A/N: Thank you so much for all the comments! To answer several of your questions:

Several of you made a guess of who was responsible for the prank and I'll tell you this, it won't become clear this chapter. I will, however, congratulate all of you. You've got the right idea going, but there is a different in being involved and being the culprit.

To Danikae: thank you for pointing my mistakes out to me. You're right I have to correct these mistakes. I'm afraid they happen when I decide to use different timelines, but I still have written half of the story and even with all the notes mistakes slip into them.

Anyway enjoy!


o.O.o


Chapter Eleven, The article

The days grew longer and the snow melted. The days became brighter and the sky became clear. Draco crossed one end of the courtyard to the other and shook his hair out of his face. The sky was blue and a pleasant warmth hung in the air. Draco rolled his shoulder as the last sun rays warmed his back and ran a hand through his damp hair. A slight wind picked a few strands of hair up and the giant squid was swimming languidly just beneath the surface of the lake.

Crabbe and Goyle groaned as Draco quickened his pace. The two beaters appeared to have strained several muscles, but Draco had gotten used to hard and long training sessions. Thereby, he didn't care if they had a hard training session, he did care for a nice long hot soak, though. His green Quidditch shirt plastered along his torso and his cheeks were burning red from the Quidditch exercise. The training had been harsh and Montague had had them repeat several exercises for hours.

Draco rolled his shoulders, before climbing the stone steps into the castle. The central hall was cool, the permanent lack of sun making it chilly. The scent of fresh grass was poignant and Draco felt a pang of familiarity go through him.

Hit mother loved the spring. When Draco had been younger she would take him out onto the grounds watching the flowers change colour — a spurt of accidental magic — while his mother would explain the stars. Knowing the stars and constellations was a Black tradition and his mother was a lot if not a Black.

Draco missed his mother, but if she knew what had happened, she would probably follow her mother's example and burn him from the family tapestry. She might have been the one who loved him the most, she was also the one with the strongest feelings of blood.

If there was any reason to keep away from Hermione Granger than it was that. Allowing her to get to him, to get closer to him, the way she did was an abysmal idea. Abysmal ideas; he seemed to be full of them.

Draco quickened his step and descended the stairs towards the dungeons. The second Draco stepped into the Slytherin common room, conversation ceased. Ignoring the stares and glares from the students and strode back to his dorm room. Blaise was there as well, seated cross-legged on his bed.

"What are you doing, Blaise?"

"Scratching out all the hexes that aren't usable." the Italian boy responded rolling his quill through his fingers and smirking at the book in his lap.

"Come again?"

"Did you know that the Italian version of the castration hex is actually legal?" he asked Draco and the blond smirked.

"You think it's a man?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure 'poisoning' is more done by females."

"Who told you that?" Blaise asked "Your walking female encyclopaedia?"

"Yes, she knows this stupid kind of things."

"I mean it, man, your girlfriend knows too many stupid facts." Blaise drawled.

"She isn't my girlfriend," Draco answered automatically and Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Because of the Mudblood thing?" he asked and Draco frowned at the use of the word. "I didn't think you still cared."

"I don't think I do," Draco admitted. Blaise dropped the book and dropped it on the floor.

"You really don't?" he asked slowly and Draco shrugged. What was the point of all of it? He didn't hate Hermione Granger. Not really anyway and it was just not worth it.

"So the two of you buried the past?" Blaise asked.

"Not officially," Draco answered, "but we get along, either way. I can't even remember the last time we fought."

"You've got the better end of the deal if you ask me." Blaise muttered, "The Weaselette fights me on everything. Although she is quite feisty in bed."

"You've been with her once—" Draco started while lifting an imperious eyebrow when Blaise smirked, "—Not once I take it?"

"She came to me two days ago." the Italian boy drawled. "You know my mother doesn't care for all the Pureblood mumbo-jumbo around marriage and the sacred virginity."

"And you fell into bed again?"

"More like a broom closet."

"You've got some eye for detail, don't you?" Draco muttered dryly and Blaise smirk grew.

"Well, what did you do with your little bookworm then?"

"It will be a cold day in hell before I tell you, Blaise." Draco dryly retorted, throwing his ruck-sag onto his bed.

"Ah," Blaise mumbled, rolling onto his side. "A gentleman never tells huh? I'm more surprised your father hasn't stormed over here, trying to strangle your little girlfriend."

Choosing to not rise to the bait, Draco shrugged. "He didn't know it was common knowledge until Pansy wrote him."

"She wrote your dad?"

"She says she didn't, but yes, she did. That was when I got the You-are-a-disgrace-to-the-family-letter." Draco answered, rolling his wand between his fingers. "He already knew from my indiscretions from Snape."

"And he was fine with that?"

"Ignorance is bliss."

"So it seems," Blaise agreed, before picking his book up again. Draco sagged back onto his bed and sighed softly. "I wasn't needed, was I?"

"No," Draco muttered, "Montague said a spare keeper isn't necessary right now, but he does want you to stay fit."

"I can do that." Blaise nodded, smiling slyly to the ceiling and Draco shook his head. "Umbridge started an inquisitorial squad."

"A what?" Draco questioned.

"Yeah, I know," Blaise nodded. "She confronted us today. Me, Crabbe and Goyle, on our way to History of Magic. She wants us toensure order among the student populace. Hum Hum."

"Okay, yeah, and she roped you into it?"

"I'm pretty sure, she would have wanted to rope you into it, if you weren't spending so much time with our resident Gryffindor bookworm." Blaise shrugged, "We have to wear this on our robes." he continued, holding a tiny silver 'I' between his thumb and index finger.

"Great," Draco muttered, shrugging out of his Quidditch gear and pulled his pyjama out from under his pillow. "Bloody hell, I'm tired."

"So you don't want to be a part of it?" Blaise asked innocently and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Definitely not," Draco answered, "If you want to tolerate Umbridge and have contact with her, no matter how brief, on a daily basis, then go right ahead."

"You're an arsehole, Draco."

"Glad you know me so well."

"It just occurred to me, I'll have to figure out how Potter and Granger are running that duelling club of theirs." Blaise suddenly said while Draco crossed the room towards the bathroom.

Draco chuckled. "Good luck with that, I've heard that club they're running is quite effective. Even Longbottom is flourishing. Can you believe it?"

"Shut up, Draco!" Blaise muttered, before dropping back on the bed.

Draco swung the green linen material over his shoulder and stepped into the bathroom. He stepped into the washroom, blindly turning a knob in the shower. His muscles were stiff and Draco scrubbed his hands over his face, raking a hand through his hair.

o.O.o

Hermione yawned tiredly as she strolled through the hallways. A chilly wind whistled through every corridor and she almost jumped when Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron suddenly moved through the wall. Combing her fingers through her frizzy hair — it was even more unbearable than normal — she quickened her step and stepped into the Great Hall. Harry and Ron were seated in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and although Hermione hesitated for a moment, she decided sitting with them and at least trying to rekindle their friendship would be the most logical and more pleasant choice.

She ignored the stifled confused whispering that hung in the room like a suffocating blanket and slipped next to Harry.

"So how was it?" Ron asked, looking at Harry with an eager smile. The Daily Prophet was delivered and the small barn owl who looked at her as if she was its rodent dinner. She scrabbled into the pocket of her robes, fishing her money pouch out of it, before paying the little messenger and looked at Harry and Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"How was what?" Hermione asked, serving herself a plate of scrambled eggs. "Could you pass me the salt?"

Ron grimaced, before rolling his eyes. He accidentally brushed his fingers against her hand and Hermione noticed his cheek turning pink. Hermione raised an imperious eyebrow: "What? What is going on?"

"I went out with Cho last night." he admitted softly

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I see,"

"Yeah," Ron said, "So, how was it?"

"Brilliant," Harry admitted, an enormous grin spreading over his face and Hermione got the strange feeling they had done more than just kissing.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, turning to her scrambled eggs. She shovelled a forkful of eggs into her mouth and chewed lazily; enjoying the slight curry flavour it had. Ginny Weasley plopped down next to her, pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Morning Gin," Hermione offered lightly, before serving herself a second plate of eggs and toast.

"Morning," Ginny answered softly, nibbling on a piece of toast. Ron raised an eyebrow and both Fred and George eyed the youngest Weasley with a frown.

"I something wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked, and Hermione was surprised that even the boys were picking up on Ginny's washed-out face.

"I'm fine," she muttered unconvincingly.

Ron rolled his eyes at his sister's antics, before glancing back to Harry. "Well, we talked…"

"Right," Ron dryly shot back. "You talked." he continued making air-quotes with his friends. "Did you kiss or not?"

Hermione snorted in disgust for the term and started to sop her toast into her tea. Hermione cleared her throat, before glancing at Harry again. "And that made you this radiant?"

"You could say so," Harry admitted. "At least it was very brilliant at first."

"At first, were you rubbish at it?" Ron asked laughing.

Hermione snorted. "I'm sure Harry wasn't rubbish, Ron."

Ron's look of smug delight melted into some of pure confusion and he glanced from Hermione to Harry and back again. "Come again?"

"Well, it was wet," Harry admitted.

"Eww, Harry!" Hermione mumbled.

"That's not what I mean," he was quick to explain. "In the beginning it was fine, but then she started to cry and—"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione started, "Don't you understand what she's feeling like?"

"How am I supposed to know what that girl feels?"

"Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, doesn't mean everybody else has."

"Obviously, she is feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all... And she probably can't work out what her feelings are towards Harry anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful."

"Merlin, how can you feel all of that all at once?" Ron answered.

"I give up, boys are hopeless," Hermione muttered, before collecting her bag and stood up. "Gin, are you coming?"

Ginny glanced up at Hermione with a worried expression, before nodding. With her arms crossed in front of her chest, Ginny led them to an abandoned classroom, sitting down across from her with a small nervous smile. "What did you need, Hermione?"

When speaking, Ginny spoke in a rush, as if it had been building up and she needed to say it all at once before she was stopped. "First I followed Romilda around the castle. She's quite hard to track and she's always around her friends. Couldn't very well jump her, when her friends are around. So the next moment, she is going up the stairs towards the Owlery, and I followed her, confronted her, threatened to hex her and she immediately spilt the beans."

Ginny inhaled harshly, before shifting to the edge of her seat. "So I ask her what happened with the phials, you know, because she admitted to ordering them, and she gets all white-faced. Eyes large and worried and the always dormant flush on her cheeks disappeared. So I was about to really hex her and then she told me Katie Bell, the sixth year Prefect, had confiscated the phials. Gave it to McGonagall."

"Gave it to McGonagall…" Hermione echoed. "I don't understand, how did it get into the Firewhisky if McGonagall had it? Do you think Romilda was telling the truth?"

"I don't know, I think she was telling the truth. Anyway, she doesn't know how anyone would be able to get to them there, but she didn't have them during the Quidditch match."

"Well, that's just lovely," Hermione muttered annoyed. "Then I've smashed his phials all for nothing."

"Smashed his—"

"Nothing Ginny," Hermione whispered, "it's not important. This was just a dead end. What they said at the beginning of December, appears to be true…"

"I don't understand," Ginny whispered softly.

"Professor Snape told us the Head boy made a potion, for extra credits, and they think someone stole a sample from him and used it to drug everyone."

Ginny didn't reply but nodded slowly. It was obvious to Hermione she had already known that. Ginny avoided Hermione's curious gaze, nervous fingers picking at a loose thread on her skirt. She moved her lips, but no sound emerged.

"Ginny?"

"No," she whispered, "It's nothing."

Hermione frowned, before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. They would never find out who drugged them. Literally, anyone could have nicked a sample from the Head Boy

She suppressed a sigh when Ginny literally bolted for the door as soon as the bell sounded. Massaging her aching temples; a headache was coming on. Groaning loudly, she kicked at the table and glared at the dust on the windowsill. Somehow Hermione felt as if she was getting closer to the answer, but she was not seeing it.

Outside the snow was falling, thick and heavy on the Scottish Highlands and she sighed. She didn't really want to go to Care for Magical Creatures. The weather was horrible and Hagrid was very stubborn.

Hermione had tried, when Hagrid returned last November, to make Hagrid start his lessons with something easy, small, not-dangerous. She had tried to persuade him to start with something harmless, especially since Dolores Umbridge had been made Hogwarts High Inquisitor and she would be keeping a close watch on him. Especially since Hagrid was one of Dumbledore's most trusted.

Breathing out loudly, Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and descended the stairs again. She was in the middle of adjusting her scarf around her neck — ploughing through two feet of snow and ice — when she stepped up next to Hagrid's cabin.

Hagrid was rather nervous, wringing his large hands together and Umbridge was sitting on a high stool, her clipboard at the ready. Yet again, his face was a mass of purple and black bruises. One eye, his right one this time, had been reduced to a puffy slit. Hagrid, who was twice the size of a normal man, limped through the snow and explained, voice high and trembling, about several classes of dog-like creatures.

"What is she doing here?" Hermione whispered, stepping up next to Harry.

"You haven't heard?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised and scowl falling from his face. "Hagrid's on probation."

"What?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "It's bad. He doesn't want to talk about it though."

"You've tried?"

"Of course I have. Me and Ron, we both tried, but he's so distant, Hermione." Harry explained. "Umbridge is destroying him, and we can't do anything about it."

Hermione nodded, a grimace slowly spreading over her face. God, she hated that woman so much! Glaring at Umbridge, as she diligently took notes as Hagrid spoke.

Exhaling slowly, trying to keep her growing anger under control, Hermione brought her gaze back to the front. Malfoy was leaning against the bark of a tree. She could tell he wasn't paying attention. Daphne Greengrass — a rather shallow girl in Hermione's opinion — was standing next to him. They were conversing quietly and Hermione felt a small stab of irritation, before forcing her concentration back to Hagrid.

"So that's why he took my advice…" Hermione silently muttered, as Hagrid nervously told the class about a Crup — a creature indistinguishable from a Jack Russell terrier, except he had a forked tail — and Umbridge so now and then interrupted him with low snide remarks, which brought him out of his concentration.

After the lesson, Hermione slowly walked up to Hagrid. "You did really well today, Hagrid," she whispered pleasantly.

"Hermione you must go back to the castle," Hagrid answered, and Hermione frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"But, I just wanted to congratulate you." she retorted.

"You have to go, or it will be all our necks on the line." he said, before slamming the door in front of her face.

Hermione reeled back and blinked stupidly at the wooden door. Fang was barking at her from inside and Hermione pushed a lock of bushy hair behind her ear. To her, it seemed only appropriate that the weather had turned out this harsh and unforgiving. Smiling wistfully, Hermione crossed from one end of the courtyard to the other.

Hermione had no doubt in her mind that the meeting would have turned out differently if Umbridge wasn't on his case the way she was, and it would have gone differently if Dumbledore didn't keep his distance the way he did. Huddling deeper into her warm cloak — she had refreshed the warming charm at least two times — and bowed her head against the sleet lashing at her skin.

The distance was short, but the howling wind buffeted her body as she fought to keep her balance. Hermione rubbed her cold cheeks and quickened her step. She tore through the snow as quickly as possible, but with the howling wind and the heavy book bag hanging from her shoulders. She was in the middle of pushed the front door open slowly, when it hit her.

It was sudden. Her stomach plummeted and her vision went dark. Hermione grasped at the at the wall for support and her eyes blinked profusely, until the darkness cleared, her hair plastering to her forehead. She only barely staggered to the toilet when a new wave of nausea hit her, and she was violently sick.

Breathing in and out, she raked her fingers through her hair.

How could things go back to hell so fast? Leaning her suddenly sweaty cheek against the cold wall, she exhaled slowly. Someone had to do something about Umbridge, and that someone had to do it fast.

Hermione slowly got up and felt the determination settle onto her shoulders. She had to do something…

To be continued…


A/N: I included Harry's first kiss, because it meant something for Harry. Next chapter will delve into Ginny. It will be updated in the week of ten July (because I have several important tests to study for).

Please comment! They made me so happy!

Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling