Hermione had just finished explaining to Ron about Pansy, Millicent and Blaise. He stared at her, his eyes round in horror and concern for her.

"They cursed you?" Ron asked bewildered. "How long have they been attacking you?"

"Since this summer," she said softly.

A flash of disappointment ran across Ron's eyes, but he stayed calm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione sighed, feeling guilt rush through her. "I thought I could manage it on my own. And I was a little upset at you for not telling me about what Percy had to say."

Ron looked down at his tattered shoes. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really just wanted to forget about what Percy had to say. I'm not a hero type; Harry is, I'm just…well, I'm just his sidekick I guess you could say."

"Ron, you're not a sidekick!" Hermione said, shocked and appalled that he even felt that way.

Ron shrugged easily. "It's not that big of a deal, Hermione."

"Yes it is, Ron." Hermione said on the verge of tears. "You mean the world to me, okay?"

He smiled softly. "Don't cry, Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "It's just, I've been a horrible friend, I shouldn't have kept this from you, you would've been able to help me through it."

Ron nodded. "It's okay now, I promise."

She held his hand and they stared at one another for a moment in silence. There was a cough from another bed and Ron jumped slightly.

"Madam Pomfrey is sending me up to Aiyana," Hermione said.

"Good, she'll be able to help you sort this out."

"I hope so."

"Hermione, do you want to know what Percy told me?" Ron asked, looking a little frightened.

"Only if you want to tell me." She smiled calmly.

"Okay," Ron started. "Well, it has to do with the Prophecy books…"

---

Two hours later, Hermione found herself walking up a flight of concealed stairs that led up to the headmistress office.

Hermione knocked on the door, and heard two women inside stop speaking. The door opened and Hermione saw Rosaria Snape greeting her. The headmistress' office was neat but cluttered, and more then half the portraits on Aiyana's wall were completely empty.

She turned to see Rosaria fidgeting with a small scroll.

"Come on in, Ms. Granger." Rosaria smiled.

Hermione stepped inside and found Aiyana seated at her desk.

"We'll just continue to discuss this at a later time, shall we?" Rosaria asked.

"Yes, of course," Aiyana smiled, her blue eyes sparkled. Hermione narrowed her eyes curiously, that seemed oddly familiar.

What does that remind me of?

"See you in class, Hermione," Rosaria said through a bright smile, and then left out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

"Have a seat," Aiyana said. Scooting her chair back to have a better look her student.

Hermione sat with her hands folded in her lap looking attentive as if she was getting ready for a teacher to begin class.

"Are you feeling better?" Aiyana asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, much. Professor, I think I know who's doing this to me."

"Oh," Aiyana said listening intently. "Who?"

"Pansy, Millicent and Blaise," Hermione listed. "They've got some sort of vendetta on me. I'm not sure why."

"Don't you?" Aiyana asked, and again her eyes reminded Hermione of something that she could not place a finger on.

Hermione went quiet for a moment, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. "I have an idea, but I really can't be certain. And I have no idea why I'd be in them," Hermione said sheepishly.

Aiyana smiled. "Innocent and so modest, Ms. Granger."

"You think I am in the Prophecies, Professor Aiyana?" Hermione asked stunned.

"My dear child," Aiyana said softly. "You are friends with the greatest boy who ever lived. You even surpass him in your cleverness; do you really think there would not be a Prophecy about one of Harry's greatest assets?"

Hermione's cheeks turned from pink to red in embarrassment. "I-I, um…"

Aiyana chuckled. "Do not worry Miss Granger; self-confidence is nothing to be ashamed of."

Hermione didn't know what to say. So she watched the headmistress silently, shifting in her seat.

"Now, if we believe that the reason these three are after you is the Prophecy," Aiyana said. "Then we can safely say that you need protection."

Aiyana stood up. "I know a few spells that I can place on you myself. And I'm very sure that you will be witty enough to come up with a few of your own. But I must warn you." Aiyana looked serious. "Do not be alone in a room with them. I will ask Miss Parvati to escort you when you are in your dormitory and I'm fairly certain Mr. Weasley will be more then honored to escort you to your classes."

Aiyana pulled open a cabinet, and pulled down a spell book. "I believe you may find this one useful."

Hermione took the book, it was leather bound and its gold lettering was fading. "Thank you, Professor."

"So you're clear, Hermione?" Aiyana asked.

"Yes, I won't end up alone with them." Hermione nodded.

"Then you may run along, I'm sure Mr. Weasley is expecting you for dinner."

Hermione smiled and thanked her again, but her hand froze in midair as she reached for the knob, an idea had struck her.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked turning around.

"Yes?" Aiyana asked, her blue eyes twinkled.

Hermione knew exactly who Aiyana reminded her of.

---

At 7:30 Hermione made he way down from Aiyana's room in an odd mood. She had just uncovered something huge, but she had promised to keep her mouth shut. She wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all this news, but she couldn't, not without putting Aiyana into danger.

Hermione found Ron in the great hall filling his plate with food; he stopped when he saw her.

"Hermione!" he said happily. "Sit here."

She sat next to him and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not too hungry," she said. The potions had made her stomach queasy.

"You sure?" Ron asked, stroking her hair for a moment.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, It's fine. I'll feel better tomorrow."

"Good."

Hermione's smile brightened and she pulled him into a hug.

When they pulled apart Ron looked confused.

"What was that for?"

She didn't answer and Ron quickly got distracted when he looked over to see their best friend entering the hall. He looked dazed and extremely tired.

"Harry! Over here!" Ron called.

Hermione jumped up when she saw him, and pulled him into a hug, he grimaced as he felt the cut on his chest get irritated.

"Ouch," Harry said.

"Oh, what happened, Harry?" Hermione asked, letting him go, but she kept smiling.

"I just got a little cut," Harry assured her. "You're happy, what's up?"

"Harry, mate!" Ron said, coming over. "You've been gone all day, where were you?"

"Trying to uncover some Malfoy related things," Harry said shortly. "Where have you two been?"

"You didn't hear?" Hermione said slowly, the smile fading a little.

"It's been all over the school," Ron said surprised.

"Hear what?"

"I was attacked by Pansy and her gang, and my protection spell combined with her spell knocked me out this morning," Hermione said. "You didn't hear anything about it?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "That sounds really scary. Is anyone putting a stop to them?"

"Actually, Aiyana is helping me. She just asked me to make sure I was never alone with them."

"Good idea," Ron agreed.

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron asked. "You seem a bit dazed.

"Oh, I'm alright," Harry answered shrugging it off. "I think I'm just going to get some sleep though. I'm really sorry about this morning, Hermione. I should have known about it."

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione assured. "Just go get some sleep."

Harry nodded and headed out of the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione watched him go concerned looks on their faces.

"Something's up," Ron said. "And he's certainly not telling us about it."

She sighed. "That's really more trouble then it's worth."

Ron nodded. "Should we talk to him?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "But I don't think he'll tell us unless he's ready to."

---

The next few days passed by very slowly for Harry. He was loaded with homework and the only thing he had to look forward to was research with Malfoy on Wednesday. And even that had its perks and downsides.

He didn't see Malfoy often in the dormitory, for when he awoke he found Malfoy was already up and out of bed. When he did see him they didn't exchange many words, only an occasionally nod of recognition. He didn't find this completely odd, mostly because he and Draco were definitely not friends.

But still, as the days wore on, he found himself looking forward to doing something other than homework.

He helped Ron with escorting Hermione around, but he avoided their questions. He just didn't want them to be worried.

They clearly have their own things to deal with, was Harry's made up reason why he didn't tell them.

When Wednesday evening finally rolled around, he was extremely glad to have an excuse to escape from their questioning.

Harry entered the library after cutting dinner short, and found Draco leaning against a bookshelf, his blonde hair completely unbrushed. Harry had never seen Draco without his hair combed and perfectly in place.

He opened his mouth to ask but found the boy speaking before him.

"I asked thatPince woman about Hector Collins, she's never heard of him," Draco said, pushing himself off the bookcase with a foot.

"That doesn't sound good," he said.

Harry looked like he hadn't slept in a few days, and his messy hair was even more ruffled then usual was rivaling Malfoy's in scruffiness.

"You okay?" Draco asked looking him over.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned, it wasn't like Malfoy to ask how he was either.

"You just look a mess," the blonde said dismissively.

Harry shrugged. "Well, at least it's Wednesday."

"What's that mean?"

"I've just been looking forward to this researching thing," Harry said shortly. "It's better then being asked a million questions."

---

Draco was surprised that Harry had been looking forward to this. Oddly enough, he himself hadn't been thinking of much else all week, which was a relief.

"Well, let's hit the books," Harry said.

He nodded and the two took down a few, and put them at a table, settling in.

"This reminds me of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said spontaneously.

He looked at him confused.

Where had that come from?

"Because of all the research, oh and the Nicolas Flamel thing," Harry continued, looking off into space.

"Nicolas Flamel created a stone that made the elixir of life," he said shortly. "Didn't Granger know that?"

Harry let out a laugh. "It would have been nice to have you around back in first year."

"We weren't friends then-" he cut himself off. Did what he just say mean that he considered himself friends with Harry now?

No! He told himself. No way.

He felt a pair of green eyes staring at him.

"I mean, you know Potter. We weren't on speaking terms," he corrected himself.

Harry stared at him for a moment longer, and Draco was starting to feel self-conscious.

"Let's read," Draco insisted, turning the attention back to research.

Harry opened a book.

They were reading in silence for a few moments, or at least Harry might have been. He couldn't concentrate on the words in front of him. They blurred as he tried to focus, his eyes wandering everywhere but the page.

He glanced over at Harry who was bent over a book, reading intently.

His hair looks so odd, Draco thought, almost reaching out to fix it. His hand stopped in mid-air when he realized what he was doing, and he quickly snapped himself out of it.

What the hell are you doing?

"Find anything?" Harry said, looking up.

Draco jumped at his voice. "What?"

"I said," Harry furrowed his brow, "did you find anything?"

"Oh, no." He shook his head furiously, trying to hide an embarrassed blush. Malfoy's didn't blush, especially after trying to fix someone else's bloody hair.

Harry slid his hand through his hair almost as if mocking him (even though Harry hadn't noticed Draco reaching out), then turned back to the book. Draco noticed the scar upon Harry's forehead.

Harry had received that from the Dark Lord. It was a mark that made him recognizable everywhere.

"That's quite a symbol you got there," he muttered aloud. He wasn't interested in studying at that moment.

"Symbol?" Harry asked, turning away from his book.

"Your scar." He nodded towards it.

Why are you talking to him about his SCAR? he questioned himself.

"Symbol?" Harry repeated.

"A symbol of being singled out," he said. "Nobody else has that scar, so it means that you can never escape from what it means."

Harry frowned, confused on why he was talking about his scar.

He frowned as well, unsure why he wanted to talk about Harry's problems, and concerned on why he cared so much about them.

"I bet people recognize it everywhere you go," he said.

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

"Is that annoying?" He watched Harry's expression go from confused to completely lost. He knew Harry had never heard him show an interest before.

"Most of the time," Harry said. "Why are you interested all of a sudden?"

Draco shrugged. "I've just started wondering about your life."

Harry eyed the blonde curiously.

"I'm sure you've been wondering about mine," Draco said, hoping it was true and praying it didn't sound incredibly stupid.

"A little I guess," Harry said. "But this is coming from you, Malfoy."

They were silent for a bit. He bit his tongue to stop himself from retorting. The two stared at each other, as if challenging the other to insult them first.

"We should get back to work," Harry finally said.

"Oh right," Draco turned back to his book, but again found he couldn't concentrate. "What about my life were you curious about exactly, Potter?"

Harry looked up again, this time looking concerned. "Are you quite alright, Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Well, for one, you probably look how I feel right now. And then there's also the fact that you keep asking me really random questions," Harry said. "Well, random for you."

He sighed and looked away.

"Malfoy, what's bothering you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco grumbled.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Because if I end up pouring my problems out to you, you'll never talk to me again.

"Because I can't talk about it," he muttered.

"Hey, you know what I think," Harry said. He looked up at him curiously. "I think that we should just get over whatever is bothering us, right now."

A small smile slid across his lips, amused at Harry.

"Hey, see, a smile!" Harry said, grinning. "You'll be over it in no time."

His smile faded and he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, just while we're researching anyway," Harry said.

"I can't concentrate," he told him.

"Then, erm, fine," Harry started. "Well...What was your childhood like, Malfoy? I mean, was it happy?"

Draco laughed again. "You're actually asking me?" He had only been partly joking before.

Harry smiled. "You can ask me too if you want."

"Right." Draco nodded. "Well, my childhood pretty much sucked. How about yours, Potter?"

"Mine was pretty horrible," Harry muttered. "My Aunt and Uncle hated me, and Dudley liked to kick me around a lot."

"Sounds like a man after my own heart," Draco said half-heartedly.

"He's afraid of me now though," Harry said. "Ever since I went off to study here."

"Afraid you'll curse him?" Draco asked.

"Yeah."

"Like you would do that," Draco said, disbelieving.

"Hey, I've blown up my Aunt before," Harry countered. "Not on purpose really."

"I would be mutilated if I blew up any of my relatives," Draco said, shocked. "My dad would personally lock me up in the Isolation Chamber for a month."

"Isolation Chamber?" Harry asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"It's a torturing chamber my dad uses," he said.

"Has he ever put you in it?" Harry asked softly.

He didn't answer, stifling a shudder from a fleeting memory that was making his way back into his head.

Harry looked horrified.

"That's awful!" Harry sputtered.

"Yeah, well, that's my dad." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"What about your mum?" Harry asked. "Is she nicer?"

"My mum is nice enough." He shrugged. "She's never as horrible as dad when it comes to punishing me."

The two boys fell into silence again, silver eyes on framed green eyes.

"Erm," said Draco, feeling uncomfortable. "Let's get back to reading. I think I can concentrate now."

"Okay," Harry said, and went back to his book.

He turned to his own book, and then looked at Harry again who was shifting in his seat. Harry was still in his school robes, and Draco saw two necklace chains leading under his shirt. He reached for his own neck and found the dragon pendant one still on. It was essential for the game, and so was the other one that Harry had, it allowed them back into the games whenever they wanted.

Harry was a skinny guy, Draco noticed, like himself. That's what made them such good Quidditch players.

Draco felt a stab of pain from the X scar on his chest as he moved his necklace across it, he winced.

"Do you have a cut from the Dragon Games?" he asked Harry aloud.

Harry looked up.

"What?"

"Do you have a cut on your chest?" he repeated, feeling like he was annoying the boy.

"Erm, yeah." Harry nodded. "I thought it would go away when we got out of the games, but it didn't."

He nodded; he had thought the same thing.

Harry's emerald eyes sparked from behind his glasses, and Draco was captivated by them, not able to turn away.

"Has yours randomly started to bleed?" Harry asked.

He snapped his eyes away. "Once or twice."

They two boys looked up to see Draco's owl flying in with a letter, it was not addressed on the envelope, but he had a feeling he knew who it was from.

He quickly untied the letter and the bird flew off.

"I have to take care of this," he said, relieved to be able to get out of the room, which was seeming oddly small.

"Oh, alright," Harry said. "I'll stay for a while longer."

"Great," he said distractedly, and he started to leave, feeling Harry's eyes on him until he turned the corner.

Oh man, he thought. I really need to get a grip on myself. What was that back there?

Draco shoved those thoughts from his mind. The letter in front of him was more important. Or at least, that's what he had to tell himself nearly the whole way he was walking to keep his thoughts off the former Gryffindor.

He hurried into the Room of Magic and shut the door. He put the back of his head to the door, muttering incoherent curse words under his breath.

Har-Potter's not important, this letter is. Potter's not your friend. You don't care what he thinks. Why did I care about his scar...I meant to mock him, that's it. I'm just too distracted. Gotta fix that.

He opened the letter, and it was from exactly whom he thought it was from, his father.

He sat down on a chair at a desk and began to read.

---

Harry had never had an encounter with Malfoy quite like that before. He was deeply confused by the boy's questions, and even more concerned by how bad off the boy looked.

He rubbed his forehead where his scar was, and thought about what Draco had said.

I guess it sort of is a symbol, he thought. I just wish I could get rid of it at times.

The raven-haired boy sighed and then turned back to the books.

---

Draco came out of the room a half hour later and was disappointed to find Pansy waiting for him outside the maze of halls that it took to get into the room. She had her arms crossed, and her eyes narrowed.

"Draco," Pansy sneered. "We need to talk."

"Not in the mood." He started past her.

He felt her hand grab onto his shoulder.

"I don't care what you're in the mood for," she hissed.

He turned around. "What then? You going to tell me how you still don't believe me? I could really care less."

"No! I saw you with Potter in the library," Pansy growled.

"You have eyes, good for you," he drawled.

"You were researching with him? Since when are you study buddies with that...with Potter?"

"Since I realized I had a job to do," Draco answered, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt as she insulted Harry.

"Job?" she said, raising an eye. "You mean, you're doing something for-"

"Look, Pansy," he said. He knew what to tell her to make her lay off. "I'm not supposed to discuss my plans. They'd be very pissed off if I did."

"Does your father know?" she asked. "That you're hanging out with Potter?"

"Yes," Draco hissed. "He wants me to."

"I think you're lying!" she argued. "He doesn't know."

Why is she so arrogant? he asked himself, it would have been easier to get rid of her if she wasn't such a conniving bitch.

"You caught me," he said with no enthusiasm. "Father doesn't know. He wouldn't understand my plans for, Potter."

"So you're planning on hurting him?" she asked with a smirk.

"It's on the agenda," he answered.

For the first time he found his patience wearing thin as he talked to Pansy. Normally he could deal with her for hours. That's what he had to do on a regular basis anyhow.

"Now, leave me be." he demanded.

"Does the Dark Lord know of your plans?" Pansy asked.

"Yes, in fact he does." He shrugged, trying to move away.

Pansy thought for a moment. "I'm telling your father, Draco."

He stopped in his steps and closed his eyes in a groan.

"What the bloody hell would you do that for?" he asked his face growing hot in anger.

If she told his dad, it would mess up everything he had been working towards.

"He needs to know what you're up to," she said. "He'll at least make sure that you're not doing anything stupid."

Pansy started to walk away, and this time Draco grabbed her arm, squeezing it a little harder then he meant to.

"Ouch!" Pansy cried.

"You will not tell my dad anything!" he growled viciously.

"Let me go!" Pansy whined.

He held her tighter.

"You got it?" Draco lowered his voice. "You will not tell my father anything!"

Pansy pulled away and she glowered at him, holding onto her arm. "I'll think about it."

Draco was pissed, she was ruining everything.

She ran off, and he knew it was too much to hope that she wouldn't tell his father. He needed to come up with something, and fast.