Chapter 25

...in which truths are discovered and lies are told.

The sound of a scratching quill was all that could be heard in the Gryffindor common room early the next morning. That and the occasional sniffle, as Hermione attempted to stop her crying. She hadn't been able to sleep much the previous night, and all she could think of was how things had changed and how she couldn't keep up.

So she had given up on sleep an hour ago, and had decided what she really needed was to spill all her emotions onto paper, and send them away in a letter to her mother. Perhaps she could provide some comfort. Hermione doubted it though; what could she, or anyone, say?

It was easy to say the usual generic stuff. 'Everything will be ok." "It'll all turn out fine." But how could people so confidently say that in a time of crisis? Was it alright to give someone false hope if it meant that they stopped worrying for a short time? She didn't want that. She wanted to hear the reality of the situation. Like the fact that she wouldn't get her memory back. That was reality. And no amount of empty words of motivation would change it.

She signed the letter with her name and a small 'x', and folded it into a white envelope, before scribbling her home address on the front. It wouldn't be sent til today, so she knew it would be a while before she received a reply. However, she was feeling restless, and knew that sleep was done for her, so a walk to the owlery was looking like a good idea.

She had so much on her mind that she needed to forget. Neville was different; and she wasn't sure how she felt about it before, but right now she hated it. She hated that he seemed to have become this person over night, despite the fact that she knew that wasn't true.

Then there was Ginny. The girl was really starting to bug Hermione. Who did she think she was to come in and butt her nose in where it didn't belong? Especially to go so far as to try and influence Hermione's life. She wasn't sure how close they had been, but she was certain she wouldn't have liked the girl much.

However, her biggest worry of all revolved around a certain Silver Marauder. Blaise Zabini had given her knowledge that they were 'in love'. Ugh. She grimaced whenever she thought about it. Was it possible that she had changed that much over the months? It scared her to think that she may have become someone similar to Lavender or Parvarti; someone who chased boys with desperation.

No. Hermione knew she would never be like that. It would have been different. She would have found something to like about him. He was smart, and quiet, perhaps funny. All of those things could have played a part. However, the only problem she couldn't explain was that he was, and currently still was, friends with Draco Malfoy. And she couldn't explain how that was; because she was sure he would never have spoken to Blaise again if he'd dated a 'mudblood'.

She ran her hands through her hair and groaned aloud when her finger caught in a curl. It was so frustrating. To be told she'd done all these things, and not remember why. It was one of the reasons she couldn't sleep. She was too worked up about having to speak to Blaise and get him to explain the (possibly awkward) situation that led to their so-called 'love'.

She sighed. Couldn't someone just give her some memories in a pensieve? Wouldn't that be easier? However, she knew there would be parts missing; things only she, and possibly Zabini knew, but it would save her from having to think on it so much. She just wanted to catch up on her school work and be done with the past.

She stood, gripping the envelope in her hand. Outside, the sun was up, but she knew it would be another hour at least before people headed to breakfast. She was happy for that. The peace and quiet would be just what she needed.

The walk to the owlery was rather refreshing to Hermione. Despite the time of year, it was cool this time of morning, and she found herself wrapping her cloak around her tighter as she headed up to the West tower.

By the time she reached the owlery, she was breathing raggedly, and she had a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"I am so unfit," she muttered to herself, as she headed toward a small owl perched beside her. She heard a muffled snort from behind her, and spun around to come face to face with two of her most hated enemies.

Half of the Silver Marauders; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were standing on the other side of the owlery, looking just as shocked. How long had they been skulking about?

In her surprise, she slipped on a particularly fresh owl dropping and found her legs slide from underneath her. She let out a loud 'Oomph!" as her behind met the cold, dropping-covered floor.

She grimaced as she glanced up at the two boys waiting for the inevitable guffaws; however, other than a small chuckle from Potter, which was immediately silenced by Draco's elbow to his rib, they merely stood there staring at her as though she had two heads.

It was then that she noticed both boys were dressed head to toe in Slytherin Quidditch gear, Potter was holding an envelope in his hand. They must have been having an early morning practise, and stopped here first. She'd heard about Weasley's suspension; no doubt that letter was for him.

As the boys stared at her, she began to wonder what the cause of their caution was. It was almost amusing to see such an expression on their normally cocky faces, especially when it was usually her who had to be cautious around them. It was almost like they were waiting for her to say something.

She cleared her throat calmly, and attempted to stand, hoping that she didn't slip over again. She found her footing just fine, and immediately turned to tie the envelope to the impatiently waiting owl's leg. After a moment of hurried fumbling, she succeeded.

"Bloody hell, Granger," She recognised Potter's disgusted cry, "You've got bird shit all over your ass!"

She froze, carefully trying to hide her horror, and swallowed thickly before turning and looking at the two boys. Potter was eyeing the place her butt had previously been with a disgusted expression, while Draco was scowling at the side of the bespectacled boys head.

Hermione was quite shocked by such a forward sentiment from Potter. He would never be so...ridiculous. He was always so cocky. Never would he let out such an outburst in public.

But...perhaps they hadn't hated each other so badly during her time with Zabini? Perhaps he didn't torment her any longer? She wasn't sure if she could say the same about Draco, however.

"I know," she muttered feeling rather humiliated, "excuse me."

She headed toward the door, treading carefully so she didn't trip over again. It was then that she heard Draco hiss from behind her.

"What are you doing? Put that away!"

She swallowed thickly. Was Potter going to hex her? She walked as quickly as she could, while bracing herself for the impact of something nasty. However, she almost fell over when she heard him chant, "Scourgify!"

She paused in her steps, before slowly turning around. Draco was staring at his feet, while Potter had a sheepish expression.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, looking serious, "but I was starting to dry heave at the sight."

Hermione merely stared for a moment, unsure what parallel universe she had entered.

"Oh," She said after a moment. Potter merely nodded, looking uncomfortable. Draco was still staring at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets.

She stood there for another second, before realising how ridiculous she looked and began heading back down the steps. All the while her head was buzzing at what had just occurred.

Blaise rolled over in his bed, and let out a large yawn. He felt completely refreshed. More refreshed than usual. He rolled over again, wondering how that was, but soon found the answer. The clock on the wall indicated that he'd slept in and was now late for breakfast. He stared at it dazedly for a moment longer, before abruptly sitting up. Shit! He was late!

He raced around the room silently cursing his friends for not waking him up. It was then that he remembered they were at Quidditch practice and had most likely showered in the change rooms and gone straight to breakfast. He began cursing himself, instead, as he slipped on his pants and shirt, before fumbling with the buttons and tie.

Ten minutes later, he was racing up the dungeon corridor toward the Great hall. He was pleased to see there were a few people still standing in the entrance hall chatting. So he wasn't that late, after all. He supposed his hurried attempt at dressing himself helped in that.

He looked around the entrance hall, hoping to spot Draco or Potter. They were nowhere in sight and he assumed they were already eating. He began heading toward the Great hall, before his ears pricked up at the sound of a name; one that he internally seethed at whenever it was spoken.

"...that Loony Lovegood, you should've seen her this morning," a Ravenclaw boy chuckled to his friends, "we got a few of the girls to fill all her shoes with Bubotuber pus. I have to give her credit, she doesn't ever cry, but one of the girls said she ran off when they started laughing. I guess she finally snapped."

He and his friends began guffawing, and Blaise could feel the anger run through him red-hot. He turned on the spot and made his way over to the small group.

One of the boys, noticing his arrival and fierce expression, abruptly stopped laughing, and elbowed his neighbour in the ribs so he did the same. By the time Blaise stopped in front of them, he had three nervous Ravenclaw boys eyeing him hesitantly.

"You think it's funny to make someone feel like shit?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

None of the boys answered, but merely stared at him.

"See, the thing is, I don't think it's funny." He continued. "In fact, I care about Luna, as you all know, so it's very fucking stupid of you to do this stuff to her, and to let me hear about it afterward."

"It's just a joke-," one of the boys began, nervously.

"Oh, fuck up, you idiot," Blaise interrupted hotly, not wanting to hear their excuses. "If you want to see a joke, I'll show you a joke."

He grabbed the collars of two of the boys, who were luckily quite a bit shorter than him before pulling them along toward the dungeons. The last boy hesitated, causing Blaise to stop in his tracks.

"If you don't follow now, I'll come back and get you myself," he threatened darkly. The boy swallowed, before his feet moved shakily after them.

Blaise dragged the two boys through the maze of dungeon corridors, with the last boy following behind for fear of the consequences of doing otherwise. He eyed the corridors carefully, until he passed a familiar portrait of a serpent, which led onto a small, incredibly dark corridor.

At the end of the corridor was a small storeroom, which would normally be of no importance to anyone. However, it was a well known fact to most of the elder Slytherins that this particular cupboard was home to an emotionally unstable Boggart, who had been there for quite some time.

It was a rite of passage, for elder Slytherins to take the First years to the cupboard and force them into it alone with merely a candle, to face their fears. If they came out with the candle still lit and in one piece, they earned the respect of the elder Slytherins and would be left alone. If they didn't, they would be the target of future torment.

Blaise had remembered his experience. He had only survived the incident because his Boggart never appeared. He had realised later, that in all actuality, his greatest fear was the fear of being abandoned and alone. He supposed the Boggart had fucked up on that one.

He paused in front of the old wooden door, and held out his hand. "Give me your wands."

The boys hesitated. He chuckled wryly. "Sorry, didn't finish that sentence properly. Give me your wands and I won't transfigure your dicks into cobra's."

He had three wands thrown at him immediately.

He eyed one of the boys; the one who had called Luna that horrible nickname. "You," he ordered. "Get in there."

The boy swallowed thickly, before walking on shaky legs toward the storage cupboard. He had no time to prepare himself, before Blaise had pushed him inside and slammed the door closed. The boy banged on it for a moment, crying out, before he went eerily silent.

"There's...there's something in here..." he said, his voice shaking. The next thing the three outside heard were the horrific and terrified screams of the boy inside the cupboard.

"LET ME OUT!" he cried, his voice cracking with fear as he screeched at the top of his lungs. "GET IT AWAY FROM ME!"

The two other boys outside backed away slowly, staring wide eyed at the door which was banging wildly on its hinges, as the boy inside screeched nonsensically. After ten more seconds, Blaise pulled open the door and dragged the teen out.

He was physically shaking, his complexion had gone deathly pale, and he stared wide-eyed, with a few wet patches on his cheeks.

"It...it..." he began, too shocked and disturbed to form a proper sentence.

"Don't try to talk," Blaise told him sternly, "just go back upstairs, eat your breakfast, and don't ever speak to, think of speaking to, touch or think of touching Luna Lovegood or anything that belongs to her again. Otherwise, this will be a daily reality for you." He motioned toward the closed storeroom door.

The boy shook his head abruptly. "I won't," he promised, half begging as he backed away, "Just don't, please don't put me back in there."

Blaise nodded, and the teen began racing away down the corridor as quickly as his shaking legs would take him. The other two boys looked shocked by the submission of their friend, and worried at the prospect of going through a similar torture.

"You don't have to do that to us," one of the boys said, looking nervous. "Whatever's in there- we promise not to go near Loony- Luna- near Luna again." He grimaced at his slip of the tongue, knowing it would cost him.

Blaise seethed, before grabbing him roughly by the collar, and shoving him into the storeroom. He shut the door immediately.

It took five seconds before the desperate screams and cries were heard again. Blaise counted to ten silently in his head before opening the door and swiftly pulling the dishevelled teen out. He collapsed to the floor in a whimpering mess, as Blaise spoke.

"Her name is Luna, contrary to what you think. Perhaps you'll remember it now. In fact," he mused stroking his chin, "whenever you see her, I want you to say 'Hello, Luna.' Ok? I don't care if your friends laugh at you, you fucking say it. Alright?"

The boy nodded desperately. And Blaise sighed. "Get out of here."

The teen half-crawled, half-ran down the corridor in his desperation to escape whatever of his fears he'd seen behind the door. The last boy standing looked ready to faint.

"I've never said anything to her, I promise." The boy begged, "I just go along with it. Laugh at the right times, but I'd never do anything myself."

"That's just as bad," Blaise snapped, before freezing.

That was exactly what he was like before. He had just gone along with Draco the numerous amounts of times he'd decided to torture Hermione, or others. He swallowed. What made him any different to this boy?

He had changed, that's what. He stood there for a moment, silently battling with two parts of himself.

"Go," he ordered the teen in front of him, "but if you go near her, or let anyone near her, I'll find out."

The boy nodded quickly, before racing off, eager to get away from whatever lay behind the door of the store room waiting for him. Blaise stood silently for a moment, before running his hands through his hair.

He hated doing this stuff. He hadn't really done it before, except when situations were desperate. Those situations always seemed to involve Luna. Everything was fine as long as she was happy. Right now there was a chance she wasn't.

He began walking quickly down the corridor, determined to find Luna and make sure she was ok.

He found her, unsurprisingly, in the kitchens eating breakfast as she sat chatting to a house elf, who looked extremely happy at having prepared her meal.

"How did I know I'd find you here?" he said, half smiling, though he was concerned that she may be upset.

She looked up smiling, "I suppose I wasn't that difficult to find, but I'm curious as to why you would?"

"Because I..." care about you, he wanted to say, but instead: "Because I wanted you to come to breakfast."

Luna bit her lip. "I was going to this morning, but then-,"

"I know what happened," he said darkly. "It won't happen again. People are idiots, Luna, don't let them bring you down."

She cocked her head. "Not every person in the world is horrible, Blaise."

Blaise snorted. "I'd like to see an example of that." He muttered, before quickly realising the example was sitting in front of him. But even Luna made mistakes; he supposed that was her point.

"I hope you see something one day that changes your mind," She said in all seriousness. He merely nodded; he wasn't holding out hope that he would.

"Would you just come to breakfast?" he asked, almost pleading.

She laughed. "Why do I need to go there when I have a delicious breakfast here?"

The house elf beamed at her compliment. Blaise sighed.

"It's not merely about breakfast; you need to show your face, you need to prove to those idiots-,"

"I don't have to prove anything, Blaise," she said gently. "I'm quite happy being 'Loony Lovegood', as hard as it may believe. The things we experience when we're younger shape our character."

Blaise shook his head in disbelief. Of course she would find the upside of this situation. "Well, let me tell you this, you're going to have one hell of a character."

She grinned, before inviting him to sit beside her.

They enjoyed a private breakfast together, chatting animatedly, until one of the house elves warned them they'd be late for class. They reluctantly left the kitchens, and Blaise had to agree with Luna, sometimes the best things came from not caring.

The entrance hall was bustling with students heading to their first class for the day when the pair arrived.

"Will you be ok today?" he asked Luna, as he watched her looking about. She merely smiled and nodded.

At that moment, Blaise noticed a familiar group of three Ravenclaw boys walk past toward the stairs. Two of the boys kept their heads down walking quickly, but one of them was eyeing Blaise nervously as he went. He paused in front of them for a short second, before turning to Luna.

"Hello, Luna." He said politely, before turning and racing to catch up with his friends, who were already half way up the first set of stairs.

Luna stared after the boy, looking surprised, before a small smile came upon her face. Blaise enjoyed the way her demeanour brightened at the mere fact that she'd been acknowledged.

"See," she said, wisely, turning to look Blaise in the eye, "not everybody in the world is horrible."

Blaise didn't say anything, but merely smiled.

The day seemed to race along, and eventually Hermione found herself in one of her favourite, and at the same time, least favourite classes of all: potions.

It was her favourite because she enjoyed the precision, skill and knowledge of potion making; it was her least favourite because of Professor Snape and the Slytherins.

She ignored a particularly nasty glare from Pansy Parkinson as she sat in her seat at the front of the room. At least that hadn't changed.

She began to unpack her bag, ensuring she had everything she needed for the lesson, when a shadow was cast across her desk. She looked up to find the grinning face of Katie Bell looking down at her. Hermione frowned.

"Katie, what are you doing in this class?" Katie was a year older; she should be in one of the 7th year's classes. The girl looked sheepish.

"I know, I just quickly slipped past to ask you if you could cover my prefect duties for tonight." She pleaded, "The Slytherin team snuck in an early morning practice for the Quidditch Cup today, and our team just wants to make sure we're prepared, which means a practice tonight. I normally wouldn't ask, considering all you've been through, but you're the most responsible person I could think of..."

Hermione beamed inwardly at the compliment, despite the fact she had intended to catch up on school work tonight. She bit her lip. It was quite funny; she hadn't even known that Gryffindor had made it to the finals, though they always usually did. She couldn't even remember there being a Quidditch match this year...

She nodded. "That's fine, Katie. I'll cover for you. Good luck with practice."

The girl beamed, "Thank you so much, Hermione! I owe you-,"

"Miss Bell, as far as I am aware you are not taking 6th year Potions, unless you feel the need for some revision. Otherwise, leave immediately. You're holding up my classroom."

Both girls eyed Snape nervously, before Katie turned to leave. "Sorry, sir." She said quickly, before racing out.

Hermione began to scribble down the notes that appeared on the board, along with the rest of the class.

"Don't you think you're taking on a bit much?" A voice whispered from beside her. Her head snapped around to find Neville seated in the adjacent desk. She frowned, when had he gotten there?

He looked concerned. Despite the fact that he was just trying to look out for her, it annoyed her that he kept looking at her like she was fragile.

"It's just prefect duties," she told him, "I've done it a hundred times before."

"I know," he backtracked, "I'm just saying...don't you think, considering everything that's going on, that you should concentrate on important things."

She felt her quill dig into her parchment, leaving a messy splatter. She took a deep breath.

"I don't need you to constantly tell me what I'm doing wrong, Neville." She informed him as calmly as possible, "I don't know why you seem to think I'm so volatile, but I'm fine. I'm not going to snap at any second."

Neville frowned. "I just want to be here for you... I'm actually proud of you, Hermione, the way you've handled everything. Especially the whole thing with, you know, being in love with-,"

"I'm not in love with him, Neville," she hissed, interrupting him before he said the name in front of any listening ears. Or his listening ears. "I refuse to believe that until I have proof. I mean, I hated those Silver Marauders, how could I possibly love one of them?"

"Not just one of them," Neville grimaced, "the worst one."

"I would say, if anything, that he was the only half decent one." She said, even though she agreed they were all pretty rotten.

Neville furrowed his brow, looking confused. "What are you talking about? He was definitely the most horrible-,"

"Mr Longbottom, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted from in front of their desk, looking thoroughly annoyed, "I can assure you that learning the techniques for preparing this potion will be far more beneficial to you than your inane conversation. Unless you want detention, I suggest you keep your mouths shut."

The two nodded, and got back to their work, without speaking again.

Across the room, Potter snorted. "Well, at least some things haven't changed. Snape's still got a vengeance for Granger."

Draco grunted, looking annoyed. Blaise wondered what that was about.

"I wonder what they were talking about, anyway?" Potter continued. "They both looked pretty involved."

Blaise could only imagine it had something to do with what he'd told her the previous day.

"Why do you care?" Draco snapped. "First you perve on her ass, now you're trying to decipher her? Bloody hell."

Blaise chuckled, as Potter looked horrified. "I was not perving on her ass! It was covered in bird shit!"

"Keep it down," Blaise warned, as Snape eyed them with a cautionary look.

"You were still looking at it pretty intently," Draco huffed, scribbling down his notes.

Potter stared at the blond in disbelief. "Because it was covered in bird shit." He said quite plainly.

Draco sighed, choosing to ignore Potter. "She looked at us weird this morning. She wasn't scared."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Do you want her to be?"

"No." Draco said quickly, "But it's just weird that she wasn't...it's almost like she's forgotten, but she's still the same as she was. Tough, you know?"

Blaise nodded. "She is..." he bit his lip.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Italian. "Why do you look like I'm going to want to punch you in the face at any moment?" He asked suspiciously.

"Ah...well...I may have spoken to her yesterday." Blaise confessed. He hadn't planned to tell Draco anything of that yet, not until he had spoken to Hermione about who exactly it was that she was in love with. That would be a big shock for her.

Draco's eyes narrowed further. "What did you say?" he asked calmly, though he looked like he were about to snap.

"I told her," Blaise said quickly.

Potter and Draco stared at him for a moment.

"Told her what?"

"That she was in love with you." Well, close enough, he supposed. "She took it surprisingly well."

Draco was silent for a moment, before he turned and stared wide eyed at Hermione from across the room. "She knows?" he asked, his voice full of hope and awe.

Blaise swallowed. It wouldn't hurt to tell a little lie. "Yes...but that doesn't mean she's okay with it. I mean she took it well, but people take the diagnosis of terminal illnesses well too."

Draco turned to scowl at him, and he agreed it was probably a poor comparison.

"Well, she still knows," Draco said, as though that changed everything. Blaise didn't want to burst his bubble, so he merely agreed.

"Yea, she does."

"I still don't understand why you two get out of detention," Blaise grumbled as he packed his bag. "Bloody Snape shouldn't favour Quidditch players."

Draco chuckled, as he and Potter lazed around in their uniforms. "Well, if you'd taken up the offer of joining the team you wouldn't have to go. Besides, we're important members of the team, we need the extra practise."

Blaise scowled. "Have fun with that," he muttered as he exited the dorms on his way to the potion's classroom. He entered the cold, desolate classroom, and immediately noticed how empty it was. The only person present was Snape, who was scribbling a note on his desk.

On Blaise's arrival, the Professor looked up. "You're late, Mr Zabini. Take your seat, and begin any homework you have."

Blaise hesitated. "Uh, sir, where's everyone else?" He knew Draco and Potter were absent, but shouldn't Nott at least be here to suffer the torture?

Snape didn't look up as he spoke. "Potter and Draco will be at Quidditch training, once I secure them the pitch. Nott has Prefect duties to attend to tonight."

Blaise cursed silently to himself. Great. He was stuck here alone. He sat down at one of the many empty desks, and pulled his school work out of his bag.

Snape stood after a moment, and left the room. The only sound Blaise could hear was the dripping of water from the roof and the scribbling of his own quill.

Hermione sighed as she searched through her draws for her prefect badge. This whole room was a mess, thanks to Lavender and Parvarti, and she wouldn't be surprised if it was lost somewhere under the three foot high piles of clothes and makeup on the floor.

She fumbled past an old copy of Wuthering Heights that had been in her draw; then past a small velvet pouch, which seemed to contain something heavy. She picked it up for a moment, wondering where it had come from. It wasn't familiar...

She sighed, before sticking it on her bed. It was probably one of the other girls'.

She finally came across her badge at the back of the draw, and sighed before clipping it to her robes. She checked the clock on the wall; she was supposed to be downstairs already.

She raced toward the door, wading through the clothes-covered floor, before she tripped on something hard. She groaned angrily, as she sat up and dug through the pile. She retrieved a large round glass ball, which fit perfectly in her palm. It was one of Parvarti or Lavender's crystal balls, she realised.

She shook her head. Did they not take care of their school things?

She was just about to throw it on one of their beds, when the inside of the ball became misty. Hermione froze. Divination had never worked for her before, so why would it now?

She stared into the middle of the glass, trying to make out what the mist was forming. She saw a girl with brown curls...was that her...? It was, she realised, as the girl turned and she saw her face.

If it was her, she looked so happy...

Hermione frowned. She didn't remember this...

It suddenly dawned on her that the point of the crystal ball was to show the future. She almost kicked herself at her stupidity, but then again, why was she so stupid as to believe something that appeared in a crystal ball?

She was about the toss it on the floor, when the girls' mouth opened, and she spoke. Hermione squinted, trying to read her own lips. Olive soup...? I love juice...? She froze.

I love you.

The girl in the ball reached out toward someone, and Hermione caught the first sight of someone else. Her fingers in the glass stroked a lock of platinum blonde hair, out of the eyes of a boy whose face she couldn't see yet. Why the heck was everything so white? She squinted, trying to see his face. His eyes were almost visible past her hand...

Then the door slammed. She dropped the crystal ball in her shock. Lavender and Parvarti strode in, chatting animatedly between themselves. Hermione looked down at the crystal ball lying on a pink frilly bra. The mist was gone.

She stood, feeling annoyed. Why did she care about this anyway? She had believed during her whole school life that divination was a load of bull, why did it change now? She supposed she was desperate for answers that no one seemed willing to provide.

She walked out of the room, ignoring Lavender and Parvarti's scowls as she did.

The entrance hall was surprisingly not as empty as she expected it to be when she arrived. She saw Professor Snape, along with Professor McGonagall, as well as both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams standing around. They were scowling at each other, typically.

As she made her way over to Professor McGonagall, her eyes caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair, and immediately she turned towards it. She found herself staring into a pair of grey eyes, who had already been watching her.

She moved her stare away from him immediately, but only seconds later, she had to look back. He was still staring at her. Her eyes moved to his hair. Had it always been so blond? One would almost call it platinum blond, she thought idly.

She froze, wide eyed. Oh, for the love of Merlin, no. No, never. It could never be.

Lots of people were blond, she told herself. Plenty. Absolutely plenty. He may be the only platinum blonde in the school, but not in the world, right? Of course. The school was tiny and he was a git, and that was that.

She looked away a second later, feeling a bit better, when Professor McGonagall noticed her presence.

"Miss Granger," she cried, "what are you doing here? You should be resting."

Hermione inwardly sighed. "I'm on prefect duties tonight, Professor."

McGonagall looked confused. "But I though Miss Bell-," she turned to the Gryffindor team and noticed Katie, "Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I should thank you for supporting your house team." She said, though she didn't look like she agreed with it.

"Off you got then," McGonagall said, turning back to Snape who was looking impatient. She began another heated conversation with him about who was to use the pitch. Hermione turned and headed into the great hall to find her partner for the night.

She was surprised to find Theodore Nott waiting in the hall as she entered it. She eyed his chest to see a shiny prefect badge glittering away. When had he become a prefect?

He stood and made his way toward her, looking annoyed. "Finally," he muttered, "I've been waiting 15 minutes for you. Just because you're half brain dead don't think the rules get changed for you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. What a freaking git.

"Since when are you a prefect anyway?" She asked. He didn't pause in his steps.

"Since Malfoy can't do the job properly," he replied haughtily. "Although you'd know all about that, right? Or perhaps not."

She furrowed her brow, but chose to ignore his cryptic words. They exited the great hall, and he seemed surprised to find the large group of people loitering there, still arguing.

"Hey Ginny!" a voice called from within the crowd, "There's your boyfriend!"

A few people laughed, while Ginny's face turned the colour of her hair. She and Nott made eye contact for a moment, before he turned away and continued walking with a scowl on his face.

"Are you her boyfriend?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. She kept a few steps behind him.

"No," he snapped, continuing up the stairs.

They got to the first floor, and he stopped abruptly before turning to her.

"You go this way," he motioned left, "I'll go the other way. It'll be quicker and I won't have to be near you."

He stepped around her and kept walking. Hermione stared at his back. What was his problem?

One hour passed as they made their way separately up the stairs, another hour and Hermione swore she would die of boredom. Normally, she patrolled with someone. She could converse and not have to listen to the sounds of her own footsteps echoing up the hall. She paused, sighing to herself.

Weirdly enough, the sound of echoing footsteps didn't cease. She crossed her arms. It would be Nott telling her to move onto the next floor. He was doing a very shoddy job at this and she was going to tell him so.

A dark figure appeared from around the corner and began to walk toward her, she narrowed her eyes at him and prepared a reinforcement of come-backs, however her words were lost in her throat, when the torch on the wall lit up a patch of platinum blonde hair.

She backed up slowly, as he continued to take calculated steps toward her. She must have been kidding herself to think that he wouldn't hate her or hurt her anymore; he had obviously just been waiting for the right moment.

His face came into full view, and she swallowed thickly as he paused ahead, looking down at her with an odd expression.

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded, though she tried to keep her voice strong.

He furrowed his brow at her, looking confused. "You're scared of me?"

She stared at him. It was best not to be vulnerable, so she shook her head. She nearly fell over when he smiled at her. Not a sadistic, twisted smile, but a genuine smile.

"Good." He swallowed thickly. "I've missed you. I know that means nothing to you. But I've missed you so much. I just want you to know that, if it ever comes to matter in the future."

She stared at him in shock. What the heck was going on?

Blaise was staring at the ceiling from his bed when Potter returned to the dorm from Quidditch practice.

"We had to share the pitch with the Gryffindors," Potter frowned. "I'm a little worried about our chances now."

Blaise rolled on his side. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Where's Draco?"

Potter sighed. "He went to find Hermione. She's got Prefect duties tonight. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen-,"

Blaise sat up abruptly at Potter's words. "Fuck!"

"What's going on?" Potter asked quickly, as Blaise stood from his place on the bed.

"She doesn't know, Harry. He's going to fucking ruin it all."

"But I thought you said-,"

"I lied!" Blaise shouted as he raced out the door.

Hermione felt like she'd entered some parallel universe. Was Draco Malfoy...in love...with her?

"I don't understand," she said quietly, staring at his chest, the wall behind him, anywhere but those eyes.

"I know it's a lot to understand right now," he said gently. He leaned forward and she backed up, only to find her back was already pressed against the wall.

"Please..." she whimpered, scared of what he might do, despite his gentle demeanour.

She felt his cool hand around her own as he lifted her arm. He pressed her hand against his face in a kiss, before moving it to his cheek. Hermione let her arm go limp as he held it there. Her heart was beating rapidly.

"This is wrong. This isn't..." she trailed off, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Why was he doing this?

He let her hand drop to her side, as he stared at her wide eyed. He backed away a step, looking composed.

"I'm sorry. I just, I suppose I forget that you don't remember me the way I remember you."

"But Blaise..." she muttered. There were fast footsteps echoing around the corner.

Draco furrowed his brow. "What about him?"

The footsteps were getting closer.

"I'm supposed to be in love with him!" she cried, feeling confused. Who was lying; who was telling the truth?

As if on cue, Blaise appeared in the hallway, breathless and looking desperate. Potter appeared a moment later.

He made his way over to them, eyeing the situation with caution. Hermione, unsurprisingly, looked confused and upset, Draco looked...well...murderous. Odd and worrying, that was.

"What did you say to her?" Blaise asked Draco, as he paused.

Draco scowled at him. "I should be the one asking you that."

Blaise turned to his friend looking confused. "What are you talking about, mate?"

He didn't wait for an answer, as Hermione sniffled. He turned back to her, looking concerned. "Hermione," he grabbed her by the shoulders, "are you ok?"

He immediately felt the wind knocked out of him as Draco barged him to the floor.

"Don't touch her," Draco seethed, leaning over Blaise as he gasped. "Don't fucking touch her. Don't speak to her. Don't even look at her!"

Potter raced forward, grabbing Draco by the arms and pulling him away. "Calm down, mate!"

"He's a fucking traitor!" Draco bellowed, eyeing Blaise with a deathly glare. Blaise used the opportunity to sit up, though it hurt to do so.

"I don't know what you're bloody talking about!" he yelled at Draco.

"Sure you fucking don't," Draco laughed wryly, though he looked distraught. "You told me that I was being ridiculous about that dream I had; that you'd never do that to me. You're full of shit! The first opportunity you get, you go behind my back and convince her that she loved you! It was me, you lying fucking git!"

"I never said anything to her!" Blaise cried. He turned to Hermione, who was staring wide eyed at Draco.

"Hermione, just bloody tell him I never said it was me you loved." He told her.

"Don't fucking talk to her!" Draco cried, as he struggled against Potter's grip.

"I thought you were talking about you," she said weakly, still staring at Draco, while looking close to a panic attack.

"Did I ever say it was me though?" he asked impatiently. She swallowed thickly, looking distraught.

"No...but...it's not...it's not him is it?" She asked, looking toward Draco. The blond went limp in Potter's arms as he sensed the disgust in her voice.

They were silent for a moment.

"Yes," Blaise told her, while eyeing the devastated expression on Draco's face, "It was him I was talking about."

She began to breathe rather quickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked a few times, and then she collapsed.

"Fuck!" Blaise cried, as she fainted limply to the floor. "This is what I didn't what to happen, you fucking idiot!"

Draco merely stared at her looking devastated and distraught. "Why did you tell me she knew?"

"Because I thought it would give you some hope," Blaise snapped. "I didn't think you'd go and fucking hound her!"

Draco didn't respond, he simply dropped to the floor, looking calm for the first time.

The sound of rapid footsteps came from around the corner as Theodore Nott raced over.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he said eyeing Hermione unconscious form. "What did you do?"

"We didn't do anything," Potter snapped, scowling at the teen. "She just fainted."

Nott narrowed his eyes. "People don't just faint, Potty."

"Mind your own business, Nott." Potter growled.

"This is my business, idiot." Nott retorted, "I'm a prefect on duty, you're out of bed, and you've knocked my patrol partner unconscious."

"We didn't do that!" Potter cried. "She just fainted because she found out she's in love with Malfoy."

Both Draco and Blaise turned to scowl at him. Nott, however, chuckled.

"Really? Fuck. I wish I'd been here to see that. I heard it from all the way up stairs." He chuckled again.

"Sod off, idiot." Draco snapped.

Nott merely ignored him. "Take her to the hospital wing. I'm not getting in trouble for that. Oh, and ten points from each of you for being out after curfew."

The others stared at him incredulously.

"We're in the same house, you idiot!" Potter cried.

Nott shrugged. "Looks like I'll have to let everyone know you cost us 30 points. Now move it before I take more."

The three boys scowled as Nott left them. Blaise attempted to pick up Hermione's limp body, but Draco stood quickly and tossed her over his shoulder quite easily. Blaise sighed. He could see that Draco would not forgive him easily for this.

They made their way up to the hospital wing. Potter left them in order to get back to the dungeons before they got caught again. The nurse was not happy to see them, but she chose to attend to Hermione instead of calling their head of house. They supposed they should be grateful for that; however, the tension between them was palpable as they walked back to their dorms.

"You believe me, right?" Blaise asked after a moment. "You know I wouldn't do that."

Draco set his jaw. "I don't know what you'd do anymore, Zabini."

He continued walking, leaving Blaise to stare after him. Why the fuck did he keep getting involved?

If he'd just left everything alone, none of this would have happened, and perhaps Hermione would have remembered on her own. But at least she knew now. The shock was over, and now she had to face reality.

And the reality for her was that she was in love with her greatest enemy. It was a shame he'd managed to fuck up everything else in the process.

"Wake up, dear," a soothing voice hummed, as Hermione was dragged back to consciousness.

She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the torch light in the hospital wing. Her body ached, but the bed beneath her was soft. She suddenly remembered why she was there, and began panicking again.

She was supposed to be in love with Draco Malfoy. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. The mere thought disgusted her.

"Calm down, dear," the nurse soothed. "Take this, it'll help you relax."

She assisted Hermione in downing a potion, which tasted like Lavender. Hermione was far too absorbed in her thoughts to even ask what it did, but she didn't care when it immediately soothed her, and her aches and pains went away.

"Now, it's far too late for you to be wandering back upstairs," the nurse tutted, "so do try and get some rest here. You don't want to push yourself too much considering what you've been through."

Hermione nodded, feeling drowsy. The nurse left her a moment later, and it only took seconds for her to slip unconscious again.

She found herself in a book shop, reading a large tome. The sound of a bell could be heard in the background, but she ignored it. However, seconds later a shadow was cast over her and she looked up. It was Draco Malfoy.

She stood abruptly, bumping her stomach on the desk. They both looked down at the protruding bump that sat neatly behind her shirt. She gasped.

"Be careful, love. I'd like my son to be born in one piece," he smirked as he sat his hands on her stomach.

Hermione awoke abruptly, and immediately her hands flew to her stomach. It was flat, as usual, and she let out a relieved sigh. What a disturbing dream. She supposed it had to do with the potion, or the stress of tonight's...events. However, unbeknownst to Hermione, the reason for the oddness of her dream was not because of a potion gone wrong.

It was because this particular dream was not her own, but someone else's.

In two separate beds, in two separate rooms, two people lay awake pondering that dream. One disturbed; one oddly comforted.

A/N: Just a short one to make up for my lack of updates recently. Hope you guys enjoy. let me know what you think :)

Leni