AN: Disclaimer. JK owns everything Potter related and not me. I wish I did. Ah well, please enjoy !

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Chapter 2

In the weeks following their return from Diagon Alley, Hermione spent most of the time feeling like an absolute fraud.

It also didn't help that Harry's curiosity over what Malfoy had been doing that night at Borgins, had completely skyrocketed into obsession, and neither she nor Ron could convince him otherwise.

She lost count the number of times she re-lived the moment. Looking back as she ran and seeing white blonde hair, the glowing tip of a wand, the face of her enemy staring straight at her, The Mark. She was stunned to silence after they had arrived back to The Burrow, in complete disbelief at what she saw.

Could it really be? Was Malfoy really a Death Eater? Was it even legal to be given the Dark Mark at sixteen? Honestly, did his parents have any morals whatsoever?

After the initial shock of the entire ordeal had finally worn off, she would still spend hours just lying there in the dark, riddled with anxiety, wondering desperately if maybe she had just imagined the entire thing.

When she took her emotions out of the equation however, and thought about it logically, it really did make sense. As much as it troubled her to admit it, Hermione knew Malfoy would always be his father's son and follow in the man's footsteps. To be in denial about the possibility of him ever taking the mark, no matter how young, would be incredibly naive of her, especially with how rapidly their world was changing these days.

She couldn't lie to herself even if she tried. She still couldn't believe it. She wanted to drown into the depths of denial. How in Merlin was this happening?!

In some weird way she was relieved that she had been the one to see it. Compared to Ron and Harry, she was the most level-headed out of them all, she justified. If either one of them had been in her position, who knows what sort of situation they would be in right now. She couldn't even imagine the havoc and turmoil it would have caused if the situation had been reversed. Hermione decided to sit on everything for a few days before she made any decision to confide in someone about it. She knew acting rationally would be in everyone's best interests right now. Blurting out this type of information would create a disastrous like ripple effect, and everyone at The Burrow had been through enough disaster this past year.

With a heavy, troubled sigh, Hermione rolled over onto her side for the fourth time that night, and forced herself to sleep, knowing she needed to come up with a plan, fast. Her instincts had never led her wrong before, and the odd gnawing feeling in the pit of her gut started to return, the exact same one she had felt when she had watched Malfoy outside of Borgins that night.

It felt like there was something in the air about it all, telling her that this was significant to the cause, significant to all of them. She just hadn't figured out why yet.

One week earlier…

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It was well past midnight when his mother swung open his door in a state of panic. Draco jerked at the noise, and spun around in surprise, scowling at whoever had the nerve to invade his privacy at such a time. He was going over his list of things to give to one of the maids for his Hogwarts school supplies. A completely mundane and boring task to take part in, but he hadn't been able to sleep for some time, and he needed to do something.

Narcissa, dressed in only her night clothes, her hair slung messily around her shoulders, searched for him frantically in the darkness, murmuring unintelligible nothings to herself.

Draco stood from his desk chair in alarm, looking her over from head to toe, feeling incredibly unnerved at her peculiar behaviour.

"Mother? What's wrong?"

Narcissa's face scrunched up in agony when her eyes finally landed on him, heaving painful sobs as she rushed to his side. Despite her petite frame, when she grasped a hold of his arms, they felt strong enough to leave bruises.

Draco tried to jerk away from her touch, her emotion too much for him to take, but she just held on tighter.

"Mother, you're hurt-"

"DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT!" she screamed into his face.

His mind going blank with fear, Draco shoved her away in one swift movement, stumbling backwards against his bed from the force. Stunned by her sudden outburst, he fumbled desperately to grab a hold of his wand from his side table, leaving Narcissa to fall into a crumpled heap on his bedroom floor.

For a few long moments, he simply stood there, staring at her.

Lifting his wand, Draco approached her slowly, steadying his breathing as he spoke as calmly as he could.

"Mother, what's happened? Is it Father?"

Narcissa said nothing, just crying harder into the carpet.

Draco's mind whirled with possibilities as to what could have happened, a testament to the panic he felt welling up inside him.

"Mother!" he pressed, rubbing his face in agitation, feeling utterly helpless as she continued to crumble to pieces.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he bent down towards her on his knees. Rubbing a shaking hand over her damp forehead, he summoned as much patience as he could as he approached her again.

"Mother, what's wrong?" he stammered nervously, feeling incredibly vulnerable, "I just don't know what's happening I-."

"Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, don't do it," was all she said.

Draco grimaced, "Mother, please." he begged quietly.

Narcissa had stopped her incessant murmurings, but still carried on crying, and Draco felt a tight, clenching feeling in the middle of his chest at the sight of his mother in such a way. After a few hiccups and laboured breaths, eventually, Narcissa calmed herself enough to sit up against him. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders for support, shocked at how frail she felt in his embrace. She looked at him through her glassy tear-filled eyes as she spoke, her expression pained, as if she were saying goodbye.

"The Dark Lord wants you to do something Draco," she stated gravely, "But I want you to say no. I want you playing no part in this task, do you understand?"

It was like his heart had found its way up into his throat and refused to budge. Draco swallowed hard at the feeling, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He felt his entire body start to shake, and all he could do was nod once in reply. This was the moment his father had been preparing him all his life for. Where he would finally be called to serve. Yet, here his mother was, completely hysterical over the fact. It didn't make sense at all. Something felt off.

"Draco?" Narcissa croaked, after a few moments.

This was not what he had imagined this moment to feel like at all. Slowly putting the pieces together, it was obvious to Draco that his mother had just been told. Though by whom, he didn't know. Definitely not the man himself. He wondered if his father knew. Maybe he had just owled her?

"Draco?"

"What does he want me to do?" he asked eventually, finding his voice. Ignoring the feeling of foreboding crawling up his spine.

Narcissa sighed, a fresh onslaught of tears flowing down her pale cheeks. She suddenly looked like she had aged ten years.

"I can't bear to say it. I must talk to Snape first thing tomorrow, he has to help, he'll make sure-"

"Snape knows?!" Draco's face lit up, shocked.

"Yes- but you are not to speak with him until I do!"

"That isn't fair mother, I should-"

Narcissa grabbed a hold of his face, forcing him closer to her. "You must not speak of this until I return tomorrow Draco, no one must know. Do not ask the elves where I am, or when I am coming back, and do not tell your friends. Everything has changed. It is not like we thought, and you must trust me. Speak of this and you will not live until… until..." she sobbed, unable to finish. "Please, please, promise me you will keep this to yourself until you see me next."

Draco groaned, no less frustrated by her words than he was before, and shoved her hands from his face. The disdain and humiliation washed over him in waves as he crawled away from her touch.

He refused to accept that in order to survive, he needed to abandon his allegiance to The Dark Lord. It was like everything he had ever known had been flipped on its side.

"You've always told me that one day, I'd be chosen." he stated darkly, struggling to comprehend, "Now you're telling me to refuse his offer? Are you out of your mind, mother? He'll kill us if I refuse!"

Narcissa made a choked sound from the back of her throat, grabbing desperately at the carpet. "You have been chosen to die, Draco! You have no idea! You're just a boy!"

"If Voldemort…" his mother sobs grew louder at the name, "… wants me to serve him, I will mother, I have no choice!"

"Do not SAY IT!"

Narcissa raised her hand and slapped him across the face, and Draco was ashamed to hear a pitiful cry escape his lips, placing a hand over his cheek.

"You'll know in good time what's best for you!" Narcissa snapped viciously, getting up on shaky legs, "If you tell anyone about this, you have betrayed me and your father. Do as I say, and you will live. Nothing, until I return." she warned, "Do you understand?"

Draco sat silently. He felt his cheek burn from the blow as he scowled murderously at the ground. He had been hit by his father more times than he could count, but his mother had never once laid her hands on him. It was something he could always rely on her for. Balance, affection, love. Now, he just felt cold. It felt like his mind had been pulled apart, chewed on, and spat back out.

What the hell was going on?!

"Draco?"

He looked up at her sullenly from where he sat, his white blonde hair in disarray, it was like he was seeing right through her.

"Fine." he murmured bitterly.

He didn't mean it, it was purely just to humour her, since she was acting like a complete sodding lunatic.

He'd get to the bottom of this in due time.

Narcissa sighed then, and said nothing as she walked slowly out the door.

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Two weeks later…

Sitting in the window seat of their compartment, Hermione turned the page in her new copy of Advanced Runes Translations, feigning mock concentration as Harry wondered out loud, yet again, about Malfoy.

"… was Malfoy doing that night? And what was with that weird looking cabinet? Don't you guys see? Maybe it was part of some weird initiation?"

Hermione glanced up distractedly and turned another page, saying nothing and frowning as she continued to read. The only thing breaking the tension between the three friends was the commotion of a full packed train of students, their high-pitched voices and hurried footsteps echoing around their compartment.

They would all be disembarking at Hogsmeade station in about an hour, and it was the first time since -well ever- that Hermione was slightly dreading their return to Hogwarts. After everything that had happened over the past year, the fresh start she was hoping for had been crushed since their trip to Diagon Alley, and even though Hermione was always someone full of optimism, even in the worst of times, she now had to deal with this whole ...Malfoy mess. She hated how the thought of him made her stomach do nervous flips. The memory of him in that dark alleyway was constantly gnawing at her subconscious. She hated to lie, but she felt the best way to handle this situation was if she didn't tell Ron or Harry. It took a couple of days to come to the decision, not only for the obvious reasons, being that they would most likely go in guns blazing and try to hex the Malfoy family to oblivion (which was putting it lightly) But also, because she wanted confirmation. She wanted to talk to Dumbledore. She wanted to do some investigating on her own. She had a plan, and wasn't someone to act upon rumours or maybes, or her feelings. It hurt her to no end, and she hoped they'd forgive her eventually, but she was determined to find out the truth in any circumstance and act accordingly. She would do anything to keep them safe.

"What do you guys think?" Harry asked.

In the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ron shrug in reply, more so concerned with the pile of food he had accumulated in his lap.

"Are you still thinking about that mate?" he remarked bemusedly; biting into a scone. "It was weird I guess, but Malfoy is a bit weird, ya know?"

Harry stared at Ron vaguely for a moment and Hermione bit back a smile.

"Well, yeah. What about you Hermione? Didn't you say there was something weird happening right before-"

"I already told you, I'm not sure what I saw." she explained dissmissively.

"But you did see something, right?"

Hermione sighed. It was the third time he had asked that question.

"I already agreed it was fishy Harry, but we've already thought about so many explanations as to what it could mean. I was mostly just scared because of…" she lowered her voice, "…Greyback, but I couldn't make out what he was doing because it was so dark. It was nothing. Let's just forget it happened please."

"What about the argument between him and Malfoy? What did Malfoy say to him? And why was he there in the first place?"

She snapped her book shut. "I told you, I don't know."

Harry groaned in reply, shoving his hands through his messy brown hair in frustration.

"Don't you guys see; Malfoy's father is in Azkaban! He's angry and he's up to something and I think we need to take it seriously."

Hermione and Ron both simply stared at him, the carriage doors rattling loudly beside them.

"Greyback getting angry like that, it probably explains why he needs protection out in public." Harry continued in earnest, "But I think he's hiding something and…" he suddenly stopped, staring blankly at a spot on the wall behind them.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked in surprise, she recognised that gaze.

Ron paused mid bite. "Is it your scar again?"

Harry blinked a few times and then looked determinedly between them. Hermione and Ron sharing a worrying look.

"He's a Death Eater," he stated calmly, "Malfoy's a sodding Death Eater."

Ron laughed, then choked on the biscuit he was eating, and Hermione just sat there with her mouth wide open in shock.

"Harry…" she started breathlessly. "I think you're just-"

"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed, swallowing hard, "At sixteen? Really? Why would You-Know-Who recruit someone that young, what could they do?"

"It makes total sense; I don't know why I didn't pick up on it before!" Harry said, getting up from his seat.

"This seems really unlikely, Harry." Hermione warned, "I really don't think-"

"Don't you think Malfoy would want revenge?" he challenged, rummaging around in his backpack for something.

"Well yes, but what you're thinking is borderline insane!" Hermione argued as she stood, her insides twisting nervously. "I think you're just jumping to conclusions Harry, honestly. You need to calm down."

"Well if you both don't believe me; I'll figure it out for myself." He looked at them once more before he left. "I need some air."

Tucking something under his arm, the troubled wizard quickly exited the compartment, leaving his friends completely shaken in his haste.

"Blimey, frazzled inne?" Ron remarked, stuffing a chocolate frog in his mouth.

Hermione sighed, and sat back down slowly in her seat, feeling defeated. "He's completely in over his head about it all, I just wish I could help somehow."

Unbeknownst to Ron, her sentence held a double meaning, not realising the troubled look that had fallen upon her face. As Ron kept eating, she realised dejectedly that Harry had put the pieces together faster than she had anticipated, and now it felt like every second that ticked by, she was losing precious time.

Her mind started whirring in overdrive with plans, as she felt the panic rise in her throat at the thought of what she had seen. And what was now running through Harry's mind about Malfoy as well...

It was happening all too quickly, too fast, too soon. This was not a part of her plan.

She closed her eyes to calm herself.

blonde hair, a tattoo on pale white skin…grey eyes….

"I think I'll get some air as well." she said in a rush, exiting from the carriage.

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Draco was reading The Daily Prophet of all things, bored out of his bloody mind when the sound of a small "pop!" then a loud "thud." echoed in the compartment around him.

Shrieks of surprise and the sound of chaos suddenly erupted, as the entire Slytherin carriage was instantly submerged into total darkness.

Grabbing his wand, Draco shoved the paper from his lap and was up on his feet within seconds, striding angrily towards the commotion.

"Fellas? What was that!?"

The blonde looked around in a panic and waved a frustrated hand through the black sparkling mist, watching closely as his fellow housemates retreated to the safety of their seats. He couldn't see anyone he didn't recognise, assuming that the culprits had already made their escape. He sneered at the thought. The fact that someone had the nerve to take advantage of his house like this made his blood boil.

Bloody twats.

"Crab, Goyle!" Draco barked. "Go out into other carriages and find the little bastards who did this, it was probably a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Go!" he ordered.

The two buffoons he called his friends, got up sloppily in confusion, leaving the pile of treats they were gorging on at their table and exiting into the walkway of the train.

In the corner of his eye, Draco thought saw a shadow move quickly to his right, but was interrupted by the winey, high pitched voice of Pansy Parkinson before he could give it a second thought.

"It was nothing Draco, come sit back down. We'll be at Hogwarts soon." she purred.

He scoffed at the thought, crossing his arms as he stood beside her table. "Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school. I think I'd chuck myself off the Astronomy tower if I knew I had to continue for another two years."

Pansy frowned, "What's that supposed to mea-?"

"Let's just say you won't be seeing me wasting my time in Charms class next year."

She frowned. "But Draco that doesn't make any sen-"

"It was probably a couple of first years." Blaise Zambini drawled from beside her, Draco noticed with relief. "They'll be regretting it soon enough."

The Slytherin prince nodded towards his friend, ignoring Pansy's outstretched hand as he walked away, retreating to the back of the carriage.

He eyed the ceiling and floor cautiously as he slid back to his seat, scrunching up his newspaper he had left discarded on the ground. He had hidden himself in a deserted booth at the back of the compartment, instructing Crab and Goyle not to let anyone near him. A strange request for some, but these were strange times. After his mother had gone to visit Snape, they realised there was no getting out of ...The Task, as it would be now called. His mother had begged him to get himself a private train for the journey to Hogwarts this year; they could afford it after all. However, Draco knew it would just lead to more suspicions, more questions, more eyes on him he didn't need. The attention on the Malfoy family had been bad enough when his father had been sent to Azkaban the previous year, and now with more rumours about them crossing over to the dark side to seek revenge or some crap like that, it really had just begun.

If they only knew.

When he wasn't having nightmares about a giant fucking snake about to eat him alive, then he was pretty much ok, he thought bitterly.

Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he had a decent sleep. After everything that had been forced upon him over the summer, it was no surprise that Draco had turned into something like a shadow of his former self, if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, he was struggling to come to terms with the change.

Ah yes.

Change.

He needed guidance, but had no one left to guide him. There was Snape, he supposed, who made that sacred oath to protect him, but Draco knew he would just try to save his own skin in the end. No one knew what was going on inside his head, and what Voldemort had asked him to do, and it would have to stay like that for the remainder of his year at Hogwarts in order to survive.

He couldn't trust a soul.

At times, it felt like he had one foot in the old world, the old Draco, and one in the new one. He wanted to move forward, but that only led to The Task. If he backed away from it, decided against it all, he felt like a coward. Someone who was putting his family in jeopardy for the sake of being selfish so he could just save himself. He had no clue which path would secure any chance he had for a decent future. If there was even going to be a decent future left for anyone in the magical world after what he would do this year.

The troubled wizard gazed down at his left sleeve at the thought. The dark black suit he was wearing covered him from head to toe. He had been initiated quickly with no remorse for the pain. Branded with the darkest magic known to man. It was all over in a few excruciating seconds, but it was one of the most traumatic memories that would stay with him for the rest of his life. Simply thinking about it now, how blindingly violent the process had been, made his hands twitch. Locking eyes with a wizard that evil, that detached, that heavy with power and insanity, was something that made his blood turn cold. He didn't want to be a slave to someone like that. It turned out that working for a lunatic wasn't all that fun. Especially if it was going to threaten the safety of his mother if didn't do what was asked.

He was given two choices that day. Take the Headmaster's life, or ... Voldemort would take Narcissa to an early grave.

Draco felt like throwing up at the memory. The moment he had looked into those green, snake-like eyes, would wake him in the middle of the night and haunted him throughout the day. No wonder his mother was completely beside herself when she found out what he had been asked to do. Her reaction had still stung his pride, but he had to admit, he didn't blame her for being as scared as she was. Regardless of the task, or where Lucius was, Draco knew that he and his mother needed to make a choice, fast. They needed to think differently, now. This war wasn't going to end well for them, and if they wanted to make it out alive, they needed to-

"Astronomy Tower, eh?" Blaise said from behind him, jerking him out of his thoughts.

Draco recovered, and scoffed in agreement, brushing a hand nervously through his white blonde hair. "Yeah. Quick and easy, I suppose." he murmured bitterly, as his fellow Slytherin sat down in the seat across.

The childhood friends stared at each other for a few moments, an awkward silence passing before they finally spoke.

"So," Blaise started, uncertainly.

Malfoy frowned. "...So?"

"Pansy still seams mildly obsessed."

"That's putting it lightly."

"You just going to let her keep thinking she has a chance?"

"She'll get the hint soon enough."

Blaise sighed, shaking his head. "Alright. What the hell is going on with you, Malfoy?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Blaise leaned forward. "You look like an absolute mess, mate."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Firstly, I would never look like a mess. Secondly, I'm fine, what are you on about?"

Blaise smiled, his signature dimples showing. "Not buying it."

"Can't a man enjoy the vast scenery of the countryside in peace?" Malfoy drawled sarcastically, gesturing lazily to the window.

Leaning back, Blaise crossed his arms. "I'll get straight to it then, since you won't. What was with your letter, over the holidays? You're acting like none of that happened?"

Draco stared stonily out the window, his answer cold and irritable. "What letter, Blaise?"

"You sounded pretty scared, if I'm honest."

Draco shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. "Maybe I was."

"Scared of what?" Blaise lowered his voice, "And what's with all this then? Drowning yourself in your sorrows, acting like a loner?"

"Just drop it."

"I was actually concerned, then I see you rock up looking like you've just attended your own funeral for Merlin's sake. It's not everyday your best friend is begging for help, fearing their life. What the hell happened?"

"I said drop it." Draco snapped, then sighed and rubbed his temples, cracks showing in his façade. "Sorry…I just…sorry."

He remembered the exact moment when he had written that stupid note. It had been the day after his mother had alerted him of the task. He tried to leave his room the following morning, only to realise that she had locked him inside like a prisoner. Obviously not trusting he wouldn't leave before she returned from visiting Snape. He then experienced something that his doctor referred to as a panic attack. This out of body experience where all he wanted to do was scream but his body wasn't letting him, his hands shaking as he put his quill to paper. It felt like he was losing his mind. Completely overwhelmed, he had written to Blaise. He needed to talk to someone and refused to settle for the stupid elves. Honestly, what was a man to do?

"False alarm, my friend. It was nothing." Draco said dismissively, still lost in his memory.

Blaise sat back and stared at him again, clicking his tongue in thought. His gaze was sceptical as Draco kept his composure as nonchalant as possible, brushing some invisible lint off his black suit.

"Blaise, I know I'm the more attractive one, but I hope you're not going to sit there and just stare at me until we get to Hogsmeade. It's rather uncomfortable, and I don't like it."

Blaise lifted his hands in surrender, rolling his eyes. "I'm just trying to help."

Draco simply shrugged, inspecting his nails in an aristocratic way. "Help away. I don't care."

His friend groaned. "Fine, I tried. Come talk to me when you've finished acting like a sad little girl. Bloody hell…"

There wasn't a lot of malice in his response, but Draco was grateful he had taken the not so subtle hint he wanted to be left alone.

As he watched Blaise walk away and return to the others, suddenly it took everything in him not to reach out and confess every thought, every desperate feeling. It shocked him to the core how much it hurt to ignore those responses. Draco gripped the edge of the table in front of him to steady his breathing, his knuckles going white. He wasn't exactly sure when he had become so unhinged to his emotions, but now they were there, as easy as breathing, he couldn't hide from them anymore, it seemed.

Draco took a long breath to calm himself, but he could tell it was the beginning of another attack. Feeling paranoid, he got up quickly, the feeling in his chest tightening, and exited the back of the carriage.

He needed some air and something to eat.

It was a close call with Blaise just now.

Way too close.

After wandering aimlessly around the compartments for far too long, lost in his thoughts, the setting sun in the distance now turned into night, he finally found the food trolley. The troubled wizard grabbed a sandwich and poured himself a cup of tea, leaning heavily against the compartment door beside him as he inhaled his pathetic excuse of a meal with gusto.

Draco threw the paper cup into the bin once he was done, turning towards the Slytherin part of the train again, when he ran straight into another body and a head of curls.

"Jeez-"

Hermione stared and stared and stared.

Malfoy, apparently, who was just as shocked as she was, did the same.

Out of all the people she were to find in search of Harry, it had to be him?

Bracing herself on the corridor's walls with her hands, Hermione stood up slowly on shaky legs. Her eyes never leaving the tall, imposing figure of Draco Malfoy, standing right in front of her with the most unpleasant expression on his pale, pointed face.

Hermione felt, rather than saw the flash backs coming, struggling to regain her composure, it took everything in her not to glance towards his arm. Do anything, in order to find out the truth. It was odd how quickly he had changed, she wondered absently. The only comfort she found in this moment was the fact that he had no idea how much she really knew about him now.

Hermione shook her head and straightened up, forcing her hands into fists to stop herself from shaking.

"Sorry, I-"

"You." He stated simply, quietly.

"I didn't mean-"

"Watch it."

"I'm sorry, it was an accident, no need to rip my head off."

Malfoy sneered. "Watch how you speak-"

"We're not children anymore, Malfoy. Times have changed."

Hermione was surprised at how level and strong her voice was, considering how much she was trembling.

Malfoy however, stared at her with cold hardened eyes, looking her over from top to bottom, his lower lip trembling in rage. She recognised that look. He always thought he was better than her because of his blood status. Maybe times haven't changed, she thought bitterly, feeling exposed all of a sudden. Hermione hadn't been this close to him since she punched him in the face in third year.

"I'm surprised you actually grew out of your childish ways, Granger, considering the two idiots you hang around with have barely grown into respectable, mature wizards."

Hermione crossed her arms, not missing a beat. "I could say the same about you, Malfoy, however, I'm afraid Crabb and Goyle are probably the only two friends you've got left."

He took a step towards her, his shoulders just below her forehead. "You'd be wise to stop talking about them like they don't exist. They've just finished beating up a first year to a bloody pulp as we speak."

"Really? Well, where are they now?" she taunted. "Aren't they supposed to be protecting their precious Slytherin Prince from dang-"

Before she knew it, Hermione felt her back pressed roughly against the wall behind her, Malfoy's face inches from hers. Her arms were pinned to her sides and his hands were fused tightly around her forearms. The back of her head throbbed from the sudden force. Malfoy looked furious, spit flying as he talked.

"Shut up you little sla-"

"Hurting a woman is hardly respectable behaviour," Hermione spat back, head held high. "Get. your. hands. off. me."

Debating with himself for a few seconds it seemed, he eventually let her go with just as much force.

Hermione glanced quickly at his arm as she turned, but to her disappointment his suit hadn't moved an inch.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, she walked as fast she could back to the safety of her compartment.

...

Draco watched her with sharp eyes as she left the carriage, scoffing at her reply.

He felt his hands shake and his heartbeat lodge in his throat, slamming the sliding door behind him as he walked back out. He was shaken up, he realised.

Well, he wasn't going to stand in a train carriage all night thinking about a bloody muggle born was he? Especially one that could be suspecting him as a Death Eater

Her indifference towards his usual taunts left him unsettled. He didn't like it. There was an air of confidence about her that he had not expected. The Granger girl seemed stronger somehow. More put together than the emotional and desperate, curly haired witch he was used to seeing, running around the castle like an absolute imbecile.

He also hated to admit how much her appearance had changed. No longer were her features something to be teased, or taunted about, quite the opposite really.

Lord in heaven, he must be tired.

Draco squashed the paranoia about their run in at Diagon Alley as he glanced back at her retreating figure one last time. He had barely thought of the incident up until now, watching her strut away from him.

It was odd, to say the least. She had given no hints that she had recognised him that night. But it was barely enough proof to let her off the hook. Draco wasn't stupid. He knew he had to act smart if he wanted to survive this year unscathed. She may have been labelled one of the brightest witches of her age, but he swore on his life she was wearing the exact same jacket he had seen on her that very night.

If it really had been her, that is.

At this point, he was ninety percent sure. Which was enough to make sure he kept his distance. They had locked eyes for barely a second, and it may have been dark that night, his mind preoccupied with the cabinet, but he wasn't blind. Three dark figures running away from him in the night, so obviously eavesdropping? Who else would it be apart from the three Gryffindor knit wits who were always on his case?

He thought of their private encounter just now as he sat back in his seat, and wondered if it was a type of tactic she was using in order to get information out of him. It hadn't worked, but it sure as hell riled him up.

He didn't know which scenario was more concerning at this point. The Task... or Granger...

"Brilliant." he muttered to himself. His head ached. His body ached. He was tired, and just wanted everything to end.

After Diagon Alley and the run in with, "Just some idiot children," as he had explained to his mother at the time, he hadn't been too worried, but now he realised he had to be more vigilant.

Draco wasn't certain what she seen that night, but judging from the fact she had no qualms with starting a fight with him out of nowhere, he would be stupid not to presume she was already working on a plan.

.

.

.