Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters of the original story created by J.K. Rowling.

Onze Chapitre

Hardly anyone saw Hermione Granger for the remaining week of August. Not even her close friend Lavender Brown. She had sentenced herself to a hermitical life, and the only other life-forms that saw her were the house-elves that delivered her meals. However, when the summer holidays were over, and school restarted on September 1st, Hermione was forced to break her seclusion to teach her students.

But she wasn't the same, and the students noticed this.

Something's wrong with Professor Granger, they whispered. She's different somehow, they mused. And they were absolutely right. Something was wrong with her; she was different somehow. Who wouldn't be changed if one had suffered the horrid experience Hermione Granger had gone through? Granted, it wasn't anything as horrendous as rape or extreme physical abuse, but witnessing the one you yearned for—the one you had believed had yearned for you too—kissing another was a rather traumatising event.

It was heartbreaking.

And that was the change in Hermione Granger: she was significantly heartbroken.

And disappointed. So very disappointed in the one who'd broken her heart in the first place.

Without wanting to, as she was educating her fourth-year Gryffindor-Ravenclaw students on the historical basis of the centaurs' hostility towards humans, the memory of Draco and Herman kissing came to her, and she forget what she was talking about. She stuttered and stammered, nervously flipping through her notes to regain her footing, conscious of the many young pairs of eyes on her, but she could not remember anything. That dreadful memory kept replaying itself in a loop, focussing especially on that moment Herman had turned around, and she'd seen—

"Class dismissed!" she cried.

The class stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief at their good fortune at leaving History of Magic thirty-minutes early.

"Leave! Now!" she demanded. They didn't need telling twice. They all grabbed up their books and bags, and scampered off to lollygag somewhere until their next class.

Sitting heavily in her seat, she propped her elbows on her desk, and covered her face with her palms. Using the tips of her fingers, she began massaging the flat of her forehead, determined to banish the memory back to the far recesses of her mind. Why she hadn't performed a memory modification upon herself yet was beyond her. Maybe she was a masochist at heart, leaving the memory untroubled to torture herself with from time to time.

No, it's to remind myself that having hope for Draco to like me is…hopeless.

And it was. She'd learnt that lesson in the hardest way ever. Draco Malfoy was a lost cause. He was no longer worth her time and her energy. She can't believe she'd wasted so many months plotting to gain his attention, only to discover it was entirely directed elsewhere. The things she'd done! The levels she'd stooped to! All for that hateful git who'd been carrying on an extraordinarily improper relationship with an under-aged student!

She ought to report him. She was in a particularly spiteful enough mindset to march right up to Headmistress McGonagall's office and reveal what she'd seen—Pensieve memories included. It would just serve him right, the bastard, for making her feel like her heart had been ripped from her chest, thrown to the floor and had been subsequently trampled on by an obese elephant. The betrayal he'd feel upon facing the consequences of her tattling would be akin to what she had felt when she had caught him snogging Herman.

Well, not akin, but close. Fairly close.

"Granger."

Startled, she dropped her palms from her face and looked up. There stood Draco just within the door of the classroom, dressed, for once, in his teaching robes. There was a rare look of uncertainty on his face, and his hair looked like he'd run his fingers through it too many times to count.

Speak of the devil…

Immediately, she shuffled her notes together, hastily recapped her ink bottles, grabbed up her quills, and shoved everything haphazardly into her briefcase.

"Well, would you just look at the time!" she said, her voice high and squeaky as she snapped the bolts shut on her briefcase.

"Granger, I need—" he began, but she launched herself to her feet, her chair clattering noisily on its side to the floor by her sudden movement.

"Silly me! I'm so very late for my next class!" She rounded the desk, her hip grazing painfully against the edge as she passed. "I'm afraid I must be on my way!"

"Granger—"

But she had already zoomed by him, out of the classroom, and completely out of earshot.

The next time he tried approaching was later that day.

She was on her way to her final class—third year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff students—for the evening when she saw him heading towards her in the other direction.

"Granger—"

"Oh my!" she cried in that high, squeaky voice. "I can't believe I've forgotten my…err…wand! I must go and retrieve it!"

She made an immediate about-face and began walking swiftly away from him. Alas, Draco decided to follow her.

"Granger, for Merlin's sake, you always carry your wand in your left sleeve."

It surprised her that he knew this inconsequential titbit about her.

"Well, I seem to remember forgetting to put it there!"

"You remembered you forgot it?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"Granger, would you please just—"

"Well, it was quite nice chatting with you, Mr. Malfoy, but I mustn't tarry any longer!"

"Granger!"

And, with unnatural speed, Hermione hurried away.

But Draco persisted he be heard, by hook or by crook.

The next evening, after she'd had dinner and was drafting up a homework plan for her sixth year classes, a piece of parchment sailed in through her open window and landed neatly before her on her desk. Curious, she picked up the paper and stared at it, wondering where it had come from. She was more than surprised when, all of a sudden, words began to appear on the parchment:

Granger, I need you to listen—

Dropping the parchment like if it had suddenly turned scalding hot, she grabbed up her wand and cast an immediate Fire-Making charm on it. It burned into a tiny bundle of ash before regenerating instantly back into a whole parchment. Horrified, she watched as writing appeared on the parchment again.

Did you just burn my parchment? Granger, I—

"Incendio!"

The parchment regenerated again.

Granger, this is getting really old, really fast.

"Incendio!"

You're either awfully stubborn or awfully stupid. I'm leaning towards the latter.

Infuriated by the parchment's inability to be destroyed, and his audacious slur on her intelligence, Hermione grabbed up her quill, dipped it in her bottle of ink and wrote back angrily:

So I may be, but at least I'm not stupid enough to be cavorting with under-aged students, especially on school premises, you dirty, rotten bastard! Now leave me alone!

She was breathing fast, glaring at the parchment as though daring it—or him—to add something. But nothing else came. The parchment remained blank for the rest of the night.

"I wonder what he wanted to say?" mused Lavender. "Aha! You've landed on Park Lane, and I own it. Pay me my rent, you sneaky cow!"

It was the second Friday of September, and they were currently in Hermione's room playing a game of Monopoly as they took a breather from schoolwork. Lavender was surprisingly good at the game, already owning more than half of the board, all of the stations and all of the utilities. It also didn't help Hermione that she'd already been to jail twice, and had had to funds up on the Super Tax on various occasions, as well as the rent to Lavender whenever she landed on an owned property of Lavender's.

"I don't care about what he had to say," replied Hermione in an off-hand tone as she handed over a twenty, ten and five pound Monopoly note. "Here. Merlin, this is robbery, I tell you!"

Lavender grinned. "Well, that's just too bad because since I own Mayfair, it's double rent. Seventy quid, missy! Funds up!"

Hermione relinquished her remaining fifty pound note and two ten pound notes. "Greedy cow."

"That's right!" Lavender laughed. "Anyway, you should've let him speak, Hermione. You never know if he was going to change his mind."

"He wasn't," said Hermione flatly.

"You don't know that," countered Lavender.

But Hermione did. She did know that Draco Malfoy hadn't been on his way to 'change his mind,' because the story Hermione had told Lavender had been entirely different.

Unwilling, for some reason, to share what she'd seen concerning Draco and Herman, Hermione had lied to Lavender and claimed she'd marched up to Draco's room that fateful night, had pounded on his door until he'd opened it, and had asked him the straight question: do you like me? In which he'd answered with a scoffing 'no.' However, Hermione defended to herself, she hadn't really lied. Draco had told her no—but in a roundabout way. That kiss with Herman had spoke volumes. He'd made his choice, and it wasn't her.

Ever since that evening with the indestructible note, she hadn't heard from him nor seen him, and that was just fine with her. Out of sight, out of mind, and out of the question that she'd ever want to be with him. She'd admired his tenacity, she'd even felt a little nice by his sudden persistent attention, but fearful she'd regress to her old fanciful ideas, she'd been determined to avoid hearing what he had had to say.

Besides, he'd probably just wanted to ensure she wouldn't go tattling to the Headmistress about what she'd seen. He was well aware of Headmistress McGonagall's respect for her, and he knew that even the slightest accusation from her tongue about his dalliances with a student would equate to an immediate termination of his teaching contract at Hogwarts. Like the true yellow-belly he was, he was scared and only trying to protect himself.

I really need to stop thinking about Draco Malfoy.

Yes, she really did, because she was one hundred percent certain that he was not thinking about her.

Early Saturday morning, she received a note from Robert requesting an outing for later that day. Remembering their wonderful picnic on their last date, she immediately re-sent a note, agreeing to see him. She was so happy she hadn't abandoned Robert as she'd planned to do. Now that she was determined to get over Draco Malfoy, Robert Loughie with his butterfly-inducing smiles was the perfect cure for her heartbreak.

She supposed she was using the poor man. He hadn't been her first choice, after all, and it was only when things had gone especially sour for her with Draco did she think of Robert. And that was awful, because in his application, Robert had stated he'd wanted a serious relationship. He wanted a wife, children and all the bells and whistles that came attached with that lifestyle. Not some heartbroken woman to use him as a substitute or as a 'rebound man.'

He was a good, honest and extraordinarily handsome man. Any woman would kill to have him as their own. Yet she did. And what was she doing with him? Using him as a 'distraction.'

Ok, no more time-wasting, Hermione! He's a good man. He's the kind of man you want. Stop faffing about and get serious!

That evening, Hermione dressed to kill. She wore a short, strapless black dress, and a pair of sexy, black high heels. With Lavender's help, she tamed her hair into submission, but forfeited the use of make-up.

"Are you going to sleep with him tonight?" queried Lavender, who was not above having sex on the first date.

"No," answered Hermione immediately.

"Don't be such a prude!" Lavender teased. "Besides, you look like the perfect trollop in that dress. He won't be thinking about anything else but sex."

Hermione smiled. "Let him. But that doesn't mean he's going to get any. This is just to whet his appetite."

Lavender laughed and patted Hermione's shoulder congenially. "You've learnt well, my student. You've learnt well."

Unfortunately, Hermione's date with Robert went horribly wrong.

The first indicator that things were taking a southward turn was when Robert showed up and barely looked at her. Even though she wore a jacket over her mini-dress, she'd purposely left it open to showcase the ample amount of skin she was revealing. It was as though he wouldn't have cared if she'd shown up wearing a spotty pillow case, and a pair of Japanese geta.

The second indicator was when, instead of a fancy restaurant or a nice club or an even nicer pub, he took her to the beginning of the Forbidden forest. He'd taken some heretofore unknown shortcut from the outside the walls of Hogwarts; a paved, winding pathway that ended at the darkened mouth of the forest. Finally, he looked at her, a little smile on his face as he motioned towards the entrance of the forest.

"In there? You want me—us to go in there?" she enquired in surprised tones. She'd rather amputate her fingers and toes and other various body parts without anaesthesia than waltz into the Forbidden forest. The bad experiences that had occurred within that region were too fresh in her memory to ignore.

Robert looked her up and down. "Well, I suppose you're not dressed very well for the walk, but it's a short way in."

"But there's nothing inside the Forbidden forest but trees and…and…creatures," she replied, looking at him worriedly.

He smiled and Hermione was startled by the sinister quality of his features. In the dark, his blue-green eyes looked especially dark, and he seemed to have acquired extra height, looming over her with his imposing tallness. She took a step back, glancing around nervously, fully realising how alone they were in this area. From far up the hill, she could just make out the golden glow of Hogwarts, and she longed to be within those thick walls, safe from a situation that she was sure was becoming dangerous.

"Robert, I-I think I'd like to go home," she said quietly.

"Come, Hermione, we've only just begun our date," he replied, stepping closer to her, still smiling.

Hermione stepped back hurriedly. "Err…well, I-I've suddenly remembered I've got quite the workload to…err…sort through and…and that maybe it'll be best if I go—"

Robert suddenly reached out and grabbed her elbow. His smile was completely gone now, his face contorted into a terrible sneer.

"You'll not be going anywhere, Hermione. The only place you'll be going is out of existence."

He'd managed to disarm her the moment she'd whipped out her wand, and then he had cast a Body-bind curse and a Silencing charm on her. Hoisting her over his shoulder like bagged goods, he then carried her into the depths of the Forbidden forest.

Hermione was beyond terrified, and more than a little angry with herself. Why was Robert doing this? What was he going to do to her? Who was he, truly? Why hadn't she been more vigilant in determining whether he was safe to date or not? For Merlin's sake, she was Hermione Granger! Good friend of the infamous Harry Potter who had vanquished Voldemort, and who, no doubt, still had enemies lurking around!

Robert Loughie was probably a die-hard supporter of Voldemort, and had planned all along to abduct her so Harry could come running to be killed. 'Robert Loughie' probably wasn't even his real name! It was perhaps a pseudonym for one of the remaining Death Eaters who'd managed to escape sentencing those many years ago, and was hoping to revive 'the cause' by kidnapping her.

Merlin! What if there were others waiting wherever he was taking her?

She was so foolish! She had trusted this man! Had called him good and honest! How could she have been so gullible? He'd been too good to be true, and she should've been highly suspicious of him from the word go. If Harry did come looking for her and died trying, she'd never forgive herself. Well, if he was killed, then most likely they'd kill her too, and her naiveté would be responsible for her own and Harry's death.

As they descended deeper into the forest, Hermione grew more fearful. She wished she could move. She wished she had her wand. She wished she'd never agreed to go out with Robert in the first place. If only she'd—

A sudden jet of bright green light struck Robert's back and his body was pitched forwards. She fell from his shoulder with a hard thump to the floor, and she cried out mutely from the pain, though her mouth was unable to open. She was lying mostly on her front, her body tilted just enough for her to breathe out of right nostril. In the darkness, she couldn't see much, but she could hear the sound of footsteps rustling through the dead leaves of the forest floor, coming towards her.

The person passed behind her, and she longed to see who it was, hoping desperately that it was a familiar face. Moments later, she felt the Body-bind curse relax from her body, and a warm hand on her shoulder turning her onto her back. There, squatting on his haunches, gazing down at her, his blonde hair looking like platinum in the gloom as it fell over his forehead, was Draco Malfoy. Her saviour.

"Hello, Granger."

The relief and elation at being rescued washed over her like a powerful tidal wave. It swept away her terror, her anxiety, and submerged her common sense, too. Because, instead of blubbering words of immense gratitude as a sane person would, she sat up, threw her arms around Draco's neck, reached up and kissed him.

AN: Good grief! I really am on a roll with these cliff-hangers, aren't I? You readers ought to invest in those squishy 'stress-balls' when reading this story. It'll give you something to squeeze viciously when you can't access my head. Mwhahahaha! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for the many, many wonderful reviews (and alerts and favourites) for the previous chapter! You peeps are the awesomest!