Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All the credit goes to JK Rowling who created these wonderful characters and story lines and made my mind run wild with 'what ifs'. Enjoy!

Please see the note below!

Prologue: The Bathroom

Hermione occupied her usual spot in the Great Hall, constantly wishing she had made the decision to skip breakfast this morning.

The day seemed promising. She had been over the moon following yesterday's events with Ron subconsciously gravitating towards her in St. Mungo's after his poisoning. For one, it left Lavender in a grave state of devastation, much to her satisfaction and Harry's amusement. She sat by his bedside for a good portion of the day to watch over him as he recovered. Once nightfall came, she left his side to retreat back to her dormitory. Truthfully, she only left because Madam Pomfrey reminded her visiting hours had ended.

Thus leading to the current moment with Ron believing he was merely 'boggled' from the events that occurred.

To say she was severely disappointed was an understatement. The curly haired witch forced herself to ignore the subject for the time being and focused her attention on Harry who was still held captive by that wretched book. She tried on several occasions to highlight the malevolent ambiance that surrounded this particular version of the textbook. Especially after he shard some of its contents with her, previously. It was clear whoever the previous owner was had a considerable fascination and appreciation for the dark arts. She made to comment on it again before she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye.

"Harry, that's Katie—" she hissed across the table, "—Katie Bell."

Recognition flashed across his eyes and turned his attention in the direction Hermione was gesturing to. Once he spotted Katie, Harry stood and closed his textbook, holding it tightly to his side as he proceeded to make his way over to her.

Hermione and Ron watched the two interact from afar, witnessing Harry's posture slump slightly after a few words were exchanged.

"Guessing she still doesn't know who hexed her, eh?" Ron whispered to her. Except the brunette found herself unable to reply as a shift in Katie's posture caught her eye.

All of a sudden, she became tense. And was no longer paying any attention to Harry.

Curiosity peaked, she followed Katie's line of sight past Harry's shoulder until her eyes landed directly in front of her.

Malfoy.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at what appeared to be yet another witch enamored by him. She typically liked to keep her distance from him whenever possible for the only things her and Malfoy were close in was age and their marks. On a normal day, she would have turned her head and continued to ignore his existence.

Except not a day in this school year had yet to be normal.

Before her very own eyes, she saw him unravel. He began to fidget, likely due to his discomfort at the unwanted attention.

The existing tension grew exponentially when Harry turned around, eyes narrowing as he saw what caused Katie's abrupt change in behavior. Hermione could practically see the gears turning in his head, working similarly to her own. The rising guilt in Malfoy's eyes and the way Katie became rigid with his presence said it all. Judging from the rage arising in Harry's eyes, he came to the same conclusion as herself.

With newfound panic, Malfoy's eyes darted briefly about the Great Hall and downward before turning his heel, keeping his head down as he hastily walked out the way he came in.

Hermione could practically feel Harry's jaw clench. If being his best friend the last six years had told her anything, Hermione knew in that instant Harry had made up his mind about something. And knowing him, he was planning on doing something extremely foolish.

When he made a move to follow the fleeting blond, Hermione jumped up from her seat, nearly knocking the food over as she less-than-gracefully maneuvered across the surface of the table. She hopped off and stood her ground in front of the frenzied wizard. Small hands were planted firm on his chest, halting him in his step.

"Harry, stop." Hermione stood her ground and kept her eyes focused on him.

"Hermione, he's getting away," he quietly pleaded with her. "Come on, you saw the look on his face. You know he's up to something—"

"That may be, Harry, but your obsession over him this year already has you on the edge with McGonagall," she hissed. Although the words were kept at a low volume between them, the underlying urgency was clear in her tone. Ron barely managed to get a word of the conversation even being in close proximity to the two. "I'll go—" She chose to speak at a normal volume this time, indicating that it was meant for Ron to hear as well.

"But—" he tried to argue.

"I'm going. And don't try to entertain any ideas of you 'talking it out' with him. In your current state, you'd probably end up sending him to the hospital. Or worse."

Ron was befuddled. "You're joking, right? You're actually worried about that ferret getting hurt? Don't tell me you're getting soft on the bloke, 'Mione."

"I'm not," she responded harshly, "but one of us has to be sensible. Now stay put. Both of you." She bit back any further comments and proceeded to hurry in the same direction Malfoy took off in before either Harry or Ron could protest.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to catch up to him.

She kept up a quick pace in her step until she had a manageable distance between them. The echoes of his shoes clicking on the floor kept up with the anxious thudding in her chest. Judging by his haste footing, he was a few paces shy of running. While being as swift as she could manage, Hermione made her way down the corridor with light footsteps, cautious not to make any alerting noises.

She waited to round the corner as he approached the end of the corridor in case he glanced past his shoulder to see if he was being followed. When she continued behind him, she could see him tugging at his tie and collar as if he were being suffocated. She eyed him curiously as she studied his mannerisms, hoping it could give her some assistance for when she eventually confronted him.

She cursed under her breath as he ducked into the boy's lavatory. She figured it was the universe punishing her for forcing Harry and Ron into the girl's bathroom second year. Not to mention the time they rescued her from a troll their first year, also in a girl's lavatory.

Yes, perhaps it was an overdue punishment.

As the distance between her and entrance to the bathroom drew to a close, she grew hesitant.

Relax, she told herself. It's just Malfoy. But that in itself was the problem.

He hated her and everything she was. More than anything it seemed. Too late to turn back now, she concluded as she forced herself to continue onward, breaching the entryway with light footing.

Hermione steadied her slow pace, keeping her ears alert.

Shuffling of fabric...an old, rusty knob to a faucet being turned...frantic breathing...water splashing.

She kept her back pressed against the wall as she got closer. Once she reached the edge, she stayed hidden as she took a quick glance into the room. He had removed his jumper and was hunched over the sink. When she briefly looked at his reflection in the mirror, she did not expect to see him so troubled. So broken. She certainly did not expect to hear the gut wrenching sobs suddenly being expelled from his throat. Hermione grimaced, refusing to let the sympathetic part of her become dominant before knowing the reason behind his tears.

It was now or never.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before turning the final corner. She was placed several feet away behind him before she hesitantly took a step forward.

"Malfoy?" she spoke softly as she did not want to startle him. He hadn't heard her.

"Draco?" she tried again in the same hushed tone.

He immediately looked up from the sink to the mirror in a panic, focusing his eyes on her figure. He turned to face her, outwardly conflicted on what to do now knowing he was no longer alone. He decided to settle for the defensive tactic, instinctively grabbing his wand from its holster, determination flashed in his scrutiny.

She almost rolled her eyes at him as she quickly reached for her own wand, taking aim.

How predictable.

"Expelliarmus," she chanted effortlessly. His wand was jerked from his grip before landing in her left hand, her right still armed and aimed at his chest. "Honestly, what is it with you men resorting to your wand for everything? Have you ever tried simple conversation?" She asked incredulously.

His eyes filled with manic and fear drew themselves back. His posture was fixed. As if he suddenly remembered who his audience was. "What is it you want, Mudblood?" he spat, seemingly pleased when she recoiled slightly. "Last I checked, this was the boy's lavatory. Come to sneak a peek?" he sneered distastefully.

She lowered her wand, unsettled as she took in his appearance in its entirety and in such close proximity. His pristine grey eyes were strained and sunken in. His pale complexion, once elegant and charming now made him appear ghastly. His shirt and trousers clung loosely to his figure. It was unsettling to her how his expensive and tailored clothes did not seem to fit him anymore.

"Hardly. There doesn't seem to be much to look at." She bit back. Instantly, she knew that wasn't the right thing to say when she saw him tense up. Hermione could tell he knew she was referring to his thinning and disheveled appearance. But something about him made her want to throw away all reason and remove any filters she normally had.

He scoffed. "Whatever. Now give me back my wand." He held his hand out but she held a firm grip on both of their wands.

"Why? So you can hex me? Petrify me for someone to find like you did to Harry?" She asked, frowning.

"You're kidding. That tosser deserved it! He was spying on me on the train! He—" he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. "Look Granger, I really don't have time to deal with you and your bloody Gryffindor friends and I certainly do not have to explain myself to you. So if you don't mind—"

"Are you alright?" The words spilled from her mouth before she could take them back. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her suspiciously.

"What?"

Where's your Gryffindor bravery, Hermione?

"I asked if you were alright."

"Am I alright—" he echoed tauntingly. "They call you the brightest witch of our generation, don't they? What do you think?" He snapped harshly. She could tell he was only acting out his frustrations but that didn't make it any less difficult for her.

"You're second behind me in all of our classes so surely you know what I think." She quipped back.

"I think you're full of shite."

"How eloquent of you," she pressed. "Want to try something a little more advanced?"

"I think you're exceptionally full of shite."

"Oh come off it Malfoy, I'm trying to help you—"

"I don't need any help. Certainly not from you," he spat.

"Why? Afraid of accepting help from someone like me? A mudblood?" Testing the word on her tongue felt strange. What was even more strange to her was when he flinched at her words.

"I have no desire to accept help from someone who has little regard for the rules and gets pardoned for it all just because you're 'doing the right thing'."

"That's what you think?" She was appalled as that was the furthest thing from the truth.

"You're part of the little 'Golden Trio,' are you not? The three of you have always been the exception."

"We are not immune to the rules or the repercussions of our actions, Malfoy. We endure the same consequences as everyone else."

Malfoy hummed to himself. "Such a pity you don't see what the rest of us see."

Hermione frowned, hesitating, and he fought an impatient sigh.

"So what? Does Potter get his underlings to do his dirty work when it gets to be too much for him?" He challenged.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Did he send you here to interrogate me?" He clarified.

"No, he didn't." She said.

He scoffed disbelievingly, "Liar."

"No really, I saw you run off and I—" she froze as she realized she didn't have any good reason to provide without letting him know she wanted to prevent either of them from hurting each other.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That's all." She settled.

"You Gryffindors and your ridiculous morals," he spoke derisively. "I'm fine, Granger. Quit pressing."

"But you were upset just now," she sputtered. "You were literally just crying over the sink—"

"I've been under a lot of stress, what of it?" Malfoy protested. "School doesn't come easy to all of us." He was stubborn. Unfortunately for him, so was she.

"Malfoy, when was the last time you slept—?" His eyes darkened dangerously. "Or ate a full meal?"

"Worried about me, are you Granger?" He said wryly, passing her an arrogant smirk.

She saw through this one somehow. Hermione recognized the smirks and sneers he threw at her and her friends over the years. They were always intended to be taunting or menacing. This one was neither. This one was him attempting to build a wall. A wall he desperately wanted to place between them as quickly as possible.

"How would your precious Weasley feel if he knew you were off getting worked up over another bloke? Or would he even notice?" His smirk only grew at her chagrin.

She was floored. "You-you're barking. How do you—?"

"Seriously? Anyone can see it, thus proving my point that the Weasel is truly as clueless as I thought."

"Don't talk about him like that." She spoke tightly.

He eyed her curiously. "Why? Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?"

"Why do you act like this?" she asked, exasperated.

"I think I've made it very clear why, Granger."

"No, I know you act like a prat because you simply are an arrogant, spoiled, entitled, rotten, Pureblooded arse—"

"—you left out devastatingly handsome," he remarked.

"You're so guarded all the time. It's as if you're paranoid that something bad is going to happen at any moment. You've been different since the start of the year. I recognize school stress and I know for a fact that is not what this is. We're the furthest thing from friends and most of the time, I would love nothing more than to hex—"

She cut herself off, knowing her next words would have gotten her nowhere. She considered her next statement. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and let her next words come out without hindrance. "—but as a fellow classmate I am concerned for your health."

He swallowed uncomfortably, "Your brilliance has always been the bane of my existence, Granger. Surely this is a subject you can figure out for yourself. I know you've already put some thought into it—" her eyes flickered down to his left forearm which was still covered by his white oxford. A subtle act which did not go unnoticed by him.

He drew his lips into a thin line before continuing, "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you've already come to your own conclusions—" he spoke with a softness Hermione had never heard from him before. Realizing he purposefully left his statement open ended as a question, she answered by nodding hesitantly.

He shut his eyes as he took in a deep breath. She thought it was to cope with the fact that she basically confessed her suspicions of him and his allegiance. However, when he opened his eyes again, they were empty.

She was perplexed. He had taken the time during her rant to his advantage. He challenged her to distract her, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist. And he had succeeded. The wall had been completely built.

"Then we are done here," he said, emotionless.

That was it. He made it clear he was not interested in talking anymore. Hermione had failed. "No, I told you I'm not here because of Harry. That's not fair—"

"Life's not fair. And whoever said so is currently rolling around, laughing in his grave like a twat." He retorted.

"Everyone has a choice, Malfoy. You made yours explicitly all those years ago when you said we were the 'wrong sort'. I think it's only fair that you own up to that choice."

"Enlighten me, Granger." His voice lowered as he took a step forward. Hermione hadn't noticed they somehow made their way closer to each other during their confrontation. She wondered if he did. She began to back up to the wall when he continued to step forward. He definitely noticed.

"Since you are under the pretense that one has the privilege of making these choices for oneself—" He now stood in front of her, peering down at her. She was not aware he was that much taller than her.

"—and that one should be judged by the choices they openly made despite the circumstances—" he resumed, closing in on her.

"That's not what I—" she attempted to defend when her back touched the wall but he did not give any pause.

"—but what is one to do when they are simply not given an option?" Malfoy sneered.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger did not have an answer. She frowned as she contemplated his words. The wording was simple but the implication was heavy;

He didn't have a choice.

She suddenly had a feeling he was not talking about their childhood feud anymore.

He sighed, he reached forward to take his wand easily from her relaxed hold. She didn't even bother fighting for it. There was no point.

"Do us a favor and stay far away from me, Granger. Don't follow me, quit your worrying and just make it easier for everyone." He spoke firmly before backing to walk past her and out of the lavatory.

Her eyes stayed glued to the floor as she heard his retreating footsteps fade. Had she misjudged him? She shook away the thoughts, remembering where she was. She knew she would get in a great amount of trouble if a professor or another student found her in the boy's lavatory. Hermione began to make her exit as well as she processed the newfound knowledge.

She took her time walking down the corridor on her stroll back to the Great Hall, knowing Harry would be expecting answers. What was she to say? She certainly couldn't tell Harry of what she had learned. That Draco Malfoy was likely a death eater and was definitely the one who hexed Katie Bell. He was already teetering on the edge and this information would cause him to go absolutely ballistic.

She didn't even get Malfoy's reasoning for why. But had she ever really known why? She had always assumed his actions were due to him being naturally born and raised to be such, taking a presence as a bully for mere entertainment and acting out because of jealousy. Maybe it started out that way. But now everything was so...complicated.

Hermione found herself walking through the doorway to the Great Hall where she found Harry and Ron, apparently anxiously waiting for her return. Once they spotted her, their tense postures slouched with content when she appeared unharmed.

When she took her seat beside Ron, Harry wasted no time in breaking the ice.

"Oh good, I was getting really worried about you. So? Did he confess?" He asked.

"Nope, he threatened me. Called me 'Mudblood' a few times, said hateful things about you and sauntered off before I could ask anything." She said, effortlessly. It slightly intimidated her how easy it was for her to lie just now. She was never really known for being a good liar.

"Sounds about right," Ron remarked.

Harry groaned dejectedly, "I knew I should have gone after him, myself."

"Stop it, Harry. If you pursued him, it would have only ended horribly." Something fluttered in her chest at that statement. She was just in a room alone with Malfoy and managed a slightly-less-than-hostile conversation with him before coming out unscathed. She did not feel many muggleborns could share the same sentiment.

"I would've gotten answers at least. Whether we fought or not, it would have confirmed my suspicions," he argued.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Ron beat her to it. "She's got a point, you know. I'm not a fan of the git either but your...fascination with him this year has made you a little mad if I'm honest—" Ron grimaced and briefly glanced over to Hermione. Almost as if he were looking for confirmation. He exhaled before continuing.

"I also think you should get rid of that book. It's bad news, mate." Her eyes widened. Did he just—

Harry was crestfallen. "Yeah, you're probably right. It practically screams 'dark arts', doesn't it?" He sighed deeply. "I'll meet with Ginny later on and figure out what to do with it. I'm still curious as to what this 'sectumsempra' spell does though."

A chill went down her spine. Hermione cast her gaze downwards at the spell written out in the reopened, tattered book. She noticed that it was captioned, 'for enemies'. But perhaps that was what he was. An 'enemy'. Even so, she did not feel comfortable letting Harry confront Malfoy. She did not lie when she claimed to not know of the spell. However, she was able to make an educated guess on what the spell could entail given the Latin terminology. She shuddered thinking her best friend could have resorted to a dark spell as such in the heat of the moment. She knew how Harry could act when provoked.

Later that night, Harry and Ginny went to dispose of that cursed textbook. Hermione settled for going to bed, mind plagued with thoughts of a particular blond. Somewhere in her gut she knew; she saved Draco Malfoy from her very own best friend. The mere fact tugged at her chest but she didn't think the fact that she helped someone she was meant to hate was why. It was the fact that it felt something unfamiliar. She told herself it was merely sympathy. Or pity. At the end of the day, she had her friends to turn to while he was likely alone to deal with all the hardships of school and life. As far as she could tell, he never really had any true friends. He was clearly suffering and he needed someone now more than anything. Perhaps that was the unfamiliar part of it all. The part of her that wished he had let her in.

In the depths of those steely grey eyes before he threw his shields up, she saw a haunted mind, a broken soul. There was so much that he was withholding.

She hoped, whether it was by her or someone else, one day, he would let himself be saved.