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Chapter Twelve

It was his free period and he'd left the castle for a much needed breather. Lately he was taking them more often than usual but he was often too lost in thought to notice, much less care.

It was lucky the weather was getting a little warmer, though he knew he'd still find his way out of the castle if there was a blizzard every day. Were it any other day he'd have asked Pansy to come along but she still wasn't speaking to him. Draco missed talking to her but was too proud to approach her, so when he felt in need of company he went to Crabbe and Goyle, and when he felt like legitimate conversation Blaise and Theodore were always happy to oblige. They couldn't replace Pansy but if she was determined not talk to him then he wouldn't force it. Years of friendship between them had instilled in him all her character traits-when Pansy set herself to something it was nigh impossible to change her mind. It hurt to think about but Draco didn't want to approach the subject any further. She'd presented the ribbon to cut and had pushed the scissors into his hands so he would oblige.

The loss of so close a friend was filled in by the anger he felt at who he felt had caused it. No matter what she claimed he refused to believe her. She'd lied before, who was to say she wasn't now?

Undisturbed by the light, icy drizzle due to his water repelling charm, he sat quiet and somewhat peeved in the corner of the courtyard as he tried to untangle his thoughts. The scarf wound around his neck felt too tight but he couldn't be bothered to loosen it.

The rest of the Inquisitor squad had gotten lazy once they'd heard about Potter's interview with the Headmistress, which infuriated him. Of course they would all believe him-even Umbridge. First Nott, then Pansy, then everyone else. Ridiculous. They weren't doing nothing, at least, Umbridge had given them the Prefect's privileges to keep them busy. He remembered when the news had been announced via owl-the look of absolute outrage on Granger's face as she'd read the pink note, how she'd refused to wear her badge since. While that had been fun to watch, the change hadn't done anything for him-he still had his prefect duties and such, patrolling after hours was no different than it had been before.

Compelled by a strange burst of restlessness, Draco stood and made his way to the trees, still bare and speckled with flecks of white. The snow made no crunching sound, it squished underneath his step and turned to an ugly grey slush. Hints of green could be seen around the area where the snow was thinning, but the ratio of grass to slushy snow-mud was quite uneven. He stuck his hands into his pockets and thought of summer.

Every now and then on some nights as he'd make his rounds (always alone unless Blaise felt like being productive) he'd catch a glimpse of Granger as she'd dart out of the library, eyes ringed from lack of sleep yet bright with dislike as she'd eye him from the corner of her eye while moving away before curfew was brought down. He never approached her then, it was enough to know she'd seen him. One way or another he was going to wear her down to get what he wanted, and he was getting close, he knew. He had to be. Though she'd destroyed the quill he'd learned enough from the tracking charm to be able to successfully guess where she could be at any given time.

Most places she went, he made sure to make an appearance, however brief. Regardless of how distracted she was, she always ended up noticing him fairly quickly. Time after time her hostile eyes would zero in on him as if he were the only one in the room, daring him to come near her.

It was strange the way her eyes had a sort of magnetic pull to them-it was almost impossible to look away, and she was always the first to break the contact, her eyes would flit away nervously. Angrily. If he walked past her too closely in the hall he could practically feel how her skin crawled as he purposely brushed his shoulder against hers. He had to give her credit-most days she never gave him any reaction-her eyes would have turned hard as obsidian the moment she'd lain eyes on him but never gave anything further than that. There were always cracks, however-some days she'd stumble while walking, drop what she was holding. Sometimes she'd look away too quickly, bring her hand up to her massage her neck, and he'd congratulate himself.

It wouldn't be much longer now, if things went to plan.

The protection of his pockets wasn't enough, his hands were stiff with cold. He clasped them together and rubbed. A stream of vapor left his nostrils. His lips were chapped to the point of pain when smiling, not that there was anything to smile about. He wet his lips and moved on.

The Gryffindor Team was practicing in the field. They weren't directly in his line of sight from where he stood at the edge of the forest but every now and then he'd catch a glimpse of scarlet and gold streaking through the air between the stands, the shouts from one teammate to another. Potter wouldn't be among them. That was small comfort too.

A pair of Hufflepuffs made their way through the snow, not far from him. Draco ignored them but they caught sight of him anyhow and immediately turned their backs and picked up speed. Draco watched them go as they tried not to look back at him.

The hostility within the castle had grown to almost unbearable limits. Housemates grew suspicious of each other, friends betrayed each other, Umbridge's office was always host to some trembling first year who thought they had the information she wanted though they were always wrong. Certain paintings were rumored to be on the Headmistress's side-everyone did their best to keep conversation in the corridors to a minimum.

While it was good that everyone was becoming more susceptible to the Headmistress's tactics, the people they really needed to come forward never did. He pictured Granger where he'd spied her last one day ago, tucked deep into the library, head bent over her homework, stifling a number of huge yawns. Every couple of minutes she'd cast a nervous glance around her, as if she could actually sense him lurking nearby. He'd waited, drifting from bookcase to bookcase, watching as she slowly fell asleep, her head nestled nestled atop a book. He'd waited a few more minutes until he approached her casually, and left her his calling card; the green apple he'd only taken one bite out of. Left it positioned where it would be the first thing she saw upon waking.

The detention with Granger had been most unsatisfactory in ways more than one. The only good that had come out of it was seeing those words slice themselves into her skin, see her reaction to them, but as he'd quickly found out it hadn't been enough. There had been no progress and now they were back to their game of cat and mouse.

What troubled him was that just as much as he'd worked to get under her skin, she'd somehow managed to slip under his and he wasn't sure how to get her out. Draco shifted uneasily. Damn her and blast her impertinence, but she'd been right. In working to complete his objective he'd become just as paranoid of her as she was of him. This job was a double edged barb-he'd come to learn too late.

He grimaced, ground his fist into his hip within his pocket. Of all the luck.

This wasn't as unusual as he was making it out to be-by virtue of being closely associated with Potter, the Mudblood was no stranger inside his thoughts, but certainly not to this degree. When it had happened he had no idea but something else had taken up residency alongside the anger he felt towards her-something dirty and insidious and he didn't like to think about it. It actually made him angrier, if possible. It worked like fuel. Whatever this was it meant nothing good for him and he wanted it gone.

The day he'd spooked her in Snape's storeroom...that was when things had started feeling different. Maybe it had started before that, but he'd not noticed it. These thoughts, so subtle and soft, had crept up on him little by little that he'd hardly noticed them. Whatever the case, it certainly wasn't a good idea to rake over the coals again and again as it would only make things worse.

The only problem was he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to touch her then-his arm had jerked up to brush at her hair, to trace her lip, he didn't know. For all he knew it might have grown a mind of its own and had jumped to lock around her neck. Startled by himself, he'd jerked back and refused to acknowledge it, even when her eyes demanded answers.

Draco stepped into the fringe of trees, taking care not to wander too far in. Memories of his first detention at Hogwarts resurfaced and he pushed them away, too disgruntled to pay them any attention.

They'd become too familiar with each other. The jokes (albeit sarcastic in their nature), all the encounters, forced or not, and worse, the insinuations. This would not do. It had to end if he wanted this to be over. It had to end. He could not suffer an...attraction to Hermione Granger. He would not. He refused to.

Unbidden and unwanted, another memory pushed its way in and he could see her backed against the wall, eyes distrustful and wary, glowing amber in the torchlight, his arms braced on either side of her. The way her hands felt pushing against his chest, her carefully clipped nails too short to cause damage when pressed into the fabric of his robes. How the heat from her body had transferred to his and he'd had to keep himself from shivering at the perverse sense of pleasure that intruded his thoughts then and the wash of horror that came next. The comment (compliment?) he'd given her-then choosing to believe that it was merely another way to make her uncomfortable but now realizing it may have been genuine after all.

Draco grimaced. This couldn't be happening. Not with her. For Merlin's sake, this was the last thing he'd ever would have wanted.

If anyone knew-if Father knew, he'd lock me in the cellar for a year... Mother would insist I should have gone to Durmstrang in the first place.

Draco reached up and grabbed at a thin branch hanging overhead, intent on breaking it off to toss away but as his hand wrapped around it it squirmed and sharp little points sank into his skin-Draco hissed and released it at once, and the bowtruckle dropped to the ground, chattering angrily. Draco looked for it amongst the mess of ice and mud, intent on giving the foul creature a hard stomp with his foot but it had fled. Fuming, he resumed his walk.

It just made no sense. His insides began twisting into knots. He'd fallen for more beautiful girls who were worth it-what on Earth did Granger have that encaptured him?

It wasn't love. It wasn't. The truth of that fact allowed him to expel a breath that had lodged itself in his throat, the bile to slowly crawl down back to his stomach. And he didn't fancy her. This wasn't some stupid schoolboy crush. There was just something strange in her eyes that compelled him. He thought of the few times he'd done something he hadn't meant to while under her gaze-what he'd whispered to her during her detention being the most recent example. Something that grew the nearer he got to her. She was mysterious in a way he'd never known she could be. What lay in her eyes held a strange power over him and now that he realized it he knew she was doubly dangerous.

Was she doing it on purpose? Did she know the power she held? Draco felt uneasy.

It was only physical attraction, for lack of a better word. Not even lust. Granger was no real beauty, but passably decent. She was an entity shrouded in secrets, it was only natural he felt somewhat drawn to her. Umbridge had ordered him to uncover some of those secrets and this was an unfortunate side-effect. What he had done in the past months were only for the sake of the job. Perhaps he had inflicted this upon himself.

Damn it all. It would not last, he would not let it.

She'd never been anything more than a headache that refused to go away, or in this year's case, a task that had to be crossed out. A truth to be brought forward, a lie to be unfolded. With that bossy, velvet voice and enigmatic brown eyes and that pouting mouth, the extremely irritating way she had to do things right every time, he could only guess she was a wreck of nerves under that that put-together exterior. She had to be. The very proof was in how she strove for perfection in everything she did. He'd been forced to work with her many times throughout their Hogwarts career, he remembered seeing her overly crowded timetables and planners, the excruciating detail in which she plotted things out, not excluding the order of subjects in which she did her homework. Strange, fascinating, if not tiresome. Then there was her boggart-that he could picture to astonishing clarity even after it having happened years ago. The way she'd fretted and cried over failing her exams, even knowing it wasn't real.

Absolutely mental, yet somehow his brain had picked her. Draco shook his head.

No. I didn't pick her. Not consciously. Not willingly. He walked on, ignoring the fact that he could not feel his hands. Perhaps this is all a trick. She did something to me, that's the only explanation.

In the midst of all this he'd forgotten-perhaps she'd made him forget somehow-that she was not as she seemed. Beneath that veneer of wide, innocent eyes and lovely pink lips lay something that was twisted and corrupt. Lies weaved themselves like serpents in her hair, they sparkled in her eyes, lay ready at her tongue for firing. Every time he made another attempt she managed to twist away with another lie, another refusal. This was what her kind did, what they had always done. Left unpunished for too long they grew bolder, greedier. What was her aim?

Year after year he'd suffered being placed underneath her because of the lies she gave, her and Potter and Weasley. Year after year they broke the rules and were awarded for it. Everyone clapped them on their backs and placed them on pedestals where they could not be touched. They sneaked around the school constantly and did whatever they felt like and he was tired of it. They caused just as much damage as they did 'good', and no one ever paid that any attention. If no one could catch them at it-mainly her-then he would. They weren't the heroes everyone made them out to be. All the praise Dumbledore gave them-they didn't deserve was overdue. This was what he had to remember. Draco turned and began heading back. His hands were clenched into fists, his clear eyes focused intensely on the castle. The cold invigorated him now, he moved with urgency.

Granger could hide under that image all she wanted, she could get top marks and keep her nose in the air all she wanted but he knew what she really was, what really coursed through her veins. If everyone chose to see her for how she pretended to be then let them, but he would show them what she truly was, and then they could decide for themselves.

As he entered the school cold air rushed past him and into the corridor. It swept his hair around his face and unwound his scarf. He pushed it away from his face, heading for the library. She would be there now, studying. His next class was in twenty minutes. If he hurried, he could make it with time to spare.

The corridors were mostly empty, which was why he was able to hear them so well amidst his stormy thoughts. Their voices were high and panicked, too, which also helped. Draco slowed his walk to a crawl. They didn't notice, whoever they were. They had to be just around the corner.

Even better.

"How could you, Henny?"

"I had to!" the other hissed. Both female, voices vaguely familiar. One was crying.

"What did you tell her?"

"Everything." There was a pause.

"I can't believe you."

"I had to, Cho. My Father is under inspection at the Ministry and if they knew that I was part of it he'd lose his job. Umbridge said she would make sure that didn't happen if I told her the truth. She just wanted to know so my Father wouldn't get in trouble."

"You didn't have to tell her anything!" the other one shouted. "We've gone this far without Umbridge finding out! She lied to you, she doesn't care about your Father!"

"It's over anyhow!" the other girl-Henny? said. "Potter said it himself! The DA is over! What could Umbridge do to that?"

"She's going to punish us all, you idiot! I don't think even expulsion would be enough for her! What did you think would happen?"

"I-I'm sorry," Henny said. Draco took a peek around the corner. The girls were facing each other, oblivious to his presence. Cho Chang backed away from her friend, and as she did he finally saw the other girl, who's name he distantly remembered was Henrietta. She had her face in her hands but when she pulled them away he saw why. Large, purplish-red cysts had formed on her face to form the word SNEAK. There were tears in her eyes.

"I told Umbridge I would only confess if you wouldn't get into trouble either," Henrietta said. "Please, Cho-you have to understand why I did it!"

"I don't want any part of this deal," Cho said coldly. "You gave her what she wanted. I hope everyone sees you with that on your face." She walked away quickly.

Henrietta began to cry more earnestly, and Draco seized the opportunity to walk forward, wearing a friendly smile.


TO BE CONTINUED