explain the presence of a Slytherin, let alone Draco, in the girls dormitory to her roommates. "Let's go!" she motioned for him to follow her.

When he did not move, Hermione tip-toed back to him, annoyed. How did Draco manage to get into the girl's dormitory in the first place? While girls could freely visit their male friends in their quarters, boys were unable to enter the girls rooms, as the staircase had been charms so that whenever a boy attempted to mount it, it would turn into a slide, causing them to fall back into the common room. How had he been able to push passed such a charm as well as breech the common room?

"How did you get in here, anyway?" Hermione could not refrain from asking.

"The way that I plan to leave." The Gryffindor looked at him quizzically.

The blond turned from her to face the window that overlooked the grounds, retrieving something that lent against the stone wall. Hermione was not as focused on what he was now holding, rather her attention was centered on Draco as he opened the window beside her bed. In response, she tightened her robe to shield herself from the crisp fall air.

It was then that Hermione realized what Draco was planning.

"Oh no," she whispered, retreating toward her bed. "You can't be serious..." Draco cocked his head to the side and mounted his broom on the ledge.

"I am completely serious," he replied, grinning as he eased himself off the ledge and into free air. Though Draco had stepped from the window with a grace a swan could only hope to mimic, the thought of the transition alone, from solid earth to nothing, made her stomach flip.

When Hermione did not come to the window immediately, he brought himself closer.

"Come on Hermione," he whispered through the window. From his position, he was able to make out her form huddled on her bed, pretending not to hear him. "I know you can hear me, Hermione." Draco thought for a moment. "Come to the window right now, or I will yell loud enough to wake up Lavender and Parvati."

Draco smiled to himself when he saw her head twitch slightly, though she did not respond. It was not until he took a great inhalation, pretending to prepare to yell, when she finally rushed to the window.

"Don't you dare!" she seethed. On her own accord, Hermione peered out over the ledge and instantly regretted her choice. The ground seemed to be miles away with nothing but free, cold air to cushion what would surely be a tragic fall. Bilious, she steadied herself on the ledge with both hands, pressing her eyes shut.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Draco asked, concerned. Normally, hearing such disquiet in his voice would have resulted in her immediate attention, however she feared that even through such a small action as looking up at him would cause her to hurl.

She shook her head a fraction of an inch, fearing too much of an increase to her range of movement would cause her to collapse.

"N-no...I-I can't..." Draco remained silent, unsure of her apprehension. He recalled her never having flew in their first year lesson; she somehow had gotten away with writing an essay as a replacement. Her lack of knowledge in flying would be no problem, as it would be himself in control, so why was Hermione acting with such trepidation?

"You're not frightened of heights, are you?" Looking down, it was certainly a far enough drop, but it was something that he had never considered, having been riding a broom before he could walk.

Hermione let out something between a sound of agreement and a squeak, her eyes still pressed closed.

"Come, Hermione. Do you honestly think I would let you fall? I am not some dunderhead like Potter who likes to fall of his broom during every Quidditch match for attention!" Despite the situation, and the insult to Harry, Hermione managed a choked laugh. It was indeed true that Harry had a tendency to tumble off his broom occasionally.

"I won't let you fall. I promise," he added in a softer tone, maneuvering his broom closer to the sill. Hermione opened her eyes and gazed forward at Draco, who had positioned the broom level with that of the edge of the window. His eyes held a veracity that calmed her slightly.

She was not weak; she knew that she could do this. The brunette hopped up onto the sill and began to wiggle her way out unceremoniously. All the while, she was certain to refrain from repeating her previous mistake of allowing her curiosity to get the better of her and look down. She wiggled and squirmed until she sat uncomfortably, both legs hung out over the ledge of the window.

Hermione half expected Draco to ridicule her surely comical performance, but he did not, instead giving her an encouraging smile, extending his hand toward her. She took a deep breath before taking it in a death-grip and, as delicately as she could manage, ease her weight over the side and onto the space on the broom behind the blond.

The broom bounced softly as her weight was transferred. The moment Draco released her hand, both her arms went around his chest, squeezing him tightly.

"See?" he breathed out, readjusting Hermione's hands lower on his ribcage so he could breath. "That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

Draco felt her mumbling something into the back of his cloak, which he assumed to be 'Oh Merlin," repeated multiple times.

Hermione felt him chuckle at which she assumed to be her discomfort, however before she could call him out on it, he surged the broom forward.

Though he was barely moving at a snail's pace, their close proximity allowed him to feel Hermione's nerves pulsing just beneath her skin.

She buried her face into his shoulder blades, focusing only on the scent of his clothing, and attempting to think of words that could adequately describe it. Draco swerved unexpectedly, throwing her off balance slightly. In response, Hermione tightened her grip around him, if possible, even tighter.

"You know, I'm not going to speed off or anything," he stated tapping her hands slightly. They had begun to grow cold from their exposure to the cold night air, so he pressed one hand atop her own for a few moments to warm them, steering the broom with one hand. He looked over his shoulder at her.

"What are you doing!" Hermione shrieked. "Keep your eyes on the...air?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"I could fly in my sleep, there is absolutely nothing to worry about..."

"Well I would prefer if you _didn't _doze off while we are here seventy feet in the air," Hermione gasped out, still avoiding the compulsion to peer down at the grass below. Draco did not bother to point out that they were surely well over a hundred.

The two flew for several minutes in silence. Normally Draco could have flown from her window to another that would get them close enough to the kitchens in about thirty seconds flat, however at the pace they were going, he assumed it would take another.

Hermione curled her toes around the fluff within her slippers. Though they went up and around her heels, she was still paranoid that they would fall off. She could not imagine having to go out the following morning to find them scattered over the grounds.

"Draco?" Hermione called to him.

He tilted his ear to the side so that he could hear him. "Yeah?"

"Can you slow down a bit?"

"If I go any slower, we wont be moving at all." Doing as she said, he slowed his broom, such that they were suspended mid air. Several seconds passed without a reply.

He looked back over his shoulder to find her eyes lit with wonder as they stared above him, into the distance. Within her black iris, he could see a perfect reflection of the moon. Somehow he found that seeing a mirror image of the moon through a warm frame of honey colored eyes made it that much more beautiful.

Hermione's trembling stopped, and her grip loosened around his midsection albeit slightly. She rest her chin on his shoulder, continuing to gaze at the pale orb that hung low in the sky, so close that she felt if she stretched out her hand, she would be able to graze its surface.

For several minutes the two hovered in silence appreciating the beauty of the sky above, or that was until Draco became aware of her slight fidgeting behind him.

Draco bit his lip. Against his back, he could feel Hermione's chest pressed against him. The tops of her thighs were flush with sides of his own. It was difficult to think of anything else but for Hermione's close proximity, her warm breaths teasing the shell of his ear.

"How in Merlin's name can you last so long on a broom?" Hermione asked, shifting again. Draco closed his eyes attempting to clear his mind as she rubbed against him. "It really is uncomfortable."

Draco could only nod and do his best to compose himself.

"You get used to it." Hermione tightened her grip around his midsection as he urged the broom forward slowly. Surely her intense grip would result in a collection of bruises that would litter his ribcage the following morning, bruises that would map out a night that he spent with a girl he was falling for.

...

The moment Hermione's feet touched solid ground, she felt a huge surge of relief. She crawled through the open window, an uplifting feeling of accomplishment traveling through every limb in her body. She had done it! She had survived a broom ride without falling, vomiting, or strangling the driver. The small accomplishment had her grinning from ear to ear by the time Draco had dismounted his broom and followed her through the window.

"What?" Draco asked, genuinely confused by her mood. Hermione shook her head, a grin still on her lips.

"Nothing." Draco looked at her strangely, and did not reply.

The two passed the open doors of the Great Hall. Hermione rarely saw it vacated. In fact, she tried to remember the last time she did, and could not come up with a date. There was always students seated at the benches, whether it be for mealtime, or during class when students had a spare period, or chose to skip class.

Draco stopped in his tracks, straining his ears to listen to a sound that he thought that he heard coming from an adjacent corridor. He held out his arm to signal Hermione to stop, however she passed him, oblivious to the fact that her horrid slippers were creating loud scuffing noises as they slid along the rough stone floor.

He gripped her wrist, stopping her. "What-"

"Shh," he whispered. He turned his head back to the sound that he thought he had heard moments before. After second seconds of silence, he gave in to the fact that the sound might simply have been a figment of his imagination.

Draco made to respond to Hermione's still questioning glance when he heard a voice coming from down the corridor. Hermione's eyes widened, recognizing the voice.

"I am going to have one last look around the second floor, there are always students hanging around there in the middle of the night. Why don't you check the Owlery-"

"How dare you tell me what to do! You are no one important!" cried out another voice, which Draco recognized to be Pansy's. "I don't want to walk outside to the Owlery! It's freezing!"

Harry sighed. "Fine. Then I'll check the Owlery, and you check the second floor-"

Draco tugged on the arm that he was still holding a little too roughly, earning a slight squeak from Hermione. She was towed behind him as he quickly descended staircase that Hermione recognized to be the very same one that lead to the Hufflepuff Common room.

He weaved through a few more corridors until he dare slow his pace to a walk. Draco glared at Hermione's slippers disdainfully.

"I am just about to _confringo_ those bloody things!" Hermione looked down at her slippers fearfully as he pulled out his wand.

"No! Don't!" She went to grab his wrist in attempt to cease his wand flourish, however she was much too slow. She closed her eyes, waiting for seething flames to engulf her feet, but was surprised when she only herd him mutter, "_Sliencio."_

Hermione opened her eyes to watch him tuck his wand back into his robes.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Were you so daft as to think that I would actually set fire to them? Though they certainly are worthy of such a spell though." He continued to glare at them. They truly were dreadful in appearance, resembling that of a pygmy puff swallowing her foot up to her ankle. The bright red color certainly didn't help their case.

Hermione ignored him and continued down the corridor that Draco had lead her to. Every few feet, a portrait of a different landscape hung. The blond passed several portraits, appearing to search for one in particular. The brunette was just about to ask what the portrait was of, when he came to a stop, causing her to almost collide with his back.

Hermione side stepped him to gaze at an artful painting of a whicker bowl overflowing with colorful fruit.

The blond stepped forward pensively, appearing to study the brushstrokes that the artist made in order to create such a masterpiece.

"You do know how to get into the kitchens, don't you?" Hermione asked nervously, looking around. She did not want to be caught by that evening's prefects. She was not sure what she would say to Harry, should he find her wandering the halls.

"Theo and I came down here second year, though I can't quite recall how he managed to get in. I don't believe he used a password," he spoke as he ran his fingers along the perimeter of the gold frame. "He tickled one of the pieces of fruit."

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully as she stepped forward to study the abundant fruits painted colorfully across the stretch of canvas. "Why not simply tickle each one in turn until it opens?" She made to touch a juicy looking orange at the base of the picture, when Draco stopped her.

"You can't. If you choose the wrong one, you will be locked out of the kitchen for a good bit of time." Hermione crinkled her nose as she counted each piece of fruit. Her eyes spotted a plump green pear toward the left side of the portrait.

She recalled what Dumbledore had told her earlier that evening and stretched out a finger to tickle the pear. The fruit squirmed and giggled before turning into a green door knob.

She smiled triumphantly.

"How did you-?" Draco began.

"Dumbledore, actually...As I was leaving his office, he opened the door to tell me, out of the blue, that it was the furthest pear on the left." Hermione shrugged.

"So then Dumbledore knew that we were coming?" The blond narrowed his eyes, looking around as though he expected the bearded man to step out of the pantry.

"I can't see how he would," Hermione said slowly. "I didn't even know we were coming here until you came to my dormitory..." Draco nodded before stepping forward to take in the expanse of the kitchen.

The house elves that were said to run the kitchen had long gone to sleep, leaving the room vacant. Hermione walked past each of the four tables identical to and directly below those found in the Great Hall above. Hermione had read in Hogwarts a History, that food need only be placed upon the tables in the kitchen and it magically appeared on the corresponding tables above.

Hermione peered through the shelves in one of the numerous cupboards along each of the walls searching for something simple, that would not require too much time to prepare. Draco, did much the same a few cupboards down.

The brunette opened a pantry that seemed to house breakfast. She pushed aside several cereal boxes and sighed. A few shelves above, she spotted a box of danishes that she had eaten for breakfast on occasion, or used to at least. It just so happened that the food item happened to he on the top shelf.

The brunette stretched onto the tip of her toes, reaching her arm as far as it would go. Her fingers only barely skimmed the edge of the box containing her prize. She huffed in indignation. Hermione had began to search through her robes, when she felt a warmth emanating from behind her.

A pale hand, attached to a thin arm reached over her shoulder to easily retrieve the box that she was struggling to reach. Hermione reached out to take the box expectantly.

"Thank y-" However the box did not reach her hands. She turned around to glare at Draco, who was now staring at the content incredulously.

"Really Granger?" he said, laughing. "Danishes?" He shook his head, ignoring the look of helplessness as he placed them back on the shelf. "Hermione Granger misses dinner and would choose to gorge on danishes, rather than a meal?"

She glared up at him. "Granger is it? Well excuse me, Malfoy, for being too tired to cook anything elaborate," Hermione scoffed.

Draco rolled his eyes as he closed the cupboard, both of his arms on either side of her as he pushed the doors closed. "That's where magic trumps," Draco said into her ear. He stepped away slowly.

Hermione turned to find that in the time that she had been hunting in the pantry, he had already cooked a meal fit for a king. Or a Malfoy.

She narrowed his eyes at him. "I would have thought that you would need a house elf to do your cooking for you." Draco lifted an eyebrow at her before motioning her to sit at the seat across from him. Hermione sat down at the same time as Draco and began to scoop some mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"You're right. I happen to carry one around with me to do my bidding at all times."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wide, to find the joke in his eyes. She rolled her eyes. "Thank you Draco."

He only nodded as he began to artfully cut a piece of ham.

"You should come join me at Slytherin table sometime," he joked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You couldn't pay me to sit at that table!" Draco motioned to the table that they were currently sitting at. It sat directly below the Slytherin table found in the Great Hall.

"I didn't need to," Draco grinned at her.

The two fell into pointless chatter, ranging from upcoming assignments to muggle sports, which Draco immediately acquired a fascination for. As they talked, Hermione admired the etiquette that seemed to pool out of every pore in his body; the way in which his knife rested on the top of his plate as he took a bite, or the delicate way he folded his napkin. Eating across from him, Hermione felt positively barbaric.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they finished their food.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You didn't happen to take that scratchy robe with you when you left my dorm, did you?" Hermione looked at him, confused.

"No, remember, I left it there, and you said that you would return it to me when you could. And it was not scratchy!" Hermione added as an after thought. Draco looked troubled.

"Yes, I remember well," he replied pensively. The Gryffindor suddenly felt worried.

"Why..." she asked slowly. He pressed his lips together.

"I was wondering if you took it with you, because when I returned to my dorm after the feast, it was not on my bed where I remember you leaving it." Hermione picked at her potato slowly.

"Did Zabini or Nott happen to return to the dorm before yourself?" she asked. If they had, it was possible that they had moved it. He shook his head, confidently.

"There is no possibly way. The three of us did not return to our dorm until curfew."

"It's possible that a house elf might have gathered the robe up by mistake," Hermione tried. "After all, it was pretty much the only thing that was out of place when we left."

"Perhaps," was Draco's only reply, however he still appeared to be bothered.

"It's just a robe. You said yourself that it felt like sandpaper anyway." Hermione said, attempting to cover her own worry. Draco pressed his lips together.

"You're right, it's just I have a bad feeling about it." Hermione chose to say nothing as she retrieved both of their dishes, and proceeded to clean them before they made their way back to their respective Common rooms, and this time, Hermione made certain that she walked.

.H.

The next morning, Hermione awoke tired, albeit pleased. Her heart still fluttered happily against her chest when she thought of Draco coming to visit her the previous evening. She skipped through her morning routine easily, packing her bag in advance before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was eager to see Draco, even though he would be on the other side of the Hall.

...

The majority of the Slytherin table crowded in a bunch, seemingly around someone. Hermione ignored the group; they were more than likely sharing some false tid-bit of gossip headed my Pansy.

"Who is it?" she heard a girl squeal toward the center subject of the circle. "Come on, you can tell us who it is, we wont tell anyone!" Hermione rolled her eyes as she continued toward the Gryffindor table.

As Hermione passed the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table, she was surprised to see a few Gryffindor students scattered spiritually among them, whispering.

As she approached, she noticed more and more students chattering quietly. Spotting two red heads seated side by side, half way down the table, Hermione quickly approached them in hopes of divulging the mysterious behavior of the students.

"What is it Ginny?" Hermione asked, concerned. Ginny turned away from Ron, who continued to gaze suspiciously at every Gryffindor as they walked by the table, on their way, or leaving breakfast to prepare for their next class. He avoided Hermione's gaze as she sat down beside his sister, obviously still harboring negative feelings toward her; she would have to sort those out later.

"You are never going to believe this!" Ginny exploded. "Someone from Ravenclaw told Alicia, who told Lavender, who told Parvati who informed Ronald, who told me, that someone was messing around in Draco's dormitory!" She squealed. Hermione's throat went dry, and she did her best to appear disinterested.

"Well, I'm sure he messes around in a lot of places, Ginevra. At least he had the decency to do it in a dormitory, rather than in the hallway," Hermione replied. The irony. "How is this news any different?"

Ginny looked at her incredulously. "How-how is this any different? The person that he was messing around with was thick enough to leave their robe on his bed." The brunette froze, dreading the words that were to follow.

"It is a hell of a lot different, because whomever is messing around with Malfoy is a Gryffindor!"

* * *

No teaser...I just finished writing this DX Sorry for lack of event. I sort of sizzled out a bit, but the tournament will start next chapter...and I feel that it is time for a bit more Drama...don't you think? :D I have a strong idea of where I am going with this, but suggestions are always welcome because I know everyone likes to get involved. Chapter names are also welcome for this segment! Thanks xx


	29. Chapter 29: Secrets Unveiled

A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update...Writers block is really difficult to deal with...Thanks to SweetTies...again...for being the most amazing beta :) xx And thank you to ssSaja10101 for her awesome chapter name for chapter 28! 'Late Night Snack'

* * *

**Chapter 28**

"It is a hell of a lot different, because whomever is messing around with Malfoy is a Gryffindor!"

Hermione, unable to hide her sudden spring of emotion, allowed her eyes to widen in response. Ginny took her reaction as one of both surprise and disbelief that a fellow Gryffindor would be so imprudent as to go behind enemy lines.

"Think of it, Hermione. Someone from our own house betraying us to sleep around with a slimy git like Malfoy! What scum!" Ginny spat. "How could they?"

Hermione shrugged as nonchalantly as she could, but found that her shoulders had become rather stiff. "I'm not sure Ginny."

The red head reached over the table to retrieve a blueberry muffin from a gold plate in the center and took an angry bite. "Gryffindors are chosen for their courage and bravery, not for their ability to slither around like a deceitful serpent behind their friends' backs!" The brunette tried not to wince at the Weasley's hateful comments.

"And no one has any idea who it is?" Hermione asked, hoping her voice did not sound as wounded as she felt.

Ginny made a face. "No." Hermione let out an inaudible sigh. "No one has any idea who it is yet, Hermione. I will find out who the traitor is, though. I already have my suspicions." The red head glared down the table at a blonde that Hermione had never seen before.

"Penny Dowling." Her name was said as though the consonants were grazed with acid. "That's my bet." Ginny turned back to face her. "She is in my year, and is the tartiest tart I have ever seen in my life. She is a Pureblood too."

Hermione nodded. "So Purebloods are your only suspects?" The bushy haired brunette did not know whether or not to be pleased with her answer. The bushy haired brunette suspected the answer would be yes. On the one hand, it would be reassuring to know that Ginny would not think to accuse her of betraying their house, but on the other, she would also disappointed that people would not think of her in the same breath as Draco; that perhaps she, Hermione Granger, would never be able to measure up to Draco Malfoy.

"Of course. I don't exactly see Malfoy sneaking around with anyone with a blood status less than pure. I doubt he would even look at a half-blood."

In response, Hermione swallowed nervously, looking anywhere but at Draco, who was surely being bombarded with questions. That explained the crowd at the Slytherin table that she had walked past earlier.

Hermione reached for a danish, more for something to do. She felt that if she acted to strangely, Ginny would pick up on it.

"What happens once you figure out who Malfoy's mystery girl is?" she asked, doing her best to sound disinterested. Hermione bit into her pastry, waiting for her friends answer, not tasting the delectable strawberries drizzled with icing. Ginny considered the question for a moment before answering.

"There would be a lot of things I would like to do," she said, smirking evilly. "But I think that being segregated from her own house would be punishment enough."

.D.

"Who is it, Drakie? I can't believe that you would rather have a Gryffindor over me." a voice purred in his ear. Draco flinched at the familiar voice and clenched his jaw. He spun around to glare at Pansy, only to find her smiling sweetly at him.

"What's your point, Pansy?" Draco replied lazily. Contrary to his aloof tone, his mind was racing. How would anyone have found out that he was seeing a Gryffindor? And was he even seeing her? He had kissed her, but that did not exactly constitute a relationship.

Pansy stood before him, her bright green eyes sparkling malevolently, a piece of dark fabric hanging from her index finger like a hook. She readjusted the fabric such that it clearly displayed the Gryffindor crest on the breast pocket.

"Gryffindor?" she finished all too sweetly. As she leaned forward, the garment slid across the top of his hand that was clenched tightly around the seat of the bench. "Rather curious how this garment ended up on your bed, wouldn't you agree?" she whispered into his ear.

"Is it curious?" he asked to piss her off. In reality, he was irked that she had gone down into his dormitory without permission, but he supposed it was his own fault, having granted her access in recent years. He had grown tired of her games and he knew for certain that both Blaise and Theo had as well.

"That's beside the point," she said fingering the intricate stitching of the crest. "The robe was there regardless. The question is, why? And who, for that matter?" Pansy narrowed her eyes as she shifted closer to him. Draco internally cringed and resisted the urge to slide further down the bench.

"Have you nothing better to do than to snoop around amongst my things?" he drawled, picking up a piece of toast and beginning to spread a thin layer of butter across the top.

"I'm going to find out at some point," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching up slightly. "Whether I hear it from your lips, or not."

Before Draco was forced to come up with a reply, he was saved by Theo, who decided to occupy the space to his left. The boy leaned around the blond's shoulder to address the girl.

"Pansy, you want to give Draco and I a few minutes to talk?" he said, though not unkindly. It was only now apparent to the young Malfoy that Theo seemed to be the only one in the entire house who did not have a short temper with the girl.

"But-" Theo lifted his eyebrows. In response, the raven haired girl harrumphed and stood to leave but not before throwing the robe at Blaise, who was on the verge of laughter.

"Nice Theo," the Italian laughed. Theo shrugged in response as he reached for a croissant.

"A Gryffindor, was she mate?" Blaise said smugly from across the table. Amusement was clear in his voice. "I would have thought that you would have better standards than that."

The blond smiled slightly at Blaise before inclining his head. "It's nice to see you too Blaise-" Theo leaned forward to cut off Draco's greeting.

"Well I suppose we can't blame him," he shrugged. "If I had abstained for as long as he had, I would have fucked anything that walked, Gryffindor or not!" Theo laughed.

"So who is she then," the Italian asked, scanning the Gryffindor table. It figured that the two would pick up where Pansy had left off, at least he no longer had to worry about attempts at seduction.

"I bet it was Lavender!" Theo chimed in. "Just look at the tits on that woman, honestly Drake, why didn't you let us stick around for the show? Word has it, the bint wouldn't have minded in the least, what with her reputation!" The boy turned to Blaise. "Hell, she might have even let us join in!" The boys erupted in the fit of thunderous laughter. The blond pretended to chuckle along with them.

"Does it honestly matter?" he drawled, once there was a break in their laughter. "You two have never been so keen to learn who has been in my bed before." His response earned him a scoff from both Slytherins.

"That's because you've never bedded a bloody Gryffindor!" Theo exclaimed, motioning toward the table on the other side of the hall. "I would have figured it would have been Blaise that ventured toward their end before you, mate." Blaise gave Theo an unamused glance.

"Unlikely," the Italian scoffed before turning back to Draco. "So it was Lavender then! I should have figured as much-"

"No, it wasn't her you idiot. I wouldn't touch her, especially after Weaslebee," the blond replied truthfully. "I do have standards, you know." Blaise shrugged in silent agreement. Draco knew that the Italian was in no way interested in Lavender either.

"What about the Weasley girl then?" The number of Purebloods in Gryffindor was substantially less than a sixteenth of the population, so if his friends continued with their interrogation, it would not be long at all before they learned that the owner of the robe was not a pureblood.

The blond followed his friend's gaze to rest on the red haired girl, only to notice that she was engaged in a rather heated discussion. He was surprised to find that the recipient of her wrath appeared to have bushy hair. Draco also did not miss that her skin was a great deal paler than normal. He could only hope that the Weasley had not learned that she was linked to him in any way.

"You know, she is pretty sexy when she gets riled up like that," Blaise commented while observing the red head. "Blood traitor or not."

"Same with that Granger girl," Theo interjected. "The girl may have blood more polluted then a suer, but damn she has a nice ass."

Immediately Draco tensed. He hadn't expected one of his friends to drag his current fancy into the conversation, and under such vulgar terms. An unfamiliar feeling in his stomach began to manifest.

It bothered him greatly to hear Theo refer to Hermione as he would other girls. Hermione was different. She was his.

For but a moment, Draco thought he spotted curiosity blooming in Blaise's eyes, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

"I remember one time in Potions class when Granger dropped a Doxy egg and when she bent down to retrieve it...I would be lying to say I didn't want to bend her over that desk and-"

"So was it the Weasley?" Blaise cut in smartly, addressing Draco. The blond glanced as casually as he could over at Blaise, who now looked amused. He had a feeling that the boy knew more than he was letting on.

"I didn't sleep with anyone last night," he said honestly. Both boys gaped at him.

"Why the fuck not? You had a girl in your dorm and you didn't even think to screw her?" Theo asked incredulously.

Obviously he _had_ thought about it, he was a guy after all, but he knew that Hermione was not the type to be tampered with in such a way, and he did not plan to push her into anything. In fact, her purity scared him to an extent, because never had he touched or thought about touching something so genuine, so innocent. Every other girl he had been with had been tainted by another, so innocence of a woman had never been something he had considered. After spending a little bit of time with Hermione, it was something that he found himself becoming more aware of.

"You wouldn't understand anyway," he drawled out before turning to swing his legs over the bench. A hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't tell me you've fallen for the girl, mate," Blaise asked without question. His usual smug tone had evaporated, leaving a serious expression on his face that made him look more mature. Again, the Slytherin's eyes seemed to hold more than he let on. Draco blinked and shook his head quickly.

"No." But there was definitely something there; something that he wanted to explore.

Blaise looked at him in the eyes inquisitively for a few moments longer before finally releasing his arm. "Alright, see you at lunch then," was his only reply.

.H.

Hermione quickly dipped her quill into her ink pot. The whole week had resulted in her falling behind in her studies, and that left her seated at a familiar desk positioned next to a broad window in Gryffindor Tower the evening before the due date of her Potions essay, writing as quickly as she could.

She was required to submit a foot long sheet of parchment on the healing properties of Betony, and its uses in early medieval Great Britain. Beside her, a mountainous stack of parchment sat, with every inch of its surface covered in tiny cramped handwriting. Her pile of research had been completed about a week prior, however Hermione had had little time to formulate the out line of her essay. So much had happened within the last few days that she hadn't even had a chance to begin. Dare she say, she had uncharacteristically forgotten about it.

The bushy-haired brunette hunched closer to her parchment as her quill began to pick up speed, sending tiny flecks of black ink into her eyes, and dusted her nose. It was a few minutes passed eleven, and she had written just over five inches. By the end of the hour, she had made it her goal that she would complete the remaining seven, and head to bed.

Her eyes burned not from the spray of the ink, but from tiredness. She had not received enough sleep the previous evening because of her little excursion with Draco and...she paused, looking at her paper, shocked.

Completely by accident, she had written Draco's name right into the body of her essay! Quickly she scratched out the word, cursing herself; she had not the time to re-write the paper, so Professor Snape would just have to do with her error. As long as he couldn't read it. She ran her quill over the name a few more times to be certain that it would not be read correctly, only stopping when the wet ink began to seep through the parchment, and onto the following sheet.

"Bugger," she whispered to herself. She dipped her quill once more and returned to writing out her essay, that was until she heard a faint '_tap tap tap'._

She looked over her shoulder to find the silhouette of an owl against one of the windows in the common room. Groaning, she set her quill back in the inkwell before leaning to her right to unlatch the window. A puffy barn owl that Hermione recognized to be one of the various owls that belonged to the school, hopped out of the chilled air and stepped onto the desk. Without warning, the owl stuck out its leg, knocking over the inkwell. Black ink poured over the bottom half of the parchment, covering the last few sentences of her essay in a black mess.

Quickly, she retrieved the inkwell and removed her parchment from the table, dripping with ink. With her other hand she pulled her wand from within her robes and with a flick, removed the excess ink. Unfortunately, the bottom of her parchment remained stained dark. She groaned. At least there was now no chance of Professor Snape somehow finding out she had accidentally scribed Draco's name, she thought glumly.

She set the essay down, and retrieved the letter from the owl, whose leg was still extended. She peeled back the seal curiously; who would write to her this late?

_Hermione,_

_ Meet me at the humpbacked witch statue at 11:30. I have something to tell you!_

_- Steph_

Instantly Hermione knew that Stephanie was referring to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, located halfway along a third-floor corridor between a staircase leading from the Entrance Hall and the way to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione flipped over the piece of parchment to find it blank. Her friend certainly had given her no details as to deduce the subject of their meeting. Naturally she was curious; why had she insisted on meeting her this evening, when they shared virtually every class the following day?

Hermione chose not to fret, and chewed on her bottom lip as she wrote a hasty reply to the barn owl, informing her that she would indeed be present. She sighed. So much for completing her Potions essay this evening. She had but twenty minutes until she was to meet Stephanie, and it would take her five minutes to reach the statue. Fifteen minutes did not give her a lot of time, and she was not about to waste it.

...

Twenty-five minutes later, Hermione had packed up her belongings, placed them neatly on the top corner, and was stepping out of the portrait. As she turned down a corridor at the base of the flight of stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower, her brisk pace slowed as she did her best to quiet her steps. Quite a few of the portraits lining the walls on this particular section of the castle had agreed to inform Professor Flitch of anything out of the ordinary, in exchange for decent positioning so that a window was always in view.

She very much wanted to catch up with Stephanie, however the completion of her essay continued to nip at the back of her mind. Hermione would do her utmost to keep the visit succinct so that she could finish scrawling her essay.

Turning the corner, she saw the Beaubaton look toward the sound of her footsteps. As she approached, Stephanie gave her a weary smile.

"Hello Hermione, sorry I had to owl you on such short notice. This information couldn't wait." The brunette regarded her friend's curiously restrained demeanor, but before she could comment, Stephanie produced a rather thick book from the dark leather satchel hanging from her shoulder.

"What-"

"You know how you said that you couldn't find any information regarding your cuts in Hogwarts' Library?" Hermione closed her mouth and nodded. Had her friend come across a piece of information that could aid in her healing process? But that did not explain why she currently looked so somber.

Stephanie looked down. "Well actually, I did find something. Page seventy-four." Her tone was not reassuring. Carefully, Hermione took the book from the girl.

The thin yellowing pages felt fragile beneath her fingers, so she took care as she slowly leafed through the pages until she had reached the correct one.

"Paragraph six." Again, her tone was blank. Hermione's eyes shot up to look at Stephanie, who was staring intently at the book in her hands.

_June 25, 1975_

_I have continued with my previously documented works in examining the anti-regeneration blade, and have unfortunately hit a dead end. I have not yet been able to determine the nature of the blade, nor a method of regeneration. For this reason, I have regretfully decided to end my research here. I have however decided not to abandon it altogether, rather I am moving on to what I believe to be a more manageable piece, an offshoot of my previous research, and then perhaps I can return to it later if my success is noted._

Hermione looked up at Stephanie, who urged her to continue.

_It has come to my attention, that when charmed, a blade or sharp object can not only permanently sever the limbs of human or animal with no hope of regrowth, but also form lacerations between which skin is also unable to form._

_I assume that the idea was inspired by the anti-regeneration blade, though I am unsure of why such a weapon would be inspired by this idea, I can be certain that in the future, many similar wounds will be found. Hopefully a cure will have been distinguished before then._

_Such a curse can be artfully interwoven with another that prevents the cells of a witch or wizard from forming a close at a juncture point. This inability to heal, paired with the constant blood loss that would surely result in death. It is expected that the witch or wizard would die within minutes to hours, depending on the number and depth of the wounds._

_Through my research, I have also found that temporary measures can be made, however temporary they shall remain. I have been able to discern that primary healing curses do indeed have an effect, however again, the results have not lasted more than a few hours, and upon subsequent reapplication of spells, the time between re-openings have lengthened, but not ceased._

_Stitches, even those performed with unicorn hair, dissolved within an hour. I will continue to monitor the symptoms of the unfortunate few who have been subject to the modified blade wielded by my wife._

It did not prove to amount to that much of a shock - Derrick would have had to attain the blade from somewhere.

"But how is this to help me? We already know that there are only temporary measures," Hermione said, attempting to quell the frustration bubbling from within her gut. How would reading something she already knew, bring her closer to solving her problem?

"No, look-" Stephanie shuffled over to stand beside her. "Just there." She pointed to a hastily scrawled note in the bottom corner of the page. The time between the entry and the note was obviously different, as it was written in a much thicker pen with blue, rather than black ink.

_When innocent blood becomes impure, it will continuously flow from the limbs of the witch or wizard. Tainted blood prevents the healing of wounds, and until its former purity is restored, it is impossible to stem the bleeding._

"It's a riddle," Hermione stated solemnly. She looked up at Stephanie quickly. "Wait, do you happen to know what sort of cure your father was referring to?" The brunette couldn't help the hopeful tone that seeped int her words.

Stephanie smiled grimly in response. "I was actually hoping that you might be able to figure that part out," she replied regretfully.

Hermione nodded, swallowing her disappointment. For a moment, a single moment since the summer, she felt reassured that something had possibly spun in a better direction. Unfortunately, her moment of hope was just as the solution was. Temporary.

"Why would he write a riddle in his own journal?" asked Hermione, handing the book back to Stephanie. The girl shrugged.

"My father was a private person. I never did understand how his mind worked sometimes." Hermione nodded. "I don't know why, but I think that I was meant to find it..." She smoothed her hand over the cover lovingly.

The curly haired brunette sighed to herself grimly. "My blood needs to return to its former purity before I will heal?"

"That's how it appears."

"But I cannot just simply Scourgifi my blood!" Hermione was frustrated. This was the closest she had been to determining how to break what ever curse was associated with the blade, and she felt that the more she thought about the riddle, the further she was pulled from the answer.

Really, there was nothing for her to go on. If Stephanie's father's thoughts were correct, her blood was now tainted. Unfortunately, that new information provided her with no further hints, or a direction to go in; she was just as blind as she had been before. What was her solution? Would she forever rely on temporary solutions?

"Where did you find this?" the Gryffindor asked, more so to pull her mind away from its frustration.

"It was in my father's trunk. While flipping through it, I recognized his writing. I don't know, I had to keep it. I never got around to reading it until now; I had thought it was simply a daily journal, that it might tell me a little bit more about his life. He had always been fairly secretive. I guess I was wrong, though. It now seems to me as though it is a collection of ideas, theories he had been...testing, or considering at the least.

"Testing?" Hermione asked carefully. Stephanie chewed the inside of her cheek.

"While my 'mother' delved in the Dark Arts, my father took to exploring various medical aspects associated with it. I didn't really understand the full extent of his research until I started reading. As much as he tried to shield me from the sinful activities of my mother, I think he succeeded equally in obscuring my vision of him as well." Stephanie's eyes dropped to the book in her hands.

"I think that he was clinging to an unfeasible thread of hope that perhaps his wife would eventually come to her senses, that by researching and finding out as much as he could about the evils surrounding her, he would be able to aid her should she be caught in the cruel fingers of her doing...or counteract the impact she had on the rest of the world."

Hermione did not feel that she could have possessed more sympathy for the girl before her. She smiled lightly at her friend before wrapping her arms around her reassuringly. She held onto her until Stephanie pulled away.

"We should probably get back to bed before we're caught," Stephanie whispered in a low voice, looking around. Hermione was suddenly aware of how loud they had been talking and agreed.

Hermione made to step away but Stephanie caught her arm.

"Wait. Take this," she said quietly, thrusting her fathers journal toward her.

"No, I couldn't," Hermione replied.

"I've read it already, and besides, I might have missed something while going through it." Hermione looked at her. She was pretty sure that Stephanie would have combed through her fathers written work, so the chance of her missing something would be fairly slim. For what ever reason, Stephanie seemed insistent on giving her the book.

"I'll return it as soon as I finish reading it." Stephanie nodded. After whispering their goodbyes, Hermione scurried back off in the direction she had come. As she walked between the flickering torches lining the section of the corridor, she couldn't help but feel that someone was watching her. She looked around her shoulder to find that she was alone. Her pace slowed, ears strained to hear a second pair of footsteps, but noting none, she returned to her original pace.

"Well, well. If it isn't Miss Granger, out for her evening stroll. You know, when I met Potter in the front hall, I was quite certain that he was my partner for this evening, but I would much prefer to have you."

Hermione stopped, and almost immediately she felt a warmth radiating onto her back. He did not touch her, but she could feel his steady breaths tease the skin on her neck. If his distinguishably aristocratic voice did not give him away, it was his expensive cologne.

"Malfoy. Don't you have miscreants to dock house points from?" she asked, stepping away from his warmth. She knew that if she remained their a moment longer, she risked succumbing to his charm. After a moment, she fell easily into her previous stride. The blond caught up to her and rewarded her with a dazzling grin.

"So it's Malfoy, now? I'm wounded." Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to surge ahead, not wanting to be caught with Draco in the middle of the night, with no valid excuse.

"Ahh yes, but I would much prefer to learn why Hermione Granger is not reading into the night, or getting ahead on an essay." Hermione turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"I have just as much right to wander the corridors as yourself. And besides, I need to finish the Potions essay before I even think of getting ahead.

"You mean, you haven't finished it yet?" Draco asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a genuine smile. "You mean to say that Hermione Granger will be writing an essay on the eve of its due date?" Draco burst into laughter, displaying his perfectly shaped white teeth.

"Shh!" Hermione looked over her shoulder carefully. She grasped for the wrist of his robes and pulled him into another corridor.

"Are you sure that Harry isn't around?" Hermione whispered frantically. She would be damned if Draco's laughter would draw Harry or any other student for that matter, to their location. She could only imagine the repercussions if he found her talking to Draco in an abandoned hallway in the dead of night.

"I certainly hope not," he replied, lifting a hand to lightly brush the hair off of her shoulder, exposing the flesh of her neck. He bent his head slightly to whisper in her ear. "Because if he did, I think you would have a hell of a time explaining to him why we were snogging in the hallway."

His close proximity permitted his voice to reverberate pleasantly within her chest, and she so desperately wished to reach out and feel the texture of the porcelain skin but inches from her cheek, but resisted the urge, choosing rather to let out an unladylike snort. "You certainly don't refrain from flaunting your presumptuous attitude wherever possible, do you? What makes you so confident that if he were to catch us, it would be when we are snogging?"

Draco chuckled, a low sound in his throat that caused the temperature of her skin to increase. The contact that she desired to occur made her skin tingle with anticipation.

"So you would resist?" he whispered, so lightly that it was only his breath dancing across her skin that conveyed his message.

"Wouldn't that bother you?" Hermione teased.

"No," he whispered back, brushing his lips gently against her ear lobe. "Because you wouldn't for long."

Her rebuttal died in her throat as he licked the bottom of her ear that his lips had previously touch before playfully nipping her skin. The quick intake of breath that followed was involuntary, as was the shiver that ran through her limbs as he continued to suck on her ear.

The blond bent his head and lightly began to kiss her neck, his light hair tickling the skin that it came into contact with. Her heart pounded frantically against her ribs. The danger of being found was ever present, but his lips felt like satin against her skin, causing her to forget. She did not want to pull away.

"Still resisting," she whispered. Through her statement was genuine, the tone of her voice informed Draco that her reserve was wearing thin.

"Impressive, Granger." He breathed against her lips as he spoke. "The question I want answered, is for how long?" Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her pink lips were just begging to be kissed. But he wanted to make her pay for her initial reserve.

He leaned in as though to kiss her lips, however he merely brushed over them with his own with the strength of a moths wing, to plant a kiss at the corner of her lips. Her lips tingled almost painfully with the light contact, desire to kiss him mounting to the point of discomfort.

"Where on Earth did you managed to pick up such a haughty attitude?" Hermione sighed as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear. The question went unanswered as he left a trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck and began to suck on her collar bone.

A hand resting gently against her rib cage drifted down her side to rest low on her hip, leaving a trail of heat where it traveled. On their own accord, her own slid up his hard chest, and felt him groan in response. The vibrations she felt beneath his chest when he did caused her heart to beat faster and desire more contact. Beneath the fabric of standard grey Hogwarts cardigan, she felt light indentations where quidditch had obviously done him some good.

He was intoxicating. His scent, his lips, his voice, everything about him at that moment seemed to make her stomach pool with desire. When she could resist his teasing kisses no longer, made to move her hands to either side of his head to pull him to her lips, however he pulled away from her neck only long enough to switch to the other side.

"Draco!" she said, slightly annoyed.

"Hmm?" he hummed against her neck in response.

"If you plan on snogging me anytime soon, then do it before we get caught!"

He pulled away to find her eyebrows pulled together in distraught frustration, as though she had asked a question to her Professor, only to be told that an answer was not available. His lips quirked at the sight.

"What's got your knickers in a knot?" he asked in a husky voice. Having not pulled away, his lips remained inches from her own, yet he made no move to close the distance. "I would have expected you to be more pleased -"

Contrary to what he expected, Hermione pulled his face toward her own, a daring move for such a reserved girl. He found that thought alone turned him on all the more.

He pressed his lips more forcefully to her own, asking for entrance with a flick of his tongue. The kiss was soft at first, but worked its way to a passionate battle for dominance.

He laced his fingers with hers and pressed the back of her hands against the cool wall on either side of her head. Hermione let out a soft moan, swallowed by his mouth as he pushed his body against her own.

She nibbled on his bottom lip, earning her a groan from the back of his throat. The sound alone caused her lower abdomen to tighten into an unfamiliar feeling.

Slowly, Draco unlaced his fingers from her own and began to slide his hands down the sides of her raised arms, over her ribcage, to rest on her hips. His fingers made soft caresses over the fabric of her white oxford before slipping beneath it. She gasped as his thumb lightly brushed over the front of her hip bone, sending another wave of pleasure through her, and Draco took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

"Oi, Malfoy. Since when did 'snogging' fit into our job description as prefects?" Hermione's eyes widened as she heard the unmistakeable voice of Harry Potter, echoing from the corridor behind from Draco. She pulled away quickly, almost hitting the back of her head on the stone wall behind her. Holding her breath, she remained hidden behind the Slytherin, using the boy as a shield so that her friend would not be able to identify her.

She was not sure if Draco would move away and reveal her to Harry, so she kept her arms firmly around his neck to plant him firmly in place. His hands not leaving her hips. He angled his head slightly to direct his voice toward Harry and sighed audibly, making it apparent that his presence was unwelcome.

"Tell you what Potter, I'll let you know, but not until you inform me as of when interrupting became such a consequential component in being 'the chosen one'? the blond spoke snidely.

Hermione would have scolded him, were it not for the possibility of Harry finding out that it was she that Draco was snogging.

"Listen Malfoy, I don't want you to be my patrols partner any more than you want to be mine, but it is only for this once-"

"Thank Merlin for that," he said to himself under his breath.

Harry continued to prattle on about teamwork, a speech that Draco ignored. Finally tiring of the Golden Boy's speech, he swiftly cut him off.

"I never pegged you for the jealous type Potter, but I think it's fair to warn you that I am not interested in wizards..."

"Shove off Malfoy, just drop it and lets get going. I don't want to be out all night because you can't keep your hands to yourself!" Harry replied. The blond growled.

"Since when were you given the right to-"

"Wait," Harry said so slowly, that his tone seemed to have adopted an ominous edge. Draco fell silent. "Hermione? Hermione, is that you?" Instantly, her heart dropped. Though she was still pressed against Draco, his warmth did nothing to melt the chill that rushed through her body. Draco tensed.

The moment of silence that stretched between the was broken when she heard Harry shuffle closer. She closed her eyes as she heard his footsteps approach. This was it. Hermione held her breath and lowered her head, waiting for her friend to voice his distain.

The footsteps became steadily louder, and just when she expected them to stop beside her, they began to decrease in volume. Quizzically, Hermione opened her eyes to find Draco looking to his left. Following his gaze, she saw Harry's back retreating down the hallway at a brusque pace.

Hermione met Draco's gaze sadly, and without a word, she sidestepped his hold and began to race after Harry.

...

"Harry!" The boy continued to walk. "Harry James Potter, you stop and listen to me this instant!" Hermione shouted at him forcefully. She had been attempting to persuade Harry to acknowledge her existence for three floors now, and it did not seem as though the boy planned on stopping any time soon. A panic had begun to work its way through her veins, being pushed deeper and deeper with every beat of her heart. What if he didn't listen to her? She needed Harry more than he would ever know!

Harry's pace slowed, before stopping completely. The brunette should have been relieved that he had finally given her the chance to speak to him, but she felt scared. How is it that you explain to someone that you are falling for their worst enemy?

Hermione closed the distance between them, and walked around his shoulder. His face was emotionless, his eyes hard as they locked onto something over her shoulder.

"I-"

"You lied to me," Harry said in a low voice, void of emotion. His face had a stone-like quality to it that frightened her. "Again. I thought that I had gotten through to you earlier this evening that I was done with lies." Hermione could tell by the way his voice shook that he was teetering on his breaking point.

"I didn't lie...If you would just-" Harry scoffed and continued to walk. The brunette followed in his footsteps as he entered through the portrait into the Gryffindor common room, which was vacant, just as Hermione had left it. Harry spun to face her.

"Well you certainly didn't tell me the truth, either." Again, his voice was void of emotion.

Hermione continued to look at him, unsure of what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell Harry everything in that moment, everything about Derrick, Draco and every piece of herself that she had hidden.

"We are supposed to be friends," Harry shook his head, holding her gaze. "But to be honest, you were never a friend to me."

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the painful sting of tears against her lids. "You were never a friend to me, because you are something much closer. You're a sister to me."

The sincerity in his voice was enough to cause the tears to spill over. She wiped them away quickly as he lead her over to the floor before the fire. The pair sat down, each leaning against the length of the couch behind them.

He shook his head. "You are my sister, Hermione, and as a brother, I can't help but feel some sort of protectiveness over you. It's something I cannot so easily turn off when I please. When I see someone hurt my family, it hurts me too, and that's exactly what I have seen Malfoy do to you for years. Whenever he called you names or poked fun at you because of who he saw you as, I could feel a dulled, diluted version of pain you must have felt." Harry paused.

"I only know him as a manipulative, deceitful, asshole. So seeing him and you, you know, together...it just...I can't help but feeling a bit betrayed. That, paired with the gossip that was spread around in the Great Hall this morning. I would have never believed it would have been you." Harry paused looking back at her, almost sick. "Just tell me you didn't sleep with the git."

Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, I haven't slept with him." She blushed and looked away, ashamed that Harry had just planted such an image in her mind. On it's own accord, her heart rate increased as she thought about Draco and her, alone in the dorm, and what they so easily could have done together. He had obviously heard about Parkinson coming across her cloak.

"To be honest, I don't even know what's going on, Harry." The brunette leaned her head back against the seat of the sofa and sighed. There was no use lying to him about Draco at this point. Never had she thought that Harry would be the person that she would be talking to about her fancy.

"I don't know what we are, or if it is going to last, I just don't know. I don't like not knowing things. Besides, even if things do progress I don't think that a relationship would be accepted by anyone; I am a muggle and he has... expectations..." Hermione chewed on her bottom lip pensively.

Harry pressed his lips together into a fine line. "I still don't like it." He replied truthfully. "You are obviously more than capable of making your own choices, but I don't want to see you get hurt. I know girls find him...attractive, but he is also more dangerous than I think that any of us have realized. He's Malfoy! His father is a cold Death Eater. Hasn't it crossed your mind that he and his family are woven into the same dark material?"

"He's not as two-dimensional as you make him out to be," she said strongly. "He may appear to be woven out of dark cloth, but that is only because it was the fabric he was born with; the hand he was dealt. I thought that he was all dark, and those dark patches obscured the pieces within him that show so much more than that." Her voice was strong, determined, and did not waver.

Harry furrowed his dark eyebrows. "For years he tormented you! Us! Everyone! He thrives off of picking at some insignificant piece of someone's life and making them feel insecure about it, takes a weakness and exposes it to the world..."

"Harry. I can't explain it to you, but he is different than I expected. There's this...this side to him that I never knew existed. At the beginning of this year I was forced into sharing a carriage with him, and at that point, I don't think I have ever hated him as much as I did in that moment. But things happen, things change. He's helped me in ways that I don't think that anyone else could have, or can. I don't know why it's him that is able to help me, Harry. I don't know why, and I am not about to try to attempt to figure it out!'"

Harry searched her face. "Are you under the imperious curse? Did he-"

"No, Harry," she replied seriously. She placed both hands on his shoulders. "The way you described him before...a manipulative, deceitful..." Hermione trailed off so that the colorful metaphor did not grace her lips.

"Asshole?" She glared at him. "I just have one question. Why him Hermione?" Harry turned to face her seriously. "Why him of all people? Ron has fancied you for who knows how long, surely you must have known that..."

Hermione avoided his eyes. "I had my suspicions, but Harry, I love Ron...as a brother. I just don't think I could ever feel..." she trailed off.

"Feel the way that you feel about Malfoy," Harry finished for her, returning her gaze. His green eyes softened as he saw the truth reflected in her eyes. "You are really serious about him, huh?" Hermione nodded.

He laughed to himself, raking his hand through his raven hair. "Ginny knew you know." Hermione failed to hide her shock.

"About me and Draco? How?"

"Not you and...Malfoy, per say, but she knew that you fancied someone." The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Of course she would, that Ginevra. But how ever would she have come to such a conclusion?" Harry shrugged.

"I will never attempt to understand the mind of a woman; such a feat only ends in a migraine." Harry brought both of his hands to his temples in mock discomfort.

Hermione smiled back softly and returned her gaze to the flames. For several minutes, the two sat in silence, each thinking to themselves. Hermione did not know how much time had passed when Harry chose to speak again.

"Listen, I don't know what is going on with you this year, and I think that it's clear that you don't feel that I'm the person to share it with-"

"Harry, it's not that I don't want to, I just can't," she whispered. He sighed.

"I know," he wrapped an arm around her shoulder in a gesture of support. "What I mean is, I am not about to prevent you from talking to someone else about it. Even if that someone is...Malfoy." He spoke the Slytherin's name as though it was acidic. "I just want you to be careful, and to know that I will always be there for you."

The curly haired brunette wrapped her arms around him. Harry returned the hug easily.

"So is this your way of saying that you accept him?" Hermione whispered into his ear, hopefully. He sighed before whispering back.

"No, this is my way of saying, as much as I would like to hex him, if he is that someone that you need, then who am I to prevent it." Hermione held him tighter and kissed him on the cheek before standing.

"Thanks Harry." He nodded at the flames in acknowledgement, a flicker of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips in what she assumed to be amusement. She turned to leave, but paused. "You can't tell anyone by the way. No one can find out about this...You have to promise-"

Hermione trailed off as her eyes landed on the silhouette of a student, standing at the base of the stairs leading up to the boys dormitory. The red hair illuminated by the flames behind her identified the student as Ronald Weasley.

"So you two plot your way into the tournament together, and now I catch you two whispering and kissing in the middle of the bloody night," he hissed, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"Ron, it's not what you think." Almost immediately after she spoke those words, she regretted them, knowing that they were probably the worse choice she could have selected; they only gave him more reason to assume that what he saw was exactly what he thought. She recalled how betrayed the red-head had been when Harry and herself had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, and if that had been any indication of how upset he was, then he was furious now.

"How is it not bloody well what I think! Honestly Hermione, just because I am not in advanced classes doesn't mean I am too thick get what's going on here."

"Ron, don't be stupid," Harry began, standing up to approach him.

"You," Ron accused, glaring at his friend as he approached. "Don't even try me. I've had enough of you thinking that you can get what ever you want, just because you're bloody famous." His eyes flickered to Hermione before returning to Harry. "Get off it." Ron sent the pair one last glare before stomping back up the stairs from which he came.

...

* * *

Please review :) I have written quite a bit for this story so far, and I would love to see if people are actually reading it...If not then there is not much point in me writing it, and I can get going with another fiction (I promise I will finish this one first, however). Any ideas are also welcome - they just might help cure future writers block so chapters come up sooner!

The first task is in the next chapter :)

Chapter names are welcome for this chapter :D


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks to SweetTies for making sure I don't make a complete fool of myself. Also, thanks to TheInvisiblePrincess for the title of Chapter 29: Secrets Unveiled.

* * *

**Chapter 30**

* * *

"Good morning to all," Professor Dumbledore said kindly as he stepped forward. "I will try to be as brief as I can. As tomorrow is the scheduled date of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, it is important for me to remind students of what is expected of them. Breakfast will take place at the same time in the Great Hall, however morning and afternoon classes will be shortened by half an hour each. Evening Astronomy classes will continue as normal, with the exemption of champions competing in the games. Students will begin to make their way to the Great Hall following their last class at which time, further instructions will be provided." Dumbledore clapped his hands together, his eyes searching for the four champions scattered throughout the Great Hall.

"Champions," he addressed. Hermione froze, his brilliant blue eyes landing on her own. "You will meet in the front hall, where Professor McGonagall will lead you to the tents set up on the grounds. I also wish to remind the four of you to get a good nights rest this evening, as tomorrow is the scheduled date of the first task." Again, Hermione felt his eyes center on her as he spoke, making her feel as though the last sentence applied to her only, which of course was a selfish thought.

The elder wizard smiled kindly before bowing to the tables of students."That is all. Please enjoy the remainder of your meal." Dumbledore returned promptly to his place at the table, and the evening chatter resumed.

Until now, the nerves that had begun to erode the interior of her stomach had been only from the issues surrounding her secret feelings for Draco and her incidents with Derrick. Now, the lining of her stomach wreathed with the newly added stress of the tournament. Until Dumbledore had addressed it, Hermione had all but forgotten about the event.

The plate of food before her no longer appealed to her. Frightened that another bite would cause her to release the content of her stomach onto the oak table, she put down her fork. To make things worse, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Ron, seated several seats down beside his younger sister, determined to ignore their existence. Not having to constantly dodge the flying food particles that were launched from Ronald's mouth as he spoke was certainly a change.

"Hermione?" Harry waved his hand in front of her eyes to grab her attention. "Hello in there!" Hermione jerked from her daze and realized that she had been staring at the Weasleys.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione apologized, turning from Ginny. She had not acknowledged Harry, or even looked at him for that matter, since they had entered the Hall. "This is all my fault! If I hadn't have said anything, or gone into detail this never would have happened!"

Harry shook his head, knowing that she was referring to Ginny's attitude. "No Hermione. I don't care about the repercussions of our talk last night. I don't regret our conversation in the least." He shrugged, pushing around a fork full of mashed potatoes on his plate. Hermione sighed, displeased with the effect her chat with Harry had caused.

"But Ron thinks that...Oh I don't know what he thinks. He knows that you and I are just friends, so I don't know why he is being such a hot-headed idiot about the whole thing! Besides, you've had feelings for Ginny for forever!"

Harry rolled his eyes in attempt to assume an air of ease. "I'll be talking to Ginny later today, so I will explain everything to her then. Maybe she can get Ron to cool off a bit as well." Hermione chewed on her lip and nodded, hoping that Harry was as confident about his plan as he sounded. He patted her arm reassuringly, sensing her reserve and almost immediately after, his features contorted into a look of confusion.

"What the hell-" he glanced up at her quickly before looking back down at the robe. He ran his fingers over her sleeve. "When did you start buying silk robes, Hermione? These things are so bloody expensive!"

Hermione grither teeth. Neither Harry nor Ron knew anything when it came to clothing, but she supposed it was difficult not to notice the smooth fabric in contrast to her old pair, made out of the cheapest fabric sold at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"I didn't purchase it, it was more of-"

"Hey!" Hermione glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the addressor, or rather addressors. A cluster of about five or six students smirked in their direction. "Potter stinks!" One of the students elicited gleefully, as they sauntered passed. It was no surprise to Hermione that the group was from Slytherin.

"Like the badges, Potter?" The another boy chided, pointed to his chest where a green badge glinted mockingly. The round badge had been charmed to flush Harry's face down a toilet positioned in the background with a sickening slurp before the words 'Potter Stinks' flashed across the surface in a shade of bright blue.

"Ignore them," Hermione whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Harry's face remained, for the most part emotionless, but for the vein that was slowly becoming more visible the harder he clenched his jaw.

He picked up his fork from beside his plate with a delicacy that impressed Hermione greatly. Obviously he was putting extra effort into maintaining a suitable level of control.

"It's easy for you to say," he hissed back. "Your face isn't being continually flushed down a toilet!"

"Potter stinks!" another Slytherin shouted, causing him to grit his teeth yet again.

"It isn't that bad. It could be worse!" Hermione did her best to reassure him. Harry remained silent, his gaze locking onto the robes of Pansy Parkinson, who had conveniently chosen to walk past the Gryffindor table with the obvious intent of irking the pair of them.

"Stop looking at them!" Hermione nudged his shoulder. "That wont help anything. They are just trying to set you off your game for tomorrow!" Her reasoning seemed to snap Harry out of his stupor.

"Umm, you're right Hermione. Maybe we should just leave." Rather than waiting for the bushy haired brunette to confirm her participation, Harry made to leave the table hastily. His sudden change of attitude took her off guard, making her somewhat suspicious. However, it did not take her long to figure out the reasoning behind his desired departure. It was not for his benefit, but for her own.

Hermione's jaw dropped in horror as a second student walked passed, laughing at them scornfully. Laughing at _her_ scornfully. Her mind was not on the distasteful laugh, rather it was focused on her chest where a bright yellow button was pinned, proudly displaying its message.

The center of the button had the words 'Mudblood Geek Reeks!' stamped in green ink. The O's of 'Mudblood' had been artfully crafted into a pair of round glasses that sat on the perky nose of a girl whose exorbitantly bushy hair all but exploded from the frame, vanishing the prospects of the identity of the individual being anyone but Hermione Granger.

After several seconds, the crisp words began to melt down the animated face of the girl, whipping along with it, the features that rendered the identity of the individual, instead morphing into a male student who proceeded to cover his nose in disgust.

Harry was tempted to repeat the words that she had said to him: "Stop looking at them. That wont help anything," but refrained, knowing that would only serve to lessen Hermione's declining mood.

"Let's go," he tried again. "I could use help with a Transfiguration essay." Hermione rolled her eyes as they caught sight of another button on which her face was pasted.

"Come on Harry. I already know that you handed that essay in last Tuesday, three days late might I add."

Her shoe came down on something hard. Looking down, she discovered the object to be another badge with her face on it. It seemed that the badge that slammed her was not even good enough to be worn on the robes of some students.

She picked up the badge, studying her expressionless face. Studied the unknown boy's face as it contorted into disgust. She regarded the button for several seconds in before dropping it to the ground and pulling her wand from her robes.

"Insendio." Her strikingly calm voice even frightened Harry, who remained standing several feet away throughout the entire incident. The badge exploded with a bang that echoed through the Great Hall, causing many of the students to look over at the pair curiously.

"Let's go," she said, pulling her book bag higher onto her shoulder.

"Not so fast, Mudblood!" Hermione turned to find herself face to face with Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Two badges were affixed to both of their broad chests, each one ridiculing the two Gryffindors that stood before them.

"So I see you like the badges," came Theodore's condescending tone once more.

"The artistic value truly is exquisite," Hermione replied sarcastically. "And the concepts are ever so unique," she finished dryly.

"They should be," produced Theo. "Because my man here helped with the design. Your praise should go to him." Theo nudged Draco, whose face had remained stoic throughout the encounter. His face split into a wide smirk upon being acknowledged.

"It wasn't that hard, really. The designs speak for themselves," he said, polishing the badges on his chest. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the one that flashed her face. Could Draco really have had a part in designing them?

"It's great to see that you have the time to do something so pointless rather than putting your time to good use," Harry pointed out. His tone was ice.

"I could think of no better use of my time than to annoy you Potter," was his simple reply. Hermione attempted to catch his eye, however he had yet to look at her throughout the entire exchange.

Not in the mood to fight, Harry pulled Hermione away, not speaking. It wasn't until they reached the common room that he spoke. "Yeah, he really has changed, hasn't he?" Harry spat bitterly.

"It must be some misunderstanding..."

Harry lifted his dark brows. "Really Hermione? The boy helped design the badges that ridicule us, then has the audacity to come over and tell us..." Hermione agreed it sounded bad. Having nothing to say, she retrieved her book bag before they departed for class.

...

Hermione woke the next morning to find that the anxious sickness that rattled deep within her core had yet to ebb, rather it seemed to have increased in strength. Her wrists shook as she combed through her hair, more for something to do. The movement of her hands however, did not prove to free her mind of the taunting that flitted just below the surface of her subconscious. Despite having a full and dreamless sleep, Hermione could not explain her lethargic actions.

When her dorm members arose from their slumber, Hermione did her best to act as though nothing was bothering her, as though she was not possibly walking to her death after her prolonged suffering.

"Are you nervous?" Lavender asked pulling the lengthly strands of her blonde hair into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. The brunette shrugged in response, pulling her tie snuggly to her white oxford. Any tighter, and the tie would quite easily turn into a noose that would easily pull her from her misery.

"Of course she's not nervous!" Parvati challenged. "She is the brightest witch of our age! I wouldn't be surprised if she won the Tournament altogether!" Her room mate's confidence in her ability made her more uneasy than she should have been.

"I don't know..." Lavender leaned forward to insert a pair of gold stud earrings into her lobes. "Viktor Krum is favorable in my opinion." The girl's face suddenly lit up. "Hermione, you don't suppose you could introduce him to me...if you don't die after the first task, I mean...No, that's not what I meant!" she spat back at Parvati, who after her comment, gave her a dirty look.

Hermione ignored Lavender's comment. The girl had obviously meant no spite to come of her words; she was simply too daft to think that far ahead. All the same, the words again brought the unfavorable odds of the tournament to the forefront of her mind. She wasn't wishing to win, but she was wishing not to die.

"I better get going..." Hermione stepped past the girls, glaring daggers at one another. Rather than distracting her as she had hoped they would, they had acted like a catalyst for the nerves within her stomach, making them more reactive than ever.

"Good luck, Hermione," Parvati called after her.

"Don't forget about that introduction, Hermione!" Lavender added. The last thing that Hermione saw before the door closed behind her, was the dark haired girl hurla pillow in the direction of the blonde.

...

Harry and herself ate their breakfast in silence; neither of them desired to make conversation, nor had anything to say.

By now, the chest, hat, or bag of every student was adorned with colorful badges. A little over a third of them were dark brown in color supporting Viktor Krum, a third were light blue in color. Those that remained had a picture of either Harry or Hermione that Fred and George had charmed to spit confetti - Obviously the least favourite in the opinion of Filtch. It was no surprise that, in addition to the champion that they were supporting, that students, especially those in Slytherin, had decided to pin a 'Potter Stinks' or 'Mudblood Geek Reeks' to their robes.

Curiously, Hermione leaned forward to peer down the center of the Gryffindor table to find several students actually wearing badges that supported them. Hermione did not miss that Ron only had one badge, 'Victor Krum' written across the glossy surface.

Suddenly Hermione felt a pair of eyes on her, and immediately she knew that they belonged to a certain Slytherin. She ignored his gaze, none too pleased with the show that he had put on the previous day. Hermione had a feeling that it was just that - a show. However, the thought did not fully quell the feeling of discontent furling in her stomach.

...

"If you will follow me please," Professor McGonagall said, rolling up the sheet of parchment. Hermione pressed her lips together and followed her professor out the doors of the school.

She clenched her fingers, noting for the first time that they were cold.

"Are you nervous?" Hermione jumped at the sound of the heavily accented voice. Viktor Krum. The corner of his mouth lifted at her startled response.

"I-I just don't really know what to expect," she replied, safely. Viktor nodded understandably.

"Vell, you seem to know a lot, so I vouldn't vorry too much." Hermione smiled kindly.

"Thank you Viktor, but from what I have read, it is not uncommon for the tasks to involve physical facets that I am not particularly comfortable with." Viktor seemed to consider this before speaking.

"If you can use your head, zer is no need to over exert yourself physically."

Hermione nodded, hoping he was indeed correct. If that was the case, she could not allow her brain to fail her; it was more than likely the only asset she had.

For the remainder of their trip down the slopping lawns, the champions said little, evidently mentally preparing themselves for the task ahead, not that they had much to go on.

...

"Hello champions, gather 'round." The man motioned, waving his arms quickly to usher the four students into a tight circle, such that they were all facing in towards him. From outside the hefty fabric of the tent, Hermione could hear the distant laughter of students as they made their way down to the pitch carefree. The feint creaking of boards could also be heard as they mounted the stands in order to get a suitable view of the first task. As if someone had heard her thoughts, the outside noise suddenly drained to nothing; the only sounds that could be heard were those of the breaths of the champions gathered around Bartemius Crouch. It was clear to Hermione that the tent had been subject to a charm that would silence the outside world.

"I hope you all enjoy riddles," Bartemius expressed, making eye contact with each of the champions in the circle.

Hermione internally groaned. Her brain was already occupied with decoding the riddle that would prevent her from being slave to blood replenishing potion for the remainder of her life. She didn't need _another_ riddle, especially a riddle that was given to her for the very purpose of possibly killing her.

"After walking out onto the field that has been fashioned into that of a pentagram, you will be met with a Sphinx. The Sphinx will recite a riddle that will correspond to one of five eggs, each of which represent an element: Earth, Fire, Air, Water, and Spirit; one for each champion, plus a remainder. As each of the eggs are taken, a false one will be positioned in its place so that the champions that follow will have the same odds."

"But what if we pick the wrong egg?" Hermione asked quickly before the man could carry on with his speech. She did not expect the riddle to be easy, so she had to consider actually selecting the wrong egg. This was, after all, the Triwizard Tournament.

"Should you fail at the mental task, then you will be forced to be victorious in a physical battle for your egg." Hermione swallowed quickly. Physical? Battle? It was not that she was incompetent with her wand, on the contrary, that fact was quite the opposite. Though she was extremely skilled for her age, that was just it. For her age. Other than Harry, Fleur and Viktor were also in their final year of schooling and had that much more experience than she did. She may have skipped years of Hogwarts and holding her own in her studies, however the skills that she could have developed in the years between would be forever lost to her, and quite possibly could have saved her life!

Harry, she was worried about also. Compared to her, Harry had definitely proved that physical tasks were his strong point, but Hermione could not stem her worry. He was her best friend, and she could not possibly imagine if anything happened to him.

"So ve have to fight ze Sphinx?" Viktor asked, startling Hermione. She had become so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she had almost forgotten where she was.

"Indeed Mr. Krum, indeed. The order will be chosen momentarily," he expressed, producing a small purple sac from inside his robes. The sac, covered with ornate bead works, was not substantially large, however to fit its bulk inside of the wizard's robes, an extension charm would have been essential.

"In this bag are placed a series tiles, each blue in color. To determine your place in the task, the tile is charmed such that it will turn red when it is your turn to enter the ring. I ask each of you to reach in and retrieve a tile."

"Why red? Wouldn't green make more sense? I mean after all, green on a streetlight always means..." Hermione trailed off, taking in the bewildered expressions of her fellow champions. "Never mind." The corner of Harry's lip twitched and Hermione wanted nothing more than to whack him upside the head with the bag of tiles that Bartemius was holding.

Hermione rubbed her fingers against her robes nervously as Harry reached into the sac to pull a dark blue, square tile, approximately an inch wide from within. Her hands had suddenly become so clammy that she could not even hope to wipe them dry on her robes.

Viktor and Fleur also retrieved their tiles, and it was seconds before the bag was thrust out to her. She slipped her hand into the velvet bag, unsurprised to find that only one tile remained. Hermione did not have to seal her own fate in, as Harry had done in choosing his tile first, rather she was subjected to the fate determined for her by the choices of the other champions.

Hermione pulled the tile from the bag, hoping that the tile did not slip from her moist fingers and shatter against the floor. Though, she thought, if that would allow her to escape the tournament, then she would gladly throw it to the ground.

Each of the champions looked at their tiles while Hermione studied each of them. It felt that by looking at the tile, she would be locking in her fate with no chance for escape. For a few moments longer, Hermione remained ignorant of her placement.

Did she wish to go first? Partially. She was unsure of how long her nerves would hold out in the confines of the tent while each of the champions disappeared, one by one to confront the Sphinx. It was not the Sphinx that she was frightened of, but the unknown. It was unknown to her what the riddle would be, so she was not in control.

Hermione flipped the tile over in her palm a few times easily. Like her hands, it was now slightly moist from the nervous sweat that had broken out before she had selected her tile.

Did she wish to go last? Probably not, but if she did, then she would not have to watch from the stands as the others battle for their egg, should they select the wrong one.

Perhaps a pleasant middle position? She would be subjected to the evils of both going first and last, but each would only be in small quantities. All Hermione knew was that what ever position she was dealt, she would not be happy with.

"You shall not be informed of your placement until the sound of the cannon, at which time, one of the four tiles will turn red, notifying the champion that it is their turn to enter the pitch. The remaining champions will wait until the task is completed. The champion who completed the task will have the option of regarding the remaining champions as they complete their task."

Hermione closed her eyes. This was excruciating! She did not know when she was going, so she would not be allowed adequate time to prepare herself for what was to come.

"The first cannon will be going off at any moment now, and after it has, the champion who is called upon will accompany me through this exit, where they will receive further instruction."

Hermione glanced over to Harry, whose expressionless face unknowingly mirrored her own. His hollow eyes moulded to concern when they locked onto her own. Hermione stepped around Fleur and Viktor to stand beside Harry.

Neither of them spoke, having nothing to say. Simply standing beside Harry made her slightly at ease. That was until she heard the sound of the cannon, bringing her back to the dangerous place that was her reality.

The hair on her arms stood on end as she quickly brought the tile to her face. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Flipping the tile over once, twice, she learned that neither side had indicated that it was she who was to be the first to go.

She relaxed as relief set itself through her muscles, and was almost instantly followed by a wave of sickness. Her sudden mood changes were becoming stressful on her body. Quickly she gripped Harry's shoulder to hold herself steady. Harry. She had not even considered that he was to go next.

Hermione looked over at her friend, who was still staring blankly at the tile. She was just about to reach over and pull the tile into view when the Beaubatons student spoke.

"Vell isn't zis pleasant?" stated the blonde, who was talking to no one in particular. "It iz just my luck zat I vould be chosen to be ze first champion!"

Hermione swallowed in relief and gripped Harry's arm tighter. He looked down and gave her a sad smile. The three champions watched Fleur as she gracefully followed Bartemius out of the tent, leaving them in the smoggy air of the tent, thick with silence.

...

They could not hear a thing. Whether the tent had been charmed such that every external sound would be caught in the fabric that separated them from the outside world, or that there was simply no sound to be heard, none of them knew. The time that had passed was also in question. Surely the next champion would be called upon soon, and he was.

Harry gave her a smile before standing from the chair placed beside her own. Hermione pretended not to notice the faltering smile, more for his sake then for her own.

"Good luck Harry." Despite her best efforts, the words came out no louder than a whisper, but Harry seemed to hear her and nodded.

"And you also. See you after..." Hermione stood, quickly enveloping her friend in a tight hug. Her reserves had finally broken free. Harry was so close to her that she did not know what she would do if she lost him. For a whole summer, and thus far into the school year, she had placed her own life into turmoil to protect his. It felt that letting him go onto the pitch would quite possibly take away all that she had endured, plus all that she loved. After, he was quickly ushered from the tent.

The brunette sighed before deciding that she was too high-strung to resume sitting, so she decided to pace back and forth, attempting to banish all thoughts from her head. She couldn't help the anxiety that slowly began to creep over her. Close to tears now, she took a deep breath.

"Why would you choose to enter this tournament?" she asked Viktor bitterly, lifting her head to look up at him. "I can think of over one hundred different places that I would rather be, and each one of them are not pleasant."

Viktor took several seconds to answer. "I have been brought up to embrace challenges, and to me, zis is one of the challenges I must complete." Hermione looked up at him skeptically.

"And here I thought that your Headmaster desired your entrance to bring eternal glory to the school."

The corner of Viktor's lips twitched. Hermione rolled her eyes. "The yearning in his eyes is not difficult to place."

"I suppose not," he stated simply. The two feel into a comfortable silence, or at least as comfortable of a silence that could fall between two people, whose destiny was yet to be decided. Minutes passed, and Hermione waited. Viktor stood and began to pace, obviously attempting to mentally prepare himself for the next task. Hermione reasoned that she should be doing the same, but found that she could not keep her focus fixated on a single thought for very long.

"It certainly has been a long time," Hermione stated out loud, more so to herself than to Viktor. The boy pressed his lips together and did not say anything for several seconds. Just as the boy was about to answer, a third cannon went off.

Hermione looked down at her title to find that it remained the glossy shade of blue that she had seen when she first plucked the tile from the bag. Viktor's however, had already turned a brilliant fire red.

"Oh God," Hermione choked out. Viktor looked up at her curiously. She would be left alone. It was one thing to feel alone in a room of people, but another to feel alone and have no one around. "Oh God." She was on the verge of hysteria, and she fought the tears that she felt begin to accumulate in her eyes.

Suddenly Viktor stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. Hermione fell into his embrace and let out a shuttered breath. She didn't care who was holding her, she just needed support from someone. Anyone. Viktor's calming effect seemed to work on her and her breathing slowed.

"You'll be fine." Their arms had been around one another in a friendly, supportive hug for but a second before a flash sent her jumping back from the Bulgarian as though electrocuted.

"Young love!" Exclaimed Rita Skeeter, smiling her toothy grin lined with red lipstick that was only accentuated by the brilliant blonde hair, scooped neatly into a bun at the top of her head.

"You have no business here," Viktor stepped between Skeeter and the shocked Hermione. "Zis tent is for champions only. You've had your interview." Rita returned Viktor's stoney gaze with a relaxed smile.

"No matter, we've got what we came for." She winked at the boy before departing through the slit in the tarp at the back of the tent.

...

Hermione brought her knees up to her chest, suddenly realizing exactly how alone she was. Waiting was the most difficult part. Though there were three other champions, each of them were fighting their own battle. She didn't know when the cannon would sound, and that alone left her seated uncomfortably with her muscles tensed, waiting for the sound.

_Boom._ Hermione slowly looked up as Bartemius stepped through the flap. "Miss Granger?" She stood. "Miss Granger, it's your turn."

Hermione silently followed the man through the short, canvas tunnel that lead to the pitch. As if someone had suddenly decided to switch on the sound, she heard the thunderous cheers of students as they announced that the final champion would be momentarily in their midst.

As they neared the end of the tunnel, he turned to her. "Good luck." Hermione nodded, having heard the sentiment so many times, and feeling that it was in no way going to aid her.

His wrinkled hand pulled back the flap of the tunnel and Hermione was instantaneously blinded by the sudden surge of light. Surely the tent could not have been that dark!

Hermione stepped through the opening cautiously, surveying the grounds before her. The quidditch pitch had been transformed into what appeared to be a stone colosseum. Beneath her shoes were deep lines etched into the stone in the shape of a pentagram, whose points ended in white pedestals, spaced around the circumference of the circle, each supporting an identical golden egg the size of a clenched fist.

The Gryffindor gasped when she spotted the Sphinx on the far side of the colosseum. The lion tail flicked as it turned its powerful body turned toward her to reveal the head of a human.

Hermione swallowed as the creature began to slink toward her. She did not miss the red liquid that transferred from the pad of its foot to the stone surface, creating a ruby trail of footprints. She could only hope that the blood did not belong to Harry. Or Viktor. Or Fleur. Whose was it?

A million questions whirled in her brain as the Sphinx approached the center of the pentagram.

.D.

Draco finished his arduous task of stepping over the legs of students, to finally collapse beside Blaise and Theo moodily.

"Good, I thought that you were going to miss the massacre of the Mudblood! You arrived just in time!" Theo exclaimed.

Draco had told his friends that he was going to make a quick trip to the loo, when in actuality, he had planned to visit Hermione. Unfortunately, every time he got close enough to the tent, an official or student would conveniently make themselves present. After several attempts, he accepted that he would not be able to contact her without arising suspicion and returned to his seat.

Krum's battle against the Sphinx had obviously taken little time at all; he had not wasted his time attempting to deduce the riddle, rather he had simply ventured to the closest egg, expected a battle for his egg, which was exactly what had taken place.

The flap through which the champions entered was pulled back. The crowd hushed as Hermione Granger stepped from the dark interior.

Every muscle in his body contracted to its full capacity as he regarded the Sphinx prowling toward Hermione. The razor-like claws protruding from golden fur glinted dangerously through crimson blood, shed from two matches prior.

_"Potter had it coming!" _Theo had said after Harry managed to retrieve his egg and finally pull himself out of the pentagram. The scar head had interpreted the Sphinx's riddle in an incorrect manner, and as a result, the creature had turned on him.

All the while the boy with the lightening bolt scar on his forehead was racing about the ring, Draco could think of only Hermione waiting alongside Viktor in the champions tent. His face remained composed, however his level of unease was mounting at a steady rate

It did not come to much of a surprise to Draco that Krum had also been forced to combat the creature. In fact, it would also not have come to much of a shock to him if he did not understand a word of english language, after all, Krum probably had already used up his meager number of brain cells recalling his own language.

His cousin Fleur had been the only contestant so far, who had been able to interpret the correct answer to the riddle, leaving her free to take the egg. That being said, the little twist at the end of the tournament nearly threw her. He could only hope that Hermione would be able to anticipate what would happen. She was the smartest girl that he knew, but naturally the Triwizard Tournament was designed to test such.

The blond had done nothing but sit since he arrived at the stadium, but stress had seeped through his brain, down his spinal cord, and had subsequently spread to every limb, leaving him exhausted.

His anxiety had heightened with every champion that had entered the colosseum, and it had reached its peak the moment he recognized Hermione's curls from the stands. He wanted to take her place. To do anything that would prevent her from being harmed.

The lines in Draco's scowl deepened as Theo nudged his shoulder, bringing him from his thoughts. "Where's your badge?" he asked.

"What?" he asked, pretending to look confused. "Oh that. I lost it somewhere," he lied easily. In actuality, he couldn't stand the weight that came along with wearing it. Blaise's lip twitched.

"That's alright mate," Theo grinned evilly, opening his sac. "I have loads more where that came from!" He tossed the blond another badge.

"Thanks," Draco replied dryly, but Theo did not seem to notice.

"What do you think the chances are that the Sphinx will rip her throat out?" he laughed freely, reaching back into his sac to produce a packet of jelly slugs. "Want some?" he asked casually, holding out the packet. The blond gritted his teeth, refraining from knocking the candy from his hand. How could Theo be so reposed, while his agitation was mounting?

"You know, I think that I have a little more faith in Granger," said Blaise thoughtfully. "Her friends may be more thick than a mountain troll, but she has a solid head on her shoulders."

Blaise's statement made him feel slightly better. He knew better than to underestimate the witch; she had in fact proved her worth more than ten times over. Regardless, his feelings of unease remained.

The blond looked at the Italian out of the corner of his eye to find the boy focusing on Hermione also. Theo leaned back to shift Blaise into his field of view.

"You've got to be kidding with me? You can't be siding with the Mudblood!" Theo moaned.

Blaise shrugged. "I'm not siding with anyone, I'm just stating fact."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Even if she doesn't die, I hope she at least has an experience like Potter." Draco internally winced.

Potter had eventually managed to attain the correct egg, however he had to endure a bloody battle with the Sphinx in order to get it. He didn't know what state the scar head was in at the moment; he had been rushed up to the castle almost immediately following his task. He could only hope that Hermione would be able to figure out the riddle before it came to that.

...

Hermione made her last step, placing her in the centre of the pentagram. Her limbs remained tensed, watching as the creature decreased the distance between them, finally coming to a stop when it was no more than fifteen meters away. Though a fair distance, she still felt uneasy in regards to the proximity.

The Gryffindor nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden speech of the Sphinx.

_ It hurts me to say_

_ That my despair brings life _

_ Every day_

_ It cuts me like a knife_

_ I do regret _

_ Listen if you may _

_ Do not fret_

_ You'll play another day_

How was she to tell which egg represented each element? As though sensing her thoughts, one pedestal immediately burst into flames, that licked up the side of the stone toward the egg, symbolizing fire. Wind began to furl around the base of another, picking up dust in its path, representing the element of air. A steady stream of clear liquid trickled over the surface of another, falling down the side of the pedestal, identifying the element of water. The element of earth was identified by the pedestal, slowly moulding itself into a support made of soil. As for spirit, the pedestal disappeared entirely, making it appear as though the egg was floating in mid air.

The element of fire could bring only death, but life to carbon dioxide. Air could sustain life, but for those of aquatic descent. Oxygen could not sustain plants, but air was a mix of gaseous elements. Earth was a potential match, as it was a primary source of life for almost everything on the planet, with the aid of the sun, which could again be interpreted as fire. But fire experienced what she felt to be more 'anger' as opposed to 'despair'. Earth could be 'crushed' leading to despair. Water brought life, but could arguably bring death in large quantities.

"Can you please repeat the riddle?" Hermione asked politely, and the Sphinx obliged.

Hermione went over the last stanza of the the riddle in her mind.

_I do regret _

_ Listen if you may _

_ Do not fret_

_ You'll play another day_

There was no allusion to an element what so ever, nor was there a reference to the first stanza! She closed her eyes and imagined each of the elements speaking to her through the words of the riddle.

The words had regret. Sorrow. Despair. Yet the final stanza stated that it does not regret. But for the first line, It referred only to her actions or feelings, so how was she to deduce the element from that alone! The Sphinx would not have provided her with a second stanza if it did not somehow relate to the first.

Perhaps it was there to throw her off?

A cold drop of water hit the surface of her cheek, sharply jerking her from her thoughts. The droplet of water began to slide down, over her neck to disappear into the collar of the Gryffindor Triwizard uniform that had been fitted to her the previous day.

Not seconds later, a few more tiny drops pounded into the ground around her, beating melodiously against the stone floor, marking the tiles with darkened circles.

Hermione looked around curiously at the crowd around her, gauging their response, however they continued to look down at her expectantly. Some yawned. Did they not see the rain?

She was startled to find Professor McGonagall return her gaze. The wrinkles on her face had turned to deep fissures it seemed over night. Having two of her house students in the tournament was probably more difficult than she thought.

Hermione hummed the lyrics again absently. _Rain, rain, go away. _Her mother had always sung the song to her whenever the droplets would fall from the sky. _Come again some other day._ She would look out her window to watch the dense grey clouds furl over her home, and recalled the days she wished to run out in the rain, only for her mother to tell her that if she did, she would only catch a cold.

_We want to go outside and play. _Hermione immediately made a parallel to 'You'll play again another day. Rain! Her element was water! Her face brightened as she came to the conclusion, and almost as immediately as they had begun, the droplets of her element ceased to fall from the sky.

The entirety of Hogwarts, and those representing the school of Beaubatons and Durmstrang seemed to have all of their mind's energy focused on her as she approached the pedestal.

The Gryffindor cautiously reached out a hand in order to retrieve the egg from the pedestal. She looked back at the sphinx, whose eyes were fixated on the hand reaching out to retrieve the ball of gold.

The audience around her seemed to freeze, either hoping that she was to chose the right or the wrong egg. She heard a few students, probably Slytherins shout a few disheartening comments, but she couldn't hear them over the thud of her heart.

She took a deep breath and closed her fingers tightly around the cool surface of the egg. Hermione waited, her mouth dry. The Sphinx, apparently knowing that his riddle had been solved, flicked his tail disinterested and began to retreat to the far end of the auditorium.

Before Hermione had a chance to react, the Sphinx turned around to face her from the tunnel on the opposite side of the arena.

_ The points of five _

_ Inside of an ever lasting line_

_ They keep us alive_

_ Place it inside to survive_

Hermione furrowed her brows. But she was finished! She had completed the task! Why was she subject to a second riddle? The quiet that had settled upon the pentagram made her uneasy.

She looked from face to face for ones that she recognized. For her friends. Anyone that would provide her with a reassuring expression. However each face seemed just as tense as she felt, as though they were waiting for something. But they couldn't be. Should they not be clapping? Where was the announcement that would inform everyone that the first task was over. Unless it wasn't.

Hermione had been informed that the area around the arena had been charmed so that students could not answer the riddles for the champions, nor could they aid them in the task in any way. But judging solely from the faces that she recognized in the audience, there was something that she was missing.

Her eyes fell onto Viktor and Fleur, seated together where the champions, upon completion of their task, were required to sit. Their faces were strained as they continued to watch her. Where was Harry? Quickly, she scanned the audience, her eyes locking onto a platinum blond head. Draco.

His composed mask of indifference broke into one of alarm when he realized that he had been spotted. He motioned for her to turn around quickly. Had the Sphinx suddenly decided that he wanted a fight? She had retrieved the correct egg, had she not - the Sphinx had yet to attack her.

Her feet suddenly felt cold and wet and upon looking down, realized that surges of water were quickly rising over her shoes, and understood exactly how wrong she was. The task for her, had only just begun.

* * *

_..._

_Derrick sneered. "As if this is any of your business. Let the grown-ups handle this one. You just stick to your studies. By the grades you've been getting in my class, you could use all of the study time you can get!" _

_"Actually it is my business. Granger is my business..."_

* * *

SOME OF YOU GUYS MISSING DERRICK? Well next chapter has a lot of him...and Draco...stay tuned ;)

R&R


	31. Chapter 31

**_Hello readers. As promised I have not abandoned... I have just strayed away for a bit, but of course I am back. I am not going to get into excuses :P The next chapter is halfway done or so, but it is on a hard drive in my water damaged Macbook Pro ( FML ). Anyway, I hope it can be salvaged. For now, here you are! Thanks to SweetTies as always xx._**

* * *

_..._

Hermione struggled to keep her head above the raging waves that threatened to submerge her. She was a decent swimmer, however only in public pools, where the largest wave that would crash against her were the disturbances made by young children jumping into the water in the shallow end. Those waves seemed minuscule compared to those around her. Though Hermione could not tell, it appeared as though the sound barrier that had restricted students from answering the riddle also served to hold in the water, preventing it from spilling out and into the crowd, whose cries she could no longer hear as the raging waves poured water into her ears.

What was she to do?

_The points of five_

_Inside an ever lasting line_

_They allow for death, yet keep us alive_

_Place it inside to survive_

She clawed feebly at the surface, one hand still clutching the tiny golden egg. There was nowhere for her to escape her cage, so there had to be something that she was missing, a way to drain the water.

The points of five clearly alluded to the Five points of the Pentagram. An everlasting line. The circle around the Pentagram. They keep us alive. Each of the elements had its own way of allowing for life yet also death. Place it inside to survive. Place what inside? And inside of what?

Taking a chance, the brunette took a deep breath of air before plunging her head into the water. Her eyes burned as she searched for something, anything. Suspended several feet in the air by the rising water, Hermione could clearly see the outline of the pentagram etched into the floor of the colosseum. Each of the five points were there, as was the everlasting line.

A glint of gold caught her eye; the same shade as was her egg. In the centre of the star, was a small indent, just large enough for the egg to be placed. Hermione took a quick breath of air before swimming against the current toward the gold indent.

Without warning, a cold, slippery hand laced itself around her ankle. She let out an involuntary scream, her bubbles of cherished air floating quickly to the surface. Hermione's movements to reach her wand were slowed by the resistance of the water, but she managed to grip her wand and turn to face the creature behind her.

The hand on her ankle was grey in color, with scales covering the small, yet strong knuckles that appeared between flaps of webbed skin. Hermione remembered labelling a diagram of such a hand in third year; it was the hand of a mermaid.

Hermione glanced up quickly at the creature. Blood-shot yellow eyes peered out from between long, dark green hair that danced in the current of the water. A thick robe of pebbles dangled from its neck. A set of sharp, chipped teeth were bared, obviously intent on stopping her from taking the egg.

Before the mermaid could make another move, she quickly stunned it away. Expecting to be swarmed by several more, she kept her wand raised, and her eyes aware. Seeing no others in sight, she quickly resumed her task.

As she swam, she heard a distant humming, possibly voices singing, however she dismissed the sounds, choosing rather to focus on the gold plate at the bottom of the water.

Hermione placed the egg into the small indent and immediately, the levels of water around her began to decrease. Her lungs burned and she couldn't help but let out a cough, and subsequently a quick intake of breath, or rather, water. She remained on the bottom of the pool, unable to muster the energy to swim to the top, continuing to cough and breath the water, causing her lungs to hurt. The water level continued to drop until naught but the damp concrete beneath her knees and hands served to prove that it really was there.

She heaved out as much of the water as she could, her throat throbbing with every labored breath she took. Hermione was unable to inhale a full breath of air before her lungs would force it out in a ragged cough.

"Hermione Granger has completed the first task, and will move on to the second!" A voice echoed, followed by a strong applause. She refrained from covering her ears and collapsing onto the concrete. The Gryffindor suddenly felt a firm grip on her shoulder, and she was being helped up.

Bartemius Crouch pulled her to her feet firmly. "Congratulations," he smiled warmly before shaking her hand. With his enthusiasm, he did not seem to notice that Hermione's hand flopped limply in his.

"Where's Harry?" was all Hermione could think.

"Hospital Wing," he replied simply. "He is quite alright," he assured, taking in her horrified expression. "Nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix up."

The pair excited the stadium, and the echo of the crowed seemed to dull in her ears with every step, and all she could think about was getting to Harry as fast as she could.

.H.

"Can I borrow this?" asked Harry, pointing to her plate where the Profit had landed without her knowledge when the post had come in minutes before.

Hermione nodded, not looking up from her Ancient Runes textbook - she had a test next period that demanded her attention. "Of course." The boy took the paper and began to read. Harry had managed to survive his ordeal with the flames during his task, but only barely. Hermione could still see on his arms where the red fingers hand burnt his flesh, and was still being soothed by the balms that Madam Pomfrey had prepared - despite the nurses protests, Dumbledore had been able to convince her that he was strong enough to go down to breakfast and take in the applause that was waiting for him.

Fleur had to combat the raging winds of a tornado that ripped through the colosseum, and Viktor had to overcome a shaking earthquake that nearly collapsed the stadium. Both champions had managed to make it out with minor scratches, or bruisings.

Over the top of the Profit, Harry caught Hermione gazing at his arms, lost in thought, so he promptly covered them up. "They aren't that bad Hermione. They just look weird because of the balm."

The brunette nodded before dropping her gaze back to her book, skimming the first few paragraphs of the text, but found that she could not concentrate. The high pitched voices a few seats down were becoming progressively more distracting, and Hermione considered asking them if they could lower their voices slightly so that she could concentrate.

"She only wants him because I asked her to introduce him to me!" Lavender said acidly. Hermione looked up from her textbook, surprised at the blonde girl's abhorrent tone. She was even more shocked when she found that the girl was staring right at her, along with two other Gryffindors. It would be no use asking them to lower their voices, as it was now clear to her that they had wanted her to overhear them as they poured over what she assumed to be the gossip section of the Daily Profit.

"Girls can be such slags sometimes," one to her left said, loud enough for Hermione to hear. "She isn't as pretty as you, so you've got nothing to worry about," the other reassured.

Hermione looked over at them to find the trio staring blatantly over at her.

"Couldn't decide between Viktor or Harry, could you?" Lavender voiced.

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked, sincerely confused. Lavender was occasionally rude to her, but usually it was through ignorance so Hermione tended to ignore her slip-ups. In this case, it was obvious that she was attempting to get on her nerves.

"Don't think that we are stupid enough to think that we will buy your little innocent act," Lavender added, taking in Hermione's expression. "You knew full well that I was interested in Viktor, yet you still think that you have a chance with him."

Hermione let out a laugh of disbelief. "What? You didn't have a chance with him anyway, you have nothing in common! And no I don't!"

Lavender rolled her eyes, convinced that she was telling a lie. "Whatever, Hermione. Say what you like, but it's all right here!" she tapped the newspaper with her long red nail.

Hermione leaned across the table to snatch the Daily Profit out from Harry's hands without apology.

"Hermione what-"

"Oh my gosh!" the brunette said to herself. "I don't believe this, that wicked woman!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, leaning toward her. Hermione turned the paper so that Harry could see the bottom of the first page.

"How could you miss this!" the bushy-haired brunette almost shouted as she motioned to a picture of Viktor and herself, caught in what appeared to be a long, loving embrace. The editors had obviously used a spell to slow the pace of the photo, making it seem like a much longer hug than it actually was.

"Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention. I wanted to see an update on the Irish National team-"

"Love Triangle in the Making?!" she shrieked, causing Harry to jump. "This can't be happening!" Hermione flattened the paper and quickly began to read, no longer having trouble blocking out the unimportant nattering going on around her.

_Love Triangle in the Making_

_It wasn't just tension in the air as the first task in the Triwizard Tournament kicked off yesterday. Hogwart's Hermione Granger, and Durmstrang's Viktor Krum were caught in an emotional embrace as the Bulgarian set out to leave for what could have been his final minutes. What had once spurred school rivalry now appears to be the catalyst of love. Sources say that the two share numerous classes, as Granger had been moved up several grades to compensate for her advanced intellect. It is uncertain how long their love has been able to fly under the radar. Harry Potter, also another Hogwarts champion in the tournament, has also been seen during his free time talking to Granger, also in Gryffindor House. It is unknown how Potter is taking Krum's advance on the object of his affections. With both champions presumably lusting after her, who can blame Granger for her attempt to hide the truth that she too is lusting after one or both- Continued on b4_

Hermione slammed the newspaper on the table, causing her gold plate to clatter noisily. "How dare she!" she seethed. Harry picked up the paper once more to look at the article himself. "She makes me out as though I am some...some bimbo...flitting from champion to champion!"

"Well actually, if you read the continuation on b4, she doesn't say you are 'flitting'. She implies that you haven't really made up your mind yet..." Harry trailed off at her glare.

"Who does she honestly think she is! She talks about me like she knows me! I gave her one interview! One! But we did not discuss any love interests at all! She has woven a complete lie from a single moment in time!"

"How did you end up hugging Viktor anyway? I didn't know you were friends," Harry said.

"Well we aren't. I don't really know. I mean we've talked and everything. He was just being supportive I suppose." Hermione really wasn't quite certain what to say. It really did sound strange saying it out loud, but it made perfect sense in her head. "And Ginny! Oh Harry, I've made this even worse for you, haven't I?"

"It's alright Hermione. Things will work out. Actually, I'm more interested to see what Malfoy will do when he finds out that you are lusting after yours truly," Harry laughed.

"Draco," Hermione whispered. She had completely forgotten about how he might react to the picture in the paper! She paused. Would he even care? Probably not. He had toyed with her emotions. He somehow knew that he was beginning to affect her and now he was using it. What was he playing at? Why now would he choose to toy with her?

...

After breakfast, Hermione was not surprised that Ron had yet to cool his inferno mood. The portrait hole opened to reveal her rather perturbed looking friend, followed by his younger sister, back from dinner in the Great Hall. The fact that Ron had not even congratulated her or Harry on their successful completion of the first task slightly irked her. His absence in the hospital wing when he had been severely injured was even worse.

Hermione sat curled up in one of the numerous red armchairs before the fireplace, a large volume resting across her crossed legs, attempting to catch his gaze. She hopped that his course would veer toward her, perhaps allowing her to talk to him for even a second and erase the animosity between them. However, Ron kept his gaze forward, walking one step ahead of Ginny as he strode through the common room. Hermione couldn't deny the hurt that she felt as her friend so easily believed a lie feed to him from his mind. His theatrics were becoming rather taxing.

Ginny sent her a small smile, which Hermione returned gratefully. Harry had obviously been able to explain Ron's animosity towards Hermione and himself to her; that Harry was not turning his back on Ginny for Hermione and that it was a simple misunderstanding. She was no longer upset with the pair of them. That was until she learns of her affections towards Draco, of course. Then she was certain that Ginny's wrath would return in full force.

"I talked to her just after breakfast," Harry spoke from his couch beside her single chair. She started, completely having forgotten his presence. "She was right pissed until I explained to her why we had been talking in the first place..."

"You what!" hissed Hermione, looking from Harry to Ginny, who had stopped at the base of the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories and was talking to her brother. She recalled what Ginny had said to her earlier; that she would be shunned by the rest of Gryffindor!

Harry raised his hands in defense. "Relax Hermione, I didn't mention anything about _him _specifically."

"What did you say, _exactly_," she growled through her teeth." Her tone made Harry visibly uncomfortable.

"I just mentioned that it had to do with a boy," he said easily.

Obviously he did not feel that such a piece of information would be of use to Ginny, however Hermione knew otherwise, and voiced through the long-winded groan that left her mouth.

"Oh, that makes it even worse!" Harry squinted at her, attempting to deduce her logic.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't you see, Harry? If you tell her that it is 'simply a boy', she is going to be curious of his identity, and try to figure out who it is!" By now her voice had elevated to a high pitched whine, her eyes wide.

Harry continued to gaze at her with a confused expression on his face, leading Hermione to further elaborate.

"With Ginny, it's never as simple as withholding information; she always finds out what she wants to! And if I actually succeed in not telling her, she will turn to you!"

The dark haired boy suddenly went pale, finally understanding her point. He knew that she was right, and Hermione also knew that Harry would have an even more difficult time keeping something from Ginny.

"You mustn't Harry! If you tell her..." Hermione trailed off. She trusted that Ginny would not inform any of the other Gryffindors, however she did not think that she would be anywhere near as understanding as Harry had been.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but closed it quickly as his eyes locked onto something over her shoulder.

"Harry, what is-"

"Hey Gin!" Harry greeted, shifting over on the couch to produce a space beside him. The red-head smiled kindly at the boy before sitting down and turning to Hermione. Her eyes widened as she took in the brunette.

"Hermione! You're robes are gorgeous!" She shifted closer so that she could touch the fabric. "When did you buy it! Why didn't you take me with you? Or better yet, how did you afford it? Only the rich snobs like the Malfoy's have enough to purchase this quality!" she laughed, continuing to finger the smooth material of the sleeve. Hermione noticed that Harry too looked up from his hands to gauge her reaction. He also had not gotten his answer when they had been discussing the very subject in the Great Hall.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well I didn't buy it, exactly-"

"You didn't steal it, did you! Oh Hermione, that's horrible!" Ginny brought a hand to her mouth and looked over her shoulder to see if she had attracted any unwanted attention.

"No, no! Of course not!" Hermione chided.

Ginny let out a sound of relief. "I knew you didn't. How did you get your hands on it then?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I suppose you can call it a gift..." Draco _had_ given it to her. It wasn't like a present, but the object had been given and received.

Ginny lifted her brows, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "A gift? A gift? Who in their bloody right mind would randomly give a girl a robe...It's a boy, isn't it!" Ginny squealed. Hermione flinched, knowing what question was to follow.

"Who!" Ginny begged. Hermione glared at Harry purposefully.

"You know, I just remembered, I have a charms assignment that is due tomorrow, I better head down to the library to get started on that," Harry said quickly, standing up. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well that he was only saying that so that he did not need to be subject to Ginny's questioning, and more than likely the glares of fire that she would more than likely send his way.

"See you soon Harry," Ginny replied, bringing her legs up underneath her. She watched the boy until he closed the portrait hole behind him. Her head swiveled quickly back to Hermione, red hair twirling around her. She leaned forward.

"Harry told me everything during lunch today..." Ginny trailed off. "I didn't mean to ignore you, it's just Ron was pretty upset and well...I sort of was as well..." Hermione smiled sympathetically.

"I know, you've had a crush on Harry for a long time." Ginny blushed brilliantly at her words.

"That still doesn't give me a right to feel so possessive!"

"That's alright Gin," Hermione smiled.

"So..." she said casually. "Harry and I were talking and he mentioned that you fancied a boy! The robe that you claim to be a gift also proves that the feelings are mutual...So who is it?" Hermione bit her lip, thinking how she could manage to escape. "It's Krum! Oh I know it must be...It was in the paper this morning, and you share classes with him!"

"I'm not telling Gin," she replied simply, only encouraging Ginny to scoot closer.

"Come on Hermione! You know you want to talk about it!" It was true, Hermione wished very much to tell Ginny something, even small about this confusing relationship she had with Draco, but judging by what she had said about 'a Gryffindor traitor', she resolved to keep her mouth reserved.

"Well I'm not really sure..."

"Please!" her friend begged. "Come on, just admit it's Victor! You know I am going to guess and figure it out at some point!" Hermione knew that statement was true. "I mean, there can only be so many boys that can actually afford a piece like that!"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I still don't know what it is. What's between us, I mean. We haven't exactly established that bit yet..."

"Have you kissed him?" Ginny asked excitedly. Hermione blushed. "You did! Oh, was he any good?" Hermione nodded, still harboring the blush.

"What house is he in!"

Hermione made a face. "Does that even matter?"

"Of course it does, Hermione! So are you going to tell me?" When her friend did not reply, she continued with her quest. "Well we can rule Slytherin out! I can't see you with a slimy git from that house. I highly doubt that you'd be with a Hufflepuff. Unless it was Diggory! He is pretty cute! So I would have it down to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Is an interrogation really necessary? Listen Gin, I really don't want to discuss anything until later on," she trailed off, taking in her friend's dejected expression. "Oh don't look at me like that!"

"I'm sorry Hermione, it's just I really want to know!"

"Tell you what, if it works out, you'll be the first to know," Hermione tried. She could easily tell that Ginny was not satisfied, but the girl agreed to her terms all the same.

"Fine! But I better be the first person that knows about it!" The bushy-haired Gryffindor nodded.

"I promise."

...

Hermione was nervous as she walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't simply the fact that her cousin was teaching the course, but the fact that she had yet to talk to Draco about what had happened made her all the more anxious. Would he be upset? Would he speak to her? Would he believe what was written in the profit - that she was lusting after Harry and Viktor? More or less, why would she even care to begin with? He had aided in slandering her name by helping design the hurtful badges that were pinned to the chest of every Slytherin student in Hogwarts! It should be him that was apologizing to her! Hundreds of questions were throttling themselves at the wall of her mind as she took her seat.

Draco had yet to arrive, which she supposed wasn't actually much of a surprise; his carefree persona usually prevented him from sauntering into class until seconds before the bell. Hermione began to unpack her belongings, attempting to calm her jitters until that moment he stepped through the door. She had not exactly left their meeting in the best taste, then again, nor had he. How would they survive through an entire class together?

The bell rang, and she instinctively turned to look around at the door. Draco had still not arrived. Dejected, she turned back to face her professor, who refocused his gaze from where hers had previously been, to her eyes. He directed a smirk at her before addressing the remainder of the class.

"Good afternoon," Derrick stood and leaned against his desk, flipping a piece of loose hair out of his eyes. Hermione heard a few girls sigh, while she shivered unpleasantly in response. Every moment he made was sickening. "I feel that it is about time for a seat change." A few students looked confused, but he simply smiled. "I don't know about you guys, but I always think it's a nice change to mix things up a bit."

Hermione bit her tongue painfully. She knew even before she was moved that this would not turn out in her favor. He surveyed the room before beginning to call out the names of students, starting at the left side of the room, and pointing at each desk as he made his way across the front row.

Hermione grit her teeth as he cleverly placed her in the center of the front row, right before his desk. The professor quickly went through the list of present students and after telling them to relocate to their new position, returned to his desk. The girls who had previously been seated in the front row groaned as they moved to a different row, obviously keen on sitting as close as they could to their attractive professor. Hermione would have gladly traded places with any of them.

The brunette kept her face as emotionless as she could as she packed her bag and moved to the front of the class, avoiding his gaze that she knew was following her every move. He was obviously not pleased. It had been weeks since he had last had a go at her, and it seemed that now he was taking his opportunity.

"Miss Granger. Two students are absent, so don't get used to having a free desk beside you," he said smiling 'kindly' at her. He wouldn't put Draco beside her, would he?

"Mr. Malfoy," Derrick addressed. Hermione's head snapped up and she turned to find Draco walking in the door, appearing slightly disheveled. He seemed quite keen on avoiding it her gaze, not that she would have wanted to make eye contact anyway. "We have just completed a new seating arrangement." Hermione didn't miss his smug tone. "As you were not present, you will be placed in the back corner beside Miss Dubois." Hermione couldn't decide whether or not to be pleased. Draco nodded before taking his new seat beside the Beaubatons student. Hermione turned back to the front of the room, slightly put out that Draco was now seated beside a pretty french girl, while she was seated at the front of the room. She wasn't jealous. The git had helped with the badges.

"Okay, continuing on. Though the curriculum dictates that we do not learn this until much later in the year, I feel that I have such a bright collection of pupils that can handle the challenge. Are you all up for it?" The class nodded in agreement. "The student seated beside you will be your partner for this class. Please set yourselves up and practice disarming your fellow student, first using a verbal spell, then give your best at attempting to repeat the same spell using a non-verbal spell. For successful completion of a non-verbal spell, you must be able to taste the spell on the tip of your tongue without actually moving it to form the word. It's difficult to explain - I think that you will all be much more successful if you have the chance to practice your skill, rather than me simply describe it. Off you go."

Hermione fiddled with her wand. She didn't have a partner. There was a kind pair seated behind her that she thought would not mind if they had an additional member to the group.

"Miss Granger." Derrick.

"Mr Burnwick," she replied stiffly.

"You may partner with me until Georgette is out of the hospital wing - quidditch injuries." Hermione stood hesitantly, wishing to prolong the moment that Derrick would have his wand pointed in her direction. "Now," he addressed the class. "I shall demonstrate a non-verbal with Miss Granger here." He turned to face her, lifting his wand. Hermione internally cringed.

A moment later, she felt her wand fly from her fingers, and was promptly caught mid-air by her professor. He held her gaze as he walked toward her, returning her wand. Despite her conscious effort to retrieve her wand at the very end, his fingers causally brushed hers. Her skin crawled beneath her robes.

"Okay everyone, disarm your partners. Miss Granger?" Hermione pointed her wand at Derrick, attempting to recreate the non-verbal disarming charm. Derrick stood for several long seconds with his wand in hand, waiting for her to disarm him. When Hermione was unable to do so, she became frustrated and began to chew lightly on the inside of her cheek. The chewing became more painful once she realized Derrick was approaching her.

"Lower your wand slightly. You are too tense." He reached over to manually adjust her positioning, and she resisted the urge to slap him away. A few of the female students looked over enviously. His hand lingered on her sleeve for more time than should have been allowed. "You have to envision it. You have to _want_ it," he said smoothly, a glint in his eye. Hermione looked away and he returned to his previous position a few feet away.

"Try again." Hermione tried for several more minutes, at the end of which, she was able to make Derricks wand twitch slightly in his hand. Their professor eventually gave free time to those who had been successful in their attempt to recreate his disarming spell. "Choose your spells wisely."

Hermione turned from him, planning to return to her desk; she was tired and was not one of the few to actually complete the task. And then she felt it.

The feeling was gone as quick as she felt it. It felt as though the lightest of breaths had bushed the surface of her shirt, ever so lightly against her breasts. Hermione glanced around, unsure if the feeling was construed in her imagination. And then it came again, only there was slightly more pressure this time.

Derrick. The familiar gleam in his eye informed her that it was not her imagination, rather it was his doing. The invisible hands took hold of her breasts, squeezing them almost tenderly. She let out a little squeak. It was loud enough only for a couple of students practicing beside them to hear. The hands slid down the sides of her waist, circling over her buttoxbefore sweeping between her thighs.

All the while, her cousin maintained an impassive expression, his wand lifted slightly. Hermione jumped backward into the desk as his fingers moved higher, eliciting a loud crack as the paired furniture clanged together. No one glanced in their direction; students were far too preoccupied with their own spells.

Hermione steadied herself on the desk, wanting nothing more than to walk over and slap the sickening smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, but found that her feet were now permanently glued to the floor. She tightened her grip that she had around the lip of the desk. She could deal with this without drawing any unwanted attention. He had done far worse to her in the confines of his chambers. If she directed too much attention her way, she knew that Draco would more than likely intervene, and she could not allow that to happen.

But that was before a sudden searing pain began to mount up the back of her thigh. It felt as though something was clawing its way out, and the brunette had to bite back a scream that threatened to break free. Again, the searing pain was felt on her shoulder blade, her ankle, her stomach, her neck, and each area seemed to burn more and more, as though greater quantities of salt and sand were being grit into an open wound. She felt it again on her forearm, and upon looking down, she realized that whatever magic he was performing, was leaving no visible traces; it was her mind that was relaying the pain.

She whimpered as another cut, deeper this time, was carved into her thigh. She looked around to see if anyone had heard her slip, but no one had; Derrick had silenced her.

Tears began to prick at her eyes. She was in a room full of people this time, yet she felt completely alone. It was happening in public for all to see, yet there was nothing for them to notice. The bell suddenly rang, and the spell was lifted, leaving Hermione to collapse against the desk behind her, gasping for breath.

"Alright, good afternoon to all, we shall continue this lesson next class." The professor then retreated into his office, closing the door behind him without a second glance. Before she could succumb to the desire to curl up under one of the desks and cry, she pushed herself up from the desk with an attempted mask of indifference and slung her bag over her shoulder.

She entered the hallway cautiously, feeling oddly exposed, yet invisible at the same time. As she walked, she flinched away from the bodies of fellow students pushing their way through the corridors.

...

Hermione tightened her robe around her as she crawled out of bed. It was well past twelve, and she was not tired in the least. She had tried for numerous hours to fall asleep, but her attempt were in vein. One would think with the effort she had exerted during the challenge, that she would be exhausted. On the contrary, she was quite the opposite.

She made her way down the spiral staircase, through the common room and found herself traveling along the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. The dancing flames that illuminated the hallway that created demonic shadows as she walked should have scared her, but for some reason, tonight they did not.

Hermione weaved through the corridors, no destination in mind. A feeling of peace slowly began to float down and over her shoulders. The pleasant hot and cold sensations she felt on her cheeks as she passed between each torch induced a calming affect. She continued her leisurely pace until she reached the end of the corridor, where two high windows formed the corner of the castle. She peered out disinterested, sitting alone for several minutes in silence.

Hundreds of thoughts whirled around her mind; Hermione had thought that the walk would calm her mind, however it appeared to have only awakened further horrors. Rubbing her eyes, she figured that returning to bed would be her best option so that she did not fall asleep in class. But a hand on her shoulder suddenly banished every thought of doing so from her mind.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, spinning around. Platinum hair immediately caught her sight. The venom in her voice had been meant not for Draco, but for Derrick. So soon after being blatantly abused by Derrick, even Draco's invigorating touch felt wrong.

Draco lifted his eyebrows in response. "You didn't stop me before."

Hermione huffed. Of all the things to say, that definitely wasn't the right one. "Well perhaps if I had more logic I would have!" Hermione had yet to decide if she was mad at Draco or not, but her defense mechanism was stepping in, making the decision for her.

"What is that supposed to mean? I was out for a walk and saw you sitting alone...I was just coming to see if you were okay after being paired with-"

"Oh, so you're checking on my emotional status..." Hermione said mock sweetly.

"Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Well you should have thought about that before!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, acquiring a stoney tone. Hermione laughed darkly, still holding onto the tension from class.

"Did you actually help design those badges?" Hermione asked. She took his silence as a yes. She had tried to deny the fact, but here it was staring her right in the face. She huffed. "How dare you. You really are nothing but a git! How could you knowingly place my face on a badge that slandered me so blatantly?"

Draco looked at her seriously. "I didn't."

"What do you mean you bloody well didn't?! Nott said that you did, and you didn't even try to deny it!" The blonde pressed his lips together.

"I helped design the one for Potter. And I wont deny that was one of my greater accomplishments in life."

"That doesn't make it any better, you arse! Harry is one of my best friends!"

"How doesn't it make things better? I didn't attack you and your bloody name!" he protested, his anger rising.

"Why? Because there is nothing clean about it anyway! Why would it matter to you if it was further sullied by your pathetic slander attempts!"

"I've already told you, you daft woman! Your badge wasn't my idea! If you would just close your god damn mouth for one second and get that through your thick skull, then you would realize that! Stop jumping to stupid conclusions!"

"I can hear you loud and clear, Malfoy! It's you with the thick skull - In what demented reality did you not think that I would be bothered by you creating badges to spur hate of my friend. And how dare you wear one in front of me!" she hissed, prodding the badge roughly. Her nail clicked loudly against Harry's face.

"Not all of us are perfect, Granger!"

"Never did I claim to be perfect, you twit!"

"Well you certainly do a bloody good job at implying it!" He said, throwing his hands up in the air.

Hermione gasped. "I don't imply anything!"

"Well why don't you ask Krum?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?"

"I think you know exactly what it means, Granger."

"This is about that stupid newspaper, isn't it?"

"What if it is? Can't make up your mind between Potter and Weasley, so you just decide on the famous quidditch player!" he fired back, his anger rising.

"What business of yours is it if Viktor does like me?"

"You're right. It isn't," he said quietly. He held her gaze for a long moment during which Hermione felt compelled to say something - anything. But her words died in her throat. She closed her eyes for but a moment to steady herself before replying, but when she had the nerve to open them, Draco had disappeared.

...

Hermione wandered through the corridors, more distraught than ever. Arguing with Draco, it seemed was like breathing - a habit she could not so easily give up. But then why did the weight in the pit of her stomach seem to be increasing with every step she took. She did not cry, in fact she was much to lost in her mind for her body to even create the droplets that could so easily run down her face as a result of the past event.

She rounded another hallway, though this time the torches were significantly spaced so that the periods between darkness were longer. She slowed her steps, holding her breath. A moment too late, the pair of footsteps that echoed behind her stopped also. Someone was following her.

"Very funny Malfoy," Hermione said hollowly. Saying his name caused an additional pang of regret to surface. There was no reply, and the Gryffindor couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. He knew how she felt, yet he still felt it prudent to annoy her. "Listen. I'm not up for games tonight. I need to talk to you about the article in the Daily Profit..."

The footsteps sounded from behind her again. Almost immediately, her mouth went dry. They were not his footsteps. Draco had an elegant way of walking, a light click in his step. Clean. Crisp. Whomever was walking, did not care to pick their feet too far off the ground, allowing for a slight scuffling noise.

There was no place to run, she would be caught long before she made it even to her own floor, let alone to the safety of her common room.

"What's this about an article?" Derrick asked. "Let's discuss it over tea in my office." He gripped her upper arm and Hermione was forced ahead of him as he lead her to his classroom.

...

Draco walked soundlessly through the corridors of the school, agitated. He had just returned from a Death Eater meeting that had been called spontaneously to review any progress made, not only by him, but the other members as well. In addition, they talked in further detail about the plan that the Dark Lord had secretly given to Burnwick...Derrick.

He understood now how Hermione was selected as one of the champions - Derrick had used a Confundus Charm on the Goblet to trick it into accepting a name from an additional school! As it turned out, Harry's entrance was planned, however Hermione's was not. The Dark Lord was unhappy to learn of an element had been added to his plan without his warning. Adding a fourth champion would raise a great deal more suspicion than simply an underaged Harry Potter. Conveniently, Derrick was unable to attend the meeting.

It took everything in him not to hunt Derrick down what with all that he had put Hermione through this past year. But he knew he couldn't. If he said but one word out of context, then Derrick would learn of his true intentions of protecting Hermione. On the other hand, if he said nothing, it might only become worse for her.

The blond sighed and ran a hand through his hair. When had he become so involved with Hermione? When had she even become Hermione? He couldn't remember the last time that he had mentally referred to the girl as Granger. He shouldn't be feeling this sort of attachment for someone that he had hated for so long; it didn't make sense. To make things worse, he didn't even know what such an attachment was.

As he turned the corner, the blond caught sight of a figure leaving the class in which he took Defense Against the Dark Arts. The torches lit alongside the walls revealed the individual to be Derrick exiting his classroom, slightly disheveled. What was he doing out in the middle of the night? The message received from him had implied that was otherwise occupied. Surely he couldn't have simply been marking tests.

"The Dark Lord is none too pleased that you entered another name without his knowledge," Draco addressed him. The man stopped and turned on his heel quickly.

Derrick sneered. "As if this is any of your business. Let the grown-ups handle this one. You just stick to your studies. By the grades you've been getting in my class, you could use all of the study time you can get!"

"You should know as well as I that there is nothing wrong with my grades. And as it happens, it _is_ my business. Granger is my business, as it was appointed to me to get to know her and to-"

"To recover useful information about Harry Potter," Derrick finished for him. "And how has that worked for us so far? Any new leads?" he urged him on sarcastically.

"It's not as though you would be the first person I would inform," he replied snidely. "At least I let the Dark Lord know of my plans."

"Useless plans. At least mine will produce some results!"

"And how exactly do you expect to produce results by squandering _my _method of producing results?"

"What does it matter to you if the girl is entered or not? This has only succeeded in making your job easier."

"Easier? You think that this makes it easier? She was a bloody wreck because of this whole thing!" Draco argued back.

"Yes," Derrick said, blatantly annoyed that he had not caught onto such an obvious point. "The girl is a wreck. Does that not make it easier for you to get closer to her?" Draco supposed that this was true. Regardless, he didn't like the idea of Hermione being thrown in the crossfire. In addition, something didn't quite add up with Derrick's story. Why would he be so keen on helping him? Surely there must be something that he is getting out of it. "In addition, she works as somewhat of a back-up plan."

"A back-up plan? How so?" Draco was keen on learning, as even the Dark Lord could not deduce his methods.

"Surely by now you must know that the final task will involve a Port Key that will deliver the champion directly to Voldemort. Should that person be Harry Potter, he will kill him the moment he arrives. Should it be Hermione Granger, then she can be used to lure Potter to a desired location, where he will die. Methods are being put into place so that Harry is the one to reach the Port Key first, however the tournament is unpredictable in nature. It is better to have more than one option available, should the other fail. This is where the Dark Lord has failed in the past."

Draco nodded, absorbing this new information. "But why her anyway? There are a million other people that Potter would willingly run after, should they be taken. Weasley, Longbottom, anyone. Why her?

Derrick laughed to himself. "What does it matter to someone like you? Her blood is no better than the shit in the suer to people like you. If I didn't know better myself, I would think that you've actually developed feelings for her. How cute," he spat.

"I couldn't give a rats arse about the girl. Don't you get it? She's nothing but a disposable pawn! It's a facade you dunderheaded idiot! It's a wonder the Dark Lord hasn't entrusted you with a greater part! I doubt that your thick skull would allow another concept to slip through it."

Derrick kept his eyes trained on him for longer than the blond felt comfortable, but he did not break his own snide glare.

"You best watch your act boy, or you just might end up fooling yourself," Derrick said in a smooth voice, so low that Draco could barely hear what he said.

Draco scoffed. "My loyalties lie with the Dark Lord, not with some school girl who wont live past the impending war."

Derrick's sickening smirk deepened. "Good luck cleaning up the mess that you've just created." The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher turned on his heel, leaving a confused Draco in his wake. That was when he heard it. A soft, choked sob coming from just behind the door.

...

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No flames please :) I will update as soon as I possibly can!


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