A/N: It's been really difficult recently to get anything done. I have fourteen days to submit my application to Oxford University...I'm so not gonna make it. Arrrrrgh! Two unis dropped the course I wanted. I have too much to think about and I feel like a headless chicken with a head cold. Pity the Kitty!

Draco meandered through Hogwarts. He had been too cocky earlier with Weasley and Granger, high on his success. The Slytherin Common room was seething with envious gossip following his latest boast and he loved it. He would have to curb his tongue. Gryffindorks they may have been but he would have to be careful. Granger was always quick to draw conclusions, even if they were wrong at first she was always first to the answer.

Even so, he was tempted to indulge in some smugness. While his father suffered, he shone, and although Voldemort was not the person he wanted attention from he certainly enjoyed the effect it had on others. The staff obviously knew somehow, and Draco had no doubt in his mind that Severus Snape was the one to tell them. Not that Draco would ever turn him in to Voldie; he owed his head of house too much to betray him. In fact it was better that Dumbledore knew, better to suit Draco's purposes. He had had so much fun last year with Umbridge; her Inquisitorial Squad had given him the perfect opportunity to reinforce his image as a sadistic, evil, Slytherin bastard. Now he inspired more than just petty reactions for petty provocations. Branded as a Deatheater in the making, if not already made, people were now genuinely scared, (or at least highly suspicious) of him. It was amusing really, since the only person who should fear him had absolutely no idea.

They could all kiss his arse in the end...

Was that Weasley's sister lurking? He stared at her contemptuously as if reminding himself of what his father had involved her in during her first year. Such an overly elaborate plan...possession through Riddle's diary to unleash the Chamber of Secrets' basilisk and provide the life energy to resurrect the man who became Voldemort.

Disappointingly however, Ginevra Weasley was far sharper than her older brother and stared back with unnerving and impudent curiosity. What the hell was she doing checking, him out in the corridor leading to the Slytherin common room? Although why hadn't he realised she was hot before? Everyone knew Ginny Weasley was hottest of the Gryffindors after those three fine but overly successful chasers. Was this Blaise's new girl? The little pervert was always going cross-house...

She spoke, "I know."

He did a double take. Know what? What knowledge could she possibly have that would prompt this Slytherin-esque cloak and dagger behaviour? She wasn't that sharp...or was she? To be honest he knew next to nothing about her. Now he would have to be even more careful.

"What do you want?"

She shrugged, "Nothing. To know the real Draco Malfoy perhaps." A strange smile played on her lips before she turned her back on him and walked away.

What the hell? Draco stared after her. The girl was fucked in the head. A Gryffindor – Weasel's own sister in fact – acting like that? The very person who should be concrete in her spite of him rather than suggesting there was more than one face that was worn by Draco Malfoy. It almost made him nervous. Did she know? Or did she just possess some trivial snippet of gossip that she thought she could turn into a big thing? What would she do? If she had guessed...well, she had kept it quiet so far. How could she have guessed if she had done so? She knew nothing about the supposed Draco behind the mask. From the very first he had done nothing to contradict his image as one who revelled in and was proud of his dark heritage and allegiances. He had done nothing either to disprove his intentions of making the lives of her friends and family complete hell. Why then would Ginny Weasley want to know the real Draco Malfoy? He would have to ensure there was only one to find – the one with the mask still intact.

Ginny ran back to the library after rounding the corner out of site of Draco. She knew, she knew she was right. She couldn't be wrong. There was more than one side to Draco Malfoy, a hidden face. She was sure there was something behind this mudblood hating, arrogant, narcissistic mini deatheater that no one saw. Why would anyone think Draco Malfoy was anything other than what he had passed himself off as – the image of his father? There was no reason, that was the problem. Draco's image was all too convenient. Ginny had grown tired of waiting around for him to let the mask slip and so had decided to confront the problem head on. She had seen that what she had said had knocked his confidence and for this she felt very little remorse. Draco had been acting a part long enough and she wanted to get under his skin. While he sweated it out, she had a library book to return and a friend to consult.

"Hermioneee...?" A freckled, cat-like face appeared at Hermione's shoulder with a wheedling grin.

"Yee-es, Ginny?"

"What would you do if...say you were interested in someone and they were needing a little more persuasion than usual...?

Hermione fought to keep herself from going pink. She wouldn't put it past Ginny to turn this into another 'you-must-tell-Ron-you-fancy-him' conversations. She had no idea how to answer this question; logically the answer was to persevere to the point of jumping the object of your affection, unless they were especially averse to your advances. Emotions however were never logical and this is where the problem lay, Hermione thought. Of course it would make things easier if she told Ron how she felt, but it all fell apart as soon as she started thinking about what he'd say or what other people would think, what Harry's reaction would be...the paranoia was stupid but all too real. It was like a blockage that couldn't be cleared by common sense and seemed to get bigger all the time she thought about it.

"Geez...don't look so terrified. It's not about Ron – although you should still kick his ignorant arse and glomp him. Nooo...I've just seen Draco." Ginny slid into the seat next to Hermione and stared intently at her expression as it went from concerned to curious.

"Is this about what you said at the Ministry?"

Ginny nodded, lips pressed together. Neither spoke for some time.

"Are...you sure? Him? He's always been such a bastard to everyone. Surely he'd be the last person to pull something like that off."

Ginny gestured violently, "Don't you see? That's my point, he's the least likely person to have done it so obviously it was him!"

"Shh!" The older girl motioned for a little more subtlety. What Ginny was saying now began to make a little more sense, now she thought about it. She'd always loved a good mystery story, and it had always been the first rule when weighing up the suspects that the murderer is always the person you would least suspect. This was, however, Draco Malfoy...she couldn't help feeling uneasy about Ginney's conclusion. Draco so clearly hated everyone the evacuation had helped to save – she had experienced his prejudices nearly every day of her life at Hogwarts. He couldn't be the one, surely. No one could be that good an actor.

Ginny noted her doubt, "You don't believe me, do you?" The tone of her voice was dulled and a cloud of gloom passed across her features. Draco would be laughing at her, smug in the success of his masquerade. She had to break through it, crack his shell and find out what really lay behind all of it. If Draco was sharp enough to fool Hermione, well, there was no telling, not to her on the outside. But she would go inside. She, Ginny Weasley, was going to crack Draco Malfoy and she would be good. She would be very good. This would be a coup to rival Fred and Georges'. A Gryffindor was going Dragon hunting. She lifted her chin, grinned cryptically, and left.

Hermione gloomily rested her chin on her hands. She had half wanted Ginny's advice and now she was burdened with the suggestion that Draco Malfoy, the boy who had wanted to be rumoured as Slytherin's heir, was the mystery informer that had saved her life along with hundreds of others. It was preposterous and despite the least-likely-suspect argument, she could not see Draco acting altruistically.

Why? Why now? There was too much, way too much heavy, heavy responsibility weighing her down. She had her duties towards Harry and to the Order, to her schoolwork, her family in reassuring them they were safe, to Ron, to Ginny and now Draco of all people. If he was what Ginny thought he was then what would happen if it became public? He would be torn to pieces. Hermione's mind faltered under the strain as she strove to weigh up the implications of both scenarios. If Ginny was wrong, she was almost certain to be hurt by Draco in some way. If she were to be proved right...what would she do? What did she want from Draco? A relationship? Ginny flitted from one man to the next as if she were a bee in a flower meadow. She had exhausted the Gryffindor talent more rapidly than even Angelina had been able to. She was beginning to match Cho Chang for broken hearts. What was she looking for? Satisfaction? Hermione knew Ginny had that, at least in one sense of the word, but was she in fact looking for the same thing Hermione was? Searching through the ranks of men and boys to find the one who could offer her that little abstract, love. If the meaning of life was impossible, what was love then? Infinitely enigmatic.

Hermione despaired of herself and worried about her friends, the thorns of doubt sinking ever deeper into her mind.

Well...that took ages. Blame the stupid UCAS thing and the impossible essay I had on Medea. You may love this or hate it – but whatever you do, REVIEW and you will be revered as a God by the little people in my head whose torments you see portrayed here.