Note to Readers: This chapter has been re-posted, for all of you who missed it the night I posted it * Also, there is an addition at the bottom!

I am really really really REALLY SORRY about the false update earlier! I hope you can all forgive me :/

Thank you soooo so much to the following people for reviewing! brenna963, smileylol, EsemmeTresemme, vivalajuicy94, DramioneLover123, LeahKeehl13, gemma smells like apple cake , Maisy Chaudhry, TrueKelpa, Vaneesa85, IvoryDarkWolf, jaspersluv1863, 8, LionLovesTheLamb13, Hannah M 96, Orange-Coyote, SweetTies, DandH, Alexa, StarKiss666, BamBooks15, ShadowDancer1629, sum, RedLil and Sydney - To Sydney (If you wanted plot spoilers, I need an account to inbox, sweetheart ;P message me and we will talk XD )

I always like to see that the same people come back with something new to say! I begin to recognize your username after one review, and I become more and more happy when you review again!

Thank you to DramioneLover123! For the great title for the previous Chapter! - 'Death Eaters UNMASKED!' It was so difficult to choose, they were all soo good!

And a Happy Belated Birthday to the one and only SweetTies! This chapter was my gift to her! Well...considering she is the one who editied it (Thank you hun!), it is more like her gift to me...but let's not try to sort out the particulars...ON WITH THE STORY!

"Bellatrix Lestrange..." Hermione stood, rooted to the spot, her wand shaking slightly as she pointed it at her opponent. How could she have spent several weeks of her year, multiple classes of this semester, sitting next to a Death Eater without even realizing it.

She wanted to hit herself. How could she be so careless. She had placed not only herself in danger, but Harry as well.

The impostor was good, she did admit. Her character had only begun to fray at the seams today. Sure, she had done some mildly peculiar things in the past - in their partnership in Auror/Law Enforcement, she had never practiced offensive spells, only defended the ones that Hermione shot at her. Yes, that in itself was strange that she was not willing to participate in the class, though not peculiar enough to become notably suspicious. In addition, her abrupt departure with no valid excuse was also strange.

Hermione clenched her teeth, and put on a facade of strength. Her 'friend' now understood her offensive, her strengths and her weaknesses. She would have to be creative if she tried anything. Regardless of the fact her opponent had not reached for her wand, Hermione kept hers trained on her target.

Her trust for the girl standing weakly before the sink seemed to drain the longer she stood and looked at her. She had been the closes thing to what she would call a close friend, a close girl friend. Yes, it was true that she had Harry and Ron, though Stephanie had provided her with the girl friend she always wanted. There was Ginny, but age difference and maturity still proved to be the barrier of resistance that prevented them from being the closest of friends.

"Hermione, really, it is not what it looks like-" sobbed the dark haired girl, covering her face once more with her hands. That was another thing altogether. Why would a Death Eater, cold in nature, be weeping so uncontrollably? Surely they would have acquired a greater deal of self-control after all of the atrocities that they would have been expected to commit.

Stephanie had done nothing but be a good friend to her. Gryffindors were often pegged with their forgiving nature; known for their ability to see the best in others. Not this time. She would not take the risk of making a mistake and allowing for an explanation that would unhinge this already overwhelming evidence.

"Oh really?" Hermione spat acidly. "I have just discovered that the girl whom I had grown very fond of was only an illusion; she was a mask for whatever you are plotting!" The Gryffindor, who was on the verge of tears added, "And I hope that whomever you have stolen that identity from is still living!"

The girl said nothing.

"Is she alive?" she asked, pained. Somehow, despite her surge of emotion, her voice remained steady. She knew that whoever was the real owner of the body was not the girl she had gotten to know, but the mystery girl deserved to be found. Hermione could only image what horrors the girl had to endure while Lestrange attacked her in order to acquire her DNA for the polyjuice potion!

"Hermione, the thing about that is-"

"Is she alive?"

The dark haired girl hung her head in response, more tears accumulating in her eyes. Her reaction said more than words ever could in confirming her verdict. Hermione's stomach dropped. The poor girl.

"Let me explain..."

"I think that you have explained enough Lestrange!" Bellatrix flinched at Hermione's hard tone.

"I did not kill her. Bellatrix Lestrange did," she mumbled. Though she was across the room from her, the zone between them did little to buffer the sound.

"Well then. When you are placed before the jurors at the Ministry, you tell them that. It will only confirm the numerous claims that you have indeed lost your mind," Hermione replied with gritted teeth.

The girl looked up at her, an expression of pain softened some of the sharp angles of her face. Her eyes retained their characteristic frigid nature, however they seemed to thaw before Hermione's gaze.

"I am indeed a Lestrange, but I am not Bellatrix. My name is Stephanie Lestrange." She paused for a moment before continuing, turning her body so that it faced Hermione squarely. Hermione's already tight grip on her wand could become no tighter. In fact, her fingers had already become numb.

"...But that name has been left behind. I am Stephanie Carter." Hermione studied the witch's features again. Unmistakably, she could see a definite relation. Bellatrix and this girl could be twins.

Now that Hermione looked closer, she became aware of the soft curve of her chin, contrasting Bellatix's pointy one. Her lips appeared much fuller, rather than Bellatrix's thin deflated ones. These were the only distinctions that could be made.

Hermione considered the girl's tale. Could it be true? She had her doubts, but supposed that it would not do any harm to hear her story.

"Then why do you look-"

"Exactly like her?" Stephanie supplied, a bitter edge to her voice. "Bellatrix is my mother." Hermione could not suppress the look of shock that sprang to her features. Bellatrix had a daughter?

"And what of the other girl? The girl who's image you stole." Stephanie knew right away that Hermione was referring to the polyjuice potion identity.

"My sister Kendra Carter. She was killed minutes after my father." Stephanie allowed her tears to flow freely, now, not bothering to shield her face.

"Bellatrix, your mother, killed both your father and your sister?" The shock that Stephanie was the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange still had not worn off. This new information was just as surprising. Stephanie nodded.

"So you made it all up," Hermione laughed sourly. "Everything. Everything that you told me was a lie!" she hid the tremor in her voice as it rose in volume. It hurt to find out that everything that you thought someone was, was a complete lie. A story specifically designed to fool the listener.

"I have not told you the whole truth. But I suppose that it is now time that I can trust you and your ability to keep this a secret." Hermione snorted skeptically.

"How am I to verify that you are not feeding me yet another lie, oh great Alêtheia, God of truth?" she challenged sarcastically.

From her bag, Stephanie withdrew a vial of clear liquid, supposedly veritaserum. Sensing Hermione's suspicion that it was a false potion, she tossed it to her.

"Check it by all means." Following Hermione's examination of the potion, she concluded that it was indeed veritaserum and tossed it back to her.

After swallowing the entire content of the vial, Stephanie looked up to face Hermione, her face mirroring the fact that she was searching for a moment in time from which to begin.

"You literally have thirty seconds to commence before I hex the living daylights out of you, Stephanie," she said impatiently.

She nodded. "I don't really know how to begin," she said honestly. "I guess I will start from my first violation of truth. I told you that my father had divorced when I was eleven. Well that wasn't the entire truth. It is true that the last time that I saw him was when I was of that age, but it was not because of a divorce. The last time I saw him was not because of a business trip. It was because she...she k-killed him."

Stephanie bowed her head. "She wasn't always like that; a diabolical, malignant reprobate. When I was young, Bellatrix became...more involved with the Dark Arts. Infatuated with it actually. My father did not possess the same feelings that she had toward the Arts and was determined to keep her from pledging herself as a follower of Voldemort's. A brilliant man he was.

When my sister Kendra turned eighteen, she was legally eligible to become one of Voldemort's followers, and of course, Bellatrix supported the idea fully. I was protected for the time being, as I was only eleven. Father on the other hand, refused to allow his first daughter to take the mark as his wife had had. We went into hiding that summer." Stephanie paused, her eyes distant, possibly recalling their last moments together.

"They came for us; for Kendra. Despite my father's ingenuous ploys to get them off our tail, they found us after a month and a half. When told to pledge her allegiance, father stepped in to defend her, and was hit with the killing curse sent by her hand in the process."

Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth. Her anger had dissolved quickly into pity as her friend struggled to continue with her tale.

"Kendra, looked very much like dad. Every time I look in the mirror as Stephanie Carter, I am able to see both of them." She smiled a watery smile. "That was why it was her you know. That was why I choose to become her."

Hermione stood starring at Stephanie in shock. The information that she had just shared was difficult to digest.

"How is it that you are able to change into her every day? I mean...If...she...well if she..." Hermione instantly regretted asking the question. She wished to know how, if her sister was dead, she could continue to transform into her. She needed something of her sister.

Stephanie seemed to understand her question and replied right away. "Her hair. Before she died, I cut a lock of hair with the intention of keeping it as a piece of her. I had no intention of using it like this." She motioned to the discarded flask bellow the sink

Hermione nodded, understandingly. Her mother had a locket that contained small braid of her Grandmother's hair. She waited patiently until Stephanie resumed her story.

"She also had his ideologies firmly instilled into her - she would rather die than take the mark; a request that the Death Eaters decided to grant. A request that Bellatrix herself opted to perform."

"Your own mother?" Hermione asked. Her heart was torn by her friends past, a past she could only imagine.

"I do not call her mother. She never was one. Never ... As I was not yet of age, Bellatrix took me home, where she had already moved in with another Death Eater who shared her admiration for the Dark Arts, and of Voldemort. It was then that Bellatrix decided to teach me the ways of magic, rather than sending me off to a school that she deemed unfit for an aspiring Death Eater. It is because of her that I cannot practice offensive spells. I am terrified. Terrified at what they do, because I have seen what havoc even the simplest, seemingly harmless incantation can bring."

All the while, Hermione nodded, listening intently to Stephanie rhyme off her life story. Without the veritaserum, she figured that it would have taken her a great deal longer to speak about what had obviously been haunting her for years. The potion seemed to be able to drag from her, the most important facts, even through the tears that streamed down her face.

"The Death Eater that she brought home - I must admit, he seemed generally kind at the time, and at first pleasantly attractive." Stephanie did not smile.

"I soon learned also that this man also had sick desires that surpassed the... satisfactions...my 'mother' attempted to give him." Her tone was clipped. Hermione's eyes widened in response.

"He didn't-"

"He did. Half a week after I moved in, I learned of his sick impulses. Experienced them. For five years, I lived them."

Hermione all but understood, probably better than anyone else.

"You were eleven!" she all but cried. Tears were beginning to burn behind her eyes. She blinked to hold them back and kept her eyes trained on the girl who stood calmly by the sink.

"I ran away at the beginning of last summer to enroll in Beaubatons, assuming that she would not think to look for me at a school. I never had attended. Nor had my sister. Bellatrix did not see the value in a ministry approved education, so she taught us herself. I knew also that this year the upper years were permitted to travel to Britain for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"But why now?" Hermione asked.

Stephanie took a shaky breath, "I am turning eighteen tomorrow."

Hermione understood the consequences of what her friend was getting at. She was obviously frightened to death that Bellatrix would come after her now that she was of age to take the mark.

"Will she not recognize you if she is that set on finding you? And what of your name? Surely your name could be traced through enrollment!" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"No I am not too worried about that," Stephanie shrugged. Yes, my first name is Stephanie, but Carter has no significance. It is my pen name."

Something inside of Hermione clicked. The Nobody. She was referring to the poetry she had authored! S. Carter. How could she have been so terribly thick! Her change in attitude when she had seen the book she wrote should have been enough to inform her. Hermione shook her head. She felt as though she was losing her touch.

Hermione remained quiet, not quite certain the way in which to continue.

"I'm sorry." That was all she could think of saying. What else was there to say? What could be said? Nothing. She was in a similar position - anyone who had not gone through a similar experience trying to relate to her was a laugh.

The two remained in silence for several minutes, neither knowing what to say. That was until the sound of Stephanie's footsteps on the hard floor brought Hermione back to her senses.

The girl walked to the wall and slid down it, now sitting on the floor with her knees brought up in front of her.

"You know something Hermione?" Stephanie asked quietly. Hermione approached and took a seat beside her.

"The emotional scars hurt so much more than the physical ones." The Gryffindor looked sadly at her friend. Yes, her friend. The pain that she saw in her eyes could not be faked, as her appearance was. It was then that Hermione made her decision.

Finger's trembling, she slowly rolled back the sleeve on her left arm. The pink initials had begun to scar, giving the skin a glistening look. It was the one scar on her body that did not repeatedly split open, as the blade he Derrick used to carve his initials onto her wrist.

She did not know what to expect from Stephanie, but she did not expect her to lift her own sleeve to reveal an identical piece of body art, if you could even be so callous to call it that, etched into her flesh with a blade held by the same man.

At this, Stephanie cracked, falling into Hermione's arms. Hermione did much the same. The two girls continued to sob in the arms of the other until the trip to Hogsmead drew to a close.

"The memory is still with you, the scars from the depths of your soul, will never disappear. They will always remind you of the things you would rather forget."

...

The tuesday following the long Hogsmead weekend left Hermione drained. She and Stephanie had spent every other moment together, supporting one another. Their common link in a chain of sorrow proved to be the bond that clasped them the closest together.

It was an unspoken rule that they never talked of the events that happened between themselves and their aggressor. It was a territory that neither of them dared to overstep.

Hermione did however take this new opportunity to question Stephanie. If she had experienced a similar trauma and had or was still combatting the very cuts and blood-loss problems that she was experiencing. Fortunately, the girl had not a cut, disregarding the scar carved into her wrist, on her body. The majority of her scares lay beneath the skin. Unfortunately, this left Hermione alone once more with her situation.

Why Derrick had begun using a charmed blade with Hermione was unclear, though they both came to the assumption that simply raping a woman had lost his interest - the Dark Arts further corrupted his mind and he resorted to both rape and torture it seemed.

Stephanie had offered to assist Hermione with her research, and though Hermione was certain that with the searching she had done through the library, that she had all but combed the shelves and there was no other valuable information to be found. That of course disregarded the restricted section, which she did not have a chance to completely go through, complements of Malfoy. Hermione vowed to return and search through every book in that section.

...

Stephanie lay, sprawled out on the couch opposite Hermione, watching disinterestedly as Harry and Ron battled out their game of wizarding chess. Hermione also, sat watching, though periodically looking up at the clock hanging between the two winding staircases that lead to their dorms.

In twenty minutes time, she would be expected to meet Randy and commence her prefect duties for the evening. Following their meeting, Hermione would have to, somehow, sneak away. For how long? Well that was up to Derrick.

Hermione rose from her armchair. "I better get going - I have prefect duties to attend to. Don't wait up for me." Harry and Ron both had taken habit to waiting until she returned from her rounds to go to bed. Why they did remained a mystery to her. Harry had always been watchful of her, as had Ron. They were the best brothers that a girl could ask for. Unfortunately, the gazes that she had been receiving from Ron this year did not support the brother-sister relationship she wanted to stay.

There seemed to be something else in his eyes as he stared at her. Hermione always dropped her gaze, pretending not to notice, so she never did figure out what it was. Finding out such information could prove to open the door to more that she had no interest in unleashing.

"You sure Mione? We don't mind you know. Actually we feel better knowing that you made it back," Harry said, moving his pawn one square, only to have Ron smash it to pieces by his knight.

"Bugger!"

"Yes, don't worry about me, Randy will be with me the whole time," Hermione lied.

Harry looked for a moment like he was about to oppose, but surprised her when he agreed. Hermione nodded at her friends and stepped out of the portrait.

It was seven O'clock and she would be expected to patrol until 11:30 that evening. Would Derrick decide to push their meeting time past 11:30? What excuse could she possibly come up with if she was out past her patrol time? Prefects were indeed allowed permission to walk the corridors at night without curfew, however it was looked down upon if they came across a teacher in the corridor, and they were out for no given reason. She could not use the Library as an excuse, as it closed earlier on week-days.

Hermione continued to ponder this as she walked through the corridors, where the torches that lined the walls began to self-ignite as she passed.

She was to meet Randy in the foyer. Patrols with Randy were always pleasant. The Ravenclaw had a great mind, often encouraging her explanations of books and telling her of ones he had read. It was a decent way to pass the time - prefect duties were not a walk in the park. Hermione often returned to her dorm and began to massage her feet right away before falling asleep.

Hermione descended the broad staircase leading down to the foyer, thinking of possible excuses to ditch her fellow prefect. It would be difficult as the two had agreed that the conversations they shared kept them from dying from boredom. Or at least the death of their brains from lack of stimulation.

Her Mary Janes clicked lightly on the floor as she walked, breaking the silence that she had grown all too accustomed to in her late night patrols. It was less frightening now that she knew that the odds of her running into Derrick were much slimmer, however knowing that it would be her feet that lead her to his office struck a fearful pain in her chest.

She slowed as she stepped into the foyer. Randy was not in sight. Normally Randy was always here beforeshe was. She could not be that early could she? She looked down at her watch. 6:55. Yes, she was five minutes early, however this was the exact time that she always made her appearance. Hermione scanned the room for a second time, still not spotting Randy's tall frame.

Perhaps he lost track of time, Hermione concluded. She herself had become so engrossed in a Potions essay that she had arrived eight minutes later. She resided that she would wait the remaining five minutes to be certain that her partner did not appear, and then make her way down to Derrick's office. She would no longer be responsible for coming up with an excuse, she thought dully.

Hermione walked to the corner of the foyer and leaned up against the wall, facing the hall through which she knew Randy would have to emerge if walking from the Ravenclaw common room.

"Pleasant evening isn't it?" Hermione looked up in shock to see a blonde Slytherin standing to her left. He was not looking at her, choosing rather to adjust his green and silver stripped tie.

"Shove off Malfoy, I have work to do." Hermione pushed herself from the wall and began to walk down a random corridor. In truth, she was still peeved at him for the remark he had carelessly thrown out there in regards to her relationship with Derrick. It really did hurt. He couldn't have known anything about the fact that they really did have history, but the cut hurt all the same.

Hermione would not have gone so far as to say that Malfoy had become nicer however his recent actions did express an improvement. It was a disappointment to note that it was just a phase; a temporary moment of insanity.

"As do I Granger," Malfoy smirked lightly, catching up to her easily with a lengthened stride.

"Well, do your work elsewhere. I have prefect duties and I don't need you causing me any trouble with your existence," she replied coldly. She continued to walk, Malfoy easily keeping her brusque pace.

"As I too have prefect duties, it appears that my duty does involve causing you trouble." He lifted his chin in a dignified manner, smirking lightly.

Hermione stopped abruptly, turning to face him. "I don't know what you're on about Malfoy, but frankly I am too tired to care! Get lost! Randy is just running a little late."

"Right," Draco drawled, pretending to come to a stage of understanding. "You have yet to receive the new schedule, the heads sent out." He raised his eyebrows aristocratically. "Seeing as you skipped breakfast this morning, you missed the morning post." He pulled a letter from inside his robes and handed it to her.

Hermione stared at the letter in his outstretched hand skeptically. Malfoy raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

After taking it, she tore open the seal and pulled from it, two sheets of parchment. She began to read the first sheet, but not before shooting another accusatory glare toward the Slytherin standing patiently before her.

Miss H. Granger,

As discussed in our last meeting, the schedule that was provided to you is not concrete, and was subject to change. As it stands, there have been numerous conflicts noted because of the various clubs and teams that Hogwarts offers. For this reason, a new patrol schedule (which is attached) has been created so that the commitments of each member of the prefect team is considered.

Please note that a majority of your patrol evenings have changed to weekday evenings, rather than the morning patrols that you were to perform in the previous schedule. In addition, you will no longer be responsible for weekend patrols because of this new schedule.

I am indeed sorry for the short notice of my owl, but please remember that you have patrols this evening.

Thank you,

Jeremy

Hermione eagerly removed the top page to reveal a second sheet, on which, the new time table was printed neatly. As Jeremy had stated, many of her patrol dates had been switched. In fact, the majority of them had been moved, but for her patrol on Tuesday evening.

Hermione quickly scanned Tuesday's patrol list. It had to be Randy. It was supposed to be Randy. It couldn't be Malfoy! Sure enough, scrolled elegantly beneath the name Hermione Granger, was Draco Malfoy.

"Well isn't this just peachy," Hermione growled under her breath, stuffing the letter into her own robes.

Malfoy obviously heard her, and replied. "But isn't it just." Hermione looked up at him angrily, hearing an edge of sarcasm and laughter in his voice. She held her tongue however. She would most-likely be forced to make up the time that she was late for her "remedial classes", so the time that she wasted here arguing with Malfoy would not help her in the least.

Hermione took a steadying breath before speaking, both because of the effort it took to calm her voice, and also because of the prospect of waking to her impending doom.

"Okay well, I guess I will start with the seventh floor and make my way down to the fourth, and you make your way up from the ground floor so we meet in the middle." Hermione stated in a business-like tone. "That way we have all of the floors covered and we won't have to spend any more time together than required. Alright?"

.D/H.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Now that he knew her objective, it should be easy enough to prevent her from escaping to see Derrick. He had been apprehensive of Hermione's agreement to go after he had heard her talk with their professor, but after his appearance at the Death Eater meeting, he was hard set to even let her set foot on the sixth floor. It was obvious that she sought to shake him off and head to the sixth floor for patrols. Not this time Hermione.

Hermione made to walk up the flight of stairs before her, but was surprised to find that Malfoy followed. She frowned.

"What part of, 'you start on the bottom floor and I will start on the top floor' did you not understand?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't think it was a matter of me misunderstanding. Just a matter of me choosing not to follow orders given to me by a know-it-all Gryffindor," Draco returned smugly.

"Be careful Malfoy, or I might assume that you have a crush on me," Hermione smirked back, not decreasing her speed. Hermione knew that Malfoy would not take well to such a statement, and she was banking that his pride would cause him to rage and leave her to her business. She was surprised with his reply.

"Nahh. I don't fancy patrolling alone for four bloody hours." Draco shrugged. Hermione was surprised at his statement. Would he rather take her company? He had told her numerous times in the past that he did not want her in his presence.

"I would much prefer to have a Gryffindor talk my ear off. It would make the time tick by a great deal quicker, wouldn't you agree?"

He looked down at Hermione out of the corner of his eye to see her eyes narrow. Even if he could annoy her for the next four hours, or keep her preoccupied, it would serve her better than allowing her to search for their professor.

This agreement they had bothered him. He wished that he could simply ask her about it, but he knew that if he did that, she would know that he had been eavesdropping.

"And I would much prefer if you would leave me alone to do my job Malfoy." Hermione replied simply.

"Considering it is also my job, I assume that I have as much right to go wherever I want." She felt him slow to follow closely in her wake. "If I happen to want to follow you around the castle, I very well will. I always get what I want."

Though she was not facing him, she could hear the smirk in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

Draco thought a moment before trying another approach.

"I am getting a bit suspicious Granger, I am not going to lie. You seem to be quite keen on outing me, to the point where I might begin to assume that you have ulterior motives."

Normally Hermione would have ignored his irk, however this was one too many that pointed in the direction that he knew something more than he was letting on. She would have bet everything that he knew nothing of her situation, but several of his comments and observations seemed to point in the opposite direction.

She turned to face him, mid step. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Of course. Hermione relaxed, understanding now that he was not referring to anything in relation to Derrick.

"What exactly do you think I would be doing Malfoy? I am not the one who is so often referred to as the Sex God of my house now am I?" Hermione replied smugly. Draco shrugged.

"Perhaps not. But as I hear it, the weasel has been doing more burrowing into holes than I would have naturally assumed..." Of course, he had heard no such thing, but Hermione didn't need to know that.

He waited patiently as the ignorant Hermione tried to work out the notion of his sentence. Her mind was obviously attempting to look at his statement from all angles. When she found the one that Draco had been implying, Her eyes went wide.

"You aren't implying that I-I..." Hermione trailed off, her cheeks burning red with both anger and embarrassment at the change in topic.

"Am I wrong to assume so?" Draco questioned "If you ask me - "

"Nothing is going on you berk!" she replied hotly. Of course he knew that, but her saying it, for some strange reason, made him feel a great deal better. The thought of the Weasel touching Hermione made his skin crawl.

"Ahh, Granger. Ever the celibate," he chuckled at her rouging cheeks, causing her to become more agitated. The more agitated she became, the more she would talk, and the more time she would not be with Derrick. Draco applauded himself.

"I am not celibate you prude! Just because I don't go around screwing everything that walks does not make me some...some chaste church girl," Hermione returned, spite lacing her words.

"Oh, so you're not a virgin then, are you Granger?" He asked abruptly, half questioning, half stating. He was playing on her last statement, in which she claimed that she was not a chaste girl. He already assumed that she was, and a chaste virgin was an oxymoron that did not seem to fit her character. Her reputation was just too perfect to smudge.

Whatever a church was, he bloody well did not know, and he frankly did not care at the moment. There really was no point in asking the question. He was just attempting to distract her further.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but ended up chewing on her bottom lip instead. He guessed that this was a touchy subject for her. Was she ashamed that she was still a virgin? He noticed her face turn a deeper shade of red so that it resembled a beat, and looked down at her shoes.

"Oh good God Granger, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I was only asking," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

When she didn't reply, he looked over and saw a pain in her eyes that was immeasurable. A pain in his chest caused him to regret asking. His heart dropped. Did she possibly regret a choice she made? What if she wasn't a virgin? She had to be. She was Hermione Granger. Or it could be as simple as someone making her feel insecure about her virginity' people like him making her feel insecure about her virginity.

Draco shook his head quickly. "Don't answer that. I should not have asked, it really is not any of my business."

Hermione's gaze, which had been fixated over his shoulder, shifted to meet his own. He noticed the dark cloud beginning to condense, to cover almost completely the pain he had previously seen in their brown depths. He prepared himself for her to tell him to "bugger off" or to "get a life", or one of the other various charming dismissals he had become accustomed to hearing and ignoring her say. He was not prepared for what she said next.

"No." Hermione replied lifting her chin. A bitter tone he had never heard her use clung to her voice. "No. I am not a virgin." Hermione turned on her heel and continued to walk.

...

"Well, you might want to check again, because Malfoy is your partner for every single one of your evening patrols..."

"WHAT!" she shrieked, slamming down her fork.

...

Again, Chapter titles are welcome - Maybe someone can come up with something more creative than simply 'Confessions'? If not that's cool :)