The Truth Revealed

Truth is incontrovertible, malice may attack it and ignorance may deride it, but, in the end, there it is.

--Winston Churchill

The Library was swarmed with students, running around looking for a specific textbook, once in a while whispering questions or gossip, sometimes both, to their neighbor before disappearing behind the book once more, and Madam Pince having a heart-attack trying to bring the hustle and bustle down to a whisper, which of course was impossible.

"When one is quiet, one can absorb the complicated coursework—"her voice loudening with each word other but slowly drowned in the surrounding commotion. No one listened; students crowded her desk, mostly upperclassmen with notes allowing them access to the Restricted Section. One small, timid first year, Hermione remembered her name; Felcona Garvin held up her finger trying to signal Madam Pince's attention but disappeared in the mob. Hermione smiled, getting out of her chair to go help the frustrated first year. The girl shared her habit of 'light' reading once in a while so Hermione picked out a few of her favorites, helping the girl carry the small pile towards the back of the library where the arm chairs were located. Felcona thanked her humbly and trotted towards the corner, sitting in Hermione's favorite chair. She held her gaze for an extra second before returning to her desk.

"Feeling gracious, are we?" he commented while flipping through the Daily Prophet, his books spread out covering half of the table before him. Neither had talked about the strange incident that had had taken place a few weeks ago on the Quidditch pitch. Both reverted back to hold habits but with a civil edge, Hermione still called him Malfoy but not ferret-boy though tempting at times and Draco called her Granger, but not mudblood or filth or dirty blood, the list was endless for muggle-borns.

"The concept of being helpful must be foreign to you, I suspect," she said returning to her work. "The answer is werewolf skin," she added, not looking up. The steady scratching of her quill on parchment submerged in the turbulence surrounding them. Draco wrote the answer down before returning to the Daily Prophet. Hermione was glad they hadn't talked about it, getting involved with Draco would pilfer the tiny inkling of sanity left. Besides, Ron would be devastated and her friendship was more important than…well, they were more important and that's what mattered. Ron was practicing Quidditch outside with Harry and Ginny, the much awaited Quidditch season had finally arrived and Gryffindor had to play Slytherin next week. She contemplated whether to ask Malfoy why he was slogging in the library, not exactly doing anything productive, when he could be practicing outside but soon realized she didn't want to talk to him more than necessary.

"Malfoy, what did you get for the third question?" she muttered still not meeting his gaze as she diligently scribbled on the brown paper. He didn't answer and she was forced to look up from her work, annoyed. He was deeply absorbed in the manuscript.

"Malfoy?" she called. Felcona Garvin walked back to the desk signaling for Madam Pince's attention again. Hermione fought the urge to go help her check out the textbook before reverting back to Malfoy. He got up, eyes blazing in anger as he threw the newspaper on the cluttered desk, running a hand through his hair.

"I swear, if I ever meet that Rita Skeeter in person, I'll murder and go to Azkaban," he snarled. Hermione grabbed the paper; she hadn't gotten a chance to check out the morning headlines this morning, flipping to the front page. The headline was the same, monotonous note about Voldemort return and the Ministry's dedicated work to keep the wizarding world safe. In short, bull. She folded the paper, creasing at the center, and found the article that had ignited Malfoy's temper.

Death of Narcissia Malfoy: Shocking or Expected?

By Rita Skeeter

November 16: Lucius Malfoy's wife, Narcissia Malfoy, was found lying motionless next to the dinner table approximately at six o' clock in the evening. Authorities claim death as a result of the dreadful, most feared unforgivable curse. I hadn't reached the scene until the following day due to a hold up regarding my upcoming book, Mingling with Mermaids, demanding to see the body at once but the Ministry had refused to show me the corpse. My suspicion ascended when Mr. Malfoy walked into the scene, confused for a good half-an hour before the news had reached his well, occupied brain. "I can't believe she's gone," he croaked while I patted his shoulder sympathetically. But, I can't help but wonder if Mrs. Malfoy's death had been a murder, was the ministry, in its infinite wisdom, hiding the truth? Mrs. Malfoy's conflicting past only added fuel to the fire as I spent the next few days talking to Mr. Malfoy, the Parkinson family, and close friend, Severus Snape.

Her son, Draco Malfoy, strangely hadn't visited his father yet which strengthened my unspoken allegations.

Was Narcissia Malfoy really murdered?---

Hermione abruptly stopped reading to see Ron's shocking expression, while she hastily stuffed the newspaper and papers lying haphazardly across the desk in her jam-packed school bag. She took a deep breath before attending to his anticipated fury.

"What are you doing with this git?" he growled. Hermione couldn't help but fight a smile trickling the corner of her mouth, as deranged as it sounded, Ron was just incredibly cute when he was jealous.

"With Malfoy you mean?" she looked, faking a disgusted expression. Malfoy covered his mouth trying to not to insult her terrible acting skills.

"No, with Harry," he flared. ("Hey, I'm not a git!" Harry answered standing behind him) "Of course, Malfoy!" he bellowed ignoring Harry's pointless comment. Even Madam Pince, who was standing close by, looking for a chance to intervene, knew better than to cross the red-head.

"Calm down Weasley, Granger just wanted to borrow the Daily Prophet knowing better than to ask you, as if you could afford it," the famous smirk plastered across his face. Just like old times, Harry held Ron's robe while Hermione grabbed his elbow.

"Please, you are pathetic," Malfoy added with a sneer.

"Well, let's not even go there," Hermione warned before giving him another glare, walking off with Harry and Ron. Once out of the library Ron turned to Hermione, shrugging his elbow out of her grip, his face hard and cold.

"I never want to see you near him," he said through gritted teeth and Hermione wasn't angry, well aware of how much Ron cared for her, she slowly nodded giving him a small smile. They walked in silence towards the Gryffindor Tower before parting with Harry who left to the Head Boy dorm.

"Do you have any idea what's wrong with him?" Ron asked watching Harry walk away, he wasn't the same person anymore.

"No," Hermione answered truthfully, maybe he was just afraid of what to except, afraid of the future just like both of them. They continued walking towards the Gryffindor tower, Hermione lugging her school bag up the stairs until the fat lady's portrait came into view. Though she cared for Ron deeply even going past the cordial friendship they'd shared for the past six years, she couldn't explain the irreplaceable longing to go back to the library and sit next to Malfoy, argue with him, call him a git every other second, and roll her eyes at his snobbish attitude.

"…so I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow evening, you know after class, but it's totally alright if you don't want to," the redness of his ears slowly creeping to his cheeks.

"Sure," she said trying to convincing herself this is the right thing to do, this is what everyone excepts of you and more importantly Ron is a great person to be with, so, what was bothering her so much?

"Great," he said enthusiastically, surprised she'd agreed. "Alright then, I have to go back and study,"

"Go back? Please Ron, you barely opened your books today," she commented grinning at him, trying to forget that feeling of emptiness slowly creeping back into her consciousness. Ron put a hand over his heart faking a hurt expression, making her break out in laughter, before returning to his books. Hermione closed the door, her back against the strong, teakwood, hand on forehead, thinking about what just happened. She sighed lugging her school bag to the corner of the room carefully remove the Daily Prophet she'd been reading before. A few scrap pieces of parchment fell out, she shoved them back into her bag before she noticed something that wasn't hers. She recognized the brown paper; Malfoy had removed it from his Potions textbook utilizing it as a bookmark. With the Daily Prophet aside, she unfolded the paper, it was a letter. She skimmed through the content, drinking in each word, her eyes burning with tears towards the end. She ripped the paper to shreds grabbing her wand.

"Evanesco," she snarled, the small piece of paper disappearing from sight, regretting her action, and she should've used a more dynamic spell. She threw her wand to the corner, and sank to the ground, head in her hands. She felt used and stupid, how could she ever think Malfoy would change, this had all been a plan, nothing more.

Oh, A Cliffy, I'm brutal, I know. :) I'm planning to edit this tomorrow so please excuse any grammatical errors, if you're picky like me and absolutely cant avoid avoiding them, let me know where they are:D

Ok, so I'm sensing a lot of holes in this fanfic especially with the plot; all I have to say is, stay patient! because I'm planning to write the sequel, I just want to sort of things among Ginny, harry and Pansy. Dramione, I dont know, it's really hard to write without the characters sounding OOC! I'll try my best though :)

Review, please :D, I promise the next chapter will be longer.