Disclaimer: I only own the ideas that pop out of my head, even if they suck ass. It's not my fault I have a chemically imbalanced brain! lol.

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry!! I've had a HUGE case of writer's block, but I've vanquished it to the dark recesses of suburbia. I'm going to try to make this chapter long, so I hope it pleases you wonderful reviewers! This is where the plot really comes into focus, no more silly stuff, at least for a while.

Coward in the Shadows--The first few chapters are supposed to be light and fluffy so when the shit hits the fan, it hits it hard and splatters everywhere. lol. Thanks for the review!

Snapegirl-- lol. Nice to see you're so very eager! Sorry about the delay in posting. The "obtainer of the infamous video" will, hopefully be a huge shocker. At least I intend it to be....*evil grin* Thank you so very much for your reviews!!

B--You're so funny. lol. Thanks for your reviews!

This chapter contains some dark subject matter. This is the only warning you get. It also has some changes in POV but, like I do in Hermione's POV, it will be written in third person.

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The next day consisted of just goofing off and "girly stuff". Brenna was quite tired from all of the activity of the previous day, so she decided to take a nap in Hermione's dorm.

Hermione cuddled in one of the armchairs, content on reading for the rest of the evening. After about 15 minutes of unsuccessfully being able to focus on the novel, she sighed and got up to return the book to the desk. She yawned and clasped her hands together raising her arms, palms up, towards the ceiling.

Walking over to the portrait hole, she pushed it open to reveal the dimly lit corridor. Stepping out into the chilly hall, she pulled her Gryffindor cloak tighter around herself and started walking.

She had intended to sneak out onto the grounds and stroll around the lake, but her plans were rapidly changing as she heard voices coming towards her. Not wanting to be caught out after curfew, she ducked behind the nearest coat of armor. The rules had become much stricter after the Triwizard Tournament, and Hermione didn't want to have anything jeopardize her position.

As the voices got nearer, Hermione heard tidbits of the conversation.

"He's unstable....help him...," a baritone male voice said.

"...Dumbledore says we shouldn't...let him sort things out on his own....," said a female that Hermione assumed to be Professor McGonagall. The sentences were becoming clearer as the pair neared.

"It's my fault the boy is in this mess! I should at least help repair the damage I've caused. It's my duty as well as just the right thing to do!" the man known as Professor Snape exclaimed.

"I'm afraid I agree with Albus on this," McGonagall sighed as she continued, "I don't think there is anyone left that can help him now. He has too many emotional scars as it is, let alone the things he shall experience in his missions."

The words grew fainter as they walked away from Hermione's hiding place. Who's this boy? she thought. And what's wrong with him? Missions? She was now thoroughly confused. She pondered on what this encrypted bit of information could mean as she silently made her way to one of the Prefect's bathrooms. A good bubble bath always helped clear her mind.

Hermione murmured the password to the plump woman that was wearing a dress that appeared to be made of the same material as draperies and was sitting on a bench in her portrait. The scene that met Hermione's eyes as the painting opened is one that would be etched in her mind for the rest of her life.


Draco's POV

Draco awoke the morning after his little encounter with the girls feeling like shit. His head was pounding and the world was spinning as soon as he opened his eyes. Groaning, he reached for his wand to attempt to alleviate the pain but was greeted with pain shooting up his arm and down his side. Yelping, he tore off his shirt to find the newly formed Dark Mark burned into his arm. Tears threatened to fall as the memories flooded into his brain. He pushed them out and grabbed his wand.

Murmuring a calming spell, he started to feel a bit better. At least he could think straight. He slowly rose and trudged to the bathroom to get ready for breakfast.

He entered the Great Hall feeling only slightly better. A few professors turned to watch him enter, but only the ones that knew the truth. The rest didn't even notice him. It wasn't like he cared or anything. Severus was literally gawking at him. The others were subtle, but not him. He never did anything subtly and Draco admired that.

He sat down at his usual place next to Granger. He wouldn't if he had any choice in the matter. But the High Table only had so much seating. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and began half-heartedly picking at his food.

Fifteen minutes and two bites of food later, Draco stood and left the room. He wouldn't even bother going if Dumbledore hadn't specifically told him he had to attend every breakfast unless he was ill. Damn that twinkly-eyed man, he thought as he strode into his dorm and did a belly flop onto the bed.

He surveyed the room and realized how very plain it was. There was the green bed against one wall, a black desk opposite the bed, a black armchair in front of the fireplace, and a green rug in the center of the floor. That was the extent of the decor.

He laughed hollowly. How ironic, he pondered, an empty room for an empty soul. He sprawled out on the bed and took a much-needed rest.

Draco awoke many hours later. He had slept wrong and his back was twisted and cramped. Feeling very grumpy, he trotted to the Prefect's bathroom a ways from his room. He didn't want to be disturbed.

He told the password to the women in the portrait and stepped over the threshold and strode over to the tub. Turning the taps, he sighed as he felt the warm mist meet his face. When there was enough water in the pool, he stripped and sank gratefully into the warm escape.

As he was drying off, feeling a lot better, Draco heard an odd sound. He looked up and saw a small tawny owl coming through the high window. What the...? The bird dropped an envelope in front of him and took off again. He glanced down and saw the seal. NO!! his mind screamed as he reached for the letter.

Draco tore the seal and began reading the loping handwriting, his hand shaking.

My Dragon,

Has your year begun smoothly? I hope that filthy Mudblood hasn't ruined it too much. I certainly enjoyed our last night together. Hopefully we can do it again soon.

Remember - the 20th of August is the day we have been awaiting for so long. You didn't forget did you? I'm sure you haven't. How silly of me, I've only been talking about it for months now. Oh! I must go now. I shall be watching for your reply, Love.

-L.M.

Draco felt the bile rising in his throat. He crumpled the letter in his fist and threw it across the room. He couldn't take it anymore! No more lying. No more pain. He wouldn't let him do it again. He could feel the last of his sanity dangerously close to shredding.

He had to find some way to stop it. To stop him. I stood on trembling knees and walked to the sink. Leaning against the cool porcelain, he gazed at his reflection.

His skin was ghastly pale, his eyes sunken and hollow. He was merely a sliver of what he used to be. What he was before his life turned to shit and stayed there. But he was done with it.

He sneered at his own reflection and smashed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Sinking to the floor, he laid his head against the cool stone of the wall and grabbed a shard of glass.

He pressed the sharpest edge against the smooth flesh of his wrist and dragged it across slowly, savoring the sweet release of crimson. He repeated the motion, over and over, cursing Luscious with every slice. He glanced down and saw that his arm had become bloody and raw.

His eyes widened. He hadn't meant to cause this much damage. His arm started to throb. His bliss was fading and making way to the pain. What was going on? It wasn't supposed to hurt this much! Tears streaming down his cheeks, he feebly tried to crawl to the portrait hole. He slipped in a puddle of his own blood and fell right on his cut arm. He howled with pain and lay on the floor whimpering until he welcomed the darkness with open arms.

I tried to kill the pain
But only brought more
I lay dying
And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal
I'm dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?

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Told ya this would get darker! The last part is the opening lines of the Evenescence song Tourniquet. It doesn't belong to me, so don't sue.

One last lil' thing -- I highly suggest reading Livia by NiennaAlatariel on fictionpress.com. Nienna is Brenna. Check it out!!

Please review! *hugs and kisses*