Hey! so i think this is my longest chapter yet! sorry about the last chapter, it was just kind of a filler, but in this one, something actually happens, so ENJOY! and, of course, REVIEW! cause i was quite put out by the lack of reviews for my previous chapter. i only got 4 in that one, while the one before i got 12, so i'm sure you can imagine my disappointment. anyway that's all - on with the chapter!

Chapter 6

Hermione

The Lake – 10:06 pm

Merlin, where is he? I think angrily, looking around, and still seeing no one.

After a minute though, I spot a lone figure with distinctly white blond hair walking in my direction, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Honestly, I feel pretty bad that I essentially blackmailed him into coming here, especially since it was really an empty threat. I don't really know anything of what happened Friday night, just that he turned up seriously injured. I don't even know who did it. I suspect his father, of course, but I obviously don't know for certain. But blackmail was the only way I could get him here, and I really want to talk to him about what happened. I can't stop thinking about it, and I need some answers. Blaise refuses to talk about it, so I figured I'd have to go straight to Malfoy.

I groan to myself as I think about Blaise. We were partnered up for potions … for the entire school year. Snape is trying out something new, and has decided to partner each Gryffindor with a Slytherin, and I'm with Blaise. I have to admit, Blaise can be quite sweet when he wants to, but then again he can also be a total git, and that's what I absolutely hate about him, that he can change so easily.

Malfoy finally reaches me, hands stuffed into his pockets, the usual – but not quite so usual this year – sneer plastered on his face.

"Can we get this over with? I don't quite fancy being out in the cold for very long," he drawls in a bored tone. I nod, motioning to the ground near the lake.

"Please, sit down," I say, offering him a feeble smile. He simply smirks at that, but sits down reluctantly, letting out a small sigh. I sit down beside him, suddenly feeling very nervous about what to say.

"I don't have all the time in the world, you know," Malfoy grumbles, looking out at the lake, his face a mask.

"I want to know," I whisper after a moment, and I figure that he'll understand. He does.

Malfoy chuckles softly and shakes his head, standing up.

"You know, I had a feeling it was an empty threat. I just never thought Miss Goody-Goody would ever do something like that. Guess I was terribly mistaken."

With that, he starts walking away, but I yell out his name and run after him, forcing him to stop.

"Malfoy … Draco, please," I say quietly, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm worried about you."

It comes out before I even think of saying it.

"Why?" he demands, his face a perfect mask, but his eyes are hard.

"I don't know," I admit, smiling weakly. "You've always been such a git to me. But not this year, this year you're different. I don't know why, but you are. And I can't stop thinking about that night. I can't stop wondering what happened. I can't stop making up my own assumptions because neither you nor Blaise are telling me anything. It's driving me crazy, Draco!"

"Since when do you call me 'Draco'?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"I don't know," I mutter, shrugging. "Since I stopped thinking of you as 'Malfoy'. And I don't know why I stopped thinking of you as Malfoy."

"Well, that's very interesting," Draco drawls. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you what happened that night." And he pushes past me and starts making his way back to the castle again.

"It's your father, isn't it?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. I seem to be doing that quiet often lately. Blurting. Around Blaise and Draco, at least.

That makes Draco stop in his tracks and spin around, stalking back to me, looking very angry.

"What the bloody hell would make you think that?" he demands, getting right up in my face, his eyes intense and nostrils flaring.

"Because he's a bloody world class git, even worse than you, and … er…" I stutter, looking at my feet.

"And what?" Draco presses, lifting my chin up with his fingers.

"And I overheard some of your conversation with Blaise on the train," I mutter, suddenly feeling a little bit scared of his reaction.

"You mean you eavesdropped," Draco snarls, letting go of my chin angrily and taking a step back. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Mind your own goddamn business." He turns to go again, but I grab his good arm, pulling him back.

"Draco, wait, please. I want to help," I beg softly, looking him straight in the eye. He stares back steadily for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Why?" he demands harshly, his lip curling in disgust. "Why do you – a filthy little Mudblood – want to help me? As you've said, I've always been such a git to you, not to mention that I'm a Malfoy. We're natural born enemies. Why would you want to help me after all of that?"

"I don't know," I reply, sighing. "I really don't. Yes, you're right, you're a Malfoy and I'm a … a Mudblood, but so what? Quite honestly, I've always thought the whole blood purity thing is rather ridiculous. I mean, Voldemort is a Halfblood, and you all still bow down to him."

"Don't talk about him," Draco snaps warningly, glaring at me with pure anger. I am momentarily a bit frightened by his anger; he looks really scary. But then my fear disappears as I realize what he just said. He doesn't want to talk about Voldemort. He doesn't even actually support Voldemort, does he?

"You don't want to be a Death Eater, do you?" I whisper, staring at him as if I've just discovered that the world is, in reality, flat. Draco Malfoy, son of the evil Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's most prominent follower, does not want to follow in his father's footsteps. He does not want to be a Death Eater.

"Stop it," Draco hisses, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Stop jumping to conclusions. You don't know anything about me. I'll ask you one more time, stay out of this." And he spins on his heal quickly and stalks off. For a moment I actually let him leave, not sure what else there is for me to say.

Then I figure it out.

"Draco, wait!" I call, running to catch up with him. He visibly sighs, turning around and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"What now?" he growls, though he doesn't sound angry, he sounds tired.

"Look, you don't have to tell me what happened Friday night," I begin slowly, and he raises his eyebrows questioningly, a sign for me to continue. "You don't have to ever tell me if you don't want to. I just … I want you to know that I see that you're not the git you always pretend to be. I can see that it's a cover to … to protect the 'real' you. And only Blaise gets to see the 'real' you. He's the only one you trust, and I think I can understand that. But … I want you to know that I'm here too, and even though you have your doubts about me, which is also understandable, I do actually want to help. I just want you to know that. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here, if you need an opinion besides Blaise's."

There is complete silence for a couple minutes, as Draco takes in what I've just said. He's looking out at the lake, he eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if he's deciding what to say next. Finally, he looks back at me, his decision made.

"Look, Granger, I want to be a Death Eater," he begins, his face expressionless once more and his eyes hard. But for some reason, I am sure he is lying. "And one day soon, I am going to be one, and nothing you, or even Blaise for that matter, can say is going to change that. That's simply how it is, and you've got to accept that. I'm a Malfoy. I'm not a hero, like bloody Potter. Even if I didn't want to be a Death Eater, which, as I've said, is not the case, I would still become one, because that's what I'm supposed to be. There's nothing you, or anyone, can do about that. And I most certainly will not be talking with you about my problems. As you said, I've got Blaise for that. And just to make things clear, he is not the only one I trust; I do get other opinions besides his, so I don't need you for that. And that 'git' is actually me, it's not some cover."

"So why are you so different this year?" I ask before he can continue telling me lies, because I'm sure that's what they are.

"I'm not," he shoots back calmly. "You're imagining things."

"No, I'm not. Hell, even Ron's noticed, and that's saying something, because, quite honestly, Ron doesn't notice much unless it hits him right in the face."

That's not a lie. Ron commented about how quiet Draco's been the other day in the Gryffindor common room. It quite surprised me, to say the least. Harry agreed too, though he thinks that means Draco's up to something.

"Look, I don't care what your ignorant friend thinks of me," Draco says, sounding a bit tired, like he's had enough arguing. "It's none of your business. I'd prefer it if you just let it alone. I'm not going to tell you what happened that night, and I probably never will, so get that out of your head."

"I know you're not going to tell me, and you don't have to," I insist, taking his arm gently and leading him back to the lake. He doesn't object, even as I sit down, pulling him with me. "I've sort of given up on that already. But … for some reason I have a sort of good feeling about you, and somehow I am sure you were lying when you said you want to be a Death Eater. I think you do believe that you're going to become a Death Eater nonetheless, and I think that's extremely sad, and I'd like to do anything I can to help you not become one. I won't do anything you don't want me to do, but I just want you to know that I'm here for you, if you ever need me."

Draco doesn't reply right away. He sits there silently, looking at the water and not saying anything. He seems to be fighting some sort of inner battle, like he's trying to decide if he wants to talk to me or not. I take a moment to actually be a bit proud of myself for that – that I've managed to get Draco Malfoy to think about opening up to me, a Mudblood.

"I can't make any promises," Draco mutters finally, turning back to me. "For now, I am not going to tell you anything too personal. You have to understand that … well, I don't exactly trust easily. I've known Blaise pretty much all my life; he's helped me through a lot and proven himself to be trustworthy. He's one of only … three people in my life that I can say I really trust. I … er … well, I don't want to sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, or some shit like that, but I haven't exactly had the easiest life ever, and I've learned the hard way that I can't trust most people. I have to admit, though, I feel more comfortable around you than I do around most people I don't know so well, but that doesn't mean I trust you yet, and I might not ever. For now, I guess we can just try to get to know each other, but – and listen closely to this – we are not friends, and we can probably never be friends. You're a Mudblood, and I don't mean it in a mean way, it's just a fact. And I'm a Malfoy. No one would approve, first of all, and secondly, we're practically complete opposites. Most likely, we won't even get along. So, we can just try to get to know each other, and see what happens."

I nod slowly, absorbing everything he's just said. For the most part, he makes perfect sense, and he's probably right that we may never be friends. But at least he isn't pushing me away. He's agreed to try to get to know each other, and, for now, that's good enough for me.

"Ok, that sounds good. Can I ask you a question though?" He nods, motioning for me to continue. "You said Blaise was one of the only three people you really trust. Who are the other two?"

Quite honestly, I don't expect him to answer me. I thought it might be too personal a question to ask, but decided to risk it anyway. So I am quite surprised when he does answer me.

"My mum," he replies quietly, then hesitates before continuing, "and Snape."

"Snape?" I gasp, shocked. "Why Snape?" Draco shrugs carelessly, looking away from me to play with the grass at his feet.

"Most people don't know this, but he's my Godfather, and he's always been there for me," he says simply, twirling a piece of grass between his fingers. "Look … er … this is all really new, and I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable with it. I think I've had just about enough for one night. Besides, I've got to go see Blaise, and it's getting kind of late."

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. He was actually opening up a bit to me, and he probably realized it too, which is most likely the reason he ended it. With his trust issues, it's quite understandable, but I can't help feeling a bit disappointed anyway.

We get up at head back to the castle, my mind racing with questions.