AN: I've noticed that my updates are getting father and father apart. Sorry bout that, dear readers. A lot's been going on this week for me, so I apologize, again.

Loved the response to last chapter. Thanks, guys! We have some new reviewers, some favorites and alerts. All which make me very happy! Thank you to:

Gamnut7, The Magic of the Night, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, winter1990, Haloloverb117, and creativewriter17!

Sorry, no personal responses this chapter (you have no idea how tired I am of typing) Sorry! Love you all!

Disclaimer: Unless I suddenly become a billionare, I will never own HP. Sorry.

Early the next morning I sluggishly made my way to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and slumped into my seat next to Harry. I had been right. I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before. My jumbled thoughts had kept me conscious through 'til early in the morning, when I finally just passed out. I had just been awoken, again, by a grumpy Hermione insisting that I get up or she'll 'be forced to Aguamenti' me until I dragged myself out of my warm and comfortable bed.

I grumbled a 'hello' to Harry before laying my head on the worn old table and closing my eyes, taunting images of my bed waiting for me in Gryffindor tower wafting behind my closed eyelids. My thoughts wandered to Malfoy and what had happened last night. I went through the things in my head, slowly dissecting them as much as my muddled mind could. We have a truce. He had kissed my forehead. Malfoy is trying to be a better person. All of these things are almost too much to take in at one time, one of the reasons sleep eluded me yet again last night.

Everything had seemed too… right. There was something off. Why had Malfoy out of the blue apologized, twice, probably more than he has ever done so. I just don't get it. Something must be going on.

I groaned when a thick book thudded onto the table, and slightly raised my head to glare at Hermione as she slid in across from me and Harry. I sat up and decided to eat, for appearance's sake. I reached to put some eggs on my plate, still having no intention of eating, but withering under the suspicious glare Hermione was sending my way.

Ron entered a few minutes later, hair and clothes slightly disheveled but immediately loading his plate with almost all of the food items available as soon as he sat down next to Hermione.

After some light chatter, and light eating for me, the morning post came.

The many owls soared in, and I gasped and jumped back when at least five owls landed in front of Harry, scattering bacon and toast, knocking over drinks.

Luna skipped over, bright as always, and sat down next to Harry, beaming, "Quibbler came out today. I expect that these," she gestured to the cluster of owls fluttering on the table as students pulled their plates out of harm's way, "are letters from the readers."

Harry watched the owls amusedly, while Hermione was almost beside herself with excitement. I quickly snatched an untouched piece of toast from the table before a grey owl could snap its beak at it.

Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat, excitement gleaming in her brown eyes, "Harry, you mind if we-?"

"Help yourself," Harry said, almost amusedly, and immediately me, Ron, and Hermione began tearing open the many envelopes. I warily scanned through one from a wizard in Cambridge who thought the entire thing was rubbish and persisted that there was plenty of room at St. Mungo's insanity ward for Harry. I scowled and crumpled the letter up, stuffing it into my bag and reaching for another.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," Ron said, laying aside the envelope, "Ah well…"

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," Hermione sighed, crumpling up another and tossing it dejectedly onto the food cluttered table.

Harry took one for himself, reading over the script and saying, "This one looks okay, though," he said, absent-mindedly petting a lingering owl, before sitting up abruptly, "Hey, she says she believes me!"

I smiled, the last of my tiredness wearing off as we reached for more letters, containing the mixed reactions about Harry's testimony of Voldemort returning, of killing Cedric Diggory.

As more letters were opened and we read more equally good and bad reactions, I was getting a wee bit excited, and I could feel pride swelling in my chest. We're actually changing these people's minds. We're making a difference.

Well, the article was all Harry and Hermione, but still. It felt good to be a part of something so great.

The excited atmosphere and the rain of letters was abruptly put out when a sickly sweet female voice came from behind, "What is going on here?"

We all turned to see the object of everyone's grief: Umbridge, the pink toad in the flesh. Everyone in the hall had fallen silent and had turned in their seats to watch the show they knew was coming.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" she asked slowly, wide eyes travelling from the letters clutched in our hands to the countless unopened ones lying ready on the table.

"Is that a crime now?" Fred interjected loudly from my side. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," she said fiercely before turning back to glare at Harry, nostrils flaring, "Well, Mr. Potter?"

I could see Harry hesitate briefly, his eyes flitting across the letters before he sat up and stated bluntly, "People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me last June."

"An interview?" Umbridge asked, her voice higher and more strained than usual, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," said Harry, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth not to break out in giggles in such an intense moment. He slid the Quibbler out of his bag and tossed it at Umbridge, who surprisingly caught it before it made contact with her face. She stared at the cover, her face slowly morphing to an unsightly red and purple color.

"I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, and a week's worth of detention," and she turned on her heel and walked away, paper clutched in her stubby fingers. The eyes of everyone in the hall followed her short, plump figure out, and nervous chatter broke out after a few moments of the deathly silence.

Harry went back to nonchalantly eating his toast, opening a few more letters before stuffing the remaining ones in his bag.

I was on my way to Charms before lunch when a notice caught my attention. I approached the board in the hall slowly, taking in the giant bold print message testifying that if anyone was caught with a copy of the Quibbler that they would be expelled. Wicked toad.

Harry stood reading over my shoulder. I turned and noticed with slight annoyance Hermione smiling from ear to ear.

Harry noticed this and asked in an irritated voice, "And what are you so happy about?"

Hermione beamed and explained, "Oh Harry, don't you see? If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read the interview, it was banning it!"

And she was right. Everywhere I went, I could hear students quoting the interview. That set me in a good mood at once. And having achieved their goal of everyone knowing the truth-whether they believed it or not- immensley heartened Harry, who seemed to take Umbridge's punishments with a certain pride that gave other students going through Umbrdge's torments a hope.

I waltzed down to the dungeons for Potions, a slight spring in my step, enlightened from the succesful spread of the interview and excited to see if the truce between me and Malfoy still stood firm. I entered and glanced Malfoy at our table, the ingredients for the daily potion already laid out on the table. My heart fluttered at the sight of his sleek blond hair and my mind flashed to his parting gift. My forehead tingled and I felt my cheeks flush but I shook it off and started down the aisle.

I exhaled and approached the table, a small smile playing on my lips, "Hello."

He barely even glanced in my direction, then visibly stiffened and kept his gaze locked onto the board at the front, as if determined not to look at me.

I was slightly put-off and troubled at his attitude. What happened? Why is he being cold to me again? Another question barged into my mind, a fleeting, panicked thought. Does our truce mean nothing now?

"Moody, much?" I mumbled, setting down my bag. Snape began the lesson, assigning us our potion and gloomily sitting behind his desk, peering over his folded hands which he placed under his chin, unable to hide his distaste with our lot's 'slow progress.'

I could feel Malfoy's eyes boring into my head as I chopped our roots. Irritated, I forcefully set down my knife and turned, "What, Malfoy? Am I doing something wrong?" I asked sarcastically, confused and extremely irked at having to deal with yet another mood swing from the blond Slytherin.

He regarded me calmly, obviously used to my snappy comments by now. After a moment, he said in a firm voice, "Last night didn't happen."

I sat there, mouth slightly agape, disbelief undoubtedly showing on my face. What?

"What?" I mimicked my thoughts, my voice uncertain and quizzical.

His expression didn't change, staying the same cold mask everyone else always saw, different than the tender and soft look on his features I had seen last night on the tower. I saw annoyance flicker in his silver eyes, and he repeated himself slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile, "Last night… didn't happen," he ended, slight mocking lacing his cold tone.

"I got that part," I snapped. I sighed and closed my eyes to shut away his sneering face, and inhaled deeply, trying to regain some patience and reason but only succeeding in inhaling his enthrallingly welcome scent, causing my thoughts to once again scatter. I cleared my throat and opened my eyes, meeting his own and saying, "So, our truce… is nothing? It didn't happen," I said, my voice skeptical, my eyebrows rising. I can't believe this.

"Exactly," he said in finality, and turned to the cauldron, ignoring me once again. Oh, no. You're not getting away that easily.

"Malfoy," I said loudly, "What the hell is all this about?"

He sharply turned to face me, all patience seeming to have been used up, "I can't believe that I try to be civil with you, mudblood," he spat, "Talking to you at all smears dirt and filth onto my reputation. I've been confronted by my fellow concerned Slytherins about getting 'too friendly' with Gryffindors. As if. The only good that could come out of associating with a Gryffindor is the satisfaction of being their superior. Bloody lions, always sticking their bloody noses in where they don't belong," he snarled, and I flinched at his sharp tone. What is his problem?

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" I ask angrily, my grip on my cutting knife unconsciously tightening.

He glared, pulled something from his bag and slammed it down onto the table, his voice rising, "Tell Saint Potter not to go about getting my father put in the bloody paper. He needs to mind his own bloody business every once in a while," he all but shouted, and I pulled back slightly, eyes going wide, a part of me afraid for my safety at his sudden anger. Though, strangely, another part was concerned for him, wondering what could have gotten him so heated.

Malfoy stood abruptly and shouldered his bag before storming out of the classroom, taking the time to throw me one last scornful glare before he slammed the door behind him. Snape watched him leave with a wary eye, but turned back to shuffling through his papers when the heavy door shut.

I tore my eyes away from the door, where I kept picturing the tall blond head whip out of sight, and peered at what he had left on the table, and my heart dropped. It was the Quibbler. Then I remembered that Harry had named Lucius Malfoy as a Death Eater, who had been in the graveyard when Voldemort had returned.

I hurriedly stuffed it into my bag before Snape could catch sight of it and have an excuse to have me thrown out. I nervously glanced around and saw that Malfoy had caused such a ruckus as to draw the attention of the entire class, who either were looking at me with a look of smug contempt, or sympathy, depending on their House. I lowered my head, and turned my attention to our near untouched potion, determined to get a good grade, with Malfoy or not.

I tried to focus on the amount of crushed bicorn horn I was supposed to add to my now bubbling potion, but no matter how much work I made my hands do, it couldn't keep my brain occupied enough.

What the hell just happened?

I was so irritated with Malfoy. Stupid Malfoy, with his stupid mood swings and attitude changes. Here I was, thinking we actually had something… something that I would only admit to myself as being a strict acquaintanceship, though a slight tugging on my heart kept reminding me of how close we had become in those few moments alone on the tower.

I had gotten to see a side of Draco Malfoy hardly anyone else had seen. A side with human emotions and thoughts, and not the sneers, harsh words, and cold exterior everyone else came to witness every day. Someone who was gone now, who had become buried again under the cold, hard surface as that paper hit the public this very morning.

I worked the rest of the class deep in my thoughts, ignoring the caring looks from my friends as I carefully followed the given instructions and ended up handing in a reasonably well-done potion to Snape.

As soon as Snape dismissed us for the day, I raced from the room, hurrying from the cold dungeons to quickly hide out in my dorm, which had become my sort of 'panic room' since these Malfoy encounters had begun.

I flopped face-first onto my bed, which I had missed so much since I had been rudely awoken this morning. But now, I only felt weak. As if the only way to solve my all of my problems was to lock myself away, eventually leading to me going insane from only have my repeating and taunting thoughts as company. No, I need some human interaction.

After a while of futile and mostly one-sided debating, I gave in and headed down into the common room, where I knew I would find my best friends, sitting by the fire.

I greeted them as cheerfully as I could, waving away their worries and Harry's apologies.

"Seriously, Harry. The public needs to know this truth. And if that means Malfoy being even more nasty towards me," I shrugged my shoulders, trying to hide my slight sadness by putting on an expression of indifference. "I can deal with it. Nothing new, right?"

Harry still didn't seem convinced, eying me cautiously. I went on, "I guess I'm just the easier target. We have to work together in Potions, plenty of opportunities to push my buttons. And I'm muggle-born, so I guess that's just an added bonus."

I managed to keep my voice even, being careful not to let it betray the emotions I've been hiding for so long.

Hermione saw something in my eyes then. I don't know what, but the emotion was enough for her to give me a strange look. It was a cross between a sympathetic, suspicious, and a 'we'll talk about this later' kind of look. I gave a small sigh and turned to gaze at the fire, effectively tuning out of the surrounding conversation.

Well, whatever kind of 'relationship' Malfoy and I had was long gone.

I mean, Harry did name his father as being a Death Eater. Not that I didn't believe Harry, or say that what Harry had done was unfair, I just understood where Malfoy's anger was coming from.

I sat there and thought of our short-lived truce, and of the little peck to the forehead that had sent shocks of electricity through my body.

A small, almost indistinct part of me was mourning the building relationship that was ripped from me by paper and ink. Another was missing his kind, poetic words. My body was missing his touch, and the way his pale skin had felt on mine.

I shivered and plunged myself back into conversing with my friends, blocking out any more thoughts concerning the moody ferret.

AN: 'Kay, so this chapter was supposed to be longer (hence the sucky ending) but I really wanted to get this chapter up somewhat quick, so I broke it off here until next time.

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