Thank you, everyone, for reading so far! I know I'm a slow uploader, I'm such a lazy-bones. Sorry. But that's not important now…Here you go! Chapter two!

Chapter 2

It's another long night of patrol for me, but for some odd reason, I'm posted in the Dungeons with Malfoy. For hours we pace the dim, chill halls, peering under desks and around corners, speaking only to ask if the other found something. What we're looking for, however, is a mystery.

It's silent for a long time, and then, Malfoy steps closer to me. I have a vision of an animal closing in on its prey, but I push the thought out of my mind. I've proven, over and over again, that I can take Draco on.

"How are you?" he asks. His voice is low, but he meets my astonished gaze head on. Nothing to be ashamed of, for Malfoy.

"Why do you care what I do?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice. The one time he says something non-insulting, I have to answer like that? I cringe inside.

He smirks. "Am I not allowed to make polite conversation while we're down here for the next five hours?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm not."

I'm curious, but I turn toward him, exasperated. I open my mouth to speak, even though every instinct in my body is screaming for me to run away. "Well, that's your problem. What do you want me to do? We're not exactly bosom pals."

He looks sadder. Certainly not by anything I've said. Nothing I say can impenetrate his smooth, flawless shield. Nothing except Harry can. "Feisty, today, are we? Sorry, but I've been… anxious to know, lately, where all of your and your… bosom friends… have been going lately, on the seventh floor. Care to share?"

He's onto us. I should have listened to myself. Not opened my mouth. But the cat's out of the bag. Nothing I can do can hold it back.

"We're friends," I try. "The whole lot of us. We do things together, often. Not that you'd know, you'd need a few friends to experience the whole effect, Malfoy."

He ignores my comment, and keeps going, completely untouched by my argument. I can't blame him. He knows where we go, to the disappearing room on the seventh floor. "You can tell me, you know. I'd never tell." I know he's lying. The little I pinned next to his prefect's badge glints in the torchlight.

"We… practice. Nothing you need to worry about." I wish I'd run away at the beginning. "Like Charms Club."

He says something else I don't catch, too infuriated with myself for saying anything at all. For a moment, I'd thought he cared. Not much, in a suspicious way, but cared all the same. I've put my neck on the line, and it's my fault if we all get caught.

The Charms test is easy. I almost regret studying so much, but I'm beyond ecstatic to see the grades, I just know I've scored top mark, again, because of my hard work and extra credit and helping Flitwick after class sometimes.

"That was so hard," Ron moans, dejectedly dropping into a chair after dinner. I sit next to him, my knitting out and ready, Harry chuckling on the other side.

"And you studied?" he questions.

"Of course not. Quidditch practice takes up a lot of-" he backtracks. "I've been busy. You didn't."

Harry leaps up suddenly, like someone lit a fire under him. "Busy – I was supposed to see Snape tonight. Occlumency-"

I wave goodbye, but he's gone. As I turn back, the portrait hole slams behind him.

"I was in the Library yesterday." I don't know what's making me say this, but the words tumbled out, tripping over each other as I tell Ron all about seeing them. It makes it feel like old times, almost, with us sharing everything we know about something important. It makes me feel heartsick about how different things are, now. I just can't place why.

Ron looks surprised that I told him this, but not that surprised about the way the two of them were talking to each other.

"Stupid gits. Fighting among themselves. Real smart, Hermione, turning the members of their own Inquisitorial Squad against them. But how did you do it?" he sounds actually intrigued.

I'm kind of shocked. Why does he think I did something? Prance in front of Malfoy with a too-small shirt, egging him on? What does he think I am? An idiot who curses anyone who crosses them?

I snap, "When they were done, Malfoy stomped off, knocked me over. He looked sad."

"That brat was crying? Bloody hell, I wish he wasn't a prefect…" Ron shuts his eyes, blissfully thinking of all the punishments he's dreaming of inflicting on him.

"Sure." I'm kind of disappointed he took it so badly, this whole story about Malfoy and Pansy. "I'm going to go. I'll be in the Library if you need me. In an hour I'll go try and find Harry, if he's not done with the lesson."

"Yeah. Okay." He's a bit dreamy, still, so I stand, brush off my robes, and hand Ron by knitting needles by the end.

"Don't break them."

I stalk off, cursing myself. Why did I have to say anything at all? Now I've ruined everything.

I stick my wand in my pocket, and fall out of the portrait hole. How did I do that? It must have been spectacular. I'm flat on the floor, but I pick myself up, and almost walk into Pansy Parkinson.

I almost growl at her, since she's an inch in front of my face. How come I didn't see her sooner? "Granger!" she screams, backing up slightly, since I'm cross-eyed.

"And you need to scream in my face why?"

"Have you heard? Have you heard about me and Draco?" she seems oddly enthusiastic.

"Have I heard what about who, exactly?"

"Have you heard about me and Draco Malfoy. You know him, right?" she's condescending, as if my IQ doesn't outstrip hers by double digits.

"I know of him. It's not personal. And what is it you need me to know?"

Pansy smirks, and I notice how crooked her teeth are. I think they'd look better with my fist's indention in it. "Draco's all alone now. He's single. He's not dating anyone at all."

"And, so?"

"And, so, little Mudblood Granger can ask him out. You fancy purebloods, Granger. First the traitor Weasley, Krum, and now my Draco." My stomach tightens, and I have a feeling of violation, as if I'm about to be robbed. I have no reason to be afraid. The muscles from my right forearm tighten, one by one until I'm left with a rock hard fist that craves her face. Control… I repeat the words that I say so often to Harry and Ron. It's not worth it.

"I. Don't. Move." If I use complete sentences, I might lose control and hit her so hard across the face her crooked teeth will fly out.

"You do. Don't lie, Mudblood." She lowers her voice. My throat constricts, and my vision begins to flicker until I can hardly see, my eyes are slits. If she says Mudblood one more time… "I'm not blind you know. The jitters, the way you get red when he walks by. And I saw you listening to us the other day. Don't let it happen again." She mutters under her breath, "All of you. Potter…Weasley…and Malfoy…mudblood." Viciously.

And before I grant my arm permission, it's flown up and backhanded her across the face, leaving an equally vicious hand print glowing across her mouth. "IMPEDIMENTA!" she screeches. I wonder why the Fat Lady can't see… I reach for my wand, my fingers just closing around the handle and jerking out of my pocket -

"Ah!" I scream, flying backward through the air, banging my head on the bottom of the Fat Lady's frame, the air whooshing from my lungs.

She tsks. "Oh, dear. You're not having a good day today, are you?" I sniff and walk away.

In my rage, sadness, and humiliation, I find myself on the second floor, not knowing how I got there at all. Wearily, I stumble over to one of the sinks, and it's purely by coincidence that it's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. I stare for a moment at the little etched snake before the tears begin to fall, filling the grimy sink.

Why did I act like that? What she said hurt me, but not enough to hit her. Why am I miserable now? Because I was humiliated by being thrown to the floor? Or because what she said… or because what she said was tr-

"What are-" I turn to see Moaning Myrtle floating, pouting next to me. "What are you doing here again?" she glares at me. "You promised, just like those boys that you'd come see me again."

I sigh, closing my eyes, pretending that for one moment I have solitude. That for one moment I have peace. "Myrtle, I'm sorry, but your bathroom is closed. I'm not even supposed to be in it now. And I don't feel like talking."

She pouts. "Who said that you wanted to talk? I was going to talk." She sniffs. I'm just glad I haven't hurt her feelings.

"All right. Someone else's problems are welcome to me at the moment." She's not offended, and I sigh in relief this time. If I don't let her, she'll scream about Hermione Granger crying in the bathroom. It does seem better since the last time I was stupid enough to – no trolls need to be involved.

"Lately," sighs Myrtle, "I've been thinking about who's fault, really it is I'm dead. And I've decided it was Olive Hornby." `

"It's because of Tom Riddle you're dead," I say patiently. "He opened the Chamber of Secrets and let the basilisk out and it killed you."

Contrarily, Myrtle snaps, "Well, I wouldn't have been in here if it wasn't for her!"

"Technically… but-"

"But? But what? That, there, is a perfectly logical argument I've spent the past three years of my death working on!"

"Well… what did she say that made you so sad?" I can't believe I just asked that. I'll never live this down, my name won't leave her lips for another lifetime. I've never asked such a personal, nosy question in my life.

I hope I won't get yelled at, but prepare to pretend my eardrums don't work, just in case.

"She… she had a knack," she mumbles, "to make me really miserable. All she did was taunt me about this one boy who never did anything to anyone, but I liked him and so did she."

She looks like she's about to cry, and I stay quiet, listening attentively.

"And because she was so jealous, she told the boy terrible things about me and my glasses. And I came here, and died."

I realize too late my mouth is hanging open, just a little, before she's wailing and screaming, trying to banish me from her bathroom, knowing she's said too much.

As I leave, one thought connects to another, and a sluggish, bold feeling spreads across my mind.

I never really thought about Myrtle having… usual feelings.

But when she mentioned someone competing for a boy and being told rumors, and them hurting so much that death was preferable…

I only thought of one person. One victim. One prize.

After trying, with some success, to erase every sign of my tears, I go back to my original task: trying to find Harry. I doubt Snape actually wanted to see him, if he did, he'd have been much more upset and less eager to get away.

It's much more likely he just wants to be alone.

I'm not sure what's happening to him. He seems so angry, and cold, harsh and isolated from everyone else. It might be because of the connection with Voldemort, but I think it is because after all the trauma he went through a few months ago, he's only mocked and ridiculed. Not an ounce of respect.

And so I'm off to find him.

As I round a corner, my head down, watching the flagstones slip by, I run into someone.

Please don't let it be Malfoy. Or Pansy Parkingson. Why is it that whenever I have to run into someone it's someone who hates me?

"Oh. Hermione."

I breathe out, relieved, as I glance up, Harry's face swimming over me through my anxious tears. I blink them away impatiently.

"Harry!" I take a step back. He and Ron have gotten so tall. "I was just looking for you. Are you all right? You looked a bit queasy when you left." I've given it away, he knows and I knows he was just desperate for time to himself, the only person he allows himself to understand his situation. He wasn't queasy, and he wasn't going to Snape.

"I have a headache again," he says, and I'm not surprised. He always seems to have headaches nowadays. "And my scar is aching. He's irritated. Constantly." I fall into step beside him, as we meander toward the outside. We might be heading to the lake, our trouble place for walking, but I'm unsure.

"Well, I'm sure it'll get better with time-" I begin, but I'm cut off.

"Harry! Hermione! I've been looking all over for you!"

Harry and I turn toward the source of the yelling, and already my wand is in my hand, ready. Neville comes puffing toward us, frantic.

"Neville," Harry says, fast. I can see plans racing across his eyes. "What's happened?" I know he's thinking of the D.A., Umbridge, or even the Order, but Neville doesn't know anything about the Order.

"Luna's missing!" Neville replies, finally catching up to us.

"Neville," I placate, "I'm sure Luna's fine, you know that she goes off on her own, but she always comes back within a…. reasonable… amount of time-"

"No," Neville exhales with deep breaths, "She was kidnapped!"

"That's ridiculous," I say immediately, and even though Harry's lips formed the words, no sound comes out. Oh, no. He's thinking again that something happened, some theory that only he can understand or see, information withheld from the rest of us. The plans that lead us to trouble.

"Listen to me. I was just, um, in the courtyard, and Luna was standing over a patch of some...flowers, sniffing them, and suddenly some man dressed in all black came along, grabbed Luna, and, well, I don't know. They went towards Hagrid's and past his place to the forest. It doesn't make sense, but you have to believe me. That's what happened. Please."

Harry scowls slightly, his brows drawing together as he thinks hard. Rapidly, he turns to me, digging something out of his pocket. It's gold. His galleon! He flips it in my direction. "Tell the rest of the D.A. Neville and I will go to the forest. Get Ron and find us after." Then he's off, running down the hallway, with a worried, still panting Neville in tow.

I tap as quickly as I can the first code that comes to my mind: "COME. NEED HELP. AT HAGRID'S." Simple enough. Then I race up a staircase. I make it through two more corridors before I decide Luna's need is more urgent, and whip around, reversing my footsteps as I fly down the steps onto the grounds.

Someone is near the forest, and I skid a little, stopping in my tracks. Is this the person who potentially took Luna?

I look harder. Something about that shape… Malfoy?

Malfoy? Why would he kidnap Luna? With what motive? Information on Dumbledore's Army for Umbridge, possibly?

I turn around as quickly as I can, but he's gaining. I sidestep and press my back against a large rock. But he knows I'm there.

"You're not invisible, Granger."

"I know." I sniff indignantly.

"Hiding from me?"

I open my mouth, fully intending to shout a defiant i/noi/, but what comes out is, "I don't know." Softly, meekly, too. Shyly.

I can tell that he's on the other side of the rock, moving closer to me. Moving in for the kill. "Go away."

"Why should I?"

"Move, then."

"Make me."

"Just give up!" I yell, and he comes silently onto my side. He's so close now I can count his eyelashes.

His slight lip turns up in a sneer. "Not likely, Granger."

"Then let me go!"

His voice is deeper now, and he seems to want something. I'm cornered, and I'm pushing my head up against the rock, trying not to smell him. "What's the magic word?"

"Avada Kedavra!" I respond, but my words are cut off as he leans forward, pressing himself to me, pushing his mouth against mine, kissing me deeply, sincerely. I'm enveloped in him, the feel of his lips against mine, his nose brushing my cheek, my chin touching his. Now I smell him, the deep, fresh scent of pines and, maybe water. This is what a girl's first kiss should be like. Not a peck and a wave goodbye like Krum.

As my arm rises from my side, intending to rest on his back, I freeze, suddenly realizing what is happening. I draw my knee up and force us apart, screaming, "You ARSE!" I kick up dust as I run away, desiring nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between me and that moment.

But it's too late.

I'm trapped.

I won't forget his taste.

And how much I liked it.

Hermione: Me and Draco? Whaaaaat?

Luki: What?

Draco: What?

Luna: Wha-

Snape: Shut up, you blubbering fools.

Luki: Sorry, professor.

Hermione: *looks away*

Draco: You tell them, professor! Granger is trying to seduce me!

Snape: WHAT?

Luki: Well…stay put for chapter three! There's still more to come.

Draco: More? Are you trying to kill us?

Luki: Who knows?...*evil laugh*