Hermione Granger stormed through the Common Room she and Draco shared on orders to bring him to Headmaster's office. She clambered up his set of stairs and knocked loudly on his door. "Malfoy!" she practically screamed, as it was still early in the morning and a Saturday, there was a good chance that she'd be waking him up. "Malfoy!" she screamed louder and continued to bang on his door. After another two minutes of incessant banging and screaming she rolled her eyes and turned the handle, and then she used the alohamora charm to open it.

She walked into his room to find it adorned it green and silver; much like her room was adorned in red and gold. She expected to find him sleeping in his bed with a pillow over his head to block out the noise she had made. But instead she found the bed barren as well as the rest of the room. But, Hermione being Hermione insisted on checking every nook and cranny in case he was a contortionist of some sort and had gone to great lengths to hide himself.

She first checked the most obvious places that he would hide from her, so she marched through his filthy room nearly tripping over clothes as she went. Finally she reached the wardrobe and yanked the doors open, expecting clothes and other various items to fall on her, but they never came. She instead found a pensive. She looked at it perplexedly.

Why would Malfoy need a pensive? What with his perfect life, his rich father, what on earth could he possibly need this for? The air-headed fool, she thought. When suddenly, an image caught her eye, she looked into the pensive and saw a scuffle going on between two men, she leaned closer when suddenly she realized that her nose was just touching she attempted to pull it back but it was too late, she found herself being sucked into the memory with one thought on her mind.

Malfoy is going to kill me for this.

When Hermione landed roughly on her feet, she found her self in a large stone room whose sounds echoed off the walls. She spun around on her heel in search of the noise. Finally her eyes came to rest upon two men who looked very alike; both had blonde hair, grey-silver eyes, the same pointy nose, and were of the same height and build. After racking her brain for about two seconds she came upon a conclusion. "Malfoy and Malfoy sr." she mumbled to her self.

It was indeed the two. Lucius was shouting at his son about his destiny to serve the Dark Lord, Draco shot something back at his father who abruptly struck his son across the face. Draco toppled to the floor, he tried to get back up but his father continued to kick him in the ribs until there was a sharp cracking sound that sounded remarkably like bone.

Hermione shuddered as Lucius bent down by his son and started to whisper maniacally in his ear, Hermione couldn't hear all of it and was afraid to go closer even though she knew it was an illusion, but she did manage to pick up the words: Dark Lord, serve him faithfully, and do as your told. But then, after Lucius had stood up and left a silently sobbing Draco on the floor, and just as she was starting to pity him, she heard two words spoken clearly by a low drawling voice.

"Seen enough?" it snapped.

Hermione wheeled around to face what she had feared, Draco Malfoy stood rigidly behind her. His silver eyes were wild with rage, the vein in his forehead was bulging as she tried to open her mouth to explain but he ignored her. Draco snatched her wrist roughly with the swiftness of a seeker and hauled her whimpering form out of the memory.

Back in his room, Draco's anger only seemed to grow. He released his hold on her wrist by violently throwing her into the pole of his four-poster bed.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing in there! Huh!" he screamed, nostrils flared. "Thought you'd find something funny, didn't you? You thought you'd find something that you, scarhead and the weasels can all chuckle about!" he raged.

Hermione tried to speak again but he cut her off with a swift slap to the face. Hermione's hand shot to her face, and the arm of her robe dropped to her elbow to reveal many bloody cuts.

Draco's face immediately softened at the sight of her arm. "Granger," he said sharply, "what's happened to your arm?" he inquired.

Her breathing hitched. She hadn't realized her robe had slipped. "Nothing," she lied as she covered the wounds up. She stood up, her composure regained for the most part as she said, "Dumbledore is expecting, that's why I came in here, I was looking for you," and with that she left the dorm and walked quickly up to the Headmaster's office.

In the Headmaster's office, the two were informed of a charity Quidditch match that would be held on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch and it would be in two months time. They, as Head Boy and Girl would be in charge of any decorations they might want to put up on the field, snacks sold and who would sell them, etc. It was to be between the Wimbourne Wasps, and Puddlemere United.

As soon as they left the Headmaster's office, Draco attempted to further interrogate Hermione about her mysterious cuts that he suspected were self induced, but as soon as he turned to ask her, she had gone.

Hermione sped along the corridors and up and down several flights of stairs until she got to the Gryffindor tower. She saw the Fat Lady had once again gotten her self drunk. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," she said in a very fast breath.

"Too right you are," she pointed a drunken finger at Hermione before swinging open to reveal the red and gold Gryffindor Common Room.

"'Mione!" Ginny happily squealed when she saw her best friend entering the portrait. She quickly untangled her self from Harry's arms and ran to her friend. "How are you?" she asked, examining her friend. "Is Malfoy being an absolute arse?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." she told them distantly.

"Hermione are you alright?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.

"Yeah I'm fine I just came down here to tell you guys that there's going to be a charity Quidditch match in two months here, and it's between the Wimbourne Wasps and Puddlemere United." Was I supposed to tell them that? Oh well, Dumbledore said Malfoy and I would be in charge of everything including the publicity.

"Wicked," Harry said, "that's Oliver's team, I haven't seen him since when, third year was it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ron confirmed quietly.

Harry looked at his friend and gave him a nudge, making him blush furiously.

"H-Hermione," he stuttered.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering," he shifted his feet; "well since the Quiditch match s coming up, perfect opportunity, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me?" if possible he blushed even redder to a dark shade of purple.

Hermione would say she was completely taken aback by the question if she had not been dreading

the very same question to come out of his mouth. "Ron, I'm sorry but I don't like you like that," and just like that, the supposed Ron/Hermione romance saga was over.

"O-oh," he said rather disappointed as all the color drained from his face. "Th-that's alright," he told her, even though his face said it was not.

Should I tell him? No, that's my business, not his. "I've got to go, lots of homework, you know," she told them awkwardly before heading back out the portrait hole and sprinted back to her dorm. She slammed the door shut and threw her self on the bed where she began sob uncontrollably.

Why now? Why now? Why couldn't he have asked me before it happened? She wondered miserably as she continued to cry.

Hermione kept sobbing as she opened the drawer in her bedside table to retrieve a pocketknife. She expertly flicked the knife out of its little holder and held it to her wrist.

"Ah!" and with a cry she opened the tender flesh on her wrist and blood poured from the wound like a fountain. After a few minutes of soaking her bed sheets, clothes and flooring with blood, she sealed up the wound with her wand and stumbled light headedly to the bathroom where she turned on the shower to wash her sorrows away.