Disclaimer: Does anyone on this site own Harry Potter? No.

Last Chapter: The mudblood Draco used killed herself. Hermione had a tiny mental breakdown.

This Chapter: Draco eavesdrops on Hermione talking to herself, coincidentally. And thusly, we find out why Hermione's so broken up by the Ravenclaw's death.

I have a friend who is somewhat of a philosopher. She has this theory. The theory says, "Things that are different are actually alike." Alright…so if Draco's an evil mudblood hater who wants the whole lot to die…and Hermione is a mudblood who doesn't want anyone to die…how are they alike?

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Draco went to sleep that night in a quiet lonely bed. He had been eaten partway through by an emotion he hadn't felt before. Could he have felt guilt? No, no, no. He rolled over on his other side, pulling the blankets close around himself. He glared into the dark room. Nothing was going right for him. He had slipped an attractive 3rd year a note saying wonderful things about a secret admirer. These were the types of things most girls went gaga over. But this girl had simply shrugged it off.

Went he went down to breakfast the next morning he saw Blaise sitting on some 6th year Gryffindor's lap. He was tall and good-looking, dark brown hair, blue eyes. Probably the most popular boy in Gryffindor, besides Pothead Potter. The rest of the Gryffindor's were in shock. Blaise slide on sly finger down his nose and giggled. He laughed back kissing her on the lips before releasing her. She did the whole hip swinging, seductive walk back to the Slytherin table, seating herself next to Malfoy. Her little Gryffindor boytoy didn't seem to care where she sat. He didn't even give her a second glance.

"Mm, Draco Malfoy. You don't look like you had a very good nights sleep," Blaise said, running one hand through his tussled blonde hair. "What happened to you? Can't have been good."

Draco gave her a push, crossing his arms and looking down at the plates. Oatmeal. It seemed the house elves were being lazy. He'd have a good talk with his father. He'd demand a better breakfast.

Blaise didn't stop though. She leaned in, putting her arms on his broad shoulder.

"Maybe Jonathon would let you join in with us tonight. I know he would if I asked him just right."

Draco snapped for a moment, pushing his hand to her throat. This tilted her chin up. She looked scared for a moment, hands pulling feebly against his cold ones.

"Blaise, you are pushing me this morning. I don't like being pushed. You know that. Now, be a good kitten and run along."

And with that he let go and picked up a spoon as if it had never happened. Blaise coughed a few times. She took out a hand mirror and looked at her throat. A red imprint of his hand marked her neck. But Blaise said nothing of it. Instead, she stood up and went to the far end. Draco ate his oatmeal in silence. When he finished, he stood up and left. He strode out in a very business like fashion, not stopping to talk to anyone. He needed some downtime.

Back at the Gryffindor table there was one empty seat that belonged to a bushy haired, brown eyed, know it all girl. Ron and Harry seemed worried about her. Girls all around the Great Hall were still sniffling. Everyone wore all black. (A/N Could this be because their robes are all black?) But many, in addition, wore black armbands. But other than Hermione, no one had refused to go to breakfast.

But Hermione wasn't where everyone thought her to be. She had left the girls' dorms to be alone, really honestly truly alone. Hermione had once gone underground into the Shrieking Shack via the Whomping Willow. Now she sought refuge from the world in its secret room.

After locating a long severed branch, Hermione tapped the knot that froze the willow. Then she hurried into its underground passage. Little did she know, she was being watched.

Down the long corridor she went. At the end was a small room with a bed, a desk, a chair, and broken bits and pieces of wood all around. The walls were covered in huge scrapes. Chunks had been taken out of the desk, though it still stood. Hermione had brought the chair down once. The silence and calmness that this place possessed made it a place she could easily read. The secrecy was a plus as well. As long as she had been coming down here, she hadn't once been interrupted. No one could hear her talk to herself either. The walls kept her secrets well.

Draco had seen Hermione touch the knot on the tree. He had seen the tree freeze up and he had seen Hermione go down into the passage. Draco suddenly found himself very interested in what Hermione was doing. He made quick long steps, sweeping across the grounds to follow her down. He was silent, stalking his prey oh-so-easily. She was emotional and wasn't very coherent.

Hermione flung herself onto the bed. She sniffled a little, trying to make herself cry. But by now she was beyond crying. Her eyes had swollen from so many tears the night before. Each time Harry had said, "Mione," she could feel herself start to choke up again. Only Ron's silence seemed to help. Her roommates had kept to themselves, not bothering her the entire night.

"Damnit!" she screamed. She knew the only people who could hear such a scream were the people who thought the house was haunted. They wouldn't bother investigating.

She began whispering, muttering to herself really, "Samantha, why'd you have to go and do that to me?"

Hermione sighed. One hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a photo album. The brown leather cover was obviously tainted with age and wear. Draco noted from the shadows that it looked much like his own. She flipped it open. There were muggle pictures of her and another girl. This girl looked very much like the poor Ravenclaw who died. There were pictures of Hermione and her holding hands, sitting on swings, and swimming. There were other pictures of them hanging out. Some of baking cookies. Most looked very recent, as if taken over summer holidays. Then Hermione flipped to the last page. Written in very large red letters on the top was "Suicide". Underneath were some gruesome pictures. The girl Hermione had once treasured had slit her wrists in the bathroom one day. In white pen Hermione had written the details of it. "Died of loss of blood." "No pain due to emotional shock." The obituary from the newspaper had been cut out and glued on. For one moment Draco was in shock, then the next he was glaring at Hermione.
Just looking at the picture had racked Hermione soul. She began to sob again. Her fingers lost the grip on the book and it slipped from her grasp onto the cold floor just within Draco's grasp. He reached out and picked it up. Hermione heard him and sat straight up. Her face was a mirror image of what that girl's had been when Draco pulled the blankets off of her.

"Draco Malfoy! What-what are you doing here? Get out!"

Draco tsked at her, shaking his head and smiling very malevolently.

"My little mudblood, I don't think I'm going to leave so soon." His eyes were on the book, flipping through the pages. "Aren't these precious. A dead little friend of yours? She looks remarkably like that Ravenclaw girl who died. Remarkably."

Hermione stood up. She was shaking a little. Trapped in a room with her worst enemy.

Draco circled around her, much like a vulture would. He thrust the album back into her hands.

"Do Weasel and the Potty know about this, Granger?"

"About Samantha?"

"No, Granger! About you being a filthy mudblood! Yes about the dead bitch!"

Hermione raised her hand and backhanded him across the face. For once in his life Draco had been hit by someone other than his father. His gray eyes went wide and he stood there for a moment. One hand slowly touched his face. Hermione was so scared she began to quiver. She had just struck the most evil student in the whole school. For all she knew he was a Death Eater, or about to become one. If so, what would become of her?

Draco's hand slid from his face. His gray eyes moved over to where she sat.

"Dirty, little mudblood. 50 points from Gryffindor and I think I'll keep this." Draco snatched the leather photo album from Hermione's trembling grasp. "Maybe when you come to your senses I'll return it to you. Maybe not."

He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Hermione in a huddled mass of tears. Draco was quite pleased with himself. He knew she'd never tell anyone what went on. She was too proud.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I was asked to make my chapters longer, but I cant bare to! I don't want to give anything away too quickly. As always, R/R cause its greatly appreciated. Thanks ^.^