Hermione and Luna were trudging back in the snow to Hogsmeade, arm in arm, through the cold night air. Luna who was normally a lot more talkative was being uncharacteristically quiet.

"Thanks for walking back with me," said Hermione trying to break the silence.

"That's alright," Luna smiled. "I could tell Theodore needed to stay and we needed to leave."

Hermione found it strange the way she'd say his name. "I didn't realise you were friends with Nott."

"We are and we aren't," she shrugged. "He writes to me once in awhile, especially around Christmas. He misses his mother like I miss my mother."

"I'm sorry Luna," Hermione said softly. She hadn't known that his mother was dead. Then it dawned on her that Nott had probably seen her die, that's why he could see the Thestrals in fifth year. She'd always wondered why that was. The walk back felt long and the silence was creeping back up between them. She couldn't bear it. "It must be nice to have someone to talk to about it," she tried filling in the quiet as they reached the castle. "I can only imagine how hard it must be…"

"Oh, we never talk about them," said Luna wearing a dreamy expression, wholly unaffected by the topic of conversation. "There's just something comfortable about being around someone who understands… How long have you been in love with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione stopped dead dropping her arm.

"Excuse me?" Her voice sounded small.

"I just assumed," she said gazing at her with a vacant expression. "With all the fairy dust…"

Hermione felt her blood curdle. Fairy dust. Of all the crazy things she's ever said! "Luna, please, sometimes you say the most ridiculous things!" Hermione choked in fury, folding her hands and marching off into the castle.

That same night in the bathroom after her shower she was drying her hair when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She went up to it and studied herself closely, looking above her head, over her shoulder and all around her. Fairy dust, she tutted. She'd never heard of something as foolish as that.

The next day Hermione was walking back to the Gryffindor Tower from visiting Buckbeak when she spotted her friends.

"Harry! Ginny!" she exclaimed hurrying toward them. "I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck—I mean Witherwings." She rolled her eyes. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," Ron tried to say, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—"

"I've got something for you, Harry," she interrupted in an excited rush to deliver Dumbledore's letter. "Oh, hang on— new password. Abstinence."

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady giving Hermione the I-know-what-you-did look. She'd been silently reproaching her ever since Draco stayed over that night.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

"No idea," said Hermione feigning ignorance as she led the way into the packed common room. "Anyway!"

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it. "I've got loads to tell him—and you. Let's sit down."

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron's arms. Hermione didn't have the patience to deal with this, she gave a tinkling laugh and began walking over to a table on the other side of the room.

"Coming Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," she replied, but Harry was soon at Hermione's side sitting down at the table.

"So how was your Christmas?" he asked.

"Oh, fine," she tried shrugging nonchalantly. "Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won's?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, can't you—"

"No, I can't," she deadpanned knowing all too well where this conversation was going. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas—"

"Maybe…" She found herself conceding. Harry looked hopeful. She knew he was exhausted by the animosity between her and Ron and if she was being honest she was beginning to tire of it too. She felt bad that Harry was caught in the middle but she was hurt. Except now, with all the secrets she was hiding, did she have a right to be angry?

"Listen," he said sitting a little closer to her so that they wouldn't be overheard. "I have to tell you something…" so Hermione listened.

When he had finished, she was internally panicking. This was the moment where she would tell Harry everything, reveal the whole truth, come clean, wash her hands of it, but all she could stammer out was, "Err… well, maybe—"

"I know what you're going to say, maybe Snape was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing…"

"Well…" Not even close to what I was going to say, Hermione thought. "Yes."

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so too," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly. Because she really, really couldn't. He was definitely up to something and she was certain that whatever it was, he was doing it in the Room of Requirement.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm… did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure… Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?" Oh God, why was she saying things she didn't herself believe, of course, they were referring to Voldemort. She was screaming at herself, just tell Harry, tell him everything, but she was paralyzed.

Her mind was racing with this new information.

Why would Snape make an Unbreakable Vow? He was in the Order and Dumbledore trusted him. She couldn't believe that he would want to help Draco kill Dumbledore, she just couldn't believe it. Although with her recent discovery it seemed like there was a real Death Eater trend…

His mother, she thought. Harry said Snape had promised his mother so… it must mean that Narcissa Malfoy knew that Draco had been given a suicide mission. Had she forced Snape to make the Vow?

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing."

"I know that look, you've just figured something out."

Shaking her head again she insisted it was nothing. She really wanted him to leave Draco alone. She would fix it, talk to him… without Harry. "Maybe we should just leave it alone," she tried. "Just let it be."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, getting frustrated with her. "We'll see who's right. You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry." She glanced away nervously because if Harry ever found out just how much she knew she'd be doing more than eating her words. There'd be days, maybe months of groveling involved. "Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well…"

Hermione was livid hearing about the Minister's visit to the Burrow. After everything the Ministry had put Harry through last year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now. She spent the rest of the evening chatting to Harry and cussing everyone out. She'd been so wrapped up in her own mind she'd forgotten just how much she missed her friend. Ginny joined them a little later and in the evening, after watching Ron struggle to free himself from Lavender's tentacles, he sat with them. The two of them didn't speak but he gave her a small smile which she reluctantly returned.

Then she headed to the library to revise for a little. The N.E.W.T.S were right around the corner and there was no time like the present.

After reassuring Nott that he'd give up his 'fascination with the Mudblood', he'd returned to the castle and stayed up late into the night reading a Picture of Dorian Gray. He understood why Hermione had given it to him and he really wished he hadn't read it. The reasons for wishing so were numerous but among them, the worst was that it made him wonder if she had been spending time with him because she thought she had to save him from himself. Like her S.P.E.W campaign… or, like Neville Longbottom. He didn't want to be her pity project.

He was soon distracted from those questions when the first few Slytherins began to floo back home in the late afternoon. Then suddenly, everyone was back, unpacking their trunks, participating in a competition of show and tell of what gifts they'd received or things they'd done over the holidays.

After having conjured two glasses, Blaise poured himself and Draco the rest of the contents of the firewhiskey bottle he'd brought on Christmas day. Then his friend sat on the sofa next to Pansy, who immediately snuggled up to him. The charmed coin began burning a hole in his pocket, but there were too many eyes around to take it out. He'd do it later.

Millicent Bulstrode was regaling everyone with how wonderful her ski trip had been in the Alps while Tracey Davis was proudly displaying an expensive pendant her parents had bought her. He looked to the other side of the room to find Crabbe and Goyle cornering first year's and looting their trunks for candy they'd gotten over the holidays. Those two lugs were growing bigger by the day, and not all of that growth was vertical. Nott, for whatever reason, was absent and Draco could only assume it was because he had Prefect duties to carry out.

He was on his second glass of firewhiskey when Astoria Greengrass finished describing the highlights of the New Year party she'd attended and asked how everyone else's was. Normally the most boastful, this year, Draco sat in silence, listening to the others. He certainly couldn't tell anyone what he'd been doing—pined over a Mudblood, plotted to kill the headmaster, read a muggle book—nope, wrong crowd.

Pansy raised her chin with a haughty look before going into detail about how she'd spent her New Year's Eve. "And Blaise came with me of course," she finished giving him a soft peck on his cheek. It was nice to see Pansy happy for a change but it still felt a little awkward seeing them like this together. In fact, Blaise himself looked a little uncomfortable when Pansy bestowed such public displays of affection on him. But the poor bloke was so besotted with her all he could do was clear this throat and laugh humourlessly.

"Well you'll never believe who asked me out over Christmas break," Daphne piped up. Draco wondered what happened to the fellow she was seeing over in Durmstrang. All eyes turned to her, waiting. Seeing as she had everyone's undivided attention she announced with pride, "Cormac McLaggen. His uncle works with the Minister of Magic."

"Him?" Pansy scoffed disbelievingly. "His interests lie elsewhere."

Astoria narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin girl. "It's true, he wrote her," she said defending her sister. Daphne flicked her hair in triumph.

"Well," Pansy snickered. "He must like to play doubles because he was busy wrapped around Hermione Granger at Slughorn's party."

Blaise's eyes flicked to him.

"You're lying!" Daphne huffed, turning red with anger.

"She's exaggerating," Blaise interjected trying to protect the younger girl's feelings... or, Draco thought, is he trying to protect me?

"I am not!" Pansy sat up straight. "I saw them snogging—"

"It's not true—"

"Under some mistletoe." Pansy finished.

Sensing the escalating tension in the room, Astoria said innocently, "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. So, were there a lot of interesting people at Slughorn's party? I heard—"

"You're a liar Pansy Parkinson!" Daphne hissed.

"Am not!" she retorted sharply. "Don't believe me?" she challenged leaning toward Daphne. "Ask Parvati Patil, she told me the whole story! Granger herself told Parvati, she only likes 'really good' Quidditch players, so when he asked her, she said yes, although I'm sure it was just to make Weasley jealous. Everyone knows she's out to get rid of Brown. And Blaise saw it too, he was at the party with me—tell them, Blaise." But when she looked to her boyfriend for support he merely cleared his throat and gave her an indiscernible shake of the head.

Catching herself Pansy sat back down and curled into Blaise. "I could be wrong," she added softly. "Maybe it was a dare or a prank… probably nothing going on between them."

Daphne looked furious. She stomped off to the girl's dormitory with Astoria hastily trailing behind.

Throughout the conversation, Draco hadn't so much as blinked, but there was bile rising up his throat and maybe he was going to throw up. Maybe he couldn't handle more than one whiskey… or maybe he was going to have another breakdown. Setting his glass down, he excused himself looking bored.

He went outside into the corridor and leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back. Images of Hermione under mistletoe, pasted to Cormac, wouldn't stop flashing through his mind. He wanted to maim McLaggen, cut him to ribbons, but who he really wanted to hurt was her. Just who did the little Mudblood think she was?

She didn't have the right to kiss anyone.

Did she think she could dangle him on a string, bat her fucking eyelashes at him, have him twisted around her pinky finger? He pressed his eyes closed. She had no right to have her tongue down that oaf's throat, no fucking right. Didn't she know—didn't she fucking know?

He suddenly remembered the coin. He took it out of his pocket and read the message.

He went to his room to get the cursed muggle book.

Then he marched off to the library, intent on ridding himself of the book and her once and for all.