A/N: Woo next chapter! Hopefully I'll have the next one up a little faster. Classes started so I'm a little busy. Blah college. Anyway, I just noticed how much Robert Frost's poem I placed at the top fits this chapter and story. For those who know what happens, isn't this poem so true regarding this chapter and Hermione in general? =)

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." - The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Chapter 3 - Deception

Hermione would recognize those eyes anywhere. Cold as ice yet filled with a fiery heat. They were the eyes of a snake, the enemy: the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was a boy in her year—a Slytherin to boot. Slytherins and Gryffindors were natural enemies since the beginning of Hogwarts. If there was one person Hermione could think of that she disliked most at school, it would definitely be Draco Malfoy. Proud. Arrogant. Foul. Prejudice. He was every bit of everything she hated. And she was sure the feelings were mutual.

So it came to her as a bit of a surprise when she stared back at him, because he didn't look anything like the boy she had grown up to know.

Malfoy's trademark sneer was replaced with emptiness. There was no expression what so ever on his pale and pointed face. He simply stared at her, void of emotion. He held her gaze a few seconds before turning away. She had to blink several times, just then becoming aware of how teary her eyes can become from not blinking.

What was that about? she thought wildly. Her curiosity escalated by the second. What was wrong with him? Was he ill?

A sudden impulse shook her from the inside. Maybe it was running around so much with Harry and the Weasley's that they were rubbing off on her. Maybe it was her own general curiosity. Or maybe she didn't know why. For whatever reason, and knowing she would probably regret it later, she dashed out of Fred and George's shop. She could just make out Malfoy's pale blonde hair in the distance, his inky black cloak trailing along the cobblestone street.

"Malfoy?"

Either he didn't' hear her or he was choosing to ignore her. She had to catch up to him and call out his name two more times before he finally turned around.

When he did, Hermione couldn't help noticing that like Ron, a tremendous growth spurt. Malfoy was practically drowning in a sea of black—a solid black suit and matching long cloak, fastened with a serpent pendant at the collar. The complete darkness of his attire clashed with his pale face, making him look frozen and cold. His blonde hair, so normally slicked back, had grown out a little and had a sort of messy look to it. As Hermione took in his appearance, his usual sneer appeared across his face, but his eyes continued to look empty.

"Is it a crime to look in a shop, Granger?"

Something about that particular statement confused her. Or more accurately, made her curious. "But you weren't looking in the shop. You were looking at me." She let her head tilt to the side, staring at him like he was a particularly interesting ingredient in potions class. She just wasn't sure what it was, or why she was staring, or why she had followed him.

He didn't seem to like this scrutiny, because a contemptuous look twisted his face. "Granger, you are more or less correct," he said. "Yes, I was looking at you, because I was looking for a filthy Mudblood." He cracked a grin. It wasn't a pretty one. "And look, I found one."

He gestured to her with a very satisfied look. She had grown used to this horrible nickname; one of the foulest names you could call someone like her, someone with Muggle parents. And yet even still, the name made her blood boil. It was judgmental and prejudice and wrong. Dare she think it, but she held the highest scores in her entire class at Hogwarts. Insulting her as a person, and her intelligence, was ridiculous.

"And why would you be looking for a Mudblood, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, determined not to lose her temper. "Trying to round them up for Voldemort? Do him a favor?"

It happened very quickly. Malfoy's gloating smile vanished and twisted into something of contempt and hatred. His light eyes looked darker than ever and Hermione was actually surprised he didn't wince at the name 'Voldemort' like most people did. There was something in his eyes, something dark and cold and somehow knowing. She couldn't explain it—only that this Malfoy wasn't the same as the year before. Something was different and truthfully, she didn't know what to think about it. Still, she held her ground. She wasn't going to let a Slytherin push her around. Especially Malfoy.

"You have no idea what you're in for someday, Granger," he said, taking a step forward. "You and your blood traitors and stupid, Potter," he spat.

Hermione glared at him with as much hatred as she could rally. What was that supposed to mean? Was he actually threatening her and her friends? Before she could say anything in response, a striking female approached from behind Malfoy. Hermione noticed the same pale, pointed face, but her eyes were a piercing blue and her light blonde hair was slightly above her shoulders, curled tightly. Even if Hermione hadn't met her before, she could easily recognize this woman as Malfoy's mother, Narcissa. Hermione had been introduced to her somewhat at the Quidditch World Cup two years previous, though this time Narcissa didn't seem to have dung stuck under her nose at first glance.

Narcissa ignored Hermione completely, her attention set only on her son. "Draco, you shouldn't wander on your own." She placed a hand delicately on his left arm.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, Mother," said Malfoy contemptuously, pulling his arm out of his mother's hold and wincing slightly, as though she had struck him.

Narcissa chose that moment to finally notice Hermione. She shot a quick glance between the two teenagers, accessing the situation. She didn't seem to remember Hermione. "Is this a friend of yours, Draco?"

Malfoy smirked at the statement and looked at his mother, his body relaxing somewhat. "No mother; I don't associate with scum like Mudbloods."

Hermione shouldn't be surprised Mrs. Malfoy allowed her son to use such language, but it was still humiliating and hurt a little. That hurt though transformed immediately to anger, and she all but whipped out her wand and cursed the Slytherin to oblivion.

"Yes, indeed," said Narcissa, her pretty red lips curling in disgust. "Come Draco, we have things to do."

Without another word, the Malfoy's turned on their heels; Hermione watched them go, feeling a little put out.

Well, she thought, that explains Malfoy's rotten attitude. She stood there a moment before going back to the shop. Every few steps she glanced around, just to make sure no one had noticed her encounter with Malfoy. The streets were still pretty much deserted, a dreary feeling shadowing the alley. Hermione was about to pull open the doors to Fred and George's shop when Harry and Ron seemed to burst through. The three stared at each other, momentarily frozen.

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded, looking over her shoulder. "If mum knew you slipped off, she'd flip her lid."

For a brief second, Hermione debated on whether or not she wanted to tell Harry and Ron about Malfoy's little confrontation. They'd probably want to know, right? And yet…Harry and Ron had a tendency to overact and quite frankly, Hermione didn't feel like dealing with their lack of emotional control. The conclusions they'd draw over nothing wasn't even worth it. Malfoy was nothing, and their encounter meant nothing.

"Just stepped out for some air," she settled on saying. "It was just a bit crowded in there."

Although Ron looked unconvinced, Hermione led the way back inside Fred and George's shop before the boys could ask more questions.

After a half hour, Mrs. Weasley decided to take Ginny and Mr. Weasley to get everyone's books from Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were to hang out in Fred and George's shop while Hagrid stood guarding the door. Conveniently, Hagrid had missed the confrontation with Malfoy. Hermione had the suspicion he had made a short trip to Knockturn Alley, the same place he had won a dragons egg their first year. Hagrid had a reputation for befriending large and abnormal creatures such as: Aragog, the giant spider that dwelt in the Forbidden Forest; and Buckbeak, the hippogriff Hermione and Harry had saved in their third year.

Harry and Ron were joking with Fred while George was taking his shift at the register. Hermione had found the Bewitched Quills section and decided to ask for Fred's advice on the better bargain.

"I can't decide which one I want," she said, examining a long silver quill. "How long do the Spell Checking Quills last?"

"Should be good for a couple months, depending how often you use it," said Fred. "If you're looking for endurance, we find the Self Inking Quill will last the longest. Just a simple Replenishing Charm."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at the thicker, black quill in her other hand. A Self Inking Quill would certainly save time on essays, but Spell Checking was certainly important. Well, she did have several dictionaries for that, and using a quill might be considered lazy.

After much debate, she decided on the Self Inking Quill, and handed it over to Fred.

"Excellent choice," said Fred, sending the black, feathery quill over to George at the register with his wand.

"Why doesn't she have to pay?" Ron asked furiously.

"Because she tested out our telescope and the hair potion wasn't worth much anyway," said Fred simply. Hermione couldn't be more pleased. She was leaving Fred and George's shop with a brand new bottle of Weasley's Anti-Frizz Potion and a Self Inking Quill, free of charge. A temporary black eye was definitely worth it.

"But I'm your brother," said Ron, his face incredulous. "I should get a discount or something."

"What kind of businessmen would we be if we gave family discounts? You pay full price," said Fred, ignoring Ron's groans. "And Hermione, if you decide you want the Spell Checking Quill, you can order it by owl."

"What?" Ron asked. "What d'you mean, by owl?"

"Yeah, our new Owl Order Service for you lot at Hogwarts," said Fred, handing out several purple and gold pamphlets. "Didn't you listen to George? This explains everything." Hermione handed one to Harry, but his expression was a bit detached, his mind clearly elsewhere. She shook her head and turned toward the window and saw that Hagrid was gone again. Great, Hermione thought, some security.

"You disguise them as cough potions?"

Fred's reply was drowned as a sliver of blonde caught Hermione's eye—Malfoy, walking down the street. Alone. He was checking his shoulders in a very suspicious way, as if he was on the run from the Ministry. His overprotective mother was nowhere in sight. Something about the way he was walking made Hermione too curious. Too curious to ignore it and go on like it didn't happen. When something irked its way inside her head she had to see it through. To solve the unknown mystery, no matter how big or small. She knew she couldn't slip out of the shop again without being noticed. She had to think fast, or Malfoy would get away.

Get away, Hermione snorted at the thought, as if he broke the law or something.

And yet…he was definitely up to something. The way he moved, the way he glanced over his shoulder, the way his mother was absent—it all added up to something.

Hermione kept her gaze trained on the glass window, and not five seconds later, Narcissa came strolling quickly after her son. She didn't look quite as put together as she had earlier. There was a frenzied, wild look on her pretty face. Something was definitely going on here.

Without giving it much thought, Hermione quickly turned to Harry, tugging on his arm, never allowing her eyes to leave the window as the Malfoy's continued down the alley.

"What, Hermione?"

Hermione had to think fast. "Harry…I need to catch up to the Weasley's. I forgot to tell Mrs. Weasley about another book I wanted. I don't really want Hagrid to see me because he might not let me go since he can't leave you all alone in here and I don't want you and Ron to have to come because of me…so…could I borrow your cloak?" The words came out so quickly she gasped for breath when she finished. She knew her story was a bit far-fetched but not entirely unbelievable. Ron was deep in conversation with Fred; therefore, hearing none of the conversation taking place between Hermione and Harry.

"Do you know where you're going?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Hermione tried not to sound as impatient as she felt.

Harry still looked reluctant but ended up slipping her the cloak. She smiled in triumph and quickly put the cloak over herself and sprinted through the door in the direction she saw Narcissa walking. She practically ran down the cobbled streets, thankful it wasn't crowded.

When Hermione finally caught up to Narcissa, she hung back but kept a safe enough distance that she could still see the back of Malfoy. The Malfoy's paused, so Hermione paused. This minor hesitation forced her to think about why she was doing this. Following the Malfoy's would definitely be something Harry would do—not her—and yet she could not help her feet that continued to move forward.

Malfoy slipped into Knockturn Alley, of all places, and Narcissa followed a bit more hesitantly. Hermione tightened the cloak protectively around her shoulders and followed after them. This was the first time she had ever seen Knockturn Alley and she had to admit, she wasn't impressed. The alley was quite narrow, and the little light that filtered in had a sort of dull, brown glow. Dirt seemed to clutter in masses on the street. Wizards were cowering in the streets, all dressed in black and sodden with ashes. Hermione followed after the Malfoy's until Narcissa finally broke the silence.

"Draco, I wish to speak with you."

Malfoy went very still before turning around with a sigh. The simple gesture made him seem, for the first time, like a normal human being. He looked positively drained, and gave a quick nod toward a nearby alley. Narcissa followed him, and Hermione made sure to be extra quiet. Once Narcissa and Malfoy were away from curious eyes, Narcissa turned her icy eyes on her son, a glare twisting her pretty features.

"You are being foolish," she scorned, her voice menacing and as cold as her eyes.

"I told you to stay out of this, Mother," Malfoy hissed, sliding a hand through his light blonde hair.

"You are my only son, Draco." Narcissa's anger seemed to defuse, her voice much softer. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way. Just give it time."

"There is no more time. How many times do I have to tell you there's no other choice?" His tone made it clear they had had this conversation many times.

"And what about your father?" asked Narcissa, blotting her watery eyes with a handkerchief she had pulled out of a leather handbag. "Have you thought of him?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this? For him. For you. For Alfred." Malfoy took a deep breath and placed his hands in his pockets, glancing anywhere but at his mother. His skin had paled in the dim light, making him look more hollow and dead than ever. "Leave me alone, Mother. There's nothing you can do that will help me. Keep this conversation to yourself. He won't be pleased if he finds out. Now excuse me, I need to speak with Borgin." He swept from the alley so quickly Hermione had to back into a wall to avoid collision.

Narcissa stood frozen, staring after Malfoy as though he might come back. Her eyes were now glistening with tears. She let out a tiny sob and covered her face. Hermione immediately wanted to run away, feeling horrible guilty about intruding on an apparent deep family matter. Never in her life would she imagine she'd feel sorry for Narcissa Malfoy. But looking at her now—a beautiful China doll broken to pieces—she certainly did.

Move, Hermione thought, forcing herself away from the scene. She left the alley and saw Malfoy standing outside a shop: Borgin and Burkes, a dimly lit shop with dark tinted windows. He shook his head once and stepped inside. Hermione glanced back and saw that Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone?

Hermione didn't wait around to find out, but instead moved toward Borgin and Burkes and stood close to the musky window, trying to peer in. Malfoy approached the counter, and the man behind the register shrank back, as though Malfoy was something to be frightened of. This made no sense. Why would anyone be frightened of Malfoy? Yes, he was annoying and rude, but not frightening. He shifted, and Hermione tried to get a better view, but he was showing something to the man behind the counter that she couldn't see. The man's eyes widened further, and he cowered back.

"What on earth…?" Hermione muttered. She reached a hand under the cloak toward the knob—and was instantly repealed. Of course. Malfoy must have placed an Intruder Charm on the door so no one could enter. Deciding to give up on the matter rather than be discovered, she slipped out her wand and muttered,

"Navigo!"

Her wand acted like a compass, pointing her in the direction of Fred and George's shop. Hermione had read about the Navigation Charm last year and found it quite useful. If the wizard or witch was able to picture where he/she wanted to go, their wand would point the way. Of course distance mattered, based on the power of the wizard/witch, but Hermione knew the closeness of Diagon Alley would permit her spell to work. She crept quickly back to Diagon Alley towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, putting as much distance from her and Malfoy as she could. She stared at her wand as she walked, allowing it to guide her.

Hermione tried to concentrate on her destination so the charm would continue to work but she could not forget the look in panic and fear in Narcissa's eyes. Apparently whatever Malfoy was up to was something Narcissa disapproved of. And not just like he was doing something wrong. Narcissa was fearful of whatever it was. That much was clear by her expression. Yet Malfoy said he was doing this for her, his father, and Alfred—whoever that was. He also had mentioned for his mother to keep the conversation to themselves because 'he' would not be pleased. Who would not be pleased?

There were too many possibilities running through Hermione's head as she continued down the cobbled streets, each as unlikely as the next.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Now to answer a few questions:

Cwolly: "in the American version of the Harry Potter books have they changed it to say 'mom'?" - No, you're right, I messed up on that part. Usually I'm so good with remembering it's supposed to be "mum!" The American version has "mum," but like "color" is spelled that way and not "colour." :P

Chloe: "'Her large, ginger cat Crookshanks was nestled at her feet on the bed, completely obviously to the chaos and fear in the wizarding world.' Is that meant to be 'completely oblivious'?" - Yeah, kind of lol. Well, the point was that Hermione is sort of subconsciously comparing her frenzied/worried self that jumps at every sound to her snoozing cat that has it easy. She's a little jealous that her cat doesn't have to deal with the chaos that's going on. :P Not sure if I'm making sense..(Thanks for finding me over here by the way! *hugs*)

Alenerien: "I found one tiny mistake - Hermione didn't received O.W.L. in Muggle Studies, because she dropped it at the end of third year." - You're right! I went back and checked, and Ron says in Half Blood Prince that Hermione received ten Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations. So either Ron was wrong or Rowling messed up, haha. :P