Disclaimer: Claiming Harry Potter & Co. as my very own creation would be as possible as summer morphing into winter in a split second. Or maybe...I could do it by Dark Magic...hmm...

A/N: Sorry for taking a month, was really rather busy - hope you enjoy this one! It's leading up to the climax already!
(Oh and I edited the part about Harry's Quidditch practice because I had forgotten when I wrote it that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was banned from practising on the pitch. So a new sentence has been added in place of the previous one. Oops!)

queenofthelameos: I've continued, and here's the next chapter, hope you like it! Thanks for the review!
blueeyedchibi: Thanks so much for your lovely review, I really appreciated the time you took to write that long review! I'll definitely pop by your fic when it's up and going I replied to you only the previous time cos you were my only reviewer for that chapter :( but never mind i'm sure there will be better times for my fic. Haha...hope you enjoy this chapter!
glitterglow: Wow, I'm so glad to see a new reviewer after all this while! Continue keeping up to date with this new chapter, hope you would think it's cool too! Haha...

Hermione was fidgety the whole night. She did not return to the common-room, hoping to avoid any meeting with Harry, which meant explaining everything to him. Maybe Ginny would tell him instead. But what was more important was finding Draco and to ask him to explain to her what were the images surfacing in her mind.

Yet, after all the connections that she had with him through the mind, she could not figure out what he was possibly thinking at the moment. The only feeling she had was that of dread – that something was not right. Knowing she had that feeling was definitely not good either, considering Hermione's intuition was usually spot-on.

Shivering with the cold gusts that blew in (strange, it had snowed in the afternoon! In the summer! But there was no more snow at the moment, just very cold winds – everyone had to put on winter outfits in bewilderment), Hermione pulled her scarf tighter as she moved in the direction of the Slytherin common-room. She had no idea what she wanted to do; she just felt that going in that direction would reward her with some answers…

"What's the mudblood doing around here?" came a hiss, and for a moment Hermione thought it could be – but no, the arrogance was different. It was more of a haughty tone rather than the cool and smirking one Draco Malfoy had.

"Where's stupid Malfoy?" Hermione tried to sound distant.

Blaise Zabini stared at her for a moment, then he couldn't help sneering. "What does a mudblood like you got to do with a pureblood like him, huh?"

"I don't care about blood at the moment, Zabini, just tell me where he is?"

"So you can hex him and send him straight to the Hospital Wing? I don't think so!" Zabini's voice suddenly grew very serious and angry, losing the spitefulness.

Hermione was a little taken aback. She had expected that kind of response, but she had not expected the way Zabini had said it. "No, I'm not going to do that."

Zabini suddenly leant forward and startled Hermione again as she backed into the wall behind her. "You know what, it's all because of people, or should I say, girls like you who get him into trouble. Always interfering, always trying to think you're so smart. Let me tell you, guys just need some time alone and we don't need you all to assert your authority all over us! Now get the hell out of here before I'll get nasty!"

Something was totally out of place. "Girls? Wait a minute. I'm just…uhh going to demand an explanation (yes that's it!) from Dra…Malfoy. What have I done, can you please enlighten me?"

Zabini suddenly scowled. "Get lost. He's not free."

"Zabini, I…"

"I said get lost!" he snarled, and started to turn back towards the passage that led down to the old mysterious dungeons of Hogwarts.

"What's Pansy done!"

That phrase completely took Zabini by surprise and he nearly tripped at the edge of the stairs. "What?"

"Is it…is it Pansy Parkinson? I mean…is he – is he getting…"

"What's it that you know?" Blaise Zabini's eyes narrowed onto Hermione as he retraced his steps. Hermione backed away a little, starting to feel something amiss.

"What's it that you know! Bloody hell, you girls – no matter what house – you are all absolute filths! Out with it, Granger! How'd you know anything between the two of them!"

Hermione didn't know what to say – she knew she couldn't run when Zabini had one hand reaching into his robes for his wand. She knew she couldn't scream because she was in Slytherin territory, and could only blame herself for it. She knew…

Draco! Help!

"Granger, you know backing away won't do you anything good," said Zabini, his voice turning silky and dangerous. He continued to advance, while pulling out his wand slowly, as Hermione did so as well.

Draco! Please! Where are you?

"What's going on between you and Malfoy in the first place…" Zabini's suspicion was suddenly aroused. "What're you here for? I don't remember Malfoy and Granger ever being the least bit chummy around here…"

"I told you I wanted him to explain something! I…I was unfairly treated!" Hermione was nearly yelling, desperation showing in her eyes.

Zabini saw it, and couldn't help smirking. "You're a bad liar, Granger. Absolutely."

He raised his wand.

"Blaise."

The low voice was unmistakeable.

But it was so…so weak. It was almost a whisper. But it was enough to shake Zabini from his concentration, and Hermione nearly let out a gasp.

Draco was leaning against the side of the passage, his eyes half closed, one clearly sporting a terrible swell, the purplish-black contrasting against his ghostly white countenance. His face was filled with unusual-looking cuts and bruises, and his arm was dangling by the side in a rather unnatural angle. His hands gripped the banisters so tightly his knuckles were white, and his knees seemed to be trembling under the layers of robes over them. What was more appalling was that he seemed to be wincing with every little heaving movement he made from breathing, and he looked ready to collapse any moment.

"I told you to stay inside!" Zabini hissed angrily, rushing forward to support Draco. Then he glared back at Hermione. "I hope you're satisfied with what you've done, Granger!"

"You…" Hermione began, trying to hide her horror, but Draco stopped her by whispering. "It's…not her."

"Stop shielding her, Draco Malfoy! Honestly, I don't know what the hell is going on between the two of you. She's been waiting here and nearly getting hexed by me just because she wants to know where you are and you tell me she's not responsible for your plight!"

"Shut up, Blaise." Draco muttered, closing his eyes.

Blaise Zabini gave an ugly look at Hermione, but he said no more.

Go, Hermione. Leave this place.

Draco, what happened to you!

I'll…I'll tell you later.

He winced again as Zabini helped him back down. Hermione turned away, hot tears filling her eyes. She knew – she knew what had happened to him. She knew that actually, Zabini was right – she was responsible for what had happened to him. She was selfish – she only cared about her good friends; she never realised that other people, in order to protect her selfish desires, ended up getting hurt for it.

Upon thinking of that, she realised – she had to do something.

She had to do something to stop it all.

---

Harry returned to the common-room, his head aching. It hadn't been a very good day at all. He had tipped a drop too many into his cauldron and produced a sizzling dirty pink liquid which was a far cry from the correct blue colour it was supposed to generate. Snape had, as usual, emptied his cauldron with a swish of a wand and offered some terribly cutting comments. Strangely enough, Hermione's one did not meet the exact shade of blue required, and she had not whined about it. He had also met Naomi Whittington earlier on, who was in a bad mood, and had suddenly launched upon him with regards to the ban of the Quidditch pitch and that nobody in the Gryffindor Quidditch team was going to be fit to play on match day if there was no practice. Harry had not enjoyed her 'lecture' at all. What had compounded matters further was the look on Ginny's face earlier on, and the hurried way in which she had left. Harry knew that something was just not quite right, and he looked around the common room for her.

"Ginny?"

The common-room returned an echo, as most of the Gryffindors had retired to their dormitories by then. He had spent a bit too long trying to trudge along to the common-room, he thought rather annoyedly.

Then he paused for a bit.

"Ginny?"

He made his way to the corner of the staircase leading to the dormitories. A red-haired girl was sobbing into her arms, giving horrible convulsions as she did so.

"Ginny!" Harry gasped, and ran forward to kneel before her. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny shook her head violently, and continued to sniffle, though her sobs were dying down. "Go away," she whispered in a muffled voice.

Harry didn't know what to do, so he reached out to stroke her hair awkwardly. Gradually, her sobs died down, and she slowly leant against Harry as he continued to stroke her hair in silence.

Finally, she lifted her head up. Harry felt a stab of pain when he saw how swollen her beautiful green eyes were, and how her fringe had been mussed up terribly because of her convulsions earlier on. Her eyes were full of – no, it was empty. It was hollow, in fact. Harry was a little startled to see that expression in her usually dancing eyes, when he had expected sadness, misery, or even anger. He had not expected…fear.

"Harry…" she whispered, her voice so raw that Harry couldn't help but hold her closer as though she had been exposed to a lot of pain. "Harry…he…he…"

"Take your time," said Harry, though he was urging her to continue deep inside.

"I'm so scared of him – he's a Death-Eater and he…yet, he turns on them…"

"Malfoy?" Harry stared in bewilderment. "What about Malfoy?"

"He turned against her…" Ginny whispered, clutching Harry's robe sleeves. "And she…she tried to k-kill m-me…" at which point, Ginny began to shiver all over again, and Harry held her tight against him.

Harry had thought she had meant Hermione at first, but when it came to the part about killing Ginny, Harry had no doubt that the girl had to be Pansy Parkinson. Yet… "he turned against her" sounded so…unbelievable…

Harry knew better than to ask Ginny any further, so he guided her to the door of her dormitory. Once he was back in the middle of the empty common-room again, his eyes narrowed, and he began to wonder where had Hermione gone to.

---

I'm very tired. I don't want to say a thing.

You said you would tell me. You have to.

When did you – when did you start telling me what to do? Did you know I am…oww!

Draco!

Shut up. I don't need…

I know you don't need it. Or so you say. You jolly well know better. Now YOU shut up about such things and get on with what happened.

There was silence.

Draco! The voice was almost pleading. What…what happened today amongst you, Ginny…and Pansy?

ARRRGHHH!

Draco, are you okay!

I just banged my arm. It's banged up enough.

Tell me.

Her voice was so sincere and heartbreaking that he could not say anything else but the truth.

Pansy tried to kill Weasley for me. I got there in time…to stop her. I…I just couldn't bring myself to kill the girl – Pansy knew it…and she tried to do it instead – but I just couldn't let her either…argh! I'm going insane! To hell with everything!

Hermione sucked in a few deep breaths as she lay back on the cushions in the Room of Requirement. She had just paced outside muttering three times that she needed a place to communicate with Draco Malfoy, and the door had appeared, thankfully.

Did…did he, you know…

He cast the Cruciatus curse on me.

Hermione gasped in horror. He what!

What's new? The laughter was so sarcastic. One of his old hobbies. I was waiting for something newer to come round and whack me up pretty badly.

I can't believe you're still laughing about it! You…you looked terrible!

Why…feeling the pain?

Hermione felt an uneasiness rise in her, as well as a rather strange feeling of…embarrassment…as he said that. You think too highly of yourself, Draco Malfoy.

I don't know what to do now. The serious tone had seeped back into his voice, and Malfoy winced as he said it; it sounded terribly pathetic. Oh God, what is WRONG with me. Why am I being such a pathetic person!

That's because you have emotions, Draco, you're not a cold-blooded person like Voldemort is. You won't kill an innocent person.

You think you know me very well, huh. I'm still a Death-Eater no matter what.

You didn't choose to become one, Draco. Lucius made you, didn't he?

Shut up.

Stop telling me to shut up. I'm telling you the truth.

Stop acting smart, Granger!

The revertion back to the surname basis hit Hermione rather plainly, and she gritted her teeth. The cogwheels in her brain were spinning, as she closed her eyes against the soft feel of the cushions beneath her throbbing head.

Did he tell you anything?

Tell? You're such a mild creature, Hermione. He practically engulfed my head with his rage.

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

He said he was not going to tolerate inconsistency. Suddenly, Draco's voice had lost all confidence, and fear was beginning to be exposed. He…he said that if I don't kill Ginny by the end of the next week…he would kill me.

He would kill me. That very phrase echoed in Hermione's mind over and over again.

It was only then, that the wheels of Hermione's mind had stopped its tireless spinning, and seemed to move in a rather systematic rhythm – Once. Twice. Thrice. And it went on, doggedly. Logically. Her lips moved into a rather tight smile, as she sat up from the cushions, her hands clenched into fists.

You know what? I have a plan.