Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the wizarding world, only Ms. Rowling does.
A/N: Once again, a big round of thanks to my reviewers (: Really happy about some of the things you guys said; I'm glad I seem to be on the right track! The plot's getting a lot more complicated at this point, so take your time to read! This chapter switches scenes a lot in particular. Still, I hope you all enjoy it! :D
"You care, don't you?"
It was like a little spark had been ignited within him. No matter how much he tried to repress it, it was just eating away at him, clawing at him faster and faster.
"You think too highly of yourself, Granger." Draco pushed himself away from the wall, and away from her. She felt air coming back to her again. But he could only feel pain enveloping him. "Care for you? Who are you to me?"
She couldn't speak.
"You twisted me around your little finger like anything, so this is how I twist you around." She couldn't make out his expression as he spoke with his back facing her. "I told you that this is my game."
"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked desperately. "Why can't you just drop that mask again..."
He spun around, wand directly at her face, and she plastered herself against the wall, breathing heavily.
"My game." He repeated, eyes narrowing into slits. "Don't tell me how to play it."
"I asked you – why did you kiss me?"
Draco gave a hollow laugh. "Did you think it was real?"
Hermione shot him a cold look. "You must be a damn good actor, otherwise."
The smirk on Draco's face slipped off instantly.
This is ridiculous! I can hide my mind from the Dark Lord, and this girl is reading everything off me?
"I told you! The more people hate me, the more they..." Frustration was mounting in him. He wanted to tell her to go away, leave him alone, the kisses they had were mistakes – even the one he had just given her. He wanted her to hate him with all her might, so that he could return it. He wanted her to hate him so badly that they could go back to being at polar opposites again, just like they used to when they did patrolling together.
Ironic... I was the one supposed to hate her for betraying me to Potter...
"You aren't making me hate you!" Hermione was equally frustrated. "You're... you're making me – "
She couldn't complete her sentence, and in despair, she pushed aside his wand before he could react, and tried to run off.
Without thinking, Draco reached out to grab her arm and yanked her back, such that she was in his embrace.
"Let me go!" She struggled against him. "Or I'll..."
Then he did something very uncharacteristic that shut her up. He buried his head in her brown curls, leaning on her shoulder, as his arms tightened around her back and waist.
Hermione gaped.
"Don't move."
Feeling his heavy breaths against her neck, she shuddered for a while, then tried her best to relax. They stood there like that for a while – Hermione hadn't the faintest idea how long – only that she was half afraid somebody might spring upon them in this corridor. She wasn't sure if the ripples of tremor she was experiencing came from herself, or from him.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened. It was heartstopping enough that Draco Malfoy was hugging her so tightly, let alone the fact that he had just apologised.
"I'm... what?"
"Don't make me say it again," came the muffled voice from her shoulder.
"I..."
"I told you you do the strangest things..." he whispered. "You can even appease my anger even after this act of betrayal. I hated you so badly. I wanted to kill you there and then, so you can be out of my life. But no. Everytime I think about what happened, you're always there. When you want to leave me, I can only think of wanting you to stay. What's wrong with you, Hermione Granger, why are you always doing this to me?"
She closed her eyes. "I... I should be asking you that. What're you doing to me?"
Silence.
"Draco Malfoy!" She pushed him away, but his arms remained locked behind her as she struggled once again to break free. "Stop. Doing. This! One moment you're threatening to kill me, one moment you're willing to tell me everything... sometimes you look at me with pure disgust and hatred, sometimes you look at me like – like the way you're looking at me now... then you kiss whenever you like..." Her voice was weakening, and she felt so miserable she wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it any moment.
"I'm a Death Eater," the way he emphasised it so coldly was chilling, not least because he was whispering over her head, "and you're a Muggleborn. Do you need me to explain further?"
She stopped struggling. Instead, she went flaccid in his arms.
Like a ragdoll. Like a vulnerable, weak puppet whose strings he could pull and control.
He couldn't do it anymore; he couldn't bring himself to do anything to her. He couldn't bear for her to turn and walk away and pretend that nothing had happened. He only wanted her to be safe, and yet, he couldn't lose her.
"You asked me why I kissed you..." He felt his voice shake. "The first time I did, it was because I thought I had lost you there. I thought I was going to die, and Rookwood would kill you thereafter. And it would be my fault. I knew all along that there was a huge possibility that you were doing this for Potter. But you were insane, you went so far ahead with me. That isn't Gryffindor courage anymore, Granger, that's stupidity."
Hermione felt the tears start.
"The second time I did," his voice was so hoarse now that she had to strain to listen, "was to say sorry. For wanting to leave you behind. That wasn't Malfoy pride, that was stupidity too."
Finally, she did look up. His eyes were searching hers; a very deep and penetrating look.
His mask was down again.
"I was really beginning to think..." She swallowed hard, and he could feel her body tremble. "I was – really nobody to you."
He did not answer; instead, he tightened his hold around her and looked away.
Hermione couldn't help smiling a little through her tears. Her arms reached out to touch Draco's back. It felt almost surreal, standing there with her arms around Draco Malfoy, and vice versa. She could feel her tears soaking into Draco's robes as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Everything was so topsy-turvy, and nerve-wracking, but yet she could still seek solace in the arms of the enemy.
Or so they make him out to be.
Draco had not really expected the reciprocation. But he knew he had been craving for this ever since the day in the cave, when her arms were hooked around his neck, and all he could think of was that there was nothing more he really wanted.
Eventually, he released her and stepped backward. When she looked into his eyes, they were gleaming silver. His face was wrought with all the troubles that weighed on his heart; his eyebrows were set in a firm V-shape and his forehead was creased. Yet his eyes betrayed emotion that she had never seen in him before. It was almost warm, yet sad at the same time. She smiled at him, despite the tear streaks on her cheeks.
"Stop doing that," he muttered. "I'm in no mood for smiles."
Hermione's smile vanished. "Is it to do with Greengrass and Snape?"
Draco's expression turned grim and dangerous. After a pause, he replied, "Snape can only have gone back to the Death Eaters, and I have a very bad feeling that he's not in a good position. Otherwise, he would have told Dumbledore."
Hermione cocked her head to the side, looking at Draco. "So – it's true that Snape is working for Dumbledore?"
Draco hesitated, then he nodded. "But you're not to tell this even to Potter or Weasley," he warned. "The more convincing it is, the better. He's like a triple agent, which is fairly confusing and rather dangerous, if I might say. He's risked his life a couple of times, carrying information here and there."
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. "You – you want me to still help you?"
Draco didn't respond for a while. Then he looked at her again. "I don't think I'd be able to do this on my own," he admitted, rather gruffly.
It would have been amusing if not for the fact that there was gratitude bursting out in her.
"What – what about Astoria Greengrass?" she finally said. "What has she got to do with all of this?"
There was the sound of voices coming from the entrance of the corridor, so Draco took hold of Hermione's shoulder – not too roughly – and moved her closer into the darkness. She couldn't really see the expression on his face, but he sounded frustrated.
"I don't know," he said in a low voice. "Daphne says nobody knew about the incident other than the two of them. But one thing's for sure, it was an inside job. Whether it's a Slytherin boy or girl, nobody knows, since the boys are pretty adept at getting passwords." Hermione rolled her eyes, and was thankful that Draco could not really see her in the darkness. Or so she hoped. "Apparently Pansy saw Millicent Bulstrode come back to the room at night. It's possible that Millicent let someone into the room."
"There's no other reason why Greengrass could be taken away. It's a warning to you," whispered Hermione. "Whoever it is must have known that you had something over the Greengrasses, and if the news spread about the pendant incident, you're the most likely suspect to have kidnapped her!"
There was a horrified silence.
"That can't be possible," retorted Draco, indignantly. "If the person is against me, then implicating Lily Greengrass shouldn't be part of this!"
"The person doesn't even have to know about Lily Greengrass," replied Hermione. Draco could feel her shaking under his hold on her shoulder. "As long as you tried to blackmail Astoria Greengrass with the pendants, it's enough evidence against you. I think – I think whoever it was could have tried coaxing the story out of Greengrass, although I think she's smart enough not to mention her grandmother. I've noticed that she's been looking out of sorts ever since you met her grandmother; wouldn't be surprised if someone else did and tried to feign concern."
"That's just a theory!" He sounded impatient, letting go of her.
"You have a better idea?"
"The Slytherins know better than to irk me," he muttered, darkly. "Let alone blackmail me. But why would someone want to..." Draco paused, then his eyes flashed. "Somebody's become one of us, too."
"We'll have to lure this person out." Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. Another Death Eater in Hogwarts.
Draco raised his eyebrows. "I think I'm using the right person."
She didn't respond; instead, she bit her lip.
"If you're using me, then I am; if you're not, I'm not," he supplied, cryptically. "Besides, you're supposed to redeem yourself."
Ever so stubborn in admitting the truth. The smile came back to her face. "Then you'll see."
-.-.-.-.-.-
In the Great Hall, there was a louder than usual chatter from all four tables as everyone jumped into their seats to fervently discuss all their conspiracy theories regarding Snape and Astoria Greengrass. Word had gone round to every student about the disappearances of both teacher and student, despite the professors' best attempts to alleviate fears by dismissing Snape's absence as the need to travel abroad to find out some new defence strategies. Try as they might, they couldn't possibly reason out Astoria's disappearance however, given the distraught state of her sister which had clearly ruled out the possibility of a family matter.
Harry and Ron were also discussing in low voices about what had happened, and Harry was rather annoyed that Professor Dumbledore had only chuckled at their theories about Snape snitching to Voldemort regarding Malfoy and Hermione. At the mention of his best friend, he turned awkwardly to her, but she merely stabbed at the salad with her fork, and Ron tugged at his sleeve anxiously.
"Hermione," Harry began to say, but she ignored him.
"Hermione..." Ron put a hand through his hair and mussed it up. "I'm... no, we're sorry, we didn't mean to..."
"Yes you did," snapped Hermione, irritably, and drizzled a dollop of salad cream onto her veggies. "And you're not a bit sorry about what you said."
Ron scowled, and turned back to his own salad, clearly not willing to appease her any longer. Harry sighed.
I'm sorry.
One person's apology did mean a hell lot though. And he did mean he was sorry.
She glanced up towards the Slytherin table, careful not to let her gaze linger on the person she was eyeing. He was looking every bit the person everyone wanted to avoid on the first day of school. The tightly-clammed lips, the firmly-set jaw, the sharp glare, and the heck-care attitude. Blaise Zabini sat to his right, and was shooting Draco rather odd looks as he helped himself to the food.
"Hermione, stop looking over there," growled Ron. "Stop being so nice to him when he's been so vile!"
It was true. Had he not come to say all those things to her earlier, she might have been quite dead set on avoiding him at all costs, even being angry with him. She picked at her salad again.
She turned to look at the staff table instead. There, Albus Dumbledore was looking at his food. But he was not eating. He looked rather peaked, and Hermione frowned. Slowly, the Headmaster lifted his head to look at her, and smiled gently. Hermione managed a smile back, then looked back to her own plate.
And then looked up again to the Slytherin table. This time, she caught his eye.
Then she pushed her chair away slightly. Harry turned instinctively, and Ron whispered, "Where's she going?"
Before either of them could ask, Hermione was already on her way out of the Great Hall.
Once she had exited the Hall, she began to turn to her left.
"Granger."
She stopped. And turned around.
"Malfoy."
"What is it?" His voice had an impatient edge to it.
She looked around with a furtive glance, then glared back at him. "You said that Voldemort has something treasured in this school," she hissed. "Where the hell is it?"
The moment she said that, he grabbed her by her robe collar and dragged her along to the nearest broom cupboard. His movements were brash, rough, but he never touched her as he pushed her in and shut the door on them.
The broom cupboard smelt musty, and the claustrophobia was enveloping Hermione.
People like to snog here? was her first thought.
"Don't talk about this in front of everyone!" Draco snarled. "Someone might be walking by!"
She wrenched his hand off her collar, feeling the familiar tingles run through her as she realised how close they were. He was practically breathing over her; if she slipped, she would fall onto him.
"I'll go retrieve it tonight." Draco's hot breath was caressing her face, even though he sounded very curt and fierce. "Don't you dare try following me, I'll hex you immediately!"
"You wouldn't dare!" Hermione shot back, giving an involuntary shudder.
Draco could feel her shudder beneath him, and he suppressed a snicker. He couldn't deny, however, that there were thrills running all through his body as well. He was aching to just reach out and run his hand through her brown curls, untangling the messy strands, and just putting his face near...
They went very still.
There was a very, very faint sound of disappearing footsteps.
"You think whoever it is, heard us?" whispered Hermione.
Draco placed a finger on her lips.
The touch was enough to make her shudder again.
Exasperated by her movements, he released his touch and quickly slipped out of the broom cupboard. Hermione waited a while, before she too, slipped out. By the time, Draco had disappeared already.
She stared down the empty corridors, where the fires in each torch that lined the corridor flickered occasionally. It seemed like their hope for what would go right was just as uncertain as the fires.
"Be safe..." she whispered, to no one.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Why have you brought me here?"
There was a cackle, and thin, slender fingers reached out to stroke the side of her cheek. Astoria Greengrass flinched away, and gave her captor a most menacing glare. Or rather, she was glaring at darkness, because she could barely see how her captor looked like in the dark shroud of the cell she was in.
"Oh, darling, won't it hurt not to ask questions, and just be a good girl?" The sickly-sweet voice broke into another cackle. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Let. Me. GO!" Astoria shrieked.
Immediately, the wand flashed across her face, and Astoria fell to her side, gasping from the blow.
"You need to be a bit more cooperative, my lamb." The voice sounded almost sorrowful. "Or else I'd be forced to be uncooperative myself."
"Yeah, I'm supposed to be absolutely cooperative when I've been knocked unconscious, and when I'm awake, I find myself in this bloody black hole," spat Astoria. "How thrilling. And plus, a couple of blows thrown in to add to the excitement! Now will you please tell me why the hell have I been brought here?"
"This crap is killing me," a deep, ferocious snarl came from the corner. Astoria's eyes widened. "When can I have her?"
"Hush, Greyback, this is not your game for now. We're playing another game with someone else!"
Astoria's eyes narrowed, as she tried to sit upright again, as much as she could with her hands tied behind her back. The name 'Greyback' was faintly familiar. Where had she heard it before?
It dawned upon her. In one of the alleyways at Diagon Alley, those that led to Knockturn Alley, she remembered seeing a few posters with the large word "WANTED" shouting at her. And the psychopathic look on the man-wolf's face in the pictures as he roared maniacally.
In an instance, she knew who her captors were working for.
"There's only one person you can possibly play games with and that it involves me."
"Oh, she's smart, this one." The voice was sly. "You're making this really exciting for me."
"But what exactly are you trying to do with him?" Astoria was confused. First, Draco Malfoy was found missing by his two good friends, and later, it was said that he was at a secret meeting with Professor Dumbledore for a possible Head Boy position. He had not returned when she was taken away, and she felt extremely bewildered and suspicious.
And there's that Granger girl too! She told him about the pendants, that's for sure! Nobody else would have known! What exactly is going on with those two, and why are these people after Malfoy when they're supposed to be on the same side?
"Why do you care, my dear?" the voice asked, thoughtfully. "Do you like him?"
Astoria's eyes flashed.
"He's landed your family into some kind of trouble lately, hasn't he?"
There was a loud gasp. "How did you know?"
"Strange response, this." The voice became a little more menacing. "I would have thought you'd expect him to tell us..."
Astoria clammed up immediately. It was true – some part of her had expected Draco Malfoy to tell the Death Eaters. The paranoid side of her wouldn't shut up about the fact that he had done her family in. But yet, the rational side of her had picked up on various clues that suggested otherwise. For instance, he had known about the connection of her grandmother to Maldash Wentervale. He couldn't have known that from the Death Eaters. He had asked her about all these sensitive issues that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have pounced on him for, and yet he was able to escape unscathed – till now. And he had promised that he wouldn't tell his master if she had cooperated with him...
Somehow she just couldn't shake off the feeling that Draco Malfoy wasn't just the Death Eater he was made out to be.
"I think Draco has been really naughty, hasn't he?" The voice mused again.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Draco found himself face-to-face with a very familiar wall. He frowned when he scanned the area for anybody. When he was satisfied that there was no one in sight, he began to pace left and right of the wall.
There was a low rumble, and the outline of a door began to appear.
Clutching the glittering Hufflepuff cup in his hand, he used the other to wrench open the door, and immediately shut it behind him.
The room looked the same as when he had last entered it. The rickety old ladder that was still teetering at the corner, making creaky sounds with every step he took, as if reminding him how painfully delicate each step he took was. Something was missing beside the ladder, but he couldn't exactly remember what. He caught sight of the cut pipes in the corner, but he edged away towards the other end. There was an iron cupboard at the far end, and he took care to manouevre around all the dusty furniture and eccentric-looking items in order to get there.
When he got there, his eyes darted around for any movement.
With his wand, he unlocked the cupboard and placed the Hufflepuff cup within. The doors of the cupboard swung shut. He tried to open the door again with his wand, but it remained shut. Feeling satisfied, he turned around and made his way back to the entrance.
He couldn't help glancing at the mass pipes and wondering if the pendants were still there. Or had they disappeared like the bejewelled cup?
Then in front of him, was that same pile of grubby old Gryffindor jerseys.
The basilisk fang that Hermione had handed over to him was in the inner lining of his robe. He could feel its curved shape as he walked towards the pile. He could feel his fingers itching.
Whoever it is will wait... wait for me to walk out... I still have time...
Draco inched forward and flicking his wand, sent the jerseys flying to the side.
He stared at the bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, speechless.
The diadem was gone.
How would anyone know...
Flustered, he looked around and tossed up the jerseys and shifted a few items, but the diadem was nowhere near. Quickly, he cast an eye back to the mass pipes, and whispered, "Accio pendants!"
Suddenly, the pendants shot out of their hiding place, and hooked around his wand. Draco stared at the glittering chains, his heart thumping wildly.
The pendants were still around. The cup disappearing was because he had hoped for the Room of Requirement to consume it forever. But he had meant to retrieve the pendants once everything was over. And he had definitely meant to retrieve the diadem.
Whoever it is, couldn't have known... he or she would be waiting outside, waiting to pounce on me when I leave this room. How many people would know about a room of forgotten things? And the Dark Lord wouldn't let them know about his Horcrux... Granger and I didn't say anything about it either!
Hurling the pendants back into the pipes, he hurriedly made his way to the entrance. Everything seemed like a blur, the rage and desperation that was clouding his vision and mind, it was billowing within him like a strong gust of wind...
Unless a senior Death Eater has already made his or her way in here already... all of us are going to be...
He nearly tripped. Quickly, he balanced himself.
Staring at the offending object, he noticed that it was a very dusty old book.
His eyes trailed right. There was a strewn pile of old books. What was strange was that there were still soft clouds of dust swirling around them.
Draco slowly turned to his left. The teetering ladder. And the wavering pile of books that was supposed to be beside it.
And was now on the ground.
Pushed a couple of minutes ago.
His wand firmly grasped in his hand, Draco managed the most dangerous glare he had, and surveyed the room.
"Come. Out. Now." He uttered every word with venom and iciness.
There was a gust of wind that blew through, sending the dust bits swirling even higher.
The windows are all closed.
"NOW." He snarled, baring his teeth.
He wasn't sure whether he was feeling all that confident as he was trying to show on his face. He was going to come face-to-face with another of Voldemort's underlings, each one of them powerful enough to kill Draco and destroy everything that he had worked hard to attain today.
He realised, with a sinking feeling, that the same person had watched his every move entering in the room – from vanishing Helga Hufflepuff's cup, to retrieving the pendants...
"Hello, Draco."
He spun around.
And gasped.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Neville sat down on the edge of the steps overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts, where Hagrid's hut smoked in the distance. Beside him, Corrinne skipped down a few steps and looked up at him, a faint smile hanging at the edge of her lips. Having time alone with Neville seemed to have become a part of the day that she looked forward to all the time.
"You look distressed," she remarked. "What are you thinking about?"
Neville mumbled something incomprehensible. Corrinne stared at him. "What?"
He sighed, and then bumped down a few more steps to be level with her. She took his hand encouragingly.
"I keep having these dreams," he muttered. "Of You-Know-Who visiting my parents and laughing at them."
Corrinne flinched. "Me too."
He looked at her in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah. Strangely enough, it's not Lucius Malfoy. Even though if he had been there, I'd have been completely violent in my dreams and wake up at the other end of the dorm." She managed a weak smile.
Neville did not smile. "I was helpless. I couldn't do anything."
"Neville, this is your mission as much as it is Harry's. Or even – " Corrinne found it hard to name the boy, and merely made an exasperated noise.
He shook his head. "I'm not the one prophecised to kill him. I don't have the means, no power, no strength, nothing. I just want him dead," he said, resignedly. "Doesn't really matter who kills him in the end."
"There are still three more Horcruxes." Corrinne pointed out. "You can do your part!"
"How am I supposed to know what they are?" demanded Neville, groaning.
"I have this theory that one of the Horcruxes is probably right next to Voldemort," said Corrinne, in a low voice.
Neville stared at her, wide-eyed. "What?"
"It makes sense, you see," explained Corrinne. "If his 'self' is destroyed, the Horcrux beside him will be aware of the last going-ons before his 'self' was killed. Okay, let's just construct an example. Say, Harry defeats Voldemort in his whatever-form-that-he-is-in-now, and he appears triumphant. That Horcrux can just release the soul trapped in it to kill Harry before Harry can react." She shuddered at the thought of that. "That's – my theory."
"It makes sense. But I mean – what form can the Horcrux assume? Is it always an object? Harry says You-Know-Who always goes from place to place with his followers. Either he's wearing that object, or the Horcrux is one of those boot-licking creatures," said Neville.
"The one object he wore and discarded was the Gaunt ring," said Corrinne, thoughtfully squeezing Neville's hand. "I doubt he'd be wearing anymore Horcruxes with him – the force with which somebody might destroy him would destroy the Horcrux as well."
"Then it's probably one of his followers." Neville deduced. "We've got to ask Dumbledore if that is possible!" He started to get a little excited, and Corrinne smiled.
"Why don't we let Harry know first?" asked Neville. "Maybe he can recall something from one of those times he's met You-Know-Who."
"Okay," said Corrinne. She got ready to get up, and so did Neville.
Suddenly, as they turned back towards the corridor, they heard voices. One of them sounded a bit choked. Neville looked questioningly at Corrinne, who beckoned him to follow behind her, and they crept to stand against the wall, careful not to look around the corner as the voices grew louder.
"...you won't be able to get anything out of me," a voice hissed. A very familiar voice. Corrinne strained to listen, her eyebrows furrowing together to try to make out who it was. "It's no use!"
There was a tinkling laughter, but it didn't sound very pleasant. Suddenly, there was absolute silence.
Corrinne inched towards the bend, and then took a peep.
There was no one.
But she realised what she was staring ahead at.
"That's the entrance to the Slytherin common-room," whispered Neville, as he popped his head out beside her. "I didn't like the sound of that, by the way."
It suddenly occurred to Corrinne who it was who spoke. Her eyes turned a darker red than ever.
"What is it?" asked Neville, alarmed, when he pulled Corrinne back, only to shrink away from her deadly glare.
Corrinne's eyes narrowed.
"The jerk's in trouble."