"Malfoy, a word?" Hermione said darkly once she'd found him outside the dungeons with Zabini, Knott and some other Slytherins she didn't know the names of. Draco looked at her warily, but followed her down the hall nonetheless. She led them to the girl's bathroom on the first floor and whammed the door open.

"Are you insane?!" Hermione screeched after she'd checked the stalls making sure they were alone. And they were, except for an affronted-looking Moaning Myrtle who'd opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione ignored her. She didn't wait for an answer from Draco but continued with unyielding force:

"You destroyed his face! He's having trouble breathing because of you!" She was referring to McLaggen, who'd staggered into the Great Hall that morning with a face bearing a close resemblance to a pile of cold-cuts. She was panting, not remembering the last time she'd been this angry.

"So," Malfoy said callously.

"So, so" she said forebodingly, "You're a maniac! Putting aside the fact that you beat a man senseless, have you any idea how this will look?" she shouted.

Draco looked almost bored, standing leaned up against one of the stalls.

"I don't care how it looks, Granger. That scum physically harmed you. And I'm sorry but I'm not going to allow some vile bastard to put his hands on my girlfriend." he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione had been about to retort, but fell silent at the word girlfriend. This was the first time he'd referred to her as such and she couldn't help thinking the timing was terrible. They were in the middle of a fight, for Merlin's sake! Still, she'd felt a jolt of excitement when he'd said it.

"I am a grown woman. And it's 1999! I don't need a man to protect me, I'm perfectly capable," she started, but he cut her off.

"Really? Then why didn't I see any bruises on McLaggen?" Draco countered.

"Oh, I don't know? Could it be because I'm not some immature prat who needs to resort to violence to win an argument?" she said sarcastically, glaring at him.

Draco glared back at her, annoyed that she was half right. She was, after all, a very capable witch, something she's proven over and over again. Not only that, she was smart. Smarter than anyone he knew and when it came to verbal discussion, her opponent didn't stand a chance. But she was wrong in thinking that it made her invulnerable.

"Whatever, it's done. What do you want me to do about it?" he said, attempting to make his way out from the bathroom, but Hermione blocked his path.

"Apologize to him and promise me you'll never to anything like this again," she said daringly. Draco laughed, unable to help himself, did she seriously expect him to apologize to the man that had manhandled and scared her just that previous day?

"Oh, yeah. That's going to happen," he sniggered.

"I'm serious," she said

"I know you are, and I'm telling you I will apologize to that piece of shit when hell freezes" he said stiffly, brushing into her shoulder as he walked past her and slamming the door as he left.

Draco felt irritated with her the rest of the day. Didn't she understand what she meant to him? Could she really think, him defending her honour a bad thing? He recalled her shouting that it was the year 1999. So what, he thought, did that mean that men somehow had turned into fuzzy pink bunnies or that women had gained twenty kilos in muscle weight? If that's what she thought, she seriously needed a reality check. Wandering back to the dungeon later that afternoon, he heard some Slytherins laughing loudly in the corridor ahead, their voices growing louder as he approached them.

"He's alive!" Blaise exclaimed when he caught sight of Draco "We thought Granger would've torn you to shreds by now."

Draco felt as though he'd just stepped into a cold shower. How could they possible know?

"What are you on about?" Draco said superciliously in an attempt to keep his composure.

"That Gryffindor gossip - Lavender or whatever she's called, overheard you two at each other's' throats in the girl's bathroom, and she told the whole school about it," Blaise said, laughing even louder now.

This news left Draco feeling better than he'd expected. At least people would know now, he thought imagining being able to walk down the corridors with her, holding her hand.

"I get that she's pissed though, her dating McLaggen and all. Why'd you beat him up?" Knott interjected.

Draco felt his heart sink. But of course, they thought Hermione was yelling at him because he'd beat up her boyfriend. Would McLaggen be as quick to jump to the wrong conclusions, he thought, would he too think Hermione had been sticking up for him? The thought made him sick. Realizing that the others were expecting him to answer, he grunted:

"He annoyed me."

They laughed and a few of them slapped his back.

"That's the spirit! Nothing like a random beating to keep the others in line," Blaise said approvingly.

Hermione had gone straight to the dormitory after her fight with Draco and hadn't left since. She was infuriated with him and even considered cancelling their plans to meet in the Room of Requirement that following day. She also felt guilty that McLaggen was in the state he was in. If it hadn't been for her, she thought before telling herself that she wasn't the one to blame. Draco was an adult, responsible for his own actions and if he'd let her in on his little plans no doubt she would have stopped him. She was grinding her teeth, staring up at the ceiling when she decided she didn't want to spend her Sunday evening obsessing about Malfoy. On that note, she got up and made her way down to the common room, stopping in her tracks about to enter it. Everyone in the room were looking at her and she heard quiet murmurs from left to right. Her eyes fixed on Harry, standing over at the window.

"What's going on?" she asked him in a voice jam-packed with worry. Had something happened? Was someone hurt? Had there been more disappearances? she thought frantically.

"Oh, nothing. Everyone's just impressed with you bashing Malfoy," Harry said, adjusting his glasses, and smiling at her.

They all knew? She thought, panic getting a hold of her now. No, no Merlin no. This was bad, really bad. But, she thought, if they all knew then why was Harry smiling? Then spotting at a cheerful Ron, sitting on the window ledge, she relaxed, knowing that there was no way her ex-boyfriend would be smiling had he known she was screwing Malfoy.

"Oh, that," she said dimly, glancing around the room at the other Gryffindor's who were all beaming at her now. She smiled back at them timidly, however, her smile faltered when she saw McLaggen, blowing her a kiss from the opposite side of the room. As relieved as she was that they hadn't found out about her and Draco, she wasn't all that keen on them thinking she had feelings for McLaggen.

Draco woke the next morning with a blazing headache, not having heard from Hermione since their argument he hoped that their plans to meet that evening were still on. The irritation he'd felt with her the day before had dispersed and he longed to touch her. Tonight, he reminded himself and dragged himself from the bed to go to breakfast. Entering the Great Hall, he caught Hermione's eyes and she gave him a small nod, which he took as confirmation on their plans. However, as he sat down at the Slytherin table and surreptitiously glancing back to her, he thought she still looked annoyed. He prayed to Lucifer that she wasn't planning on having another row with him, knowing he didn't have the strength for it.

"Do my eyes deceive me or does Granger still look annoyed with you?" Blaise asked and Draco gave him a deadpan stare.

"I really couldn't care less if she is," he answered, before taking a swig of pumpkin juice.

"Well, perhaps you should. The whole school seem to be under the impression that she won that little argument you guys had yesterday," Blaise started.

"So," Draco said impassively, tracing his fingers on the edge of his glass.

"So, I think it prudent for us to put little miss perfect in her place. We could do it tonight, when she's patrolling," Blaise plotted eagerly, and Draco felt his stomach turn. This conversation was reminiscent of the one's he'd used to have before the war, at a time when he'd still lacked any trace of having a moral compass. He was a different person now, he thought when images of McLaggen's bloody face surfaced in his mind.

"That's obtuse" he said to Blaise, working hard to keep his voice levelled "why would I want to see that obnoxious bitch outside of school. It's bad enough having to endure her during class".

It was lucky that he was a good actor, Draco thought, because if he hadn't been he was sure Zabini would've seen the guilt on his face when calling Hermione "an obnoxious bitch".

Hermione was intrigued by the conversation Draco and Zabini was having and she wished she'd been able to make out what they were saying. She thought her boyfriend looked more like his old self than ever, sitting leaned back in his chair wearing a haughty expression. Frustrated, she pulled her eyes away from them and started to browse through the Daily Prophet. There was a big article on the anti-muggle group Nightshade. It turned out it hadn't just been rumours, they actually existed. And in the latest developments they'd claimed responsibly for the steadily increasing number of muggle-born disappearences. Hermione flinched when she read the name Mary Cattermole on the list of missing witches, remembering her as the witch they'd helped escape from the Ministry in the previous year. Hadn't the poor woman been through enough? she thought angrily and closed the newspaper forcefully.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Ron asked with a startled expression.

"It just feels like it's happening all over again. The persecution of muggles and muggleborns, only now the perpetrators call themselves Nightshade instead of Death eaters," she said.

"I think we can be fairly certain they're one and the same," Harry interjected.

"Do you think they're still alive? The people who are missing I mean," Ron asked them cautiously.

"I doubt it," Harry said and Hermione knew he wasn't being callous. Harry just wasn't a fan of sugar-coating things and if the war had taught them anything – it was that pretending that there was no threat didn't make it go away. Just ask Fudge.