That night, when Draco went to crash on his bed without even removing his formal clothes, he fell asleep almost immediately. He dreamed of the bestiality in Bellatrix's eyes as she bent over Hermione, carving that horrible word into her arm. He dreamt of the Gryffindor's screams filling the dark manor, of his aunt's euphoric laughter. As an impulse drove him forward to do something, anything, his feet were pinned to the ground, as if he were under a spell. The harder he tried, the further away the scene got. He dreamed of Hermione's sobs and pleas and the smell of rust in the manor. Hermione's blood smelled like anyone's blood.

Draco awoke from his sleep with a deep gulp of air, his heart beating violently against his chest. He scrambled to sit up, the images of the manor and the bleeding word on her forearm burned into his brain like a stamp. Her screams still echoed in his head. The moonlight cast a glittering diamond light on two beads of tears sliding down his cheeks.

Hermione was sitting in the library, trying to get through her homework. She was nervous about her NEWTs, but she was also confident in her abilities. Her brother's watch was running through her mind, incessant and unrelenting. Now that she'd been able to rest after the tiring evening they'd had yesterday at the Ball, she tried not to think too much about the Slytherin, about the tingle she'd felt when he'd touched her, but also about his words that revealed an obvious doubt about his own prejudices. She had started to break through to him, she knew it and felt it in the way he acted and avoided certain questions. She was also trying to keep her expectations to a minimum.

She didn't know the best time to go back to Hogsmeade. Her friends would soon begin to notice her repeated absences. Of course, she had many responsibilities to fulfill and was with them less often, but she knew they were perceptive. Sighing, Hermione realised that she would have to tell them everything, including the 'warnings' she had received. After all they had been through together, she couldn't bring herself to exclude them that much.

She got up, gathered her things and headed for the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron were sitting in the grass by the Black Lake. The air was cold and they were all wearing thin gloves. Luckily, she had fished them all out of the common room and had chosen to get away from eavesdroppers to talk to them. She started by telling them about what happened in the bathroom on the sixth floor and Lawrence's "attack", repeating the words he had said to her. Then she told them, without much detail but with difficulty, about Grayson's attack, saying what he had said to her.

"And when I saw the watch in the window, I was shocked," Hermione finished. "I ran off and told Draco, but he—"

"Wait, wait," Ron interrupted. "You told Malfoy?! And since when do you call him 'Draco'?"

"I didn't know he was so interested in this whole thing!" she defended herself. "And we made an agreement at the beginning of the year to be more civil."

"So he's calling you Hermione?"

Hermione blushed. "No… Not really. Not yet."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. You told Malfoy, but not us?" Harry grumbled.

"I didn't know he was so interested in this whole thing!" she defended herself.

"I'm at least relieved to know that you talked about it, about your brother!"

"Please stop that..." sighed the brunette.

Ginny elbowed Harry in the ribs, giving him the stink eye. She had been silent from the start.

"That's enough!" Hermione exclaimed as she jumped up from the garden bench. "What does it matter that I waited a few days to tell you? Or that I told Draco? He was there when the first attack happened! And then the second one was just too shameful and difficult to revisit..."

This had the effect of a slap in Harry's face. Ron was speechless as Ginny nodded, blushing. Hermione returned to her place between Harry and Ron, exasperated. I've said too much. I look like a kid in crisis.

"Hermione..." Harry began, suddenly calm. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's okay, Harry," she replied.

"Go on with your story," he urged.

"We're listening," Ron assured.

Ginny took Hermione's hand in hers and squeezed it.

"Good," Hermione continued. "I've talked to Draco about it and I think he wants to help me solve all the mysteries. He keeps insisting on knowing everything, so I have a feeling he'll want to know how it all goes. It's kind of the same with Blaise, because his mother was robbed the same night my brother was killed, and we just found out that my brother was robbed too... we just need to confirm it with the watch. Yes, yes, I see your faces and I was surprised at first too, but in the end, Draco isn't that... bad."

"Of course," Ron breathed sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"He's stuck in his ways," Hermione admitted with a shrug. "But I feel like I'm starting to break through his false prejudices. And as for Blaise, I think he's definitely over his own, if he ever had any. He might even be a friend."

Ginny smiled, not at all surprised. She had sensed the same things in Blaise. Harry and Ron were obviously uncomfortable, but they kept their mouths shut, wanting above all to remain respectful of their friend.

Hermione took a final deep breath. "Will you help me with all this?"

"You don't have to ask," says Ron.

"Thanks, Ron." Then she turned her head to her other two friends to see their reaction. Their faces were somewhat embarrassed, but they were both smiling. She hoped very much that they would agree. They were all her best friends. She liked them more than anything.

"I'm with you," Harry announced with a nudge of her shoulder. "Always."

Ginny hugged her to show her support. Her friends couldn't help but be bothered by this story, and it had nothing to do with Malfoy, rather than the fact that Hermione had been attacked twice by someone Imperiused who was saying cryptic stuff to her that didn't make sense. What would happen in winter? What was this presumed 'pain'? They were going to do everything in their power to support Hermione and accompany her on this investigation, even if it meant possibly running into Malfoy, since he seemed so interested for some unknown reason.

"I warn you," said Hermione, reassured by her friends' support, "I may have to find out some things on my own, for the sole reason that I have more permission with my badge. But I promise to keep you posted on every new development."

"Miss Head Girl," teased Ginny. "The one and only!"

On November 3rd, a Tuesday afternoon, the last class of the day was Potions. Hermione entered the room, flanked by Harry and Ron. Blaise and Pansy were already inside, sitting at a table but not talking to each other. Two other Slytherins were there, as well as three Gryffindors. Draco hadn't arrived. Of course, Slughorn was late.

Hermione sat at a table with Ron, while Harry shared a table with Seamus. There were cauldrons in front of each seat. Today they were going to brew potions. The Gryffindor was exchanging a few words with Ron, face pressed into her palm, when Slughorn arrived, red-faced, apologising for his lateness.

"Today we're going to make the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Your cauldrons are already filled with water, so just collect your ingredients yourself. The recipe is on page 126 of your manual. I'll go around to make sure everything is under control!"

Hermione opened her textbook and stood up, heading for the ingredient cabinet with Ron on her heels. Ground scarabs, ginger, armadillo bile... the Lioness read from her list. Focused, she gathered the necessary ingredients and returned, arms full, to her seat. There she noticed Draco rushing into the classroom, panting rapidly. He apologised to Slughorn, who didn't take any points off him, and then seemed to scan the room as if looking for someone with his eyes. He caught Hermione's eyes, who was already peering at him from afar, and she blushed, immediately looking away. He took his place beside Millicent Bulstrode and immediately began to work on his textbook.

"You'll help me, won't you, Hermione?" asked Ron, looking uncertain. "The recipe is weird..."

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement. "You know that during the NEWTs, I won't be there to help you, right?"

"Of course, but you're here now…"

"Let's do it on our own, but if you need help, you can ask me," Hermione replied. "I hope you know that Harry is the best at potions between the three of us..."

"Well, Harry abandoned me today."

They both began to chop their ginger root, Ron glancing at Hermione to make sure he was chopping right. After about fifteen minutes, as the Lioness was stirring her incomplete potion with a large ladle, she scrunched up her nose.

"It smells strange," she said dismissively. "Doesn't it?"

Ron leaned his nose towards her cauldron and wrinkled his nose. "A bit, yeah... Maybe once it's finished the smell goes away!"

Hermione continued to stir without looking, her eyes fixed instead on page 126 on the table. Her potion was turning green, which meant that she could now put the armadillo bile in and stir until it was blue.

On the Slytherin side, Blaise was at Pansy's right seat, concentrating on her potion. She kept talking to him incessantly, and Blaise wondered if she was paying attention to her own potion. Draco and Millicent were just ahead of them, and in complete silence.

"... and I need four 'Exceed Expectations', among others, to pass my NEWTs and become an Obliviator."

"Mhm-hmm," Blaise nodded, distracted.

"Not to mention that I have to master Spells as well as McG!"

"Mhm-hmm."

Pansy loudly slammed her ladle down on the edge of the table, which startled Blaise and even some of the students around them. Draco and Millicent looked over their shoulders before returning to their potion.

"You're not listening to me!" complained Pansy.

"I'm focused," Blaise retorted. "This is not the best time to talk to me about furthering your career."

"There'll never be a good time, right?" spat Pansy scornfully.

Blaise was beginning to believe more and more that Pansy Parkinson, somewhere between her seventh and eighth year, had decided to set her sights on him. He noticed the way she looked at him. Blaise had always been observant. He had noticed the way she acted with Draco when the three of them were together, and the little glances she gave him hoping to detect jealousy. If Pansy had ever had her eyes on Draco, this was definitely not the case anymore, but Blaise didn't dare, or rather didn't know how, to tell her.

"Is it her again?" Pansy suddenly asked, glaring at Blaise. Her twisted features did not lie: it was clear who she was talking about.

The Slytherin looked up at her for a few seconds, then at Hermione at the end of the class, and back at Pansy. "No. Don't talk about what you don't know."

Pansy bit her lip and began to stir her potion again, her heart feeling terribly heavy. Draco had ignored them, but he had heard all of his friends' conversations behind him very clearly. Pansy's behaviour was becoming more and more peculiar.

Suddenly, a crash echoed through the room and a horrible scream ripped through the air. Everyone jumped with a start and Slughorn dropped what he was holding. Draco turned round sharply.

Hermione was folded in half, screaming in agony, her face buried behind her horribly scorched hands, her raw, pink flesh exposed. Her cauldron had fallen and spilled its contents on the floor. Ron was leaning towards her in panic as Harry rushed to her other side. Slughorn strode across the room, his face contorted with surprise and confusion, wand drawn.

"Shut up!" shouted Hermione, crying out in pain, her face still hidden. "SHUT UP!"

No one had spoken, though.

"What happened?" exclaimed Slughorn, gently grasping one of Hermione's hands. "Mr. Weasley, what happened?"

"I don't know, Professor!" gasped Ron, agitated. "She was making her potion and suddenly there was smoke and then it just kinda exploded on her..."

"Who are you?" shrieked Hermione.

Draco could see part of her face. Swollen and steaming, it looked like someone had just thrown acid on her. Her eyes were closed, but she was crying and moaning. Suddenly realising that Hermione might be undergoing another 'attack', he rushed to her table and tried to look at the contents of her potion and the ingredients on the floor. The window closest to her work table exploded with a loud clatter, but he paid no attention to it. She was losing control...

"Take her to the infirmary right away, Mr. Weasley," ordered Slughorn, concerned. "This is a very serious matter."

Draco lowered himself to the level of Hermione's face to look at her face distorted by the pain. His stomach churned as he saw all the damage the potion had done to her face and her hands.

He placed his hands on her shoulders with urgency. "Granger, who is it?" he asked hurriedly. "Who's talking to you?"

She only shook her head, not opening her eyes, and muttered. "I haven't done anything... I haven't done anything…"

With that, Ron pulled his friend out of Draco's hands and quickly led her out of the classroom. The Slytherin, stunned and confused, stood where she had been standing. Slughorn raised his wand and began to clear the debris from the cauldron.

Harry stared at Malfoy.

Malfoy was staring at the door.

Blaise was glaring at the broken window.

Soon the students returned to their potions, though the atmosphere was drastically colder and more agitated. They all wondered if Slughorn was making them brew some kind of acid potion. Draco tried to quickly assess what he had noticed, but there was nothing unusual. Turning back to his table, he grabbed Blaise's arm and spoke close to him to prevent others, even Pansy, from overhearing.

"Someone tampered with her potion," he growled. "Something is definitely fucking wrong."

Hermione was sitting on an infirmary bed, massaging her wrists. A slight burning sensation persisted, and her whole face itched horribly. But the peak of the pain had passed thanks to Madam Pomfrey's care. She had applied a white ointment all over her face, so that the Lioness now looked like a geisha. Ron had stayed with her. The Gryffindor was not only scared, but angry. One more time. One more fucking time. And this time, she had no leads. Not a person to track down to find out his or her name.

Hermione looked down at the contents of the cup she was supposed to drink all of it. It was thick and blue, and tasted acrid like smoke. It was a tissue repair accelerator to mend torn, or rather melted, skin.

"What did you hear?" asked Ron.

Hermione took a sip of her potion and winced in disgust as she swallowed. "I felt like time slowed down," she said. "My potion started to stink terribly, and then it started to smoke. I had added the armadillo bile and it was turning blue. And in the smoke I saw words. Sentences. And then it exploded and someone started screaming in my head."

"What did it say?"

The Gryffindor swallowed hard and gritted her teeth. "You know what you are and your time will come."

"Bloody hell..." muttered Ron. "What's this all about?"

"I'm not waiting any longer!" exclaimed Hermione, animated by anger. "I can't waste time anymore! I have to understand what's happening instead of enduring it. I won't go back to class, and I'll go to Hogsmeade to see the watch."

"But Hermione, we can't go with you—"

"It's all right. I really must go now."

"Is there anything you want me to say to Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Hermione gasped. "Why?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, in class he seemed quite... worried? I got the impression that he guessed what was happening to you."

The brunette frowned and took another hard sip from the cup. She swirled the liquid around in her mouth a few times before swallowing. "Tell him I went looking for answers."

She felt the ointment on her face, which had now dried and formed a sort of crust. Her face hardly stung any more and she was gradually regaining the soft feeling in her hands. She would never want to go through that atrocity again, that feeling of a flame hurling at her and licking her skin. Hermione shuddered, finished her cup and set it down noisily on the small bedside table.

With a quick, almost frantic pace, Hermione walked towards Hogsmeade, hands shoved into her pockets to ward off the cold. Her little beanie wasn't warming her enough, but she was glad to feel that sensation — the coolness — when she had just been scorched less than an hour ago.

She stepped onto the main street and made her way towards the window of Dervish & Banges, her heart beating a jerky rhythm, full of agitation and apprehension. When she saw that the watch was still there, a huge wave of relief washed over her and she entered the shop, which was thankfully open. Even though she was dying to know first if it was her brother's watch, she wanted to be smart about it. The seller wouldn't reveal what she wanted to know unless she proved to him it was her brother's.

So she went straight to the counter. The shop assistant greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning Miss!"

"Good morning, sir. Please, I really need to know how you got that watch in the display window."

The salesman looked slightly surprised by her eagerness, but squinted for a few seconds while he thought of his answer. "If I remember correctly, it was in the middle of the summer. In July, I think."

"Who sold it to you?"

"That's not something I can tell you, Miss..."

Hermione breathed in to control her impatience and forced herself to keep her tone as pleasant as possible. "Sir, listen," she said. "I haven't looked at the watch yet. But I'm willing to swear that it belonged to my brother. My brother's has a little scratch on the back. He's dead."

The shop assistant was stunned for a moment before nodding empathetically. "I'm so sorry, Miss..."

"That means he had this watch stolen probably at the same time he... you know. If it really is my brother's watch, can you give me the information I need? Please..."

The wizard looked at her for a few more seconds and read the despair in her eyes. Finally he nodded. "All I can give you is the information in the register. I only have initials and a date."

"That's good enough."

Then she turned on her heels, followed by the salesman, and headed for the display window. She tore the watch from its stand and turned it over to examine the back.

The little scratch was there. Almost impossible to spot for a new buyer, but not for Hermione who knew how the scratch had occurred.

It was Samuel's watch. She held her brother's watch in her hands.

Without any obvious reaction, she handed the watch to the shop assistant, who carefully examined the back of the watch just before his eyes.

"I hadn't noticed that before," he admitted. "In that case, I'm really sorry. That he was robbed..."

He turned around to go back behind his counter and took out a huge book, which he put down with a loud noise on the counter. He began to turn the pages quickly, mumbling the months of the year as they passed before his eyes.

"I'll pay you for it, of course. What did the person who sold it to you look like?" the Gryffindor asked, feeling the tension beat against her temples.

With his finger still scanning the register for the right information, the salesman turned his attention back to her. "I'm not sure I remember exactly. He seemed young, like you, and blond."

"And his eyes?"

"I don't know, Miss, I don't remember at all. I'm so sorry... There! I got it."

He had his finger pointed at a page and with his other hand turned the huge book on the counter so that it faced Hermione. She leaned over the counter and read the information.

Item: Muggle watch JJ09-13

Price sold: 15 Galleons

Date obtained: July 16th, 1998

Initials: D.M.

Time stood still and the dusty particles in the air froze. With her eyes fixed on the initials, Hermione stopped moving completely, feeling as if her entire body had been paralysed. The oxygen caught in the middle of her throat and a phenomenal fury engulfed her from head to toe.

DM.

"A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt."
Rachel Sontag