Sorry for the delay 

CHAPTER 2:

They stared at each other for a few more seconds until Hermione broke the stalemate by clearing her throat and shifting her gaze to the grounds spread out beneath them. Ok, this is would easily qualify for Hermione's 'Top Five Most Awkward Moments Of My Life'. Hell, it was probably the most awkward she'd ever felt. But at least she wasn't the only one suffering.

Malfoy wasn't looking at her, but was intent on watching the smoke pour from the roof Hagrid's hut. Hermione felt a flash of relief (and triumph) when he ended the uncomfortable silence first though.

"Got a light?"

Hermione, expecting something along the lines of "Tell anyone and I will hunt you down and shoot your dog", or at least "Father will be most displeased", was thrown off course.

"I'm – I'm sorry? Did you just ask me for a light?" she asked, confused.

Malfoy turned to face her, fag in hand, as he rolled his eyes. "Yes Granger, that's what I just said" he reiterated irritably. She stared at the offending object with disgust. "I don't smoke" she stated flatly. Inside, she was seething though. How dare he be so dismissive! She narrowed her eyes at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. Was it just her, or was Malfoy not quite meeting her eyes, despite his flippant tone?

"Fine", she spat out, "If you want to act like nothing happened, go ahead – just make sure you expect the same treatment in return."

"Hey, I never – " , he started to protest, only to be cut off by Hermione's parting shot of "Save it, ferret boy" as she gathered up her belongings and left.

She set of towards her room at a furious pace, which pretty much matched her mood. Dumping her books on the chair by her bed, and making a mental note to clean up in the morning, Hermione was glad she arrived first. One of the few disadvantages of being Head Girl was the fact that though she now had her own private room, it led off a common room that was shared with the Prick-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, at least she had one more reason to avoid him now.

Hermione woke up, and stretched lazily. The sun was streaming in through her bedroom window, and the birds could be heard singing to each other in the May sunshine. She tapped her wand resting on the bedside table, and it projected the time: 6.45 am. Excellent. She still had half an hour to lie in before it was time to get up. All was right with the world. She sighed contentedly.

-But wait. (she frowned) What was that niggling sensation at the back of her mind? (The frown deepened) The heavy weight of her conscience indicated that she'd done something she shouldn't have, but what was it? Slowly, the memory of the night before filtering back to her was echoed in the horror creeping into her eyes. She groaned as she remembered...playing tonsil hockey with her arch-nemesis...and then worrying herself to sleep, riddled with guilt. She remembered how she had mechanically readied herself for bed, her mind set to some kind of automatic mode. Her mind, however, had been set to hyperspeed, and she'd spent over an hour angsting over what she'd done.

Hermione rolled her eyes and swung her legs out of bed, determined to be focussed on the day ahead instead. After all that mental anxiety the night before, she had come to the conclusion that, as unfortunate and embarrassing as that 'incident' with Malfoy was, she'd just have to put it behind her. She was meant to be studying hard for her NEWTs, and could do without this last complication in her life. Well, as she was awake now, she might as well make an early start, she thought as she reached for her Arithmancy textbook.

"Helloo, anybody home?"

Hermione blinked as she realised that Ron's rather large hand was waving in front of her face.

"Sorry Ron, what were you saying?"

"Well, I was regaling you with some of my hilarious anecdotes from last night, but obviously they are nowhere near as interesting as the Ancient Runes essay you're concocting in your head", he drawled. Tessa, seated beside him, giggled, and Ron flashed her a killer smile. Hermione offered him a tight smile in return. His sarcasm, though delivered in a teasing manner, still stung, even more so because of the intended audience. She was trying to like Tessa, but geez, she was almost as bad as Lavender! She turned to Ginny, who was nursing a very strong black coffee while flicking through a magazine. Hermione touched her on the arm and said,

"Hey Ginny, do you feel like going down to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? I've got some errands to run, but then we can go out for lunch or something."

"Yeah, that sounds great", the redhead replied, smiling warmly at her. "It's been ages since we've had a proper chat."

"The thing is Ginny, there's something I really need to talk to you about..." Hermione trailed off, preferring to stare at her hands instead.

"Hey, what is it? You know you can tell me anything", Ginny said, her tone and expression conveying her concern.

Hermione sighed. "Ok, just don't get too freaked out about it. Last night, I was up in the Astronomy Tower, and –"

"Where's my favourite girl?" a boisterous voice fairly boomed out, cutting off her confession. A grinning Harry was striding (yes, striding) towards them, and took the seat opposite the two girls when he reached them. Hermione, though relieved by the interruption, was still, erm...growing accustomed...to this new 'perky' Harry – it seemed Ginny was good for him. She was glad for them both, especially after all Harry had gone, and was still going, through; but they were a bit much sometimes. Now being one of those times. Ginny seemed to have forgotten she existed. She watched with a kind of morbid fascination as the couple exchanged morning greetings, complete with pet names, but had to look away while they kissed (in the interest of keeping her breakfast in her stomach.) A quick glance under the tablecloth confirmed that they were indeed playing footsie. At the breakfast table! "Give me a break", muttered Hermione, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

She glanced up, and locked eyes with Malfoy.

He was staring at her, his face grim, his eyes unreadable across the distance that separated them. Hermione felt a pang of inexplicable guilt at the expression on his face. The clock ticked, but neither looked away; then a group of noisy Hufflepuffs walked past between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, breaking their eye contact. Hermione expelled the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. When the group passed, Malfoy was engaged in conversation with a group of his housemates, leaning casually back in his chair.

Ok. It seemed Hermione had seriously underestimated the 'situation'. What if she was doomed to freeze up and feel totally awkward every time she saw Malfoy? Cause that could be pretty embarrassing, especially since they had to work together as Head Girl and Boy, and consequently had to kind of live together too (though they usually avoided each other like the plague).

Hermione said a half hearted goodbye to her friends, then picked up her bag and left before they could reply. As she made her way to Transfiguration, she dwelled some more on the implications of this change in the dynamics of her and Malfoy's relationship. So far, they had managed to stay relatively civil when working together, only occasionally throwing the odd barbed comment at each other. But now, Hermione thought as she bit her lip, it would be different, because he had something over her: What if her told anyone?

It took Hermione a moment to realise that, if he did tell, the consequences would be just as damaging for him. She couldn't imagine his Death Eater father being to pleased on finding out his only son and heir had been snogging a Mudblood. Hermione grinned. So now she had something over Malfoy too. She increased her pace, her faith in the day restored. She rounded the corner, promptly walking into someone's chest. A hand shot out to steady her as she stumbled, and a smooth, male voice drawled:

"Well, Granger. You're just the person I've been looking for."

Hermione looked up and scowled into Zabini's grinning face. She yanked her arm out of his, and glared up at him.

"Make it quick, Zabini, I'm in a hurry" she snapped. She was aware she sounded churlish, but he had taunted her and her friends too many times over the years to deserve any sort of pleasantries. Blaise Zabini was arrogant, good looking, and a Pureblood to boot – rather like another Slytherin Hermione knew.

"Of course, of course. I was just wondering...if you knew where Draco was?" Zabini paused, a knowing gleam in his eyes, and a small smile on his lips.

"Why would I know where he is?" Hermione replied, striving for a casual tone, while silently asking herself "Shit, does he know? How does he know? Oh, I am gonna kill that slimy ferret!"

Zabini confirmed her fears by replying with an innocent "Oh, no reason...have a nice day, Granger!"

Hermione knew from experience that when a Slytherin was that cheerful, you should be worried.

The rest of Hermione's week passed without any further morally dubious events. She and Malfoy had seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to behave as distantly to each other as possible, which was mainly achieved by them going out of their way to avoid each other. Although Hermione saw him in many of their classes, he no longer frequented their shared common room, which she was grateful for. It gave her more time to study, undisturbed and without distractions. NEWTs were fast approaching, and she was spending all her free time revising. One good thing to come out of this frantic cramming though, was that it gave her more time to spend with Harry and Ron, and she felt their friendship was improving slightly. Hermione didn't really mind that they were only paying her more attention now that exams were near – the important thing was that they wanted to spend time with her, right? After yet another study session, this time in the library, in which she had found herself writing out revision notes for the other two, Hermione trudged along the now empty corridors to the Head rooms. It was late, she was tired, she had a cramp in her hand, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

She pushed open the door of the common room, and gasped. Malfoy was huddled in front of the fire. Covered in blood.

Okay, maybe 'covered' was an exaggeration, but Hermione could see plenty of cuts and bruises on his face and hands, and the way he was crouched over indicated that his whole body was in pain.

"What on...what happened?" she asked softly.

Malfoy didn't even turn his head, but continued to stare in to the flickering flames. "I fell ", he said just as softly. He tried to smile, but winced as the pain proved too much.

Hermione edged slowly towards him. For the first time, she was afraid of Malfoy. Well, not directly of him, but of what he was mixed up in. There was no doubt in her mind that whoever had done this to him had some connection to the Death Eaters. She knew, from previous experience, of their love of violence, and this had their trademark stamped all over it. Up close now, she could see the damage was worse than she had initially thought.

She remained silent as she transfigured a nearby candle into an ice pack, which she handed over to him. He took it with a muttered "Thanks", and applied it to the side of his head, which was matted with blood.

"So, uh, are you going to tell me who did this to you?" Hermione queried.

He tore his eyes away from the flame to meet her own.

"No."

"I didn't think so," she replied with a tentative smile. She would have done the same if it was her. Funny, despite all the confused, mixed up emotions he'd provoked in her recently, all she felt for him now was compassion.

"Well, since I highly doubt you're going to be paying Madam Pomfrey a visit, you'd better let me take a look" she said in a brisk voice.

Malfoy turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. "Why would you do that?", he asked in a suspicious voice.

Hermione sighed. "Let's just say that it's my Gryffindor nobleness kicking in. Now shall I do this, or not?" She could see how tempted he was to refuse, but it seemed the pain won out. "Fine" he said, through gritted teeth.

So Hermione set to work, cleaning and healing the wounds on his face and head, with the aid of her wand. Malfoy studiously averted his eyes from hers throughout, preferring to concentrate on the flames instead. Once she had finished these, she asked him to unbutton his shirt.

She rolled her eyes at his horrified reaction. "Malfoy, now's not the time for your maidenly modesty. You could be really hurt, I need to see." He started to protest, but she cut him off. "Let me help you", she said earnestly, leaning forward to emphasise her point.

Malfoy's eyes hardened at her words, and he stood abruptly. "I don't want your filthy hands on me. Leave." he replied in a harsh tone.

Hermione's compassion towards him was quickly replaced by anger. "Hey, I have as much right to be here as you do" she said, standing up as well, and placing her hands on her hips.

"No you don't", he retorted, his voice growing hoarser, "You're a fucking Mudblood who doesn't deserve to be alive, let alone in my presence."

Hermione had her wand pressed to the base of his throat before he had finished speaking. His eyes remained cold as she hissed "Right, so this is the thanks I get for helping you?" She jabbed him with her wand for emphasis. "God, you know what, you're not even worth it." She let her hand fall to her side, as she let out a derisive snort. "You still believe whatever that maniac tells you, even after he's done this to you?"

She saw a flicker of emotion on his face. "I never said it was him", he said, but she could detect the uncertainty in his voice.

A malicious smile crept across her face as she took a step towards him. "Oh, but you didn't have to Draco dearest" she said in a saccharine tone. "Don't tell me, you started having second thoughts about becoming one of Voldemort's goonies? Can talk the talk but now you're afraid to walk the walk?" she taunted as she stepped even closer. His jaw was clenched tight, and she could see he was furious. Serves him right, she thought. Hermione wasn't normally a subscriber to the kicking-a-man-when-he's-down school of thought, but she figured he deserved it.

"You're telling me you don't want my filthy hands on you now, but that sure as hell wasn't what you were saying last week" she whispered as she leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his ear.

This statement proved to have the opposite effect of what Hermione expected though. Prior to this, his entire body was angrily taut, and his tension was almost tangible. However, instead of causing him to explode, her prodding of what was surely a sensitive spot for him seemed to have drained him of his rage. She could see the coldness fade from his eyes.

"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up." A low chuckle escaped him at the look of sheer confusion on Hermione's face. He sobered up pretty quickly when she opened her mouth to speak though.

"No, wait Granger, let me go first. You're right." He sunk in to the sofa, and buried his head in his hands. "You're fucking right."

Hermione was momentarily speechless at the way the conversation had turned. It took her a few seconds to realise what he was saying, but she asked anyway. "Right about what, Malfoy?" her voice still echoing her anger.

He looked up, despair clearly written on his features. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you? Merlin...Do you could think you could sit down first though, this is hard enough as it is." She realised she was still standing over him in an imposing fashion, hands crossed over her chest, and a frown on her face. If the situation had been anything other then what it was, this skittish version of Malfoy would have been highly amusing. Reluctantly, Hermione sat down on the sofa beside him, but kept the frown.

"Look, I'm sorry I was such an ungrateful bastard, I shouldn't have said all that stuff. I guess you hit a nerve, and I was just lashing out or something." When Hermione gave no indication of accepting his apology, he continued. "I – I'm a coward. You're right, I am afraid to 'walk the walk' as you so eloquently put it. I refused to comply with orders, and it seems the Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to disobedience." He laughed bitterly, then winced at the pain.

Hermione continued to regard him with a stony countenance. Why on earth was he telling her this stuff? Surely he didn't expect sympathy from her? He'd made his bed, now he'd just have to lie in it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Malfoy continued, softly, almost as if she wasn't there. "I know I chose my own path, and I should have to deal with the consequences of my choices," he said as he turned to face her, "but everyone deserves a second chance, don't they?"

She couldn't believe his audacity. "Oh right, so you expect me to believe you when you say that you don't believe Purebloods are better than Muggles? After all the things you've done, after all the things you've said, you expect me to believe you, just like that?" she retorted in a scathing tone. "Tell me, what changed Malfoy? Why the change of heart?" she asked sarcastically.

"Because...because I'm not my father." He sighed. "I guess it's no secret that I am, was, in association with the Dark Lord. At last night's, erm, 'gathering' I was hand picked to assist in the entertainment. A young muggle boy had been found in the woods nearby, and I was instructed to –"

"Stop!" Hermione cried. "I don't want to know any of the details of your sick, sordid life! You are a horrible, horrible excuse for a human being!" she shouted, her voice trembling with loathing and anger. She tried to stand up and escape to her room, but Malfoy, even in his weakened state, was too quick for her. He grabbed her arm as she tried to run, and forced her to look at him.

"Listen to me Granger. I'm trying to tell you that I couldn't do it – I was ordered to kill him and I couldn't do it!" His exultant tone, together with his dishevelled appearance lent him a more than slightly manic air. Hermione wasn't too certain of his sanity, maybe that blow to his head was worse than she thought? It was incomprehensible that the Malfoy that she knew and hated would be saying this sort of stuff to her. She decided to humour him.

"And what happened next, then?"

He shivered slightly with the memory, and then said "Like I said, the Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to disobedience. I was punished, and then left in Hogsmeade. It took me several hours to make it up here."

But why would he be telling her all this if it wasn't true? Hermione made a decision, one that she sincerely hoped she wasn't going to regret...

"Come on" she said, walking over to where he was sitting, once again with his head in his hands. He looked up at once, astonished. "Where to?"

Hermione sighed, fervently wishing that she wasn't in this situation. "To Dumbledore."