A/N: Hey, I'm back again! Sorry to make you guys wait, I had a few personal issues to sort out and a god-awful workshop I was forced to attend : ). Hope you guys aren't too mad at me...anddon't forgetto review!

Chapter 10: Revelations II

Hermione was pissed. No, scratch that, way beyond pissed. Make that furious enough to rip the head off anyone that had the misfortune to cross her path whist she was in this mood.

She couldn't believe they had done this to her. "Insensitive gits," she growled to the room at large.

"What has got you so riled up?" asked a sleepy voice from the far wall. It belonged to a gilt-framed mirror that hung there. She had no idea what its purpose was, but it seemed to enjoy giving her tips on clothing and hair management (which she admittedly needed, but she wasn't about to acknowledge that she took advice from a reflective object charmed to talk.)

"Those boys!" she burst out in a fit of indignation. "Oh, they will be the death of me one day!"

"Which of them boys is it? And what did they do this time?" asked the mirror, sounding a little more awake. Evidently, it was a bit of a nosy parker.

"All three of them got together and decided to follow me," she huffed. "Which is utterly inconsiderate and incredibly nosy of them."

"Did they tell you why?"

"They wanted to know where I went every night."

"Ah, then I beg to differ, dearie. Only someone with no heart wouldn't worry about your hurts. They are concerned for you, after all."

She glared at the enchanted object. "Now even you are taking their side."

"I most certainly am not," came the even reply. "I am merely stating a fact which you overlook in your righteous anger. They only do so because you matter to them, not because they thought they'd have a lark by stalking you."

She threw herself onto the bed. "Go back to sleep, mirror."

"Mull over what I just said a little, and you'll agree with me."

Silence ensued after that, her mirror having gone back to hibernation. (Although she had yet to fathom why mirrors needed sleep).

She lay still and silent for a while, staring up at the canopy. She hated to admit it, the blasted thing did make sense, and perhaps her fury had been misplaced.

But it still pissed her off that it had occurred to none of them to ask her first before they had banded together in their covert operations. Maybe it was their exclusion of her; maybe it was their sudden fellowship that made her uneasy, at least on a subconscious level.

Well, any rate you wouldn't have told them even if they asked, would you? muttered her inner voice of reason. So it's partly your fault, really.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling her wrath ebb with the exhalation. Crookshanks, sensing the change in his mistress's mood, crept out from the space underneath her bed, jumping up beside her and regarding her warily.

Smiling, she reached out and scratched his ruff. "Isn't it nice to be a cat?" she murmured to him. "No need to worry about relationships and people's perceptions of you and all that complex stuff."

His only reply was to purr contentedly and roll over onto his back.

She sat up, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her and making her yawn. Deciding her jumbled thoughts could wait for the morrow, she forced herself to take a shower before surrendering to dreamless slumber.

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"All right, how 'bout this: 'Hermione, we're sorry for what we did and we won't repeat it again'?"

"What are we, naughty schoolboys brought before the headmaster? Definitely not."

"Then what would have us say?" demanded Harry in exasperation, throwing down the quill in his hand. The parchment on the table before the three boys was covered with scribbles and long black slashes crossing out various statements.

"As long as you sound apologetic, it's fine by me what we say," Draco told him just as testily. "Now will you please get out of my room so that I can change?" Indeed, he did look a sight: wrinkled and creased pyjamas, rumpled hair—it was the first time Ron had seen him so dressed down, and well, human.

"We have to face the music sooner or later, so I'm thinking better sooner than later." He stood and stretched, feeling his joints pop. It had not been a restful night for him or Harry.

"Yeah." Harry stood as well and picked up his bag, shuffling for the door. "I can't wait for it to be over so that I can get some coffee."

They filed out into the common room, where they sat side by side, staring blankly at nothing, dreading the confrontation they had come to face.

Hermione's door soon opened, and she stepped out, her face darkening at the sight of the occupants of the couch. "What are you two doing here?"

"Um, to apologise?" suggested Ron, all his carefully rehearsed lines fleeing out of the window as he looked into the stormy eyes of his friend.

She seemed ready to speak when Draco's door creaked open, and he emerged. "Geez, couldn't you spare me some time to comb my hair before you begin?"

He faltered at the look all of them were giving him. "All right, I guess not."

"Your hair's fine," hissed Harry through clenched teeth as he planted himself beside them.

"Right, I'm waiting." Hermione crossed her arms, looking at them expectantly.

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This was absolutely surreal. Draco Malfoy had never expected to be sitting before a Muggleborn witch like an errant child, and beside Potter and the Weasel.

It just had to be the most laughable moment of his life.

Harry's voice brought him back from his mental holiday. "Um, yeah, so we agreed to keep tabs on you, because we wanted to see who was beating you up so badly."

The witch in question sighed. "I can't say I'm not mad at you for doing everything behind my back, but seeing part of the blame lies with me, I suppose I shouldn't be taking you to task." They all looked up as the clock chimed. "Meet me here after dinner, and I'll explain everything to you, okay? Now, let's get to breakfast before everyone finishes all the food."

They all scurried out of the common room and hurried down the corridor, and loathe as he did to part ways with them, he had to, to deflect suspicion. There were many of his fellow Slytherins only too happy to tattle on him to his father in return for a few favours, and he wasn't at all keen to give them an incentive to do so.

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Hermione fought against the rushing wave of students only too eager to leave the classroom. Once she was free of the crush of bodies and bags, she approached the teaching dais cautiously. "Professor?"

His head snapped up, eyes sweeping the vacant classroom before settling on her. "What are you doing?" he hissed angrily. "You can't do anything to arouse their suspicions that you and I are anything more than teacher and student."

She felt like rolling her eyes, but curbed the urge. "It is not uncommon for me to stay behind after classes to ask the teacher for extra-credit assignments, Professor."

"But not in my case!"

"I could spread a false rumour that I'm planning to pursue a career relating to Potions," she returned smoothly

He sat down behind his chair and pulled a stack of parchment towards him. "What is it?"

"Draco, Harry and Ron have been following me down to the dungeons for some time. They want to know why I keep coming down these days. What should I tell them?"

He arched a brow at her. "And you only know now that they have been trailing you because they told you?"

She bristled at his insinuation. "Well, I did sense...something, but couldn't detect any tangible reason for that and marked it down to my imagination."

"Such dismissal will cost you your life someday."

She decided not to acknowledge that. "The boys, Professor? What do I tell them?"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "As I recalled, Professor McGonagall told me she gave you permission to inform Potter and Weasley about it."

"Yes..."

"Then tell them everything. Trust Mr Malfoy at your own risk."

"He's quite alright," she told him offhandedly. "He's even speaking to Harry and Ron."

"He—what? I can't have my Slytherins fraternising with those dunderheads!"

Once again, she resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "Just a few words. It's not as if they are doing homework together or something." I think, she added silently.

"Very well, then. Don't you have a class to go to?"

Glancing at her timepiece, she yelped and scurried out.

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'Tell them everything'. She mentally snorted. Easier said than done, since it's not him who's doing it.

She had fled to the tower after dinner to compose her thoughts in isolation, and was now in a fit of anxiety. She was uncertain of their reaction to her news. Would they accept or reject her?

Even in the magical world, her story was rather absurd. After all, the Slayer was but a figure of myth and legend, and even the purebloods dismissed it as codswallop. Her Watcher had said as much.

But if the Dark Lord were to get wind of this... She shuddered. She did not fancy the idea of being brought before him and made to do his bidding. No, she would rather die than serve such ameglomaniacal bigot, scorning Muggles when he himself had their blood running through his veins.

A flurry of knocks rudely dragged her from her pensive trance, and she squared her shoulders before answering the door. "Where's Draco?"

"Still with Crabbe and Goyle, I reckon, Ron and I saw them outside the Transfiguration classroom not too long ago."

"You are going to trust him?" Harry asked as they made themselves comfortable on the couch.

"Well, since he was in on the whole fiasco, I don't see why not."

"Point taken." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You know, he's changed a lot."

"Tell me about it. I live with him, remember?"

He grinned in apology. "I think it's precisely because of that."

"Nonsense. Being Head Boy, he can't go round making fun of Muggleborns and Gryffindors, can he?"

"Yes, but it's highly unlikely that he will change just because of that."

"Indeed?"

Ron had been looking from one to another, as one does in a tennis match, and he thought he might as well throw in his two cents' worth. "Harry's right."

She sighed tolerantly and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "You two think too much."

Just then, the door opened and in came Draco Malfoy. "Speak of the devil," muttered Harry.

"What was that?" He stretched himself out before the fireplace. "Alright, so I'm here. What have I missed?"

"Nothing," she told him. "I was about to begin." She hesitated when three pairs of eyes and ears turned to her expectantly. "Promise me you won't interrupt, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, she barged on with the whole tale.

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Silence reigned when she finished her explanations.

"Sooo, let me get this straight," Draco finally spoke up, holding up an open palm. "One: you are the Slayer. Two: your job is to get rid of the abominations on this earth for us poor humans and wizards alike—"

"It's not that—" she began to interrupt hotly, but he wagged a finger at her, as one does at an impudent child.

"Don't cut me off now, Hermione. Now, where was I? Three: Professor Snape is the chap who's supposed to guide you. Four: Dear old Voldemort must not find out about this." He paused. "Did I get everything right?"

"Ye-es."

"Who picked you to be the Slayer, really?" Ron interjected.

She shrugged. "Even the Watchers' Council didn't know."

"'Didn't? Does that mean they do now?"

"No, Harry. I'm speaking of them in the past tense because they no longer exist." She blew out a breath and squashed herself between Harry and Ron. "Professor Snape just received word last night that the Council has been destroyed. Eyewitness accounts describe it going up in a ball of flame."

"So does that mean you are off the hook?" asked Draco as he sat up.

"No! I mean, I still possess the strength and ability of the Slayer. It's not a job I can just quit because the headquarters no longer exist."

"So, Snape is the only Watcher left?"

"No, there is a handful scattered across the globe, waiting for their turn to be called as the Watcher to the next Slayer. As far as we know, there is one in Southern California, in a town called Sunnydale, I think. His Slayer is the one whom I am succeeding, and he has heard of another, one who has left the Council, in Los Angeles."

"Hey, this is kind of cool." Everyone turned and stared at Harry as he spoke up, a slow grin appearing on his face. "The last of a clandestine organisation, united against darkness. It's like in the movies."

The other two boys looked at him uncomprehendingly. "What's a 'movies'?" Draco inquired.

"Muggle stuff," she told him.

"Sounds interesting." He glanced at the grandfather clock when it struck eight. "Don't you have to go see Snape?"

I really have to stop relying on people to remind me of my appointments, she thought as she swore and leapt to her feet, taking off for the dungeons.

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The room was quiet after her harried departure, each of his occupants busy with his own private thoughts

"We-ell," said Draco at last. "That is quite a surprise, wasn't it?"

"You could say that," The Boy-Who-Lived absently answered.

He was struck by a sudden realisation, one that hit him with all the force of a speeding Bludger. Now that the whole affair about Hermione was over, he had no reason or excuse to hang around with the Three Musketeers anymore.

He immediately felt very, very hollow at the thought, as though someone had cut him open, took out all his guts and stitched him back up. Sneaking a surreptitious glance at his pensive companions, he tried to suppress the bitterness that had engulfed him completely. At least he had had a taste of true friendship, the kind that was cemented by shared laughter and tears, anchored by unshakable loyalty and love. However brief it was, it was a memory to be treasured and cherished.

He told himself he had to content himself with that, and withdraw forthwith from their company. Wordlessly, he stood up and left for his room. How very realistic it was, he reflected sardonically. To bond with someone over a common cause or goal, and to release that bond without a thought once the ends had been achieved He supposed they would revert to the status quo, sniping and hurling insults at each other, separated by the prejudices of his family and the perceptions of society at large.

An unexpected burst of anger and hatred surged within him, directed at the injustice of his world, making his throat constrict painfully and his eyes burn with tears he refused to acknowledge. Growling, he flopped onto the bed and clapped a pillow over his head in an effort to escape from his misery.

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That night, she trained with a much lighter heart. Telling the boys about her calling had taken a tremendous weight from her soul, and she was glad to know that they accepted it with no apprehension whatsoever. A tiny part of her mind, the corner where all her insecurities resided, had worried that they might not be so receptive of her.

"I presume your talk with Potter and Weasley went well?" Professor Snape asked as he handed her a pair of knives.

In spite of herself, she beamed at him. "Yes, quite well. They didn't react too strongly."

"You speak as if you expected them to react otherwise."

"Perhaps I did," she replied as she did a few manoeuvres with the knives, enjoying the strain in the muscles of her wrists and arms.

"If you really saw them as your friends, that notion will never have crossed your mind, would it?"

"It's not that, Professor." She paused as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "It's just...me, being the bookworm I have always been, and being the Slayer just about shatters everything related to that particular stereotype. And I suppose, I am afraid, in some ways, they might reject me because of this...change, and that will leave me friendless, because I don't have any other friends besides them. The other girls are far too superficial for me, and the boys come to me only when they need help on homework."

"Stereotypes are the generalistions of the foolish, made in an effort to help themselves understand other better. You should not let others pigeonhole you into a fixed identity."

She had no reply to that, but it certainly gave her much food for thought.

Hayley: Hehe, I was kidding too. Hope you like this chapter!

Angel-wingzz: Hey, welcome back! I'm still trying to figure out how to arrange a meeting with a vamp, so a little patience will be needed. Sorry, but I'm picky that way.

Dark Me: Yay, a new reviewer! Thanks a lot for the compliments:D