Lies

Disclaimer: J.K. owns them. Not me. Lucky J.K.

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Replies: I predict at least 20 chapters, unless things change a lot… possibly more, it depends what my characters decide to do. I manage to update weekly, mainly because I made myself a deadline and last time I was a day late I got lots of messages in my inbox… it involves a lot of stress on Wednesday nights.

A/N: *taps nerves on a table and listens to them twang like a tuning fork* Heh. We have coursework in no less than 3 subjects, and ridiculous amounts of homework, and on top of that I'm addicted to roleplay… please excuse this chapter if it's bad quality (whenever I say it is you all disagree with me, so I shall reserve judgement)

~*~

Hermione was having second thoughts.

She hesitated nervously behind one of the ancient bookcases, pretending to scan the titles in front of her and hoping she didn't look too conspicuous. Timidly making her way to the edge of the bookcase, she hardly dared breathe. Because on the other side of the reassuringly opaque wood was the all-to familiar Slytherin, bent over some homework – oblivious to her presence, at least for now.

It had seemed like such a good idea before. Tell him you love him again, and in the ensuing weeks and months you will fall in love with him – after all, you did before. But faced with the stark reality of having to face Draco and tell him such a thing – especially to lie about it – Hermione was feeling decidedly nauseous.

Why didn't she just go back to the common room, forget about this crazy scheme? But again the thought rose up in her mind: did she really want to spend the rest of forever wandering around the lake, trying to figure out how she felt? A watched kettle never boiled, said the adage, and if Hermione kept watching herself, trying to decide when she'd fallen in love again, she never would.

And she'd promised herself she'd fall back in love: because of curiosity, because of that blank patch of memory that plagued her, because of a deep-buried feeling she still had for Draco, because of a myriad other things. And this was the only way.

And so, ignoring a hundred myriad voices screaming at her not to do this, she stood straight and tall, forced herself to smile, and stepped forward.

'Hi, Draco.' she said, in a slightly high but cheerful voice. 'What's the homework?'

See, she chastised herself, that hadn't been too hard so far. But her heart still beat like thunder: there was still the lie to come…

'Defence against the Dark Arts.' Draco replied gloomily. 'A five-foot essay!'

Hermione, who regularly wrote five feet and more even though the length asked for was far less, gave Draco a sympathetic smile. 'Poor you, how long will that take?'

Draco did something to the nib of his quill, making it announce in a tinny voice 'Two and a half feet written so far.'

He grimaced. 'Halfway through. I don't know how much longer it should be, perhaps an hour?' He sighed, beginning to roll up the parchment. 'I'll do it later, it isn't due in until next week.'

Hermione nodded, fighting a civil war in which half of her was trying to carry out the plan and the other half was trying to stop it.

After a few seconds, Draco frowned. 'You didn't tell me off for not doing it straight away, Hermione.' He formed a look of mock concern. 'I should take you to Madam Pomfrey, you must be sick!'

Hermione forced a laugh. 'I'm fine.' she said, then convulsively snapped her mouth shut to prevent her saying anything else.

Draco gave her a strange look. 'Alright then, if you say so. I ought to go anyway: we left a spell running in Greenhouse Three and we're supposed to go back to check on it.' He packed his things back into his bag, placing the quill carefully in a side-pocket specifically designed for that purpose, and stood up to leave. 'Bye, Hermione.'

'Wait.' The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Draco turned round to face her, and like an actor who has just stepped onto stage, Hermione's nervousness vanished to almost nothing. Now there was nothing to do but run with the script and hope.

'I know I was acting strange just now, and it's because… well, I wanted to talk to you about something but I didn't really know how to say it…' She glanced up at Draco to see how she was doing: his face was as unreadable as it normally was, with the barest expression of interest. She went on.

'I suppose what I wanted to say was that, well, we have been talking a lot for the past weeks and months, and I've been getting quite a lot of memories back, and I really feel that we should…'

Her confidence ran out. She sat, staring at the patterns in the wooden library floor, trying not to blush and waiting for the silence to end. It lasted a thousand eternities.

'Do you mean…? asked Draco's carefully neutral voice.

'Well, yes. I mean, if you still want to…'

He smiled, almost sarcastically. She wasn't looking at him to see it, but she felt it, heard it.

'Of course I do. But… you are sure about this?'

'Yes.' she said it strongly, willing herself to believe it.

There was another eternity of silence, and then:

'Thank you.' Draco said, very quietly. Before Hermione could question why he'd said that, he had turned and left.

She leaned forward, placing her head back on the table, and let out the breath she'd been holding. So far, so good.

~*~

'I grow weary of these failures.' said the voice. 'I wish you to act swiftly and precisely. Our agent at Hogwarts is in danger of being discovered. She was careless. I do not allow for mistakes, Lucius.'

'Yes, my lord.' came the reply. 'She has, however, been useful in securing information necessary for our plan. And, of course, in keeping us updated on the happenings. She makes a remarkable spy.'

'Good. If all goes well, she shall not be punished.' A pause. 'Begin the plan. Prepare everything as soon as you can. I want this over with, and your son brought back into our ranks by whatever means you can use. I do not like those who change sides: it clutters up the playing field. It is better, in a game of chess, to have the pieces black and white, not uncertain shades of grey.'

'Indeed, my lord. I shall begin the plan at once.'

~*~

Draco paced the corridors that led to the Slytherin common room, paying no attention to the familiar patterns of the stone blocks, the play of light and shadow across the grey background. His mind was elsewhere, furiously thinking, working on a very definite problem that lacked a solution.

Perhaps it was something bred into that part of him which made him Slytherin, perhaps he just knew Hermione too well, perhaps he was being paranoid. But as he ran over and over the short yet dramatic scene from the library, he knew that he was right.

Hermione had been lying.

He didn't know what she'd been lying about exactly, but it wasn't hard to guess: she didn't actually love him. The problem that itched his brain was why she had lied.

Certainly she had nothing to gain by telling him that: he had been her enemy, and why would she pretend to love someone she disliked so much? Unless, of course, she was trying to hurt him… the possibility danced in his mind. Was she trying to hurt him, to take revenge?

No, he chided himself, how could he even think that? He was being paranoid, that was all. Hermione wasn't the kind of person who would do that. She was too kind, too caring, too good.

But then what?

It could be pity, he mused with a sinking feeling. Pity certainly seemed like a good motive… but would Hermione really do that? Would she really place herself in such a position just because of pity? No: she wouldn't, especially since she'd think that such a lie would hurt him if he found out.

So why? He asked and asked till his brain hurt, but there was no answer.

~*~

Hermione tossed her book to one side. It wasn't that the book was a particularly bad one, but her mind was too full to concentrate on it. It didn't help that she was still sitting here in the library, where she could still see in her mind the recent events: the things she'd said, the things he'd said, the way he'd stood and moved and the sound of his voice. They still seemed to echo off the walls.

She needed to get her mind off the subject; after all, it was no good worrying now. She'd done it, it was over, and there was nothing to do but to charge into the future with head held high.

If she was going to get her mid off the subject and stop worrying, she needed to find someone to talk to. Someone who could take her mind off the subject…

Ditty, she thought with a sudden wave of guilt. Ditty, who she hadn't talked to in days, and who had had that argument with Winky… it seemed like she would need to talk to both of them. Perhaps she could help: either way, she'd get her mind off Draco.

Resolved to her new plan, Hermione pushed herself up from the table, returning her book to the shelf as she passed, and made for the kitchens. It was a long walk, and she had a lot to think about. Fragments of thoughts whirled through hr mind, thoughts about Draco, thoughts about her lie, thoughts about Ditty, Winky and Dobby, and many more.

She was glad to reach the painting and tickle the familiar pear, which giggled, squirmed and let her in. The kitchens were their usual mixture of sumptuous smells and organized chaos: elves running about everywhere, food cooking, ingredients being carted around on trolleys. One of these trolleys, carrying huge baskets of potatoes, went past her, and Hermione caught the attention of the elf who was pushing it.

'Excuse me, do you know where Ditty or Winky are?'

The little elf paused and looked up at her, frowning. 'Why does you want them, miss?'

'They're my friends, and I heard them having a fight yesterday…'

The elf nodded. 'It is the talk of the kitchens, miss! Such fights house elves is not supposed to have, it would make Professor Dumbledore upset. House elves is not wanting to upset their masters!'

Hermione nodded. 'I know. Caould I see them? Are they busy?'

'No.' The elf shook her head emphatically. 'Ditty and Winky is both resting, they were upset from the arguing and their friends makes them rest miss, but Winky is asleep. It was a big fight! Both are upset. Does miss want to see Ditty?'

Hermione nodded, thanked the elf, and followed her to the back of the kitchen. There was a small door here, child-size: it was obviously not intended for humans. Hermione had to bend double to fit through it, and once on the other side she had to hunch over to allow for the low ceiling.

The room, when she saw it, was a beautiful one. It reminded her of the common rooms, but instead of one of the four house colours it was tastefully decorated in white and light pastels. Elf-sized furniture and covered the room, at one end of which French windows opened onto a small grassy outdoor garden.

Her elf guide led her past all this, through another tiny door and up some narrow stairs, to come out in a dormitory, in shades of pastel yellow. It was impeccably neat and tidy, all the beds smoothed and wrinkle-free, except for one about halfway down the room, in which a figure lay.

'Ditty?' Hermione asked, and the little elf propped herself up to look at her.

'Miss Hermione!' she squeaked. Hermione turned to thank the little elf who had brought her here, but she had already left. She turned back instead to Ditty, walking to her bedside.

'Are you alright?' she asked. 'I was walking past the kitchen yesterday and I overheard the argument... what happened?'

Ditty looked woeful. 'Winky and Ditty were arguing over Dobby. Dobby didn't know anything about it… but he heard the argument. Ditty hasn't spoken to him since then… Ditty is afraid he won't even he her friend anymore.'

'Poor you.' Hermione said. 'Although I'm sure he'll still be friends with you, you got on so well… although I don't know who he'll choose, if he chooses anyone.'

'I don't think he'll choose Ditty.' she said glumly.

'Why wouldn't he?'

'How can Dobby ever like Ditty?' she asked, eyes wide. 'Ditty isn't special.'

'You don't have to be special to be loved.' Hermione told her softly. 'You just have to be you.' She paused. 'I remember reading a quote somewhere: To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.'

Ditty considered this. 'Is that true?' she asked hopefully.

'Who knows? It's up to you to decide.' Hermione replied.

Ditty nodded slowly. 'I think it is true.' She beamed a wide and grateful smile. 'Thank you miss Hermione!'

'Any time.' Hermione smiled back. She paused. 'Do you have a pack of cards? We could play a game to pass the time…'

~*~

A/N: Ok, that chapter was pretty bad. In my opinion. Then again, I'm only the author… it's really up to you. So review!