He was in the common room, staring at the fire. He probably should have asked Snape for some help, but really, what could he do? He was a bloody teacher. And, Malfoy believed, he was in this for his own glory.

Draco's head fell back. He hated that he hated being so utterly alone. He had, in fact, been alone most of his life. He was just too stubborn to admit it.

And self loathing crept into his cells as he felt his lungs fill with air.

Opposing forces. Self loathing and life.

How many times had he been on the brink and covered it with a snarky comment? Countless, really.

And he closed his eyes.

"Where've you been?" Goyle's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Working," replied Malfoy with his usual nonchalance.

"You never showed up."

Malfoy lifted his head. "I was detained," and he stood. "Heading to bed," and he left Crabbe and Goyle there, bemused expressions on their faces, though no one could claim that as unusual.

He laid in his bed, thinking of his task. And his mind went to Katie Bell. He had tried to convince himself that he didn't care that she had gotten in his way…

But something told him he did care. It wasn't just an accident. He had taken steps to do this thing, and she had gotten in the way.

And he felt sick when he thought about her.

He turned on his side and closed the tapestry around the bed, thinking that he'd need to begin to work more quickly. He didn't want to keep up this charade…it was almost as taxing on his mind as the thing he had to do.

His strides were long as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. He hadn't gone to Transfiguration, though he wasn't fussed. McGonagall was strict about attendance, but it was his first this year.

And he was fairly certain he had an "O" in the class so far.

He turned the corner.

And stopped.

Granger was sitting on the floor across from the invisible door to the Room of Requirement. He slowed his pace, his shoes scraping the stone floor.

She looked up at him, then stood.

He smirked at her. "What are you doing here, Granger?"

"Waiting for you."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his head fell, his hair with it. "Why?" and as he looked up again, there was a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Because you're up to something. And I think you're unwell."

"That's rich. You think I'm unwell. What do you care?" he took a step forward.

"I care because I'm scared you're going to hurt someone."

He swallowed.

He saw that she noticed.

A long breath issued from his nostrils and he shook his head. "Look. Why don't we call a truce, hm? You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. I won't even call you a Mudblood."

"You just did."

A wry smile betook his face. "Had to get a last one in. For old time's sake."

"Look, Malfoy…Harry thinks all sorts of things. And I'm…" she looked at him, brow furrowed.

"You're what?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if he's not onto something."

He felt his stomach fall. Potter was suspicious. Just what he needed.

He didn't respond immediately, mostly because any snark he might have offered seemed to pale in comparison to what Granger just said.

"You really should go and play with your Gryffindor babies. They're likely looking for you."

"What's going on, Malfoy? What are you doing in the seventh floor corridor again in less than twenty four hours?"

"It's touching you're keeping such a close eye. Does Weasleby know? Wouldn't he care that you're stalking a Slytherin?"

She shook her head. "I know that something is going on. And I'm going to find out what it is," she ended in a whisper.

"Looking forward to it," he nodded.

She glared at him, but turned and walked back down the corridor.

He sighed, and asked the door to open for him yet again.

Hermione made her way to Arithmancy, but her mind was on Malfoy. She decided to be more covert in the future, and once she had an idea of what was going on, she'd confront him again.

She hadn't spoken to Harry about any of this…and she was still ignoring Ron, so there was that.

She sighed as she scratched notes with her quill. She should say something to Harry. At least give him the consolation that he wasn't alone in his suspicions…because she was convinced that something was up with Malfoy.

But then again, she might just make it worse. Harry was completely obsessed with discovering something about him, and giving him fuel…she closed her eyes. What if he does something rash? What if he makes it worse?

Couldn't Hermione be more effective, ultimately, in getting him to talk?

She wasn't sure. She was, in fact, a Mudblood. And Malfoy hated her.

But did he hate Harry more?

She thought about their interaction an hour ago. Could he have spoken to Harry like that?

Maybe she'd just carry on for a few more days. Talk to Malfoy once more…then make her decision about telling Harry.

Which, in turn, would lead to Ron finding out.

She inked an "i" with some force at the thought of him.

He really was insufferable. And not because she was jealous, but because he was such a hypocrite. And a child.

Lavender and he really made a smashing couple.

Hermione looked out of the window.

She wasn't sorry that things had unravelled the way they had. It gave her perspective. And Ron was happy. At least, he appeared to be.

Arithmancy ended, and she got up and left in a rush. She hurried up to the common room and into her bedroom. Hermione got into sweats and sweatshirt, and started homework. She'd decided to give it a little time.

Then she'd go back to the seventh floor.

It wasn't working. No matter how hard he tried, the cabinet would only transport bits of whatever they put in the other at Borgin and Burkes.

That wouldn't do.

He tried another spell. Sent a cup through.

Ten minutes later, the handle of the cup was on the shelf of the vanishing cabinet.

Malfoy almost cried.

He leaned his forehead against the door jam. Months of this.

The only good thing coming out of all of this madness was his magical acumen was heightened. He had to study more.

He left the Room and looked for Crabbe.

Nothing.

He sighed and, with a slow gait walked down the corridor to the stairs.

…and Hermione crept out of the shadows. He had been in the Room of Requirement.

She went back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to think about who she could confide in that wasn't Harry or Ron.

And as if on cue, Ron came in with Lavender. He looked at her, and his face was decidedly less happy than what she was accustomed to when Lavender was around. "Hey," he said.

"Hi."

He appeared to waffle, then Lavender pulled him to the sofa in front of the fire.

Hermione sighed. Must she be subjected to the noise of Ron's sloppy kissing? She rolled her eyes and stood, just as Ginny came through the portrait hole with Dean. They appeared to have been having a row.

Hermione thought that Harry might be pleased.

…and it hit her. Ginny! She was trustworthy.

"Ah…Ginny? Can we talk? Upstairs?"

She looked at Hermione crookedly, then nodded. "Sure. I'll see you later, Dean."

They walked up to the girls' dormitory, Hermione wringing her hands in front of her. They went inside of the fifth years' room, as Hermione was feeling especially paranoid.

"What's up?" Ginny put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

"So…" she sat on Ginny's bed. "So…" she cleared her throat.

And Ginny, sensing something serious, pulled a chair over and sat in front of her. "Yeah?"

"You know how Harry is really preoccupied with Draco Malfoy and thinks he's up to something terrible?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, I think he might be right. Or at least, he's not wrong."

"Ok…?"

"I …I confronted him. Malfoy. He looks really bad. He's acting very…odd."

Ginny sat back. "Behaving oddly and looking worse for wear are not crimes. If that were the case, Ron would be serving a life sentence in Azkaban."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah but…" she sat forward, her elbows on her knees. "I think he's in some sort of trouble. And he might be getting desperate. And that makes him dangerous. Shakespeare said, Tempt not a desperate man. It means that desperate people fall easily into traps…and I think he has done. Or will do."

"What did he do when you confronted him?"

"He just…he talked to me. Instead of just saying words at me. Even though he didn't really say much."

"He didn't take his wand out?"

Hermione shook her head.

"And you haven't told anyone this?'

"No. That's one of the reasons I'm talking to you. Do you think I should tell Harry? Or maybe go to Dumbledore?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Tell him what, exactly? That you agree with him about Malfoy? Because that's all I've heard you say."

"But that's not all. He's been in the Room of Requirement."

"Ohhh…" Ginny's entire demeanor changed. "That is strange."

"Precisely."

"I dunno, Hermione. Maybe if you tried to get more information, then tell Harry…because Harry….he tends to be irrational when it comes to Malfoy."

"Yeah," she whispered. "That's basically what I had decided. I just needed to talk to someone about all of this."

"Sure. I get that."

Hermione stood, brow furrowed. "It isn't lying, is it?"

"No. Not exactly…unless Harry asks you directly."

She nodded.

"So…if you don't mind me asking…what's your take on Ron?"

"Hm?" she was distracted answering her.

"You know…Ron and Lav…?"

"Oh! You mean Won Won and Lav Lav?"

Ginny laughed. "Yeah."

"I dunno. I don't really care."

The red head paled. "You don't?"

"No…why? Should I?"

"Well, it's just that…I thought that you did. I was rather hoping that you did," a knowing look passed her visage.

Hermione looked at her, and a dawning understanding reached her. Ginny wanted her and Ron to be together. As in, romantically. "Oh…well, I thought that I was interested in Ron. You know. Romantically. But I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that we're better as friends," she paused. "I'm not really into the idea of romantic stuff, Ginny. I'm too inside my own head. Nobody wants to deal with that."

"Someone might," she shrugged.

"Well, if I ever find them, you'll be the first to know."

Ginny nodded, and a small smile sprang to her lips. "Lemme know if there's anything else I can do, ok? About Harry."

Hermione smirked. "Yeah…how's things with Dean?"

"Oh fine. He's annoying. But then, isn't everyone, really?"

She nodded. "Yep. They sure are," and she turned, leaving the room.

Almost a full month had passed, and he was no closer to repairing the cabinet. It was outrageous. And the enormity of what he was doing weighed on him to the point that he had started to slump physically.

It was February.

Only a few more months before he'd need to act.

And he knew that if it wasn't repaired before June it would be no good and he'd need to think of something else.

But the something else's were running thin…he'd tried poison twice to no avail.

And there was the irritating, constant presence of Crabbe and Goyle. He was beginning to view them more as hindrances than help.

Perhaps he needed a new confidant. Or just…someone.

Pansy crept into his thoughts…but she was so…

Immature.

Draco Malfoy left the Room of Requirement once more. He had started to hate the place.

And he trudged down the stairs to the dungeon where his common room was, and more importantly, his bed.

He'd practice more transfiguration spells in the morning.

…and Hermione Granger watched as he descended the many floors beneath her.

Tomorrow, she'd decide exactly how she was handling this situation. She already had a couple of ideas in mind.