A/N: I'm having the most difficult time starting the next chapter of Encomium Ombre. So much needs to be said and ending it like I did for chapter seven has really made writing the next installment difficult. I wrote this hoping it would spark something (Even if I had to introduce a couple of things earlier than anticipated). I think I'm at a place where I can honestly say I'm happy with the flow of the plot and development of characters. I apologize for the tardiness because I did promise that I would update more frequently.
As always, enjoy.
For as long as she remembered there had always been two sides of him. A cold side that everyone paid witness to, and a warm side only reserved for her. Never in her dreams did she ever imagine that there was anything sinister about him; she was led to believe that the charismatic Slytherin was as mysterious as the moon, shared only his secrets to those closest to him, and became the most affectionate person on earth when it came to her. Never in her life she thought that he would behind it all.
"You've got to be kidding me," Harry said, a kind of dumbfounded disbelief rising in his voice. They were halfway to their next class, which was Potions with the Slytherins when she brought up the topic that Draco had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Hufflepuff Fifth Year. "He has to be the one who did it. Who else is capable of such a monstrous act?'
"You can't possibly believe all that rubbage, can you?" she huffed, almost affronted that he would have the nerve to blame him for so much as harming a fly. "You don't know him like I do."
Something along the lines of a curse stumbled from the boy's mouth as he shook his head and fell into a tight formation. His jaw was set, she saw. He always did that when he was angry or thinking about something really hard. It took every ounce of her soul not to lash out on him as he was so determined to do to her. She just didn't see the supposed negligence as he did. Draco, in her young eyes, could do no wrong. An appealing sense of comfort, even if her inner conscious stated otherwise.
"I don't know why your suspicions are leaning towards him." She told him a soft voice. "He's never harmed anyone before. I don't see why he would start now."
"Have you not seen him on the field?" he asked, emphasizing the words in a strained, hurt voice. "He's sent players to the hospital wing, Hermione. Not exactly the loving, gentle creature you write him to be."
"Every player sent another player to the wing." She tried to wave it off nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be Quidditch if no one got hurt. Besides, it's not like you haven't sent anyone to-"
"That's not the point!" he hissed just as they met the stairs and they changed automatically with their need for direction. Calls sounded all around them as the students rushed dangerously to get to their next lesson. Snape had warned them all last lesson if any of them were late that they would spend the next week cleaning out dung from caldrons and it was obvious to Hermione that Harry did not want to do it, hence his struggle to get there on time. Hermione supposed it would be an awful way to spend one's evening. "I don't understand why you have so much faith and trust in him."
Hermione looked at him for a moment, decidedly.
She hadn't an answer. Only the inaudible sense that if she told him what she was thinking, more than one person would end up hurt.