CHAPTER X

"Would you just quit it, Ronald? It's not what you think it is. There's nothing going on between me and him!" Hermione stopped on her track, turning around abruptly as she lashed out at her tall, gangly red-headed best friend, who unfortunately wasn't intimidated at all by her glare, apparently feeling he had power over her due to his height.

"No, I won't! Yes, something is going on!" He replied stubbornly.

"How many times should I tell you there isn't. Dmitry and I... we're just friends," she sighed exasperatedly, and decided to continue her interrupted trip across the Hogwarts ground, toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class would be held.

She tried to ignore Ron, who kept pestering her about her non-existent relationship with Dmitry. That had happened since the red head had seen her exchanging smiles with the new boy in the Great Hall a few days ago. And, somehow, after that Ron managed to gather 'reports' that she and Dmitry had often been seen talking "intimately" in the library. Intimately? Right. And "often"? Honestly, since when had a few times been considered "often"?

Merlin, she would be dead embarrassed if Dmitry heard any of this. He wasn't interested in her like that at all. And they only recently became friends; she didn't want him to get any wrong ideas. She had begun to enjoy his company, and didn't want the situation between them to become uncomfortable because of Ron's silly accusation.

Besides, it was … well, it was Ron that she … well, liked. And she thought she had been giving the red head more than some little hints regarding her more-than-friendly feelings for him. She had always been helping him with his homework, patiently dealing with his rants and whines, and fully supporting his Quidditch bid, although honestly she didn't think he was that good in Quidditch. In fact, she just recently helped Ron secure the Keeper post by Confunding Cormac during the last Quidditch tryout, which she couldn't tell anyone about, including Ron himself, unfortunately.

Anyway, in short she had been paying Ron her utmost attention in general. Why couldn't Ron see that? And now he was accusing her of liking someone else? Hermione really felt like bursting. She wanted to yell out at him, telling him all the truth about her feelings for him. But, what if he didn't feel the same? She did not want to humiliate herself, what if he liked someone else? Not to mention it could become awkward between them after that.

At present, a part of her actually rejoiced Ron's accusing rants. She wishfully hoped they came out of jealousy, which meant that probably Ron also had feelings for her. But, another part, which was more dominant, said it was just his jealous and possessive streak, as he had displayed when Victor Krum had asked her to the Yule Ball in fourth year or when Harry had been picked up to enter the Triwizard Tournament. It had nothing to do with him feeling the same about her.

So, if anything, Hermione felt frustrated with this yet another "fraternizing with the enemy" accusation. She wished Ron could be a little more cool-headed and reasonable. Just because Dmitry was a Slytherin it didn't mean he was automatically an enemy; a snake who was slithering in stealth, ready to attack them anytime they put their guard down.

And she hated Harry for doing nothing to try to calm down their best friend. Although, she couldn't blame Harry much. He had too many stuff on his plate already, such as obsessively following Malfoy around, Hermione added this one sarcastically, as just now she caught the sight of Harry carefully walking behind Malfoy and his cronies some distance ahead, pretending to talk with Seamus and Dean, while he was probably only trying to eavesdrop whatever it was Malfoy might be talking about with the other Slytherins.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry could be quite thick-headed sometimes. It's not like Malfoy would openly talk about his supposedly secret, evil mission within the proximity of other students. And from what she saw from here, the blond didn't even seem like he was speaking at all. He seemed to be his usual silent person, as he had lately -and quite strangely at that- become.

"Oh, so it's Dmitry now, is it?" Ron easily caught up with her with his annoyingly long strides, continuing his verbal attack. "I bet he's the one you're gonna ask to come to Slughorns' party."

Hermione gritted her teeth; there he raised the issue again. She knew how jealous he was for not being invited to the Christmas party, while she, Harry and Ginny were. How was she supposed to tell him that she had planned to invite him to come with her? And now that he said that, she thought perhaps it was better to invite Dmitry instead; just out of spite for Ron.

"It's actually none of your business as to whom I will attend the party with. But, since you make the suggestion, perhaps I should indeed ask Dmitry to come with me."

Ron, predictably, immediately took the bait. "Hermione, this is stupid! This is very unlike you! He's a Slytherin! And the prick... well, he just suddenly appears out of nowhere and no one have even heard about him before. You're supposed to think there's something fishy here, especially after his assault to you the other day! One thing for sure: he's a pervert! Hermione, I want you to stay away from -what's his name again?- ah yes, Rothmund, from now on!"

"Who are you to tell me what I should and should not do? And haven't I told you he couldn't help it because he thought I looked like his sister? Dmitry just lost his entire family, Ronald! Couldn't you at least try to be a little bit nicer to him?"

"Sister my ass! Hermione, what makes you think he's not lying? How would you know if his story is true or not? He's a Slytherin, after all. That should be enough warning to you; and here I thought you were smart!"

"Did you, Ronald Weasley, just insinuate that I am stupid?" She couldn't help but stopped dead at her track, and turned around so quickly he stepped back in surprise.

She must be menacing enough this time because, finally, his red-head best friend cringed and gulped down a non-existent lump in his throat. Well, an insult on her intellectuality had always been a sore spot for Hermione.

"Her... Hermione... That was not-"

"This. Talk. Ends. NOW! Don't you DARE coming anywhere near me unless you have learned to STOP telling me to stay away from whomever I've chosen to befriend with!"

To her own surprise, Hermione made a run to the forest as soon as she ended her sentence, ignoring other students that looked at the scene weirdly as she left a stunned Ron alone. He resumed his walk only after Parvati and Lavender passed by and giggled at his gaping mouth and round eyes. His already reddish face turned impossibly redder as he embarrassedly followed the two girls to the forest.

Although his accusations were probably based solely on his selfish jealousy, Ron actually -and surprisingly at that- had some good points, which Hermione hated to admit. She realized indeed that Dmitry's sudden appearance at times like then could be quite suspicious. But … there was something about him that made her ignore the suspicion.

Perhaps it was the way he addressed her, or how he looked and smiled at her, or the way he talked and listened to her attentively. All in all she simply felt like he was sincere, like she would be safe around him, like he would never intentionally harm her. Yes, he was decidedly an introvert who didn't like talking much about himself. More than likely there were many things he hid from her, and from anyone else for that matter. But, wasn't it natural for someone who just lost their entire family to ... build some kind of walls around themselves? She wasn't sure, she had never lost people who really mattered to her. But, she imagined perhaps she would have also turned into someone like Dmitry, aloof and … solitary, if she had experienced what he had, though hopefully she would never have to. And, well, he could be simply a quiet person since the beginning, as he had told her.

Anyway, Hermione really couldn't decide if Dmitry was being truthful or not; he looked too void of emotions to read. She had indeed thought he could easily lie to her, to the rest of the student body, though she was not sure what he should be lying about. But, surely he couldn't fool Professor Dumbledore. And the headmaster had allowed him to stay and study in Hogwarts, despite the currently alarming situations in the wizarding world. Surely that meant he considered Dmitry trustworthy. And if there was anyone whose judgments Hermione trusted more than her own, it was Professor Dumbledore. So, simply put, she trusted Dmitry.

Hermione turned down her speed now that she realized she had arrived in a part of the wood that held no sights of other students. She frowned. She thought she had been running toward Harry and Seamus and Dean. Where were they?

She turned her head right and left, back and forth, and found that she was completely alone. Weird. She thought at least Ron and some other students should have been behind her right now. But, they were also nowhere in sight.

She stopped walking, and listened carefully, trying to catch sounds of other students. She smiled as she heard faint voices coming from her right, and was just making another run when suddenly she saw a blond figure, his back facing her, emerge from behind a tree in front of her.

Hermione made an abrupt stop, but tripped over emerging roots, and was now helpless to do anything but yelling at the blond boy to tell him to move away, which he did but unfortunately only to turn around to face her, right as she flew and smacked into him.

They landed with a thud; he on the harsh ground, cushioning her fall, and she on top of him. Her forehead clashed with his chin, and both yelped in pain. She instinctively touched the stung forehead with her hand, and used the other arm to lift herself up a little, giving a space between her body and the hard one underneath her, using what felt like a chiseled chest as a leverage. That was when she saw his face, so close to hers. She looked up as he looked down, and just then she realized she was staring at the pale face of none other than… Draco Malfoy! She immediately felt horrified, but then got confused as Malfoy stared at her with an unreadable expression, long enough for her to notice his hot breath on her face, feel his rapid heartbeat and smell faintly his expensive cologne. But, then the magic disappeared as the mean, icy cold glint in his oddly swirling grey eyes came back.

"Get. Off. Me. Mudblood!" He growled, and suddenly grabbed her painfully in the arms and threw her off him.

Hermione yelped for the second time, as now she landed harshly on the ground, with nothing to cushion her fall.

From the corner of her eyes, as she was recovering from her shock, she saw the Slytherin Prince rising quickly to his feet, and immediately she heard him lash out as she began attempting to rise up, too. She of course didn't expect Malfoy to lend her a hand; that would be too naïve of her.

"Stupid Mudblood!" He spat venomously, making Hermione look up and meet his menacing glare as he stared down at her, disgust evident on his face. She decided to ignore him and continued using her elbows to try to lift herself off the ground. Ugh, why couldn't she regain her balance as fast as him?

"Why even bother leaving your place, Mudblood? That is exactly where you belong, you filth! On the ground, with other filths and dirt! How dare you even touched me and exposed me to your sickening germs! Idiot Mudblood!"

His words, and the tone he used, uncommonly y stung. Hermione wanted to remind him that she didn't intentionally ran smack into him on purpose, but catching his current state -the mad glint in his eyes, the fierce sneering and his oddly scary expression; she didn't think it would be wise. Malfoy seriously looked like a mad person now. She wondered what possessed him. She didn't think it was merely because of her accidental toppling him to the ground.

So, Hermione decided to ignore his harsh words, and doubled her effort to rise up, which she found out now why it was so damn difficult. Apparently, her feet got tangled with the roots, trapped in between them. Hermione groaned, and, using her hands, now tried to force the roots to untangle, but they didn't budge. For God's sake! Where was her wand? She needed her wand. She looked around, but it was nowhere to be seen. It must have fallen while she fell. She was forced to continue to listen to Malfoy's venomous rants as she frustratedly resumed her efforts to release her feet.

"LOOK at me when I speak to you, you worthless MUDBLOOD! Haven't your parents taught you any manners? Oh, my mistake, of course they don't. You're a disgusting mudblood after all, surely your lowly muggle parents-"

"Stop right there, Malfoy!" a third voice, cold but loud, interfered just as Hermione was about to open her mouth to stop Malfoy from saying anything about her parents. She could accept harsh words directed at her, but she would never let anyone belittle her beloved parents.

Both looked toward the source of the sound, and found the tall figure of Dmitry Rothmund standing menacingly near the opening. He was sending a cold glare toward the blond boy, even colder than that of the latter, who was now diverting his glare from Hermione to the dark-haired boy.

The two boys were locked in a staring contest, creating a dead, tense silence between them. Hermione anxiously looked back between the two tall Slytherins (she noticed now that Dmitry was two or three inches taller than Malfoy), and saw that while the blond grew more hostile each second and his clenched fists began to tremble in rage, Dmitry's expression was unchanged. He looked as cold and as calm as when he had first arrived, unaffected by the growing rage radiated by the blond. His hand, however, gripped tightly his wand, prepared for any attacks.

Hermione realized now that Malfoy's attention was elsewhere, she could return her focus on untangling the roots that held hostage her feet. She again tried to dislodge the knots with her hands, and at the same time using her leg muscles to forcibly pull her feet out of the tangles. She let out a whimper as a sharp root created an ugly, deep and long scratch on her otherwise unblemished right ankle. It bled.

The elder Draco heard her whimper, which drew his attention back to her, ending the staring contest with his younger self.

He saw that the blond was now looking calmly at Hermione, too, and decided it seemed to be okay that he left him for a while. So, Draco came up to her, dropping to a knee as he arrived at her side.

"Are you all right? What is it?" He asked, concerned, looking at the distressed look on his love's face.

Before she even replied, Draco found the answer himself, as, upon examining her condition, he found that at the end of her creamy white legs, her feet got tangled in between the roots.

"I'm fine. It's just … my feet; they're stuck," She gestured at the tangle.

He nodded, sensing her distressed tone as she sounded like she was about to cry. She in fact bit her lips that they became so red in an obvious effort to hold herself from crying. He inwardly cursed his younger self for letting their love in this situation and doing nothing about that; and on the contrary further adding to her distress with his stupid rants.

He softly put a hand around her uninjured ankle, while his other hand gripped the roots that trapped it, before easily jerking them off her foot. He gave a similar, more careful treatment to her injured foot and the roots that trapped it.

He heard her let out a sigh of relief, and looked up and saw that her beautiful face looked relief as well. He smiled at her, which she replied with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Dmitry," she said, allowing him to take her hands as he helped her to stand.

"It's okay... You think you can walk?" He refused to let her go even now that she stood fully on her feet, testing them and showing him that she could walk normally without his help.

He cast 'Episky' at the scratch on her right ankle, and cast some others on scratches that he saw on her hands and legs, ignoring her plea that she could do it herself if only he helped her find her wand.

He found the wand, lying innocently behind her, upon healing her from all those outer injuries. He summoned the wand and handed it down to her, and noticed now a few leaves and twigs nesting on her messy curls and robe. He instinctively raised his hand and began brushing the things off her until she caught his wrist, pleading him to stop.

"Dmitry, I can do it myself," she said, half-whispering, avoiding his eyes and blushing furiously, which prompted his smile as he stared down at her, doing as she told.

It was then that his younger self reminded them of his presence, with loud applauses.

"Well, well, well… Look what we've got here; a Slytherin-Gryffindor couple! What a surprise!" the younger Slytherin mocked coldly.

"I must congratulate you, Rothmund. You're a new student, but has successfully initiated something new to the hundreds of years of history and traditions in Hogwarts; a coupling between a Slytherin pureblood and a Gryffindor mudblood! How utterly romantic! Congratulations!"

The blond resumed clapping his hands, drawing Draco's full attention. He kept his left fingers around Hermione's upper arm, refusing to let go although she had pulled it in alarm over his younger self's insinuation. Stupid boy! Draco felt his anger at his younger self returning.

"Oops, my mistake! I forgot, Rothmund, that you are not a pureblood, unfortunately. Rumor has it that you're only a half-blood. Or is true? Ah yes, it is true, what a pity… We could have made good friends. But, well I see now why you're stooping that low into getting cozy with the mudblood. You must have met a little difficulty aftering the pureblood ladies; surely they want better than some tainted bloods! Well, indeed you have no other choice but to fool around with the mudblood queen. Bravo…!"

It took all in him to stop Draco from sending a curse to his younger self. He really didn't care about what the blond said concerning him, but he was angered with the way he was hurting Hermione. The boy's words hurt and humiliated her; he could sense it from her flushed face and the slight trembles of her body.

But, it would do neither of them any good if Draco allowed his instinct to take over. He couldn't attack the blond, although he knew he could have defeated him easily in a magical or even physical duel. He, after all, was the one who knew best of his younger self's strengths and weaknesses; not to mention he was better skilled and built. Draco needed to deal with his currently-overly-sensitive younger self very carefully, otherwise he wouldn't be able to make necessary approaches to him to lure the boy into cooperating with him.

So, Draco stayed where he was, watching every movement of his younger self as he prepared himself for any attack, on the same time rubbing his thumb slowly over Hermione's arm to calm her down.

When it was quite apparent that his younger self wouldn't seem to do anything other than the verbal abuse, in fact Draco saw how the boy was now becoming distracted with his moving thumb on Hermione's clothed arm, he decided to respond with a few carefully-chosen words.

"I wouldn't say that if I were you, Malfoy. No one knows what might happen in the future. You wouldn't want to have any regrets."

The words, unfortunately, didn't bring the desired effect. They snapped his younger self out of his half-daze, and returning instead his incense and sharp expression.

"Why would I ever regret putting a mudblood on their place, you blood traitor, pathetic excuse of a Slytherin?" the blond spat, his threatening glare returning.

Draco stared at his younger self pityly. He realized just then that the boy was only using the event to channel his pent-up frustrations, from both the heavy mission given by Voldemort and suppressed emotions for their beloved muggleborn witch.

He looked at the mad glint in his younger self's eyes, and decided it wasn't the right time to try to put some sense into the blond's stubborn head.

"You will," he replied briefly, after which he decided to stir Hermione away from the spot, leaving his younger self to himself.

The younger Draco looked at the couple walking away with a boiling rage threatening to take over him. He wished to say anything, anything to make him have the final words. But, he was so enraged he became speechless. His pale face turned impossibly red, his fists were excruciatingly clenched and unclenched, sweats began forming on his forehead despite the chilly December air, his heartbeat was getting rapid and his breathing was ragged.

He was aware that the rage had been triggered by the new boy's audacity. No one, no one at his House could treat the Slytherin Prince like that and escape unscathed. No one should dare talking to him in a condescending tone, as if they were better than him, when they were in fact only a half-blood! If only Draco hadn't been laden with this stupid, fucking mission from the Dark Lord, if only he shouldn't have stayed under the radar for the sake of the completion of the mission; he would have surely taught the half-German a lesson, making him learn his place. He must respect a Malfoy.

But, Draco was also aware, that it was not only the boy's boldness that had made him feel uneasy, highly alert whenever he was around, and growingly frustrated, too, that all he wanted to do was beating the life out of the new boy. There was something suspicious about him. Draco felt … like Dmitry Rothmund knew. Somehow, he seemed to know about Draco's mission. He often caught Rothmund looking at him, watching him like a hawk, as if he knew what Draco had just done or was about to do. His expressions were mostly unreadable, and so far the boy had not given away anything that could confirm Draco's suspicions regarding his knowledge of the mission. But, still, Draco couldn't ignore that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that somehow Rothmund knew… of his supposed-to-be-secret mission.

There was another thing, an inconsequential thing that added another fuel to his rage. Draco was vaguely aware it had something to do with ... Granger. Rothmund fancied her; it was so blatantly obvious. Anyone who saw the way he looked at her would immediately come to the same conclusion. Draco shouldn't have given a damn care if the new boy fancied the muggleborn; he was a half-blood after all, despite his being in Slytherin. Last year Draco might have led a bullying mission against such blood traitors in his House seeking ... affections from mudbloods. But, now, he simply shouldn't have given a damn care! Thus the question, why did he care then? Why the knowledge that Rothmund fancied the bloody Gryffindor added another fuel to his rage? In the back of his mind, Draco was again aware of a little something. But, the part of his brain that did the main functioning immediately shut off the thought whenever he came across that. So, he never lingered at the thought, let it buried deep in an unknown territory in his head.

Draco refused to acknowledge that other reason for his rage, and was helpless to fight the rage consuming him so badly he knew he just couldn't attend the class now.

He darted back toward the Castle, deciding to skip the class. He was already very too late anyway. And he needed to find something to ebb away his anger.

Author's note:

A little shift from the elder Draco-centric point of view to those of Hermione and the younger Draco. What do you think?

And, well, I must say it's quite a challenge to write the interaction between Draco and his younger self, such as what subjects I should use to represent each of them; do you think I pass the challenge? Or do you find many parts of the interaction become confusing? Genuinely want to hear your opinions and perhaps some suggestions.

Anyway, BIG THANKS to reviewers of the previous chapter: Gabrielle Dashwood , KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, midnight shadow of darkness , celiacprincess , Talis Ruadair and Alkeni! Looking forward to hearing more from you, guys.

Keep reviewing! :)