Betaed by Pooja :)

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The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly—

"You weren't at the game."

She heard a voice that quickly snapped her out of her daydream from the depths of "The Pit and the Pendulum". Immediately, she turned to gaze at the face of a very exhausted, very disheveled, and very handsome looking Draco Malfoy right across her table, again.

He had just came from the game, she noticed, because he was still wearing his Quidditich uniform and his broom was on the table. There was an aura of gloom around him… or maybe that was just her. A group of girls were hiding from behind the bookshelves a few feet away from them, giggling and staring at his back. Hermione glared at his fan club and then at him. She continued to read.

…the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rush—

"Oh, come on Granger, you're still mad?"

…rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe. I had swooned; but still will not say—

"I thought you didn't care about what other people thought of you," he said leisurely.

"Shh." She placed a finger on her lips, telling him to keep quiet. He rolled his eyes.

She ignored him and returned to her book again. This week had been a terrible one for Hermione. Her fellow Gryffindors had thought she was a traitor (despite Harry and Ron's explanation). The Hufflepuffs had become scared of her. The Ravenclaws had said she was a hypocrite. The Slytherins thought her a whore.

Not that she cared what the Slytherins thought about her anyways.

Only the teachers seemed to have approved of this imaginary relationship. "Interhouse Unity!" they had all said.

To make matters worse, she had been bombarded with rubbish questions about Draco Malfoy and shagging everywhere she had went.

It was revolting.

She opted to ignore him. Perhaps he would go away if she tried hard enough.

…that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet —

Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her wrist.

"Malfoy!" she said loudly, struggling against his hold. She felt a cold, round metal object touch the palm of her hand.

The Golden Snitch.

"You won?" She was looking at him now, forgetting that she was supposed to ignore him. He smirked triumphantly. And then he nodded.

"Didn't think I could do it, did you?" he said, crossing his hands and leaning back into his chair.

"Congratulations then," she told him. She handed it back to him, but he only held it to her hand gently.

He looked as if he enjoyed the warmth of her skin.

"Keep it."

"Why?"

"My peace offering," he said. Hermione blinked several times to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Since when did Draco Malfoy ever apologize? And to a mudblood, no less. She never thought she'd see the day. This was the first game of the year and he was willing to give away the first snitch he'd caught just so she would forgive him?

It must've been hard for him.

She gazed at him for a long time, studying his features. There was still something very wrong with his eyes, like he was scheming… lying… but she kept hearing the voice of Albus Dumbledore echo in her head. Everyone deserves a second chance.

Damn, conscience.

She placed the snitch in her pocket, looked back at the book she was reading and then sighed in defeat.

Everyone deserves a second chance.

"Alright. I forgive you."

All was not lost.

"There have been several mysterious killings of centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. I just want to remind everyone that entering the Forbidden Forest is prohibited. We only care for your safety," McGonagall said, her voice echoing in the quiet of the Great Hall. "Violation of the rules will lead to severe consequences."

A small smirk suddenly graced his handsome features.

This was too easy. That Golden Snitch thing had all been an act. Draco never apologized. Hermione had been an exception. She wasspecial. He had already been sure Hermione was going to forgive him. Hermione wasn't capable of hatred even if she'd tried. She was the trusting and forgiving type and she thought everybody deserved a second chance.

He was going to use that to his advantage.

Just like what he had done with Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore.

"Did you have something to do with this?" Blaise whispered accusingly. "Did you kill those centaurs?"

"Of course not," he said with an expressionless face. But the boy knew him too well. He knew he had been lying. Draco didn't care.

Let them hate so long as they fear.

The Light side and the Dark side of the Final Battle had been unfamiliar to him. He had acknowledged no sides. He only knew one side, his side. However, he had used both sides to gain more power. He had been a spy for the Light side and learned Occlumency and Potions from Snape, ordered by Dumbledore himself. He had been a valued Death Eater for the Dark side and learned Dark arts from Voldemort himself.

But the bastard had noticed his potential and had never let him out of his sight.

He had noticed Draco's skill in the Dark Arts.

So he had bestowed upon Draco the most wanted gift of many.

…To be his heir.

"Where's Granger?" he asked loudly, not caring who heard him. A few Slytherin girls looked at him and frowned.

"She's doing her Potions essay back at the dorm," Blaise replied.

Draco had not wanted to be Voldemort's heir. He had not wanted to take orders from anyone. Draco was his own master, after all… but still, he had accepted. He had predicted that Voldemort would die in the end.

The good thing about being the Dark Lord's heir was the unbelievable knowledge that came along with the position. Voldemort had taught Draco everything he knew, every skill, every technique, every secret. The Death Eaters hadn't known a thing, but Draco's sudden change in power had made them suspicious.

When Potter had finally killed Voldemort, Snape had somehow explained to the-boy-who-lived that Draco had been a spy for the Order and he had gotten off easily.

And now he was still alive, more powerful and dangerous than ever.

Voldemort had not been weak. He had just been missing something and that had caused his downfall. Draco wouldn't make that mistake. He would not be crushed so easily.

He wouldn't be crushed at all.

"You were right, Zabini," he said as he drank water from his goblet. "Maybe forcing the crest is indeed going too far."

"Yes, it took you long enough to realize that. She's not a toy, Draco. She has—"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Blaise pondered for a moment, gazing at him.

"What's in it for me?"

"Think of it this way," Draco hissed. "I won't kill you when I rule the world."

Blaise snorted, but Draco could still see the slightest tinge of fear in his eyes. Blaise knew well not to cross him again. Smart boy.

"I'm not doing this for you Draco," he said finally. "I want Potter gone. Kill him if you must."

"Done."

He had to separate his Princess from her precious Gryffindor bodyguards. She was most vulnerable when she was alone.

Divide and conquer.

That was the plan.

"So they're coming here on the same day as the convention?" she said sadly.

Harry and Ron nodded. They had already promised her they would accompany her to this book convention to be held at Beauxbatons this Friday. Professor McGonagall had told her a month ago that she and Blaise had to represent Hogwarts. They were allowed to bring two friends with them.

She had asked Harry and Ron of course.

"It's only going to happen once in the history of Hogwarts," said Harry while trying to hide his excitement.

"But we'll still go to the convention if you want us to," Ron added, half-heartedly. She knew they were trying to sway her into letting them stay here instead of going to the book convention. Even though they had promised her no matter what happened, they'd all go.

How easily they could replace her with Quidditch.

She sighed. This was what she'd been talking about. They were drifting away…

"No… it's okay," Hermione said stiffly. "It would be selfish of me to force you to go with me…"

They both grinned enthusiastically and hugged her tightly. "Thanks, Hermione."

She mouthed goodnight and headed back to the head dorm.

"Bloody Brilliant!" she heard Ron's voice as soon as she rounded a corner. "The Chudley Cannons! On Friday! In Hogwarts! I'd be dead before I'd miss that to go to some boring book convention."

Her knuckles turned white as she climbed the staircases. She had only asked them to do one thing for her this year, and even then they would willingly ditch her to do something else.

She knew she was being whiny and selfish but she couldn't help it. It hurts.

She could feel her tears trying to escape her eyes but she held them back. She wouldn't cry now. Not when she knew this would have happened anyways.

Not when she was already used to being so alone.

"Granger." Malfoy had just exited the Head dorm. He had smirked when he saw her. His hands were tucked in his pockets again. She had stopped walking but he continued, stopping only when he was right beside her.

"See you on Friday, love," he said, before walking away.

"BLAISE!"

"You saw Draco outside," the Head Boy muttered, rolling his eyes. He was sitting by the fire again. She wanted to kill him. "I'm sorry, but I asked him. Do you know how hard it is to find a Slytherin who loves books?"

"Yes, but—"

"Potter and Weasley will have to be civil to him," he interrupted as-a-matter-of-fact.

At the mention of their names her face fell and she was quiet. Blaise turned to look at her with his dark eyes.

"What?" he asked, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere.

"They're—" He could see her eyes watering. She turned her back on him so he wouldn't see her face "—not coming."

"Oh…" he said awkwardly, not knowing how to handle the situation. "Why?"

"The Chuckly Canyons or whatever," she said. Blaise knew she was crying now.

He almost laughed at the mention of 'Chuckly Canyons' but he had stopped himself. He really did feel bad for Hermione.

"I'm going to my room," she said quietly. "I don't care if Malfoy comes."

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Poor Hermione…

but don't worry, she's a fighter.

If you have the time, you might want to read Edgar Allan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum" [[I used it in this chapter, it's a good read :)]]

Thanks for reading and reviewing my story.