-QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-

Draco opened his eyes, feeling the weight of her words push down on his head. She was still looking at him, a glimmer of doubt in her wonderfully brown eyes. He pushed slightly away from her, but still kept his hands on the wall. His heart beat torturously fast yet he maintained his cool.

"I'm wrong," she said after a while, tilting her head, analysing him. It was unfortunately evident to Draco that she was trying to inflict strength into her voice.

He forced himself to look at her, even though every part of his body screamed at him to walk away. "Yes," he said, unclenching his teeth. Lying was best done in short sentences. Draco himself had lied many times in his life, and each lie was uttered painlessly. He hadn't cared if he hurt the person or not. Words had been just a way to win people over, or alternatively: emotionally ruin them.

Yet now, words took on a new meaning for him. Emotions, too, were now a part of his world. And when these two important concepts came together, he gained a new perspective of how things take place. For example, right now, he knew that his one word of confirmation hurt Hermione. He knew that because he had been living with her for the past couple of months, and unlike himself, Hermione made it easy for people to read her. She was like an open book – no pun intended on that hackneyed cliché.

So he looked at her head on, and acted as if he didn't care at all. She didn't cry. She didn't yell. What she did do was pull herself up straight, and push his arms away from her. A bit too forcefully, Draco felt, as he stumbled toward the wall. He felt a breeze shove against him as she walked quickly (and wordlessly) away.

"Hermione," he called, as he turned around. She had reached her bedroom door.

She ignored him, and opened her door. Draco's heart was beating painfully fast by now and it was difficult to suppress the feeling. "Why are you angry?" he asked somewhat innocently, walking towards her.

Her back still turned to him, she walked into her room, closing the door in his face.

Give up now, a voice whispered in the back of his head. Draco knew that he should listen to it, but he didn't. He knocked on her door. "Hermione," he repeated, successfully keeping the concern out of his voice.

"Leave, Malfoy," she said, her voice sounding muffled through the door. It stung that she didn't sound hurt or sad. Draco didn't want her to be either of those things, but the fact that his semi-rejection hadn't emotionally affected her confused him. Her anger – which he had grown used to – was something he had braced himself for.

"Hermione, be reasonable," he said steadily, clutching the doorknob in his hand. He heard some rustling, and then music. The song was completely unfamiliar – either he had been so locked out of the wizarding world he couldn't even recognise the band, or maybe it was just a Muggle band. "Hermione," he repeated, getting tired. It wasn't that he was calling her name so many times that it tired him; it was because she wasn't replying. "You can't possibly be cross with me for being friends with you." Please, he prayed. Please let her not regret that we're friends. At least.

Without warning, her door opened. Draco fell forward because of his tight grip on her doorknob. He let go of it immediately when he noticed how physically close to her the action brought him. Before he had the chance to fully register the melted dark chocolate of her eyes – the melted colour only surfaced when she felt a really intense emotion, and Draco wagered that it was anger – she placed her tiny hands on his chest and shoved. Scared that she might feel the thud thud thud of his heart, he moved away of his own accord, both of them aware of how futile her effort of pushing him away was.

"What was that for?" he asked quietly, when he had placed a safe distance between the two of them. He felt an uncomfortable pang in his chest when he realised that she really, sincerely didn't want him near her.

Her eyes flashed with untameable anger. "You have a few serious problems, Malfoy," she spat, her eyes narrowed to thin slits.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, surprised. He hesitantly took another step backwards – she looked as if she was on a warpath.

"Starting with an identity crisis," she said between clenched teeth.

"Identity crisis," Draco echoed. Where in the bloody hell did she get that from? She nodded stiffly. "Would you care to elaborate?" he asked sarcastically.

"Malfoy, you need to decide who you want to be," she emphasised, folding her arms. At their distance, Draco wasn't able to read her properly. He could feel the waves of anger crashing his way, though. He looked at her silently, waiting for her to finish. "You cannot just simply switch between multiple polar opposite personalities!" she exclaimed. "You also cannot try to combine them!"

"What, exactly, are these so-called 'polar opposite' personalities?" Draco asked, interested to know the answer. He wasn't aware that he had been switching between characters.

"As if you don't know," she mocked, rolling her eyes. Draco shrugged. "The one, Malfoy, that you like to use is when you play a very ... seductive kind of person," she said, not looking at him. Draco swallowed, though not visibly (hopefully). He should've known that she wouldn't be afraid to put something like that out in the open.

He nodded. "And the next one?" he asked tonelessly.

"The one you're currently employing," she said, now looking at him. "Your—" here, she waved her hands around emphatically, "—'I don't care' attitude." Draco raised his eyebrows. "Because that in itself is a lie, Malfoy. You do. You care a lot, even though you won't like to admit it sometimes."

Draco mutely regarded her. "Are you moving on to your last one soon?" he asked, after a while.

"When you act nice," she said simply.

"Act?" he repeated, getting offended. "Hermione, that's not acting."

She shook her head. "The point is that you need to decide which person you want to be. You can't be seductive, uncaring and friendly at the same time. It doesn't work, Malfoy."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at her suggestion. "You want me to choose?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He considered his options. After a few seconds, he asked, "Which one do you prefer?"

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "It's what you're comfortable with, Malfoy."

Draco took a step forward. "So both you and I—" he paused, absorbing his words briefly, "—We are both uncomfortable with my distant side, correct?" He was trying to walk gently on the minefield he knew he was on. She was still angry with him.

"I can't say that I like it, no," she sniffed, her eyes narrowing with every step he took closer to her. "If you value your life, stay where you are," she warned.

His lips twitched, but he knew if he were to smile, she'd throw a curse his way. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, sighing.

"For what?" she asked, her tone clipped.

He shrugged. "I really don't know, but I get the feeling that I'm at the top of your People I Must Kill list." He was genuinely sorry. He really was. He didn't know what he had done, really, that was out of the ordinary.

He saw her hands close into fists. "Don't apologise if you don't know what you've done, Malfoy," she said quietly.

"What did I do, Hermione? Besides frequently giving my personality a new look?" he asked.

Her eyes bulged, and she let out a long breath. "You left after you bloody kissed me!" she cried. "And you don't even think that that's a bad thing?"

"Ah, yes," he said slowly, wondering what to say next. He obviously didn't think too clearly, because his next words were, "That was a mistake."

What he meant, obviously, was the part about leaving her. She misunderstood. She didn't voice her misunderstanding, but Draco knew that she thought kissing her was the mistake. Merlin, if she knew that he wanted to spend his life kissing her... But she didn't, and she would never find that out, if he could help it.

He watched her shoulders heave up and down as she took in a deep breath. "Malfoy, choose."

"Friendly, then," he said softly, looking away. It wasn't his first choice, but it was the choice that would be best for her.

Hermione had never met a person who could be more hot and cold than Draco Malfoy. She didn't know if he acted like melted ice-cream deliberately, but what she did know was that she couldn't continue feeling so confused. His very presence caused her to feel heady but happy at the same time – and this annoyed her. Girls are known to have excellent intuitive skills, and, being a girl, Hermione felt that Malfoy was holding something back from her.

"Friendly, then," he murmured, and he looked towards the window. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact with her, and his choice somehow didn't have its desired effect on her. Of course she wanted to be friends with him. Those moments she shared with him felt so free and light, even though he really knew how to tap-dance on her nerves.

But, to her, friendship just wasn't enough. This fact surprised her because she thought that her feelings for him would disappear after she had passed through the mirror. Yet they were still there. With the same intensity. With the same degree of attachment. She still felt angry at him because she sincerely felt that he shouldn't toy with her – or anyone else. In fact, she was saving the world from a future web of confusion spun by Draco Malfoy. This was her good deed for the day.

When it came to arguments, Hermione had never been shy to voice her opinion. And, personally, she felt that Malfoy allowed her a certain leeway that he wouldn't give other people. She took a deep breath, knowing that what she said next could threaten the friendship that they had so delicately established.

She concentrated on images of happy things, absorbing courage from them, before tentatively taking a step forward. Her anger now dormant, she walked slowly toward him. She gained an iota more worth of strength with each step she took, before coming to rest a metre before him. He was still looking out of the window, but his body was still facing her, so she knew that he knew she was near him.

She didn't see him flinch, she didn't see him wince, she didn't even see him stiffen. She took strength from this observation – he had surmounted his space issues. "Malfoy," she said, her voice unwavering. She would do this. She would not back down.

"Yes?" he asked softly, his gaze not moving from the night sky.

She childishly crossed her fingers behind her back. "Have your feelings for me changed?" she asked, closely monitoring his face. From the limited profile view she had of him, she watched his jaw tighten. Moving her eyes down, she noticed that he had his fists clenched, the tendons sticking out. She moved her eyes back up to his face, and blinked when she realised that he was looking at her. His eyes burned with a richness too disconcerting to describe. Up close, Hermione noticed for the third time that evening that his eye colour had returned to grey from the silver the fairytale had induced.

His face was a blank mask, perfectly composed, yet Hermione couldn't ignore the unsettling feeling that rested at the pit of her stomach. "I admit, that yes, I did feel something for you," he said, his lips hardly moving. "Something that only a person who wished to exceed the boundaries of friendship could feel." Hermione stopped breathing. What he said sounded good! It sounded pleasant! But why was he speaking without emotion? "But that was only because of the fairytale, Hermione," he said slowly, as if forcing her to slowly absorb his words.

"So you don't feel anything now," she clarified, her joy dissipating as quickly as it had come. She uncrossed her fingers, her arms dangling at her sides.

"Nope," he said, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly. "But, Hermione, I really want to be your friend. You have no idea –"

"Because I still feel something," she said, cutting across him. She expected to feel lighter – like the way she usually did when she got something off her chest. But, this time, she just felt an overwhelming sense of dread and regret. Where was the point in telling him this when he had just told her he felt nothing of the sort for her?

"For me?" he asked, his eyebrows lifting in apparent surprise. Hermione also felt surprised. She thought that he had already suspected this about her.

"No, Malfoy," she said sarcastically. "I've secretly been harbouring such feelings for Gregory Goyle who's been playing the part of Prince Charming up until today." She didn't think sarcasm was appropriate for their current situation, but she couldn't help it. Really, who else could she have been talking about?

He shook his head quickly. "Hermione, you don't feel such things for me. You can't."

"You sound as if you're trying to convince yourself more than me," she commented. Hermione was determined that by the end of this night, she needed to know where the two of them stood.

He sighed, and pulled a hand through his hair. One of the strands stuck up, making Hermione itch to pat it down. Thankfully, she resisted. "No, Hermione," he said, smiling gently. "Maybe you still have a bit of the fairytale in you."

She was already shaking her head halfway through his sentence. "No, I went through that mirror, Malfoy. And it reversed everything," she argued.

"Then maybe it left out your emotions," he countered. "You were dead, after all."

Hermione took a step forward. "Why are you so intent on me not liking you?" she demanded.

He reached out to hold her by the shoulders. Hermione closed her eyes, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. Realising her mistake, she opened her eyes. "You don't like me like that, Hermione," he said, bringing his head down to her level.

She narrowed her eyes. "Stop trying to convince me, Malfoy," she said, getting irritated.

"It still doesn't change the fact that I see us as friends," he said, rubbing salt into her wound.

"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I heard that loud and clear."

"Sorry," he said, shrugging, but smiling at the same time. He really did look apologetic.

Hermione nodded. "Me, too," she sighed.

"And besides," he added. "You can't even bring yourself to call me 'Draco'," he said, smiling.

I wish I could wipe that smile off his face, Hermione thought bitterly. Why did he have to look so bloody happy when she was clearly quite the opposite? "Just because I don't call you by your name does not mean that I don't like you." He sighed, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. "Does it mean that much to you?" she asked.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Hermione," he said, rolling his eyes.

If he continued with this sort of lackadaisical attitude, Hermione would cease acting nice. "Do you know how incredibly idiotic you're being at the moment?"

Another smile.

Hermione's hands itched to hit him.

"How so?" he asked.

"Because I just sold my heart to you, and you've laughingly thrown it back in my face!"
she cried indignantly.

"Oh, Hermione," he muttered, looking at her sadly.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Catching her glare, he said, "Look, it's because I know you'll get over this soon. And we can go back to being friends."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you think you can switch me off and on just like that, you're sorely mistaken. We can't be friends, Malfoy."

His eyebrows pulled together as his forehead crinkled in confusion. His eyes blinked in surprise, and he licked his lips. "Why not?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding strained.

She looked away from him, trying to gain composure. She mentally structured her sentences and when she was ready she took a deep breath, facing him again. "It will be awkward, Malfoy. Our friendship. Because, I will know that I like you; you will know that I like you – there will be too much tension. So, for now, let's abandon it."

It was a brave, short speech. Hermione wasn't proud of it, because she valued their relationship. Regret tangled itself in her for confessing her feelings, and it would be a long time until she could get the knot undone.

"Abandon the friendship?"

Her feet remained glued to the ground, so Hermione put all of her mental and physical strength to move them. After a stressful two seconds, she succeeded. Dragging her feet away from him, walking back towards her bedroom, she said, "Yes, Malfoy. See, now you can go back to calling me 'Granger'."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione," she heard him say, a mixture of sadness and frustration in his voice.

She didn't say anything. If she did, she would aggravate the situation. Just as soon as she crossed the threshold of her room, she heard a voice behind her say, "Mr Malfoy, Mrs McGonagall, we need you in my office immediately." Hermione whipped her head around. A cat patronus hovered in the air between Hermione and Draco. A few seconds after it delivered its message, it popped into thin air. Hermione stared at the spot it disappeared and found herself staring at Malfoy instead. The look he gave her made Hermione feel guilty, so she looked away. She heard his characteristic brisk footsteps as he made his way to the portrait. She followed him.

They walked down long passages, she always a few steps behind him. Not once did he look back, not once did he say anything. For this, Hermione was partly grateful and partly sad that he respected her suggestion. There were times when she opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it after realising that she was the one who initiated their fall-out.

They arrived at the gargoyle, and the two of them stood there awkwardly. "Uh...do you know the password?" she asked hesitantly, using her peripheral vision to look at him.

"No, or else we wouldn't be standing here," he replied thinly.

"Right," she said, feeling uncomfortable.

If she wanted distance, he'd give her distance. For Draco, it was easy to turn off. It was harder this time, but it was still relatively easy. He still felt attracted to her, and thought she was mental to be attracted to him. But if he avoided her, and went back to hardly talking to her, she would not have anything to like about him.

He saw her shift from foot to foot. "Right," she said, sounding uneasy. Well, she wanted this! She asked for this!

Quick footsteps behind caught his attention. He turned, and to his immense shock, saw Gladys Winter. What is she doing here? Draco wondered. She had her hands magically tied behind her back with rope. Following her was McGonagall, a grim expression on her face. Behind her was a group of other people in dark cloaks billowing around them in the slight breeze. The sight of these men brought back a horrible memory for Draco: the day his parents were arrested. These must be people from the Ministry, then, he thought. When his eyes zoomed in to look at the emblem on their cloaks – a big M in blue – he raised his eyebrows. They were from the Ministry of Magic, then!

McGonagall, spotting them, picked up her pace. Her wand, Draco noticed, was held out in front of her. It appeared as if she was controlling their captive. Draco glanced to his left. Hermione appeared to be in a state of shock, too. When he saw her turn to look at him, he quickly looked away.

"Ah, I see you got my patronus," McGonagall remarked.

"Professor, what's—?" Hermione began.

"In my office!" McGonagall said. She turned around and beckoned the man closest to her nearer. She bent her head close to his and said something to him. He nodded and straightening up, flicked his wand. Gladys Winter immediately walked towards him to stand at his side. The group of officials surrounded Gladys Winter. The woman didn't even look scared. She had a wild look in her eyes, and her mouth curved up into a smirk.

"Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, follow me," she instructed. Draco wrenched his eyes from the group and followed her up the staircase after she muttered the password. He looked down as the only thing he could see in front of him was Hermione's bottom...and that sight alone was highly distracting. As soon as they got onto a flat landing, Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief.

McGonagall closed her door loudly behind them. "Please take a seat," she said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of them.

Draco took the one on the left, subtly moving it away from Hermione as he sat down. "Draco," he heard a cool voice say.

Without looking up, Draco replied, "Evening, Severus."

"Severus, now is not the time," McGonagall said quietly over her shoulder, sitting in her chair.

"So greeting my godson is not important," Severus sniffed. How uncharacteristic and overly dramatic, Draco thought, rolling his eyes.

"Professor, what is happening?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking. "Why is—"

"What I have to tell you is extremely confidential," the professor began, looking at them both. "Extremely," she stressed. She brought her chair closer to the desk. "What we have out there...is something quite bizarre and deeply twisted."

"Professor, with all due respect..." Draco said, getting impatient.

She held up a hand. "Patience, Mr Malfoy." She glanced at the magnificent antique clock on the wall, and sighed. "I don't have much time before the full Ministry guard arrive." Draco raised his eyebrows. Just how serious was this? He pulled his chair forward. She looked at Hermione. "Now, I really was supposed to tell just you, but given the fact that Mr Malfoy is involved, he should also be informed."

"Oh, Minerva, stop beating about the bush."

McGonagall ignored Severus. Draco agreed with him.

"I need both of you to keep quiet. I do not want any disturbances. Understood?" she asked, taking a second to look at each of them.

Draco nodded.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice a dull murmur.

McGonagall sighed again. "It seems that your current step-mother, Miss Granger, played quite an important part in the orchestration of the musical. No please, let me finish," she ordered, noticing that Hermione was about to interrupt. "We don't know much, as the Ministry only just placed her under arrest, but the gist we got from your mother, Miss Granger."

Hermione gasped. "It's...she's really my mother?"

McGonagall nodded solemnly. "It appears that she's been under a strong Imperius and has had great exposure to Polyjuice Potion."

"She's not dead," Hermione whispered. "She's not dead."

"Fortunately not. From what your mother told me when Madam Pomfrey brought her to me, since two weeks ago, Gladys Winter has placed her under the Imperius. She arrived at your house, and that was the very day your mother took leave – you father was still at his practice. Your mother didn't know who this woman was, and didn't know at all that Winter was a witch. She invited her in, but the moment she closed the door behind Winter, Winter pointed her wand at her, yelled something we can only assume to be the Imperius Curse, and from then on, your mother was forced to obey Winter."

"What was she forced to do?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking.

McGonagall levelled a look at her. "She was forced to assume the disguise of Professor Pinkle. She was forced to assume a completely new character, so that you wouldn't recognise her. She was forced to introduce the idea of a school musical, where the lead character dies."

"Hang on a second," Draco butted in. "Mrs Granger was forced to kill Hermione?"

"Remember that she was under the Imperius, Mr Malfoy. She couldn't help but follow Gladys Winter's orders," McGonagall said.

Draco slumped into his chair, too astounded to say anything more.

"But why?" Hermione asked.

To his bewilderment, the professor shrugged. "We don't know yet, Miss Granger. Your mother said that Gladys Winter never told her anything. She didn't substantiate her orders at all. Last week, the day the roles were announced, your mother was forced to come to this school in the disguise of Professor Pinkle. That very same day, Gladys Winter organised the supposed death of Jean Granger. She duplicated her body, placing it in your parents' bedroom. Obviously, the dummy couldn't breathe and didn't have a heartbeat, and therefore appeared to be dead."

"Professor, something doesn't make sense," Hermione said slowly, placing both hands on the table. "How could my mother see the school? She's a Muggle."

"It appears that Winter got your mother into the castle by using the Vanishing Cabinets Mr Malfoy here so cleverly fixed two years ago," McGonagall answered, pausing to look at Draco. Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Once she was in the castle, she could see everything, and using a mental map Winter...installed in her (for lack of a better word), she made her way around the castle."

"That doesn't make sense," Draco said, listening but not comprehending what McGonagall just told them. "Professor Pinkle has been here since the very first day of school," he pointed out. "Mrs Granger only arrived here last week."

"Excellent point, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said. "We aren't too clear on that detail either."

"Then what, exactly, are you clear about?" Draco huffed.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, surprised at his blatant rudeness. "Mrs Granger has also been forced not to tell anyone who she really is or why she's here. That is why whenever she tried to tell you something she would choke. Furthermore, Gladys Winter played upon Mrs Granger's heart problems, too—" She was interrupted by Hermione's gasp. "Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall said sadly. "Your mother was under constant threat that if she chose to divulge any information, she could have had a heart attack. Winter had absolute control over her. We don't know how she had control over your mother's bodily functions, but she did."

"Gladys Winter did this to my mother?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling with anger. Draco himself felt quite angry. He felt like leaving this room and giving Winter a very big piece of his mind. Hell, he would curse her if he had to. What had Hermione's mother done to deserve any of this?

"We don't know why, Miss Granger," McGonagall said gently. "But we will find out."

"When?" Hermione asked immediately.

"I was going to call her in – her guards as well – and question her. Kingsley has instructed his guards not to question her yet."

"Then call her in," Hermione said, her face twisted in anger.

McGonagall blinked. "I would rather have the two of you leave before that."

"We're involved too much to be taken out, Professor," Draco said.

"This is my family that she's been toying with," Hermione said. "Please let us stay."

McGonagall heaved another sigh, looking first at Draco then Hermione. "Very well. You two stay in the corner there," she instructed, pointing to the far corner of the room – a point just next to the door. She got up and was about to leave the room when something occurred to Draco.

"Professor, how is it that she was able to tell you all of this?"

"She fell through that mirror, Mr Malfoy. The mirror reversed all the magic performed on Mrs Granger. She was no longer forced to obey Winter's command. The mirror reversed the effects of the Polyjuice Potions as well."

Draco nodded, feeling foolish for not being able to answer that question himself. McGonagall left the room.

Hermione and Draco stood up simultaneously. They walked to the corner they had been allocated and waited for McGonagall to come back. Neither said a word to each other, a palpable tension hanging heavily between them. Given their limited space, they stood just a few feet away from each other.

"Well, this looks awkward," Severus commented.

"Shut up," Draco muttered, glaring at him.

Severus feigned a hurt expression. "That's very impolite, Draco," he chastised.

"Frankly, I couldn't care less," Draco replied thinly.

"And you, Miss Granger?" Severus asked. Draco glanced at Hermione. Her head popped up at her name.

"Professor?" she asked, fidgeting with her hands.

"Do you care?" he asked.

"Severus, are you feeling alright today?" Draco asked, saving Hermione the chance to answer.

"It gets quite tedious, sitting up here," he said dryly, looking around his portrait.

"Then find something to do," Draco said, turning away and examining a spot on the wall.

"Severus, there seems to be a problem between the girl and boy," said a man snootily. Draco looked around.

"You think so, Nigellus?" Severus asked, tilting his head.

"There is no problem between us," Hermione said, her voice rising.

Draco glanced at her again, noticing that she had her arms crossed over her chest. A pang pierced his chest, and he quickly looked away, not wanting to fully acknowledge that she looked quite attractive even when angered or annoyed.

"Leave them alone," a calm voice said. Draco's eyes slid to look at the old man he had been ordered to kill in sixth year. The kind-looking man's eyes swivelled to look at Draco, a small smile playing on his lips. Draco looked away, feeling guilty. How could he be so nice to him when he knew that Draco had tried to kill him?

"Now, Albus—" Severus began, but was interrupted when the door opened.

The first person to enter was Gladys Winter herself, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione's hand close around her wand. Calm down, he thought, knowing that she couldn't hear him. He moved so that he stood slightly before her, though not entirely blocking her view. She couldn't cause a scene. Not with Ministry officials standing right there.

"Move, Malfoy," she hissed in an undertone, prodding him with her wand. He ignored her. He didn't see her move, though, so by the time everyone (six people including McGonagall) had assembled in the spacious office, Hermione was no longer behind him.

"Got you two here, too, did they?" Winter sneered, looking at them over her shoulder.

Draco narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. She couldn't do anything to them. She was outnumbered – and her wand had probably been confiscated, too. The guards shoved her roughly, forcing her down into a chair, and she grunted. "Get your filthy hands off of me," she growled. "Vermin, dirt, pathetic –"

"That's enough, thank you," McGonagall said coolly. She swept a look at the guards and nodded. They all walked away, positioning themselves at various points in the room. One remained behind, standing directly behind Winter's chair. Draco looked around. All of them had their wands in their hands, ready to use them. Draco took out his wand just in case.

McGonagall pushed a glass of clear liquid towards Winter. "Drink," she ordered.

Winter cackled, thumping her leg with her hand. "You think I don't know that that's Veritaserum? What do you take me for?" she demanded, leaning forward. The guard pulled her back, gripping her shoulder tightly.

"It would be best if I don't answer that," McGonagall said. "Now, drink."

Winter shook her head, still laughing. "I don't need that to tell the truth. I'm willing to tell the whole world the truth."

"Nevertheless, I would prefer you drink it," McGonagall said calmly.

Winter shrugged, shaking her head. "Fine," she said, licking her lips. She leaned forward, grabbing the glass. "Watch me." She threw her head back, drinking the contents of the glass. She held the glass upturned above her mouth, and the whole room watched as the last drop fell into her mouth. When she was done, she threw the glass against the wall, and it shattered. She didn't move out of her place, though. "Well, that was bitter," she commented.

If McGonagall was disturbed by Winter's demonstration of anger, she didn't show it. "First question," the professor said. "Why?"

-to be continued-

A/N: A big THANK YOU to everybody who's been reviewing! Your reviews are simply amazing : )

I really hope that this chapter cleared up at least part of confusion.