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A/N: Yes, I'm sorry this chapter was late. And I'm also rally sorry, but I need a week off. That'll be from both Fallen and Macbeth, because I have far too much homework, illness and really low creative batteries. I need time to recharge; otherwise I'll just wear myself out and be completely unable to write anything decent. It is very demanding doing two at once! So I hope you forgive me, and think of me with pity while I bundle up in lots of woolly clothing and two blankets to do my homework…

I was quite interested to see which character most people would like to spend time with (although for very interestingly different purposes…). I thought about it and decided I'd go for Draco – as most of you did – and I'd spend five minutes apologising for everything I've ever done/am going to do to him, forty-five minutes doing a photo shoot, and the remaining ten minutes forcing him into my new, incredibly warm, Gryffindor-red jumper and hugging him.

One thing I find fascinating about the reviews – you all like such different aspects, and have such different opinions. Especially over Delaney being the spy! And of course I might be bluffing, but then I might be double bluffing too. Or not bluffing at all. Only I and one other person know for sure! As for whether I'm giving away plot hints, the answer is: very often, yes. There's one thing, which ends up being pretty major, that absolutely no one's picked up on yet, though it's been mentioned quite a few times. It amuses me greatly. Finally: I generally either use quotes I know from various places or find them on the internet. I'm also sixteen and from sunny old England.

Onto the chapter – enjoy!

And we must unite inside her Or we'll crumble from within

JK Rowling, The Order of the Phoenix

The owl came at breakfast, along with the rest of the post. It was a school owl, a common tawny, utterly plain and undistinguished – for secrecy, obviously. If Draco's eagle owl came swooping down with post, people would start asking questions. And their odd friendship was, for the time being at least, a secret.

The note was short and to the point.

H,

Meet me in the library straight after breakfast; I have something important to tell you.

-D.

Something important? A sense of worry began to coil itself, tightly as a sleeping snake, in Hermione's stomach. Was it something bad? Was something happening to his emotions? He could be changing back – or his mother might have sent him some news, or Lucius might be planning something…

'Meet who in the library?' Ginny's voice startled Hermione out of her thoughts; the redhead was leaning over to read the letter, spoon paused in a tub of yoghurt while she gave Hermione an inquisitive look. 'And what's so urgent?'

'I don't know,' Hermione said absently, frowning at the letter. Ginny watched her, and when it became apparent that no more was forthcoming, spoke.

'And? Who is this mysterious D? Why haven't you mentioned her?'

'Him,' Hermione corrected, coming up with a quick lie. 'And he's just an acquaintance I study with sometimes.' Which was partly true.

'Him?' echoed Ginny, a mischievous smile coming over her face. 'As in a boy?'

'Yes, as in a boy,' Hermione said. 'And don't get any ideas, Ginny Weasley, we're just friends. Like me and Harry or Ron. Nothing is going to happen.'

Ginny frowned, scooping up a large spoonful of yoghurt. 'But that's boring!' she complained.

'That's life,' Hermione replied. 'And you'd better be careful, you'll get as bad as Lavender and Parvati if you keep this up.'

'Having an interest in my friend's love lives does not make me anything like Lavender and Parvati,' Ginny replied sweetly. 'Is that toast I see down by Seamus? Pass me a slice, would you?'

Breakfast went on as normal after that. Hermione kept glancing at the Slytherin table between mouthfuls, but Draco wasn't there. Was he in the Library already, waiting for her?

She ate faster than she ever had before – earning a few choice comments about over-eagerness from Ginny – and hurried out of the hall quickly, giving Ron and Harry the excuse that she was 'Just going to the Library to study.'

As she left, she heard Ginny saying, 'It was that letter she got from a friend…'

Which meant Harry and Ron would be asking about him later, Hermione realised as she hurried through the empty hallways. And she'd have to explain it away with some vague story about an acquaintance and studying together… That was one of the hardest parts of being friends with Draco, she thought. Having to hide it from the others.

In effect, it divided her life – her self – neatly into two separate pieces. The part with Draco, which was concerned with emotions and half-Fallens and Lucius and spies; and the part with the Gryffindors, which was concerned with Ginny and Dean, Harry's feelings over Sirius and the encroaching prejudice. And the two could never meet.

She reached the Library, and began to weave her way through the complex tangle of shelves and books and tables. She knew the way well enough by now, after all, through the History of Magic section and a right at Transfiguration…

A voice interrupted her.

'… You're supposed to be Draco's friend and you're abandoning him…'

Hermione froze. Draco? Who was talking?

The voices were coming from behind a bookcase. Quietly as she could, Hermione crept to the edge and peered round.

Blaise Zabini was sitting at a table some way away, an open book and piece of parchment in front of her, leaning back with a quill in her hand. She was scowling darkly at – to Hermione's surprise – Ellen, who was white and pale.

'Me?' Blaise asked with a scornful laugh. 'Abandoning him? He abandoned us. And you're hardly any better, are you? Using him to get what bare shreds of status you can, to get a little protection from the Purebloods.'

Her voice was quite quiet; Hermione could barely make it out. Impatient, curious, she glanced around for a way to get closer: there were none, unless she showed herself, and then they'd stop talking.

'At least I care about him,' came Ellen's voice, trembling slightly. 'You don't.'

Blaise's face whipped around as though she'd been slapped. 'How dare you say that,' she hissed, just on the cusp of Hermione's hearing. 'I've known him since I was four…'

'And now all of Slytherin's turned its back on him, and you're just sitting there cosily while he has no friends at all, no one but me and Hermione,' Ellen accused her bitterly. Hermione jumped at the sound of her name, and looked about wildly as though she were about to be discovered. Her heart was pounding.

'Hermione?' echoed Blaise, anger giving way to amazement. 'Hermione Granger?'

'She and I are the only ones who actually care,' Ellen said firmly.

Blaise laughed. 'Oh, and what a great way to show your supposed 'caring'. I'm not stupid, you know, I know whose side you're really on. And everyone knows you're only friends with him because you need protection.'

Ellen was silent for a moment. 'No,' she said at last. 'I do need the protection, but I care about him too.' She looked up, giving Blaise a challenging glare. 'We both know what it's like to be outcasts.'

Blaise flinched, her eyes flicking closed, then slowly opening, flat and calm. 'Get out,' she said, far too low, far too threatening.

'No,' Ellen said defiantly. 'I won't. Draco-'

Blaise was on her feet, wand out. 'I'd rather abandon him than be you, you Mudblood traitor,' she hissed. 'Get. Out.'

Ellen took a step back: Blaise advanced. Ellen was in the DA, certainly, but she was only a first year, and Blaise a sixth year, and how could she defend herself? Using magic in the library was banned, but Blaise certainly looked like rules were the last thing on her mind at the moment.

Hermione drew her wand, glanced down to ensure her Prefect badge was pinned to the front of her robes, and stepped forward. 'Excuse me,' she said, surprising even herself with the cold politeness in her voice. 'Is something wrong?'

Blaise, fortunately, wasn't fool enough to hex a first-year in front of a Prefect. Her breathing was harsh and heavy as she lowered her wand, glowering. 'Nothing's wrong,' she said, before turning sharply on her heel and walking away, shoes clicking slightly on the hardwood floor.

Ellen glanced at Hermione. 'Thanks,' she said in a very quiet voice.

'Don't mention it,' Hermione replied. She pocketed her wand again. 'What were you fighting about, anyway?' She'd heard most of the argument, of course, but she didn't particularly want to admit she'd been listening.

Ellen shrugged. 'Draco,' she admitted. 'Blaise used to be his friend, and now she's abandoned him, and he… well, he doesn't have many friends. So I got a bit annoyed at her. And then she accused me of only trying to help him because he can protect me, and…' She frowned. 'It is partly that, but also… We're both outcasts. That's…'

She trailed off then, but Hermione gave her a smile. 'I understand.'

'Good,' Ellen replied. A little of the colour was returning to her face. 'Is he… okay? I mean, I know you're his friend…'

Hermione wondered what Ellen would say if she replied truthfully. Oh, he's getting better, he can figure out most of the basic emotions now, but the more complex ones still elude him. She smiled at the thought. 'He's getting better.'

'Good,' Ellen said again. 'I'd… I'd better go, anyway. Thanks for stopping Blaise.'

'You don't need to thank me, you know,' Hermione told her. 'I'd better go too, I'm meant to be meeting someone…'

'Draco?' Ellen asked perceptively, and she grinned when Hermione nodded a yes. 'I'll see you later, then. The next DA meeting's on Monday, isn't it?'

'Monday,' Hermione agreed. 'Bye, then.'

'Bye,' replied Ellen, before vanishing into the bookshelves.

Draco. However interesting the argument had been, his letter that morning has sounded urgent. He was probably waiting for her, wondering where she was – breakfast was almost over.

Turning, she hurried through the bookcases, heading for their usual place. She shouldn't have stopped to talk to Ellen, even for a minute. Draco was waiting; she'd known that, and what if it was bad news…?

Draco, when she found him, was sitting in his usual place with a book, toying with the corner of the page inattentively. He looked up when she arrived.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione began, 'I would have been here sooner, but Blaise and Ellen were fighting and-'

'Blaise? Ellen?' Draco interrupted, frowning. 'Over what?'

'You,' Hermione replied, sliding into her seat. The look of alarm on Draco's face was almost comical. 'Oh, don't worry, it was just… well, it's a bit complicated. And you should tell me whatever it is you wanted to tell me first. It's not… bad news, is it?'

He looked doubtful. 'It's not bad news, but it's not exactly good news either,' he said slowly. He glanced at her, held her gaze for a moment, than sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, 'The spy. It's Delaney.'

Hermione supposed that she should feel shock, or surprise, or amazement, or at the very least some bitterness and hatred for the Defence Professor. Instead, what she felt was relief – relief that the news wasn't bad, relief that they knew who it was. 'You found proof, then?'

He nodded grimly. 'I overheard Delaney and Snape talking,' he said. 'I also found out that you were right: Delaney's prejudiced.'

'What happened?' she asked, leaning forwards over the table. 'What did they say?'

'As well as I can remember it… They were talking about Muggleborns, and Delaney was saying they were inferior – the usual Pureblood arguments,' Draco said with a note of distaste. 'Then the conversation moved onto Pureblood families and onto me; Delaney asked Snape how I was, Snape said my schoolwork was good, Delaney said that wasn't what he meant. Then they went through a door and I couldn't hear any more.'

Hermione listened to this in grim silence. 'I don't think you could get any more conclusive evidence than that,' she said. 'It was Delaney who brought you up? And wanted to know about you?'

Draco nodded. 'It's a relief to know, in some ways. At least now I can avoid him. Watch him. Feed him false information, perhaps…' He leant back in his chair, thinking for a moment, then shook his head. 'I can think of things like that later. While we're both here; do you feel like studying for that Transfiguration test we're having on Monday?

'Are you looking forward to the tryouts tomorrow?' Ginny asked, an amused smile on her face.

Harry glanced up; he hadn't really considered it. 'I don't know,' he replied with a shrug. 'I guess so. It won't be as fun as a proper practice, though.'

'Well, it'll be interesting to see the new players, at least,' Ginny said, shifting her broomstick into her other hand. They were just returning from a practice – mainly to get the established players back into the idea of things, and also to get an idea of what they were looking for in their new players. Ron had stayed behind to do some practice flying by himself, which left Harry and Ginny to walk back to the caste together.

'I hope we get some decent people trying out,' Harry said thoughtfully. 'If we want to win the Cup, we need good players…'

'We have you,' Ginny pointed out. 'The rest of the team could be deaf and blind and Gryffindor would still win.'

Harry snorted. 'Don't be ridiculous, there's no way I could catch the Snitch in time,' he said. 'The other team would only need to score fifteen times, and with no opposition…'

'Alright, alright,' Ginny cut him off, laughing. 'I was only joking.'

They were quiet for a time, walking companionably back to the castle while the Quidditch pitch grew smaller and smaller behind them. It was quiet; just the sound of the wind, and the sound of their breathing, and the sound of their feet hitting the ground – sometimes in time, sometimes not.

'I read an article about that once, actually,' Ginny said, breaking the silence suddenly. Harry looked, up, confused.

'Article?' he asked. 'About what?'

'About blind people playing Quidditch,' Ginny replied. 'They can cure blindness at St Mungo's, of course, but there's some Dark curses that take ages to heal, or some of them never get better. Anyway, they had fourteen of them once, so they decided to have a game of Quidditch.'

'How did that work?' Harry asked curiously.

'They charmed the balls to make a noise, of course,' Ginny replied. 'And the brooms, so they could hear when another player was approaching, and the hoops so they knew where to throw the Quaffle. Different sounds for each, of course, else you'd have tried to catch a Beater by accident. The Snitch made a really quiet tinkling noise, to make it hard to catch, and the Bludgers made this really loud noise, and things like that.'

'Did that work?' Harry asked curiously.

'Pretty much,' Ginny said. 'I think one of the Chasers got hit in the head with a Bludger, but it cured her blindness, so that was alright…'

They reached the school; Ginny paused in the entrance Hall. 'Are you going back to Gryffindor? Would you take my broom?'

'Sure,' Harry agreed, frowning. 'Where are you going?'

'I need to see one of the professors about some homework…' she explained, looking guilty. Harry guessed exactly what she needed to see them about.

'You didn't do it?' he asked, and Ginny's expression told him he was right. 'What's your excuse?'

'We had a leaf from one of Sprout's plants – it's Herbology homework – and we had to find out what the plant was. Except my leaf got crushed in my schoolbag and I can't even tell what colour it was originally anymore. And we all had different leaves, so I can't borrow someone else's…' she trailed off. 'Don't tell Hermione, she'll get annoyed with me…'

'Don't worry, I'll keep it secret.' Harry replied. 'I'm sure Sprout won't be too mad…'

'She shouldn't be,' Ginny agreed. 'Here, take my broom. Either keep it in the common room until I get back or ask one of the girls to take it up for me.'

Harry nodded, 'Will do,' he said, and watched, frowning, as Ginny smiled and turned around. 'Ginny?' he said, even before he'd made the decision to say it.

She paused, turned round. 'What?'

'I just wanted to say…' he began, then stopped. What on earth had possessed him to say this? 'Er. Thanks for, you know, with Dean… for defending me, I guess,' he said eloquently.

Ginny laughed a little – an amused, pleased laugh, not a cruel one – and stepped towards him. 'You've no need to thank me,' she said firmly. 'I don't think he really knew what he was saying, but he said it and I just… saw red, I guess. And don't feel guilty about us splitting up,' she added suddenly, 'because none of that was your fault. If we hadn't split up then we'd have split up a day or two later over something else.'

Harry felt quite startled – how had she known he'd felt guilty over that? 'Okay, I won't,' he said, and was quite surprised to find that he really didn't. 'And thanks.'

'Any time,' she said with a wide smile, and seemed to start to move before she stopped herself, frowning, and shook her head. 'Anyway, I'd better go,' she said. 'I have to see a woman about a leaf.'

'What are you reading?' Lavender asked, throwing herself down on her bed and yawning. She turned onto her front. 'Good book?'

'Mmm,' Hermione affirmed, tilting the cover so that Lavender could see the gold gilt title.

Lavender read the title off the front, then frowned. 'The Dark Is Rising? I've not heard of that one,' she said.

'It's a Muggle book,' Hermione replied. 'Well, a series, there's five of them.' She turned the page, then glanced up. 'Do you want to borrow it? It's really good, it's about…'

Lavender was looking doubtful. 'I don't know. I… I'll leave it,' she said. 'Why are you reading a Muggle book, anyway?'

'Because I was brought up as a Muggle,' Hermione pointed out confused, 'and I happen to like this book.' She saw Lavender's expression and froze. There was confusion there, and just the tiniest bit of fear…

'Lavender,' Hermione said quickly, sitting up straight, 'It's a Muggle book. It's not going to explode, and Death Eaters aren't going to jump out of it and kill you.' She offered it to her. 'Here, take it and read it. It's good.'

'I don't know…' Lavender said slowly 'You're reading it, and-'

'I've already read it once. Take it,' Hermione insisted, and Lavender took it, rather unwillingly.

'Thanks, I'll read it tomorrow,' Lavender said, tried to give her a smile, then slipped it into her bedside drawer. Parvati came in, then, and started a new conversation with Lavender.

Hermione didn't take part in the conversation; she lay back on her bed feeling slightly nauseous. It was starting, even here, even in her own dormitory. The others – apart from Harry and Ron, and Ginny – would say she was overreacting if she told them, but Hermione knew how these things began.

You started off being unwilling to read a book, and ended up being unwilling to talk to a person. And when you wouldn't talk to them, wouldn't associate with them, how easy it became to class them as not-human, to treat them as not-human. And then you got Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and war.

It took her a long time to get to sleep that night.

A/N: And onto reviews, before I fall asleep where I sit. Reviewers will get any magical (or non-magical item from the HP world) they desire. Me, I want a Pensive. Imagine how brilliant that'd be for storing and organising fic ideas!

I'll see you all… Monday after next, for Macbeth, and Friday after next for Fallen. Review!