A/N: Just heard the news about Dumbledore. I'm sure Harry was not thinking along those lines when, in book seven, he wished they had a closer relationship, although I expect to hear quite a few jokes along those lines.

Young Prewitt had asked s good question. Why does Draco think he knows who the heir is? I think the reason is obvious. Not because he does know, but because his ego demands that he blame someone, so why not someone you don't like. In Canon, Harry automatically assumed the same thing about Draco. I think it's one of those things twelve year old boys do. Accuse first then find out the truth. (Actually, that sounds like quite a few adults I know.)

And another comment for Mandraco. You suggested the word wane should have been wan. For some reason, I never thought of using that word. ( I didn't know it was a word, to be honest. I had to look it up.) And for the sake of the readers I should explain. After Harry made a comment to Hermione, Draco walked up. "She gave him a wane smile." Wane means fleeting, whereas wan means ashen, pallid. I was thinking of the type of smile where you're annoyed and a friend walks up, you smile but your heart isn't in it. A wane smile. A wan smile would be if Hermione was seriously hurt by the remark. Anyway, the point of this whole stupid paragraph is that while using wane may be poor English, it was the right word. (I really do have too much time on my hands.)

My thanks also to Raziel Tepes and Artemis-Chan for their reviews, as well as Shulblaka Saphira, whose question should be answered in this chapter.

Chapter 8: The Second Attack

Draco was forced awake by Hermione hitting his arm. He looked at her, then turned to the doorway where the commotion was coming from. At once a group of people came in. Madam Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, Professor Sprout. Argus Filch came in with Hagrid. They were carrying something. Draco corrected himself. Someone.

"Mum?" Draco called out.

Madam Pomfrey turned around. Her concerned look became one of sadness. She told him to wait as she pulled a screen in front of the bed they had placed the person on. Draco looked at Hermione. She was thinking the same thing. Whoever was carried in was stiff. Stiffer than they normally should be.

"Justin?" Hermione said suddenly, and Draco remembered. Justin Finch-Fletchley had promised to return after dinner but had never come by. If it was another attack . . .

Albus Dumbledore appeared from behind the screen, saw the two watching, and walked over to them. "I suppose it is appropriate that the two of you should be the first to know."

"It was Justin?" Hermione asked fearfully. Dumbledore nodded. The next question did not have to be asked.

"From all appearances, he had run into a suit of armor when it happened. I would guess he had heard his attacker and was trying to flee. I'm afraid I do not know how long he had been there before he was found but Madam Pomfrey did say he planned on returning here."

"He's petrified?" Draco had to ask, even though he already knew the answer.

Dumbledore gave him a kindly smile. "He will recover, in time. Professor Sprout told me she had you repotting mandrakes last week? It so happens that, once the mandrakes are mature, we can prepare the potion that will cure him. And Mrs. Norris."

"Do you know what attacked him?"

"I do not," the headmaster admitted. "I am examining all the possibilities, however, and I am optimistic." He smiled. "Do not worry on his behalf, Draco, Hermione. Justin is in good hands and in no danger. On the other hand, the two of you should try to get some sleep. It has been a most eventful day."

Draco nodded. He lay back down and tried to sleep, but to no avail. After everyone had dispersed, he risked getting out of bed. Walking over to the screen, he pushed it aside and looked at his friend.

Justin could have been a statue. But his body was contorted into an odd shape. After some thought, he understood. Justin had run into a suit of armor. If he were flipped over in his bed he would be in the perfect position. Kneeling over the body of armor and lifting himself up when it happened.

After a few more minutes, Draco put the screen back into place and returned to his bed. He slept in fits and starts for the rest of the night. Occasionally, he would glance at Hermione with a touch of anger. Although she was tossing in her sleep, at least she was sleeping.

Professor Snape was eyeing his favorite student carefully. Their twice weekly sessions had become a routine. First, they would test how well Draco was doing at occlumency. Then the professor would comment on where Draco could improve in his studies. At this point, tea was served with some sort of pastry. That was Draco's cue to decide what the night's lesson would be. And he would usually start by asking which one his mother or father would pick. More often than not, Professor Snape would have some anecdote about one of his parents and that particular subject. Statements such as Lucius would never admit he couldn't cast a particular charm, even if he never heard of the charm before. And there was the time in potions that Lily had brewed a sleeping potion so fine that the fumes put half the class to sleep before anyone realized what was happening.

And now Draco was sullen. Carefully, he probed the boy's mind. Sometimes, a fleeting thought would escape. The mental barrier was secure, however, which gave Snape cause for pride. It was hardly more than a year ago that he gave Draco his first lesson, and the boy was already at the stage where he could hold such a barrier up indefinitely. On the other hand, Draco had a strong incentive to learn. Any probe that made it past that barrier would cause him unbearable pain.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is not dead, nor is he in danger of dying." The strength of the probe increased. The barrier was still holding. "If you want to miss him, go right ahead. But you have no cause for such mourning." A needle-thin force of mental will attempted to penetrate the barrier. It seemed to have some success when the professor had to step back. The barrier suddenly went from an analogy of a brick wall to one of a steel sphere. And Draco was aware of what was going on.

"Did you have to, Professor?"

"You know the answer to that, Draco. It was an excellent chance to test your abilities. Admittedly, you had a tutor, but you still did better than any student with twice the time to train."

"I wonder what my motivation is," came the sarcastic reply.

"Perhaps I should make some more tea. And perhaps you will tell me why you are so glum."

Draco admitted that he knew Justin would be fine, and that he believed it, but there was the nagging thought. The monster or whatever had struck again without warning. And the victim had been a close friend who was on his way to visit. When Mrs. Norris was petrified, he was the first to come on the scene. The thought occurred to Draco that perhaps he had been the intended target and the others had the misfortune of getting in the way.

"Tea. Drink," Snape said forcefully. "And before I debunk your theory, do you have any suspects who might be behind all of this."

Draco took a sip of the tea. "The Notts. Mrs. Nott hates me because my father spurned her. I know that. And Theodore Nott even admitted that his parents were probably behind the accidents on the pitch."

Snape managed a smile. "If they are behind this plot then you are completely safe. They must have spent as much time planning all of this as their son spent practicing Quidditch. Seriously, they may have been involved in what happened during the match, but not for what happened to your friend. That was an entirely different order of magic. The Notts, even at their best, could never have managed it."

"Then who?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Draco's answer was hushed. "Voldemort."

"He has friends, as you have seen. But he is also weak. That does not explain why this attack occurred only a week after the last one. But I suspect we should not have to worry for some time before the next attack. HE will be cautious now that we have our guard up."

A thought was stirring in Draco's head. "Time to prepare." He paused. "Professor, do you have any idea what we should prepare against? The Headmaster . . ."

"Is working on that as we speak," Snape answered. "I respect his abilities and I will let him worry about how best to solve the problem. As should you."

Draco nodded, but the thought was becoming solid. If he continued to pursue the matter, he would be making himself a target. At least, that was what Professor Snape was implying. And if he did make himself a target? How would he defend himself?

"Draco?" Snape was eyeing him carefully. "Please tell me you are not planning to do anything."

"I was thinking about Moaning Myrtle. Asking her if she'd seen anything the night Filch's cat was attacked. If I could get her to talk to me."

"I'll mention it to Dumbledore. You have no need to involve yourself, now, in anything other than your studies."

Draco frowned. "Fine. What do you want to teach me, today?"

Severus Snape had to smile at the reply. "I have heard that you have difficulty turning your broom sharply when you fly. It is still light enough. I could teach you what little I know on that subject."

Minutes later, a cheerful Gryffindor was following the Head of Slytherin house to the Quidditch pitch.

Professor Pettigrew was trying to teach the class about the various dangerous animals that existed in the wizarding world. Most of the students kept close attention but one blond boy was continually daydreaming, despite several comments to pay attention. As the class came to a close, he had to insist that Draco Malfoy remain after.

"And where would you find Grindylows?"

Draco didn't even try to answer. It seemed that every word was a distraction to him. Pettigrew wasn't the first teacher to comment. Then the lecture began. True it has only been a week or so, but he shouldn't be worrying himself. Draco frowned as the Professor said something different.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Pettigrew seemed overly patient. "I was wondering if you had heard the voices recently. You heard them before Mrs. Norris was attacked."

"I was in the infirmary, Sir. That may have been the reason."

"Ah, so the voices accompany the attacks? Draco, perhaps it would be best if you were to take some time off from school. You're rather fond of Hagrid. Why don't you . . . be his helper for the next week? It might help you relax." Pettigrew was smiling. "I'll suggest it to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. I know Albus would have no objections."

"If I may, Sir, I need to go to my next class."

Pettigrew looked up and around. "Dear me, I forgot to keep someone here to escort you. Inconvenient rule. Let me escort you to the charms classroom."

Pettigrew put a friendly hand on Draco's shoulder and led him into the hallway. Despite a number of students passing each way, the professor made no effort to leave him off. Instead, he made small talk. He asked Draco how things were going with his girlfriend. Draco assured him that Hermione was only a friend, that there wasn't anything special about her. A smile was the reply, followed by a comment that he might still be too young. This led to another question. What was he learning from Professor Snape?

Draco was already wary. Pettigrew seemed to have a purpose behind his questions but he couldn't tell what it was, and the professor wouldn't tell him if he asked. Draco debated on how to answer and decided on the truth. "Well, the last time, he tutored me on how to turn sharply on a broom without having to slow down much."

"Good. Healthy exercise is always a release. And, by the way you cheered up, I think I might be correct in my recommendation." At Draco's frown, Pettigrew added, "I'm trying to do what I think is right for you, even if you disagree. If I am out of line, I know Minerva will not hesitate to tell me." He patted Draco's shoulder. "And I don't wish to offend you but I do consider her opinion to be more reliable than yours."

With a cheerful smile, Pettigrew opened the door to the Charms classroom and ushered Draco inside. He politely apologized to Professor Flitwick for making one of his students late and, the smile never leaving his lips, closed the door behind him as he returned to his own classroom.

Draco sat down next to Hermione. He tried to pay attention but his mind kept wandering back to what Pettigrew had told him. Maybe all of this had made him a bit barmy. Draco had plenty of bad things happen to him. Growing up, he had seen bad things happen to other people as well. But this was the first time that he could remember something bad happening to a friend.

"I'm not used to it," he said to himself.

"Mister Malfoy?" Flitwick asked.

Potter, seated behind him, laughed. "He''s only talking to himself, Professor. I don't think he could explain it."

Longbottom snorted, "unless he's talking to one of his voices."

Flitwick was angry. "POTTER, LONGBOTTOM, I'LL NOT HAVE ANOTHER WORD OUT OF EITHER OF YOU." In a lower, but still angry tone, he added, "Mister Malfoy, I would like to see you after class."

Hermione was adamant. "Draco, you have to stop it. Justin won't be healed any faster. It's becoming an obsession."

"I can't help it. I can't get rid of the feeling that I'm missing something, that once I figure it out everything will fall into place."

They turned up the staircase to the seventh floor and the portrait as Hermione explained, "That IS the point. It's just a feeling. Twice today, teachers stopped you to talk about it."

"Pettigrew is going to talk to McGonagall. He wants me to spend the next week as Hagrid's assistant."

Hermione smiled. "A little hard work never hurt anyone."

"He wanted to know if I'm still hearing voices. I told him no."

"Are you still hearing voices?"

Draco tried to frown but couldn't after seeing the look Hermione was giving him. "No, but . . ." Draco paused. "It happened again. It may make me sound barmy, 'mione, but I can't help thinking that Pettigrew expected me to hear that voice when Justin was attacked. What if . . . I'm hearing the attacker?"

"But you didn't hear any voices the night Justin was attacked."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "And no one was attacked the first time I heard that voice." He looked over at his friend. "Hermione?"

"What? Oh. Now you have me doing it. For a moment there, I thought I might . . ." She laughed nervously. "Why don't we forget about it for the rest of the day at least?" She looked at the portrait of the Pink Lady and gave the password. The painting swung open to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor.

Things seemed to go from bad to worse. Draco tried to pay attention in class, and was fairly successful, but every lapse into 'daydreaming' was weighing heavily against him. In the end, the call came not to see Professor McGonagall but Madam Pomfrey. Hermione offered to be late to practice in order to walk him to the infirmary.

Along the way, Hermione kept trying to cheer Draco but telling it was wonderful that he would be free of classes for a while. She tried to assure him he could still practice with the team whenever he wanted since it wouldn't be schoolwork. Draco tried to look sincere when he thanked her but he doubted he was successful.

And there he stood. In the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey looked at him as though examining him. "You've been causing problems again. Would you care to explain why?"

"Reason's in that bed over there. He's me friend. Woun't be right jus' to let it go."

"And you're going to solve the problem all by yourself? There are others, more qualified than a second year, who are investigating this matter. Your task at this school is to get an education. You seem to have become sidetracked. It has been strongly suggested that you should be given a short holiday."

"Pettigrew told me."

"PROFESSOR Pettigrew told you," she corrected. "He is the most vocal, and the most concerned. He was the first one to witness what he calls your 'episodes'." She ordered Draco to sit, then took a chair and sat next to him. "I need to ask if you have had any more of these episodes."

Draco shook his head.

"Very well. As your legal guardian, I am ordering you not to pursue the matter of the Heir of Slytherin. That will be handled by the Headmaster and his staff. If I hear even one word about it, you will have your little vacation with Rubeus Hagrid. The same applies to any further complaints that you are failing to pay attention in class or that you homework is late or, worse, indecipherable." When Draco looked up, Madam Pomfrey was frowning, "You even managed to gain a comment from Professor Binns. And that is not easy to do."

"I'll try," Draco said in a low voice.

To make matters worse, Madam Pomfrey made it a point to talk to Hermione Granger about what she said. Hermione agreed to act as Draco's watchdog. That matter settled, Draco was set free to return to Gryffindor. As she was late already, Draco agreed to join her at practice. They might even let him participate.

When they reached the pitch, Draco noticed Potter and Longbottom and opted instead to sit in the stands and watch. He wasn't in the mood to listen to any snide comments on his abilities. And so he watched. Hermione was better by far on a broom than she was last year. He knew it was because she finally understood that you couldn't learn everything by reading about it. It wasn't enough to know how to fly a broom, you had to do it. And knowing how did not mean you could do it. Such as twisting your body on a broom in a sharp turn. Practice taught you how to compensate for a strong wind. Reading only said you had to.

A red-haired girl sat next to Draco. It was Ginny Weasley. She seemed a bit distant and dreamy eyed. "I like to watch them fly," she said mechanically.

"Yeah, it's fun," Draco answered without enthusiasm. Potter was making a suggestion to Hermione about her flying. Even at this distance, it was clear to Draco that Hermione was doing her best not to make a comment of her own.

"I'm supposed to visit a friend," Ginny said in the same tone. It struck Draco funny, as though she had rehearsed her lines. "I thought you might like to join me."

"Who's your friend?"

"Her name's Myrtle."

Draco stared. Ginny Weasley was giving him a smile. Draco returned it. He understood. Her lines were rehearsed. She had decided to help him and was nervous as to how he would react. Add to that, Justin helped him and was now in the infirmary. The same thing could happen to her. Another reason to be nervous.

"I'd love to go with you. If you don't think Myrtle will mind."

For her reply, Ginny stood up and began walking away. Draco followed her. As they passed the changing room, Ginny did something unexpected. She turned toward the door, ushering Draco inside when she opened it.

"What's going on?" Draco asked.

"Myrtle can wait," Ginny said. "I wanted to show you something important."

Draco was confused by the change in attitude. Ginny was still smiling dreamily at him. As he watched, she began to unbutton her robes. After she undid the second button, she added that it might even be more fun than visiting some old ghost. Then she did something truly unusual. Grabbing either side of her robe, she pulled slowly until the third button popped off on its own. That was when he realized that she had nothing on underneath.

As she forced the fourth button to pop, Draco rushed forward to stop her. He grabbed her hands and forced them together. To his surprise, Ginny cooperated completely. Her smile was gone. Instead, she was staring at him in horror. She looked down at her robes. Suddenly she was screaming as she broke away from him.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET GO OF ME!"

As Ginny broke free and tried to get the door open, a sound was heard on the other side of the room, where another door led in from the pitch.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING?" Fred asked loudly. He was standing there with his brother and Oliver Wood. Hermione was just behind them with the other members of the team, all trying to see what was happening. As everyone froze, Ginny opened the door, tears in her eyes. She glanced once at Draco, looked at her brothers, then fled back to the castle clutching her robes together.

Fred had not even finished calling Draco a bastard before he was hitting him. George tried to hit him all the harder for not being first. He was backed against the wall and being struck repeatedly about the head and the body. He vaguely heard Hermione yelling for them to stop, and Potter cheering them on. Other voices rose up in an incoherent roar. A whistle blew, and Draco was suddenly let go. He used the free time to collapse onto the ground.

The first thing Draco was told was to keep his mouth shut. That was from Madam Hooch. She ordered everyone else to return to their house until Professor McGonagall came to talk to them. She then marched Draco to the infirmary so that his injuries could be taken care of. Nothing was said during the entire trip. Draco was left waiting outside the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey was told everything that Madam Hooch knew. The Flying Professor then excused herself to take care of informing the Head of House.

Madam Pomfrey led Draco to a room nearby. She curtly informed him that Ginny Weasley was currently being taken care of. His injuries were not life threatening and he would have to wait. And he did, for most of an hour.

While he waited, he examined the room. It had a bed, table and chairs, and a bookcase. One door led to a closet. A second room led to a small bathroom. The third door, the one to the hallway, would not open regardless of how hard he tried. He spent most of the time looking out the window at the forest.

When she returned, the first thing Madam Pomfrey told him was to say nothing. Draco's instinct was to protest, to say he didn't do anything wrong. Madam Pomfrey glared at him.

"I'm telling you, you stupid boy, for your own protection. Don't even tell me. I have a fairly good idea what happened but I wanted to find out from Professor McGonagall exactly what she has been told before I talked to you."

"But . . ."

"DRACO. Be Quiet. I mean this. Do not say anything to me, now. Or to anyone else."

Draco noticed it. Madam Pomfrey was frightened of something.

"Can I ask a question?"

"The Weasley twins said they walked in on you while you were forcing yourself on their sister. Most of the Quidditch team confirmed what they said."

"Most?"

"The ones who didn't were the last ones to enter. They saw Ginny Weasley running away while Fred and George were assaulting you."

Draco started to protest, but a warning glare stopped him. He shrugged his shoulders. "What do I do?"

"Until the matter is resolved, you will spend your time here. There is a ward on the door. No one can enter without my permission. And no one can leave unless I specifically walk them out."

Draco nodded. He was a prisoner, for lack of a better word. Madam Pomfrey had him sit in one of the chairs while she examined him. She gave him a potion to take care of the swelling. Then she ordered him to give her his wand. Putting it inside her robe, she left, telling him she would check on him in the morning.