Enchanted4life, dracosalive, wise_owl26 and Angelina, thank you so (SO) much for the work you've done!

You guys rock my world and this story.

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The following Wednesday, the two Heads walked side by side towards Hogsmeade, their noses tucked into the collars of their coats. The Ball was three days away. They hadn't been able to get away before then, primarily because of their responsibilities as Heads, but also because McGonagall didn't look kindly on repeated absences. But one of the advantages of their badge was that they could go to Hogsmeade in the middle of the week if they needed to.

They had finished their classes for the day. The wind had risen and it was chilly. The clouds were low and grey. Hermione had been very insistent that they leave earlier rather than later; she wanted to avoid too many people. Draco had grumbled, but had not really objected. When the village was in sight, nervousness began to grip the Gryffindor but she ignored it. She knew she was going to rekindle some unpleasant memories. What she was doing was very masochistic, but she needed answers. At least some.

"Can you at least tell me where you're going?" asked Draco once they had entered the village.

"To the Three Broomsticks. I don't know how much time you need, but you can meet me right here when you're done." Without another word, she continued on her way, heading for the pub.

Draco, hands in pockets, watched her walk away for a few moments, his curiosity itching, and finally turned to enter a formal wear shop. True, you couldn't say that Draco Malfoy hadn't thought about buying Hermione Granger a ridiculous dress. It was the perfect opportunity to see her eyes widen in disbelief before darkening in anger.

As Draco crossed the shop threshold, the shop girls craned their necks to catch a glimpse of their customer and giggled amongst themselves when they noticed the young Malfoy. No one was oblivious to Draco's charm and stature, and he knew it.

Determined to find the first convenient and cheap dress he came across, he found himself blurting out to the shop assistant who came fluttering past him: "I need a fucking nice dress."

Hermione entered the Three Broomsticks and a small bell announced her arrival. Inside, it was rather quiet. A few wizards were eating a meal, others were chatting, the bartender was wiping glasses by hand and a waiter was cleaning the tables with his wand. The Lioness swallowed her discomfort and more confidently made her way into the pub and sat down at a table, which was not the same as the one from the party. She removed her scarf and laid it on her lap. She didn't know what she was doing or what she was waiting for.

A minute passed before the waiter came up to her and asked if she wanted anything. She ordered a butterbeer. When he returned with her drink, she called out to him awkwardly. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Were you here last Saturday night?"

"Yes."

Hermione controlled the obvious stress in her voice and continued. "Do you know a man, about the same height as you, who had dark hair and eyes, and a small beard?"

The waiter looked at her, wondering if she was joking, and laughed gently. "Miss, with the amount of wizards that were here on Saturday night, plus the ones that pass through here every day, I can tell you that at least ten men matched the one you are looking for! Sorry."

What did she expect? She had no information about this man. He might not even be a local, but a simple traveller. "Can I have a quill, please?" she asked politely.

He nodded and walked away, and Hermione sighed. She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly very ashamed, and continued to drink her Butterbeer to pass the time. The waiter returned with a quill, and the Gryffindor took it and began to scribble on the back of a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table.

Lawrence Brixton - Hufflepuff (October 9th)

This winter there will be pain / revenge

Your time will come

Hogwarts sixth floor bathroom

Physical assault, Stupefy

Imperius

Male stranger? (October 24th)

You know what you've done

Your time will come

Hogsmeade, Three Bays

Sexual assault

Imperius ?

Hermione couldn't see any connection, apart from the phrase "Your time will come", that both had mentioned to her. And perhaps, in addition, both had attacked her, but in different ways. She underlined three times 'Male stranger?' and 'Imperius?'. Was Lawrence somehow connected to this man? She thought long and hard about it.

Sighing in frustration, she grabbed her scarf and the newspaper, left the quill, paid for her drink and walked back outside to where she and Draco were supposed to meet. She had been stupid to think that her search would lead anywhere.

With slow steps, she seemed to wander, completely lost in her thoughts.

"Miss?"

Hermione, deep in her reverie, had heard nothing.

"Miss?"

The Lioness snapped back to her senses and turned to face her caller. It was him.

"You dropped your scarf," he said, smiling, her scarf held out to her.

Hermione flinched so hard that she bit her tongue. When she saw the man's face in the daylight, her blood ran cold. Her heartbeat quickened under the traumatic invasion of her Saturday memories. The effect of his prickly beard against her chest, his tongue on her collarbone, his hand on her breasts.

The stranger, a little puzzled by Hermione's bewildered face, handed her her scarf. But she did not take it. "Are you all right?" he asked her. "I'm sorry I startled you."

The Gryffindor's breath quickened and her mouth went dry. She had the urgent urge to vomit. Her voice had left her. Ask him. Ask him who he is.

"Do you..." Hermione began shakily, "do you recognise me?"

The man stared at her for a few moments, as if trying to remember, but shook his head quickly. "Sorry, no."

"What did you do on Saturday night?"

The man pointed to the pub she had just left. "Three Broomsticks! Great party! Why, you believe we've met?"

He genuinely seemed friendly when he smiled, but Hermione was unable to see past the wild look on his face as he had rubbed against her. Then suddenly a flash of insight crossed the man's face and he darkened at once. He too had just remembered that a stranger had found him half-naked outside and accused him of doing things to two young girls. Could she be one of them?

"Oh my god," he breathed. He took her arm tightly, cringing with incomprehension and guilt, wishing that only one person could be honest with him. He needed to be told, he needed her to tell him. Hermione held back a scream when he grabbed her and tried to pull away, but to no avail.

"Tell me, tell me what I did that night!" he pressed, his words sharp and urgent.

"Let go of me, please..." Hermione begged, feeling the same panic she had felt Saturday.

The man's strength was the same, and soon she felt herself suffocating, but the man wasn't budging. She began to look around to see if someone, anyone, was noticing the scene. No one was close enough.

"Just tell me your name," she pleaded.

"Grayson. I need, please, I need to know what I did. Tell me! What happened to me?"

"Let go of me!" gasped the Gryffindor, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Why can't I remember? Tell me! You're one of those girls, aren't you?"

What other girl had he attacked? she thought. Even though she now had confirmation that he had no recollection of what had happened, she couldn't handle standing in front of him and bearing his grip and his intense, pleading gaze.

"Tell me!" cried Grayson again, shaking her. "I need to know!"

A tall figure suddenly stepped in, pushing Grayson back with violence. The man fell backwards, still looking distraught. Draco scanned him with hostility, his breath short. He had his back to Granger and had instinctively positioned himself so that Grayson couldn't even dare to look at the brunette's face. The Slytherin coldly crushed the man's torso under his sole.

Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him away. "Stop!" she said.

"It's him, isn't it?" he spat, paying attention to her for a few seconds.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen him this angry. The grey of his eyes were fiery, metallic and sharp. The muscles in his jaw tensed. In his head, the images of the soiled jeans he had discovered hit him. Now he allowed himself to believe in the stain he had seen.

"Answer me, Granger!" he shouted.

She wasn't going to play with him. She nodded vigorously. "But he doesn't remember! He was under the Imperius Curse."

"Tell me what I did!" Grayson exclaimed, his back to the floor, looking at each of them in turn. "I beg you. I will never rest until I know!"

Hermione stealthily wiped away the first tears that were beginning to roll down her cheeks and held back the others. The Slytherin was still standing his ground, towering over the little creep. He stood firm and solid and had no intention of moving away. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned around. Granger was watching him, her eyes glistening, and pleading with him without speaking. She gently squeezed his shoulder and nodded, her gaze still anchored in his. She was asking for his trust.

Draco, stubborn, did not move immediately. Eventually he withdrew his foot and took a few steps back. Immediately Hermione knelt down to face the man. Her tears flowed freely, but she did not sob. She was more in control of her pain than she had ever been.

"Miss, please," Grayson begged again, "I need to know. Please tell me—"

"Be quiet," said Hermione in a weak voice. "I'll tell you. Saturday night I was in the pub and I went out for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air. You followed me. Do you even remember that?"

"I was in the pub, but I don't remember going out."

"You grabbed me," Hermione said with difficulty. "You immobilised me. You silenced me and then you... you rubbed yourself on me. You touched me shamelessly, you licked me... and you masturbated, finishing all over me. You were telling me meaningless things all the while."

Grayson's eyes widened in horror and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Soon he let them fall, feeling a huge burden fall on his shoulders.

"My friend found me and stunned you. You didn't do anything to her, if that's what you were wondering."

Grayson stammered, shaking violently, and grabbed Hermione's hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...," he cried. "Forgive me..."

Hermione said nothing and stood up, swallowing her sobs. A muffled sound escaped Draco's throat as he continued to stare hostilely at the man on the ground. The Slytherin was also shaking violently, but with anger and disgust. The Tergeo charm had revealed a fucking cum stain. Fuck, how he wanted to punch him in the face! He could see the man in the flesh now and noticed his size. Grayson was tall. He was definitely strong. Far too strong for Granger... far too strong to clutch her face in his hand... to touch her, to...

Draco tried to control his breathing. He grabbed Granger's wrist and pulled her back. Then, his face as icy as ever, he abruptly pulled the scarf from Grayson's hands. Grayson frowned slightly at Draco's sternness, and continued to cry silently as he repeated his apology.

"I'm sorry," Hermione finally said, her voice breaking. "I can't tell you anything else, that's all that happened to me. It's not your fault. I think someone hexed you."

Without a glance, she walked away, leaving Grayson pulling himself up to sit on the ground. With the red and yellow scarf in his hand, Draco followed his partner and caught up with her. They began to walk back towards the castle, past the last few shops. Behind them, Grayson fell unconscious in the middle of the street.

A painful knot tightened Hermione's throat. She was too ashamed to look into Draco's eyes. She knew she was going to tell him, but she hadn't imagined it would be like this. Recounting the assault to the one who had done it to her had torn her apart. The horror of it could not be put into words on her lips.

How she wished Samuel was there, instead of Draco, to tell her jokes, to hug her, even to defend her himself. That's what he would have done, Samuel. He would have beaten the shit out of Grayson.

Draco, speechless, couldn't believe his ears. A second attack on Granger? A fucking sexual assault? An unpleasant turmoil nagged at his stomach. The savagery of the situation appeared to him just as she had told it. A man, this man, had grabbed her and assaulted her. He didn't know what to say to her. He remained silent, his face stoic, watching his partner's shoulders rise and fall under her heavy breathing. He imagined her alone, outside the pub, being grabbed and restrained by an older, stronger man. And the possibility, real and upsetting, that experiencing this was equally wrong for someone superior or inferior dawned on him.

Anger flared up in him from head to toe like a wave of fire that licked every joint in his body. He saw himself going back and cursing Grayson or better yet, kicking him in the teeth himself. But what was the point? Even Grayson didn't know what he had done. The rain began to fall heavily and Hermione protected them with a drying spell.

Why was he so bothered by an event that did not involve him? Why did he feel so out of control with his current emotions? He didn't understand. He didn't understand what he was feeling. Who exactly was he angry with?

"So?" she asked, changing the subject. "Did you find my troll dress?"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. He held up a small bag to her face. "Before you ask, no it's not lingerie and yes I used an Unwrinkling charm."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Better."

She allowed a wry smile to part her lips and decided not to investigate further. Anyway, she still had her own dress that she had bought as a second option.

Against all odds, the Slytherin placed the scarf on her and wrapped it twice around her shoulders. She did not react. The rain started to ease and the clouds were getting was his partner, his martyr, his Mudblood, and no one else had the fucking right to assault her. All he knew was that he had no desire for anyone else to make Granger cry. That's all there was to it. Fucking Blaise, Draco thought as he realised he'd been right... And he realised with disbelief just now that he had branded Granger like she was his.

Hermione was looking ahead without really focusing on anything in particular, when suddenly her eyes caught a silver glint. In a shop window, the glow of a strange object that she felt she recognised jumped out at her. She stopped. Draco followed her lead. The Gryffindor walked over to the window, arms clutched to the newspaper on her chest, and leaned in. It was a muggle watch. She had seen it somewhere before, she knew. Its numbers were Roman, the edge was set with small silver stones, and the gold and grey metal shone under the shop lights. The strap was thin and elastic.

Hermione choked back a gasp of surprise and stopped breathing when she remembered after a few seconds.

"What?" questioned Draco.

She had bought this watch for her brother on his 19th birthday. At least, she had bought the same model. The shop was closed, and she couldn't go in to check. Sam's was slightly scratched on the back, but he wore it every day. She was sure he wore it the morning of the day he was killed. That much she could swear.

Sam hadn't come back. But then, how did the watch end up there? It had been stolen, that was certain. It was stolen from Sam's corpse only after his death. Or right before.

Hermione backed away from the window, horrified. She stumbled backwards, then pulled herself up awkwardly. She forgot Grayson's lips and his tearful face, she forgot her dress, the ball, and her partner. Her heart clenched in her chest and she ran quickly back to the castle, hoping to fucking wake up.

She was running at full speed. She just wanted to be alone and think, think and think... About the watch. She needed to untangle the clutter of ideas that were colliding. Hermione rushed into her dormitory, out of breath, and left the portrait open, for she knew that her partner had followed her. She rushed into her room, slammed the door and leaned against it, catching her breath.

Throwing the Daily Prophet on the floor, she flung herself onto her bed. Soon there was a knock at her door.

"Granger? I don't fucking understand what just happened!"

"Can't you leave me alone for one minute?" she spat.

"Don't talk to me like that! What's wrong with you?"

"I don't understand anything anymore! Nothing at all! It doesn't make any fucking sense anymore."

"Open the door."

Hermione didn't move and closed her eyes. She felt like she was having a déjà vu.

"Open up!"

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes but opened the door anyway. She couldn't escape him, and deep down she knew she couldn't get rid of him that easily.

"Tell me what's going on," he said.

"Why should I tell you?" replied Hermione in the same tone.

"Why not?"

"Because! It's my life! It's my business!"

Her reply threw her partner off guard for a moment, but he quickly recovered, wearily. "Why would you exclude me now when you've told me everything else?"

"You're the one who's forced me to talk to you every time! You can't stand not knowing."

She had a point, she was right, but he didn't like the way this conversation was going.

"The only reason you seem so interested in what's going on in my life," she continued, "is because you're looking for a charity case!"

"What kind of rubbish is that?" He scolded.

"You know very well how much harm you've done in your life! You know you shouldn't have let the Death Eaters in, you know you should have done something when your Aunt tortured me, you know you shouldn't have openly called me a Mudblood all those years!"

"Don't bring all this up again just to suit your fucking speech!"

"We take one step forward and two steps back every bloody week, Malfoy! And as soon as something doesn't suit you, you blame me! The only reason you continue to care about what happens to me is because you want to atone for your faults! You need a good cause that will erase your bad deeds. Well, guess what! You actually need forgiveness for that!"

The Slytherin gritted his teeth under the wind of anger that shook him. After all this time, she still dared to talk to him like that?

"I don't care what happens to you, Granger," he growled.

"Don't you? Then why did you heal my shoulder? Why did you sit with me after my nightmare? Why did you make me tea? Why didn't you let Grayson freak me out? Just explain to me what that means because I don't understand it anymore!

"I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?" he shouted, losing his nerve.

"You know, sooner or later you'll have to know!"

"You don't control me!"

"Do you still think of me as inferior?" She asked more calmly, her gaze piercing. "Do you still think of me with the term Mudblood?"

Draco's fists closed and for a few moments he brought his fingers to his eyes and left them there. Motionless, controlling his breathing, he tried everything he could to escape these questions. He knew that silence carried more weight than words sometimes. He didn't want to say anything, but he didn't know what to say. Did he see her as inferior?

"Happy to ambush me, Granger?" he snarled, lowering his hands, not knowing what else to say.

"The fact that you won't answer shows me that you don't know the answer yourself!"

"SO WHAT?"

"SO STOP FIGHTING IT!"

The last syllable echoed in Hermione's room. She's breaking me, Draco thought bitterly, I refuse to let her break me... He was able to hold back his remarks and even stop insulting her. Wasn't that enough for her? Why did he have to find answers to all those bloody existential questions that were plaguing him?

"I'm worthy of practising my magic as much as you are," she whispered. "You'll realise that sooner or later. Just don't fight it when you do."

With that, she turned and sat down on her bed, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her palms. Draco stood like a post on his floor tile, stiff and angry, his thoughts scattered like thousands of tiny grains of sand.

Hermione knew perfectly well that her partner meant no real harm to her. He wasn't trying to bully her as much as he had in other years. She wasn't a fool. Draco had made certain gestures that he could not take back. They weren't meaningless. Were they? She kept thinking about his hand turning her face so he could see the bruises on her cheeks. The electric heat between his fingertips and her skin. Him standing between Grayson and her. He was starting to act in spite of himself, but he refused to admit that it was because he no longer viewed her in the same way. He preferred to remain steeped in his closed, stale mindset.

"Are you gonna tell me what you saw in the village or not?" Draco snapped after a moment.

Hermione no longer had the energy to be stubborn. Without even lifting her head from her hands, she told him. "On my brother's nineteenth birthday," she began, "I bought him a muggle watch. A beautiful and valuable watch that he was wearing on the day he died. Well, in Hogsmeade I saw that same watch in the window."

Draco remained silent. Hermione let the words flow into her mouth, relieved that she could finally speak her mind, despite what had just erupted between her and her partner. "I wonder who would dare to do such a thing! Stealing from a corpse! You know, I knew that watch meant a lot to my brother. No one could have stolen it, except for the killer itself."

"How can you be sure it's the same watch?"

She glared at him, but quickly realized that his question was legitimate. She immediately eased up, burying her head in her hands once again. "I don't know, actually. His was scratched. I'll have to go back and look at that watch when the shop opens. But we'll be too busy between now and the Ball, with all the final preparations."

"And... if it really is your brother's watch, do you know who would do such a thing? Steal it, I mean. Did he have any enemies?"

She thought for a moment, but no face came to mind. "Not at all. No..."

Draco sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He was surprised that his own anger had already subsided. "And what did that idiot say to you when he... attacked you?"

"A bit like Lawrence. But precisely, 'You know what you've done' and 'Your time will come'.

"Well," he said, irritated at being unable to understand this story, "it's still a dead end."

"I noticed that as well!" she spat. "Now please get out of my room. You got what you wanted."

"I did. So did you." Draco waited two seconds before leaving the room coldly.

"When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free."

Catherine Ponder

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Love,

Axioma