Author's Note: I'm so so sorry for the late updates! I literally have had no time for anything other than school and homework this past week so this story has gotten a little slow. It's the weekend though, so I'm working on getting a few more chapters out for you guys :) Thank you for all the reviews and alerts! They mean a lot to me.
This chapter is starting to develop another plot, which I just added, so I probably will change the summary for this story soon to fit it better. The big thing I was talking about earlier will happen soon... so keep reading! Enjoy :)
"Hermione, you've got to tell me who it is."
"I told you, Ginny, there isn't anyone!"
"I know there is! I can tell. Just tell me before I burst!"
"No."
"Yes." Ginny said firmly.
They were walking to lunch, and the fiery redhead who happened to be one of Hermione's best friends had been interrogating her for the better half of an hour. Curse free periods, Hermione thought bitterly.
"It's not Dean – it's not Ron, or Harry, obviously, there would be some problems if it was – I'm crossing Seamus and Neville off the list, Seamus cause he's with Hannah and Neville… well, he's just Neville," Ginny shrugged. "Can't really see him losing his pants, can you? So it must be someone from another House, then, or different year – blimey, Hermione, don't tell me you're going for a sixth year? Or fifth?"
"No!" Hermione yelled. "No, Ginny, it was not a sixth or fifth year, that's ridiculous-"
"So there is someone, then," Ginny noted mischievously. "I knew it, I knew there was-"
"Yes," Hermione hissed. "Yes, alright? Someone was with me, now please, keep your voice down-" she was cut off midsentence when she collided into someone, losing her balance and almost falling when she felt someone firmly grab her arm.
"Watch where you're going, Mudblood." Draco sneered, letting go of her abruptly as though he were burned.
"Fuck off, Malfoy." Ginny snapped, helping Hermione collect her books, which were scattered across the floor.
"Shut up, Weaslette. No one asked you."
"No one asked you to be such a loathsome prat."
"No one asked you to be born." He spat. "Stupid blood traitor," he muttered before turning on his heels and striding away from them, barely sparing Hermione a second glance.
"God, he's such a prick." Ginny said angrily. "I swear, why ninety percent of the Hogwarts female population wants to shag him I've yet to find out." She looked quickly over her shoulder. "Actually, he has got a nice arse… and face. And abs that looked like they were carved out of stone. Honestly," she said irritably, "why would someone waste such a beautiful body on him? It's a shame, don't you think?"
Hermione mumbled something unintelligible.
"Anyways," Ginny said, ignoring her. "I've whittled down my list of suspects to a short few. Michael Corner – he's quite good looking, and a prefect-" she was cut short when, again, Hermione was thrown to the ground as someone ran into her.
"Bloody hell," Hermione hissed, rubbing her head. She looked up, scowling.
"Don't look so happy to see me, Granger." Blaise greeted as he stretched out a hand to help pull her up. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Hermione muttered.
"Too bad," he nodded. "Well, I'm off to wash my hands of your filth," he added almost teasingly as he sidestepped her and walked down the corridor.
"That git." Hermione got up for the second time, brushing dirt off of her robes before glancing at Ginny, who was staring at her in horror.
"It's Blaise? Your secret boyfriend is Blaise Zabini?" Ginny almost shouted.
"What?" Hermione yelled in surprise. "No-"
"Hermione, don't you see? He's a Death Eater! If not now, he will be soon, his father was, and Merlin, what were you thinking?" Ginny shrieked. "If Harry and Ron find out – no, they cannot find out about this. Didn't you hear Harry? He thinks You-Know-Who is planning to recruit more Death Eaters during winter break. Blaise, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott – the whole lot of them! Kingsley heard it from Lupin, and told Harry-"
"Ginny, I-"
"And you're Muggleborn, this is so dangerous, what if You-Know-Who finds out? He'll kill you!" Ginny looked as though she were about to burst into tears.
"Stop," Hermione said firmly, not comprehending anything Ginny had just said. "Just stop. It's not Blaise! Relax."
Ginny's eyes were troubled. "You promise? Promise me it's not a Slytherin."
"I promise," Hermione said, shifting her hand so that her sleeve hid it from view. Guiltily, she crossed her pointer and middle finger.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Ginny looped her arm around Hermione's and they walked through the Great Hall. "Bloody hell, you gave me a right scare."
Hermione laughed nervously. "You didn't really think it'd be Blaise, did you?"
"Why else would he help you up?" Ginny shrugged. "That's still quite suspicious."
"I don't know, maybe because not every Slytherin is as big a prick as Malfoy?"
"Well, I did hear Malfoy has a pretty big-"
"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, turning bright red. Ginny giggled next to her as they sat down across from Harry and Ron, who were having a heated conversation in low voices.
"What's the matter?" Hermione frowned.
They stopped whispering, looking at each other before turning to Hermione and Ginny.
"Voldemort's been spotted," Harry said quietly.
Her steak and kidney pie seemed to have lodged in her throat. "What?" she spluttered. "But I thought you said he was in hiding – after what happened at the Ministry."
"It's Snape. He told Dumbledore that Voldemort summoned them – all the Death Eaters – he didn't say where, though. Conveniently left that part out," Ron added bitterly.
"But he wouldn't dare come to Hogwarts, it's impenetrable."
"Yeah. We reckon that's why he summoned them – to find some way into the school," Ron replied solemnly.
"To Harry," Ginny added, her brows pulled together.
There was a long pause as the four friends stared at each other.
"I have to go," Harry said seriously. "I have to go look for Horcruxes, it's the only way to stop him."
Hermione nodded. "When should we leave? Winter break is coming up-" she was stopped short as Harry and Ron exchanged a look.
"Hermione…" Harry began. "Ron and I decided that it's best if – if you don't come with us." He stared down at his napkin as he spoke.
Her mouth dropped open. "What? No, we decided last year! We agreed that we'd all go together-"
"It's too dangerous, 'Mione!" Ron interrupted. "We need to know that you'll be safe, and you're Muggleborn, you'll be on the top of their list."
"No, no. I'm going with you. Don't be ridiculous, you two, you can't just go without me!" she argued, angry tears making their way to her eyes.
"We've already worked it out with McGonagall," Harry said in a low voice. "Me and Ron, we're leaving a few days after winter break starts, so in about-"
"Five days," Hermione finished. "Winter break is in three days, and you're telling me this now? What if I refuse to stay?" she asked fiercely.
"You're not going." Ron said in an unusually firm voice. "We're making sure of that. The Order is making sure of that. We've already talked to McGonagall and Tonks is staying in Hogsmeade to make sure you don't do anything stupid. You're Head Girl. You need to stay. We'll owl you."
"You'll owl me," Hermione repeated. "You'll owl me? What am I, some unwanted distant relative?"
"No," Harry said quickly. "It's just not safe, if all three of us are missing Voldemort's bound to suspect something. We won't be gone long," he promised.
"We've had this conversation plenty of times before!" Hermione was almost shouting now, but she was too furious to care. "How many times have we discussed this? We're in this together, or is that only true within these castle walls? You need my help, and this is just a terrible idea. You can't do this by yourselves, it's too dangerous!" Before she knew it, she was out of her seat, running down the Great Hall, tears flowing down her face as she finally slammed her dormitory door shut.
They were leaving her. They were leaving her to go on possibly the most dangerous mission she'd ever encountered. Who knew when she would see them after they left? She thought that they had already reached a decision, that they were all going together. Apparently, they'd changed the plans without her knowledge.
A sob wrenched its way out of Hermione's throat as she cried, and she hurried to conceal her tears when she heard the portrait door open.
"Granger, what the hell are you doing?" Draco looked at her strangely as she sat in a heap on the floor.
And Draco. Hermione thought back to what Ginny said. You-Know-Who is planning to recruit more Death Eaters during winter break. Blaise, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott – the whole lot of them! This sent tears flooding her eyes again, spilling over her eyelashes. She hastily wiped them away with the sleeve of her robe, but it didn't do much to conceal her puffy, wet eyes.
"Are you crying?" Draco asked, completely flummoxed. Hermione's breath hitched in response as she suppressed another sob. "Bloody hell, you look terrible. What happened to you?"
"N-Nothing," Hermione replied, her voice trembling.
"Don't be daft, people don't just cry their heart out for no reason." Draco walked over to stand in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's up with you?"
"Just leave me alone," Hermione whispered, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Draco stared at her for a few more seconds. "Alright," he said slowly. "But only because I need to get to class. Don't think you're getting out of this one, Granger." He looked at her once more before heading into his room, returning a few seconds later with a couple textbooks. "Here," he threw a handkerchief at her. She could see the monogrammed DLM in the corner, in elegant script. She looked up to thank him, but he was already out the door.
"Excuse me?" Professor McGonagall's lips were so thinly pursed that they were practically invisible.
"The clothes that you found on the bleacher," Draco repeated, annoyed. "They're mine."
"Those clothes are yours, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall repeated skeptically. "All of them?"
"Yes," Draco replied uncomfortably.
One pencil thin eyebrow raised as suddenly the lost clothing zoomed to in front of the professor. Hermione's jeans hovered in front of Draco's face, and he could practically smell her on them.
"You mean to tell me that these," she indicated the pants with her wand, "and these," now at the shoes, almost half the size of his, "belong to you?"
"Yes. I mean, no." He fidgeted with his robes. "Why does it bloody matter whose clothes they really are? I'm taking them, aren't I?"
"Mr. Malfoy, I think we both know it is safe to presume that these articles of clothing most likely belong to a female. I have no problem believing that these pants belong to you. Especially," Her voice raised at this. "the fact that the initials DM are embroidered onto the hem of these trousers."
"Alright, fine! I was carrying my pants to the prefects bathroom to wash them because Granger threw up all over them-" That much was true. "-but on my way there, I see a light on the Quidditch pitch and go to see what was going on, I mean, I'm Head boy, aren't I? So I fly up there, and there's this Hufflepuff bunch about to shag right there-"
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall said sharply.
"-I go to tell them to bugger off and they run away, so fast the girl leaves her ruddy clothes. And in the hurry that I am to catch them, I leave my clothes with hers on the floor." Draco finished, satisfied with his story. McGonagall, however, was not.
"Since there is no evidence to state otherwise, I will not punish you. However, if such activity happens again – like you said, you are Head Boy – there will be consequences." The floating clothes dropped into Draco's arms, and with one last stern look she dismissed him from her classroom.
Relieved, Draco made his way back to his dormitory into the portrait door, not sure what to expect. It had been four hours since he had last seen Hermione crying on the floor – because of Potter or Weasley, Draco was willing to bet – and he hoped she had calmed down a bit. His eyes wandered to her curled up figure on the couch, her head lifting up when she heard him come in.
He threw her pants and shoes at her wordlessly, and they landed an inch away from the couch.
"Thanks," she murmured, her head returning to its previous position.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Would you quit moping around? You're making this whole room so bloody depressing." Draco glared at the back of her head as she hid her head in the crook of her arm.
"Are you going to become a Death Eater over winter break?"
The question was so sudden and unexpected that it caught Draco completely off-guard. His whole body froze, and when Hermione turned her head again it was to find him in a state of shock.
"What?" he asked, his mouth dry. "Who told you that?"
"Ginny told me Harry said-"
"Never mind," he interrupted. "I should've known Potter was behind this. Fuck, can't he keep his lightning head out of anything?"
"So it's true." Hermione's eyes bore into his as she studied him, her chocolate eyes hard.
"So what if it is?" Draco asked sharply. "It's none of your damn business." Honestly, he didn't know if it was true or not himself. His father had hinted at it – becoming a Death Eater was the one way for his family to finally redeem themselves in the eyes of Voldemort – but nothing more. He didn't doubt it was true, though, and hated that Potter knew before he did.
"How could you?" Hermione was sitting up straight now, facing him. "After all he's done. All the people he's killed. He's not your ally, Draco-"
"And who is?" Draco shot back. "Potter? Weasley? Dumbledore? Don't act like you know fucking more than I do, Granger. You have no idea what the fuck I'm going through."
"Right, because I'm completely safe. Voldemort doesn't care about my blood status at all, does he? That I'm Muggleborn? Oh yeah, not to mention the fact that I'm friends with Harry Potter, the Chosen One? The one he's been trying to kill for seventeen years?" Hermione had stood up, her eyes flaming.
"Yeah, and it's not fucking difficult for me at all!" Draco shouted, anger coursing through his veins. "My dad's in Azkaban, and he may bloody well die there. My mum's at our house, scared shitless because Voldemort's using the place as his fucking headquarters!"
"You could leave!" Hermione said loudly, taking a step towards him and then, thinking better of it, halting. "Go into hiding! The Order could protect you, you know, you can come over to Dumbledore's side – we can protect your family, too. Your mother, at least-"
"I don't want your fucking help, alright? You think your Order can stop hundreds of Death Eaters who want nothing more than me dead?" If he really was to become a Death Eater, there's no way he couldn't do it – his mother, his father, him – surely they'd all be killed. "You have Potter and Weasley to protect you, and I've got my parents to protect."
At this, Hermione looked away. "No, I don't," she said softly, feeling the tears come again.
"What are you talking about?" He was right, then – something had happened between the three of them. But she looked so upset that Draco found it hard to feel happy about this.
"I don't have Harry and Ron to protect me," Hermione repeated. "They're leaving after winter break. Without me," she added, her voice wavering.
"For what?" Draco asked, curiosity overcoming his anger.
"For-" Hermione caught herself at the last minute. If he did become a Death Eater, this information could turn deadly. "They're going somewhere. I don't know if I-"
"Can trust me?" Draco finished, staring at her watery eyes.
"Can tell you," Hermione corrected. "But then again, I don't know if I can trust you."
There was a pause, neither one speaking or looking away.
"Neither do I." The words were out before he could consider them, and he considered taking them back, fixing everything – but he couldn't. It was the truth.