.~.

Let it Burn

Chapter Four

Lies to Truth

.~.

~*- Heed to the perfect warning lest you find something amiss-*~

"Sit and remain silent," hissed Professor Snape as he strolled in after his students, making a scene of arousing the lights and swishing his wand about him. His robed billowed threateningly behind him and as he made his way up to the front of the classroom, he surveyed the damage and let out a unheard groan of disappointment and dejection. He had hoped that his class would be limited, but seeing as many of them had progressed due to the handlings of their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, he had no choice but to acknowledge them. He turned on his heels and said in a low, demur voice," I have not asked any of you to take out your textbooks. Put them away."

The classroom was riddled with dankness and dread. Even as the queue clamored in, they could sense the dilapidated ruins that used to be so alive with wonder and curiosity. Trophies of contorted body pieces and jars of shrunken heads littered the grand bookshelves. The students grimaced at a particularly horrid item as it flash them a sullen grin and went completely still. As they took their seats, a great many of them couldn't help let their thoughts run from them. They were in for a rude awakening, indeed, and it was only amplified the crossed nature of their Professor. He was going to enjoy immensely, even more so since he had gotten his wish after so many years of waiting.

He watched with ease as his students took their seats and became accustomed to the intoned nature of his practice. Unlike Potions, DADA was in a league of its own. It was hands on and intense, not saying that brewing potions and weighing dragon dung wasn't, but no one has been able to win against an opponent by shouting out ingredients for a Polyjuice Potion. Everything relied on skill and agility.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was entirely different now that Professor Snape had taken over. His taste was still rather detestable. He had bathed the classroom with every bit of cruel images and souvenirs that he could find. Somehow he even managed to bring the dank coldness along with him from the dungeons. One wouldn't think of a single happy thought in a place like this, no matter how endearing their spirits tried to sound. There was only one thing to count on and that was they were in for a rude awakening and their toughest year yet.

Draco had taken a seat with Theo and Blaise, neither of them had been foolish enough to be over enthusiastic about their first real lesson with the ex-Potion's Master. The three Slytherins looked at the head of their house coolly and said nothing.

He could feel the penetrating gaze of Potter. It was no surprise to him that he opted to find a seat in the back of the classroom. Harry had taken a seat a few rows behind them. It was a rather odd scenario since Hermione usually forced them to sit in the front. For some reason, he believed that she wouldn't mind sitting in the back of the room where the whole room was set up to their advances. After what he let him see, or rather what he happened to stumble upon, he wasn't surprised at all by his willingness to think the worst of him. He had yet to see the worst, however, and only served to his more sadistic nature to show him exactly that. Of course, his Godfather had been all too willing to accommodate him. He obliged to his little idea in a great attempt to see the insufferable know-it-all crumble beneath the weight of his authority. Even so, Draco knew he only agreed because of the mark that scared their arms. Otherwise, he would have dismissed him altogether.

Fortunately for him, he was at an advantage. He only needed to rile the Gryffindor up and he knew exactly how to do it.

His thoughts pulled away from him. As he did, he remembered the scene in which he would not soon forget.

Twice she has seen her. Twice she has not paid the least bit of attention to him. He remained standing there, caught between walking forward and joining her and staying where he was. It was a bit of a conundrum, but he chose the ladder. He didn't want to rouse her yet. Her fucking mood swings wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

Draco was waiting in a niche, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to show up. When they did, he conversed with them until a familiar scent wafted around him. When he looked up, he had got just the end of a long main of curly brown hair and the unmistakable outline of red. He was certain that the little witch had seen him, otherwise she wouldn't have been with Potter and she wouldn't have given them a questionable look at breakfast that morning. Draco heart came to a sudden halt. He knew that he would find her, clenching her blasted books, looking winded as if she rode a fucking Hippogriff to class. A part of him called her out on her phobia of heights. Another wanted to curse her. Curse her because she saw, and call her out just to be a prick.

Before class, he had watched her as she ran pasted him. Hermione was in high spirits. As she scurried down the corridor, her hands clenched around her textbook for Ancient Runes and the three pieces of parchment that she had apparently been working on during break, she couldn't help but beam energetically. She had just received a letter for Slughorn's party and she couldn't wait to speak to Potter and Weasley about it. He knew all this because the witch was just so easily readable. He drew back into the darkness, but kept a careful eye on her.

Suddenly, she had stopped.

In her excitement, she had automatically thought of Ron. He knew. It's been almost two weeks since she's talked to him and they had yet to reconcile. A part of her wanted to go to him and apologize, but another, the more unforgiving part, wanted to let him suffer. He knew that as the one and only truth. Slightly dejected, she bit her lip and continued to walk. She didn't think of what happened to them until now. Even to her it seemed like some silly dream. To be perfectly honest, she thought it was. Ron never used to cater to other people's needs, so why should he start now?

A boy like that isn't worth your time.

A male voice spoke to from her subconscious. It caught her completely by surprise that she stumbled, dropped her books and looked around. She quickly bent to pick them up, completely embarrassed and hurried away from disapproving eyes.

Hermione never actually put a voice to the sender of the letters. The one she heard was dark, forbidden. As if rising from the ground itself to haunt her. It does. It haunted her. Even in her dreams she couldn't escape him, her faceless admirer. She's never heard or seen him; she suspected that he was rather handsome, even if his handwriting was the only physical attribute that she had to go by. Apart from that, she had nothing.

That wasn't necessarily true.

She did have something. Though it was enough, she couldn't help ask for more. Whoever was sending the letters was so sweet, so insightful. They made her think, ponder, and aspire to be greater. Hermione never thought about it before, but maybe she was a pushover. That people only used her for her mind and went to her when they couldn't find the answer to even the simplest of problems. Why did she have to be the first and only resort? How was it that, after all this time, they were finally noticing her? She didn't understand, and maybe she never would.

A bird like you must feel some sort of passion in wanting to fly free. Otherwise, you would be content where you are at.

Hermione's fingers wrapped around her books again and she slowed her pace until she was barely walking. Without wanting to acknowledge what the words could possibly mean, she quickened her pace and joined her classmates in front of their classroom.

The scene ended there. He let the image drive him, though. The image of her walking aimlessly in front of him became the catalyst for his desire to destroy her and break her down. She had witnessed him at his worse time, but in that retrospect, she was going to see him at his best.

She knew nothing of what she was getting into. Whether she had seen it or not, he was determined to keep her from finding out. Even if she never found out about the letters and who was sending them, he didn't want the witch to discover who he is, what he was. His plans did not include her and he would be damned if he allowed someone to harm her because of his stupidity.

He entered the classroom after that.

To his left, he could see Zabini and Nott conversing under their breaths. Nott sensed a disturbance, looked up and smiled. Of course the little bastard had a grin plastered on his face, reminding him of their little talk earlier that morning. The statement did stand. He really was hoping to present his mother with new mantle pieces.

"Alright there, Malfoy?" asked Nott. "Looking a little pale."

"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood."

"You never are." He pouted like a child. "You used to be so willing…"

Draco practically growled. "So help me, Nott. Say one more bloody word and I'll-"

Nott waved his hand dismissively and as always, Zabini stepped between them as a peaceful citizen between the two rivaling lands. Draco scooted over, allowing him to sit between them. Usually, he was in the middle but not in this case. He was still pissed.

"Enough," he sighed, sitting down. "You two can't go one day without tearing at each other's throats. How many times have I acted as peacemaker?"

"Higher than I can count," murmured Nott, thoughtfully. "How many people have we lost?"

"Quite a few," murmured the Italian. "Do you have any idea what our lesson will be on?"

Before either of them could indulge the observations of their fellow Housemate, the door to the classroom slammed shut and Snape strutted into the room. The silence was deadly, and neither of the three Slytherins were up for conversing as they watched the Head of their House walk around in completely driftlessness. His robes billowed in the godless wind and his lanky hair hung like heavy curtains on the sides of his face. There was an extraordinary glint of evil in his eyes. He stopped and looked around.

"Today, "Snape's voice echoed naturally in the over-sized classroom," we are going to attempt to hone the skills of nonverbal spells."

He walked leisurely in front of the tables. His black eyes scanned their faces. "Many of you don't have sufficient enough knowledge of nonverbal. I suggest that you all open your ears and pay attention lest you miss something important." Snape paced in front of them. "As you all may or may not be aware, the Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is tantamount to fighting a multiple headed monster. With each swing of a sword or well-placed spell, the neck is severed and gives births to a head cleverer and fiercer that before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible." He said the last words as if it were a prayer. "Therefore, your defenses must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo."

His drawl was incredibly boring. Some clung onto his words for all they were worth. Others, like Draco, were bored beyond comparison. He leaned back in his chair and began to scribble worthless words onto a spare piece of parchment. One word led to a sentence and those sentences lead to several inches worth of thoughts. He read it over.

Snape stepped around the edge of the room and indicated to each of the pictures tapered to his walls. One depicted an even more gruesome act of violence and leverage on decadent agony. A man, for example, lay sprawled on the floor, clearly in the throes of being under the influence of the Cruciartus Curse. Another depicted a many huddled in fear against a wall, his eyes black-eyed- a clear indication of the Dementor's Kiss. The last, the most gruesome, was a bloody mass on the ground- invoke the aggression of the Inferius.

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape. "You will be well advised to assume he might use them again."

He flashed a look at Draco and he turned his head and looked away. The last thing he needed was for the Potion's Master was to remind him of his cause. He remained silent, refusing to meet his eye. He was still angry with him. He knew he wasn't supposed to engage anyone about his task, but how the hell was he supposed to do it? He hardly knew what to do with Granger, not to mention with the Dark Lord's task. He needed that bloody room, and he was relying on the alignments of the fucking stars and planets that this lesson went exactly to plan. As a man of great opportunity, Draco would no doubt be able to make the most of the bad situation. If Snape helped him with this, he would be one step close to finding the Room of Requirement and open step closer to fixing the cabinet. He just needed Granger to cooperate…

"Now..."

The class watched as he made his way swiftly to the other side of the room and back to his desk.

"…you all will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Be warned, if I hear one whisper of a word, both partners will find themselves in detention before either can reflect my hex. I have assigned partners for several of you. Those names I call, step forward. The rest, you may begin."

As the students stood and shuffled about the room. Draco watched as Blaise and Theo stood, oblivious to the fact that he had tempted Snape into doing this experimentation with the students. While Snape began to call several names, he leaned back in his chair and waited. His name was last to be called along with Hermione's. When he did, he couldn't hide the smirk that spread across his face. He turned, watching as the witch behind him face paled at hearing who her opponent would be. At least he gave her the advantage of being the castor. This was going to be so much fun.

Hermione trembled slightly as she stood from her seat, eyeing Harry and Ron, both looking at her with concern. Harry had mouthed something to her to which she caught on instantly. Despite what they saw earlier, she couldn't help feel the need to remain calm and careful around the Slytherin. She walked over to where he stood with his arms drawn over his chest, daring not to speak even when he greeted her.

"Granger," his smirk grew. "I can't say that I am pleased that you're my partner but I guess you'll do."

"Malfoy," her voice was tight. He supposed that she hadn't forgiven him for when he made her lose those house points. Oh, well. He had far bigger plans. "Let's just get this over with."

"As you wish," he smirked, watching her as she drew her wand and readied herself for attack. "Do take care of me. You see, I bruise fairly easily."

"I'll do just more than bruise you, Malfoy. I can assure you…" she raised her wand, ready to execute the extent of her words.

"Ah," he raised his hand and wagged his finger. A smirk came to his lips, "No talking. I can see that this is going to be quite hard for you but I will not allow you to get me into trouble because you can't keep that big mouth of yours shut."

Hermione's eyes flashed the unmistakable hue of unadulterated rage. With a quieting gulp, she bit back any retort that sprung to her lips, furrowed her brow, and began concentrating on the first jinx that came to mind. She did look quite beautiful in her relief. Just the simple act of thinking and trying to project her magic stirred him like nothing else has.

He wasn't at all worried. Although they were sixth years, Snape would never allow the harm of another student, even him. He had to keep a special eye on him, anyway, and Granger would no doubt be the receiver of his jinx if something did happen to him.

Hermione began to move, pointing her wand right at his chest. Her eyes were set. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. She was concentrating. In her mind, a simple decadent charm came alive. Just as she was about to flick her wrist, he decided to intervene, taking his words right with him.

"Not so full of words now, are you Granger?" he seethed. "Not without your precious words to back you up. Merlin, I never thought I would live to see the day that you weren't jumping up and down like a frog, desperate to answer a question."

He swore that her magic was transpiring against her. She wanted so desperately to hex him, so she continued to concentrate on the jinx that he knew she wished to evoke but couldn't. Even in the most strenuous situations, the great Granger couldn't perform well to the expectations set out for her. Snape made his way around the groups. In the corner of the room, Draco could see Zabini and Nott. They were arguing, of course. They both were betting Galleons when Granger would explode. From what he could tell, Zabini bet she lost it first. Not disagreed. He believed that she would be able to at least make it to the end of class. Draco knew one thing and that was he was going to prove them both wrong.

"It's a complete shame you aren't able to," he drawled. "Merlin knows that-"

"Shut up," she hissed finally, under her breath.

A smile danced across his lips.

"What did you say?"

"I said shut up." The witch glared at him, reiterating what she had said. "I've had enough of you."

"Oh, you have?"

"Yes," she emphasized the words by gripping her wand more tightly. "Out of all the boys in this class, I had to be saddled with you. And, just in case you've suddenly became deaf in the last fifteen seconds, I would appreciate it if you stopped talking. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Proceed, then." He chuckled. "But, I must warn you. Speak again and I'll inform Snape. I don't want to fail because of you."

Hermione was about to say something but Draco held up a hand.

"No talking," he warned. "Wouldn't want the precious little Princess will get a detention and have it placed on her record now would we?

Another burst of fire flared within her eyes and he knew that she was fighting every which way to remain silent. It there was one certain thing it would be to take Snape very seriously. He gave detentions out like it was Halloween and Christmas, gifting them as treats and presents at his leisure. He abused his power of authority and he didn't care who he harmed in the process. All he cared about was himself.

Draco's eyes darted around the room. Longbottom was the first to grace him. His trembling form almost made him chuckle, which would have caused him to lose his directive. He was struggling. His partner was no better. He watched quietly as Snape came by them and hissed something under his breath. Longbottom became bright red and his nerves were shot to such extremities that he unconsciously spat out the charm, having pointed his wand off his target. A flash of light dance across the room and ricocheted off the wall behind his opponent. Snape gave him the first detention that he suspected would be many.

The Slytherin turned back and smirked.

"Looks like Longbottom bested you at something, Granger." He said. "He just got detention before you. How do you feel about that?"

Her eyes screamed what her voice could not.

Smirking, he placed his hands in his pockets, along with his wand. He appeared relaxed and trivial with his environment. He wanted her to see that he didn't have a care in the world. Giddy with the prospects of humiliating her, Draco began to rock back and forth on his heels, watching her face carefully.

He knew that it was hurting her. The fact that she had yet to jinx him was eating her raw on the inside and the only thing she could account for was trying her patience. She wanted to throw every jinx and hex and hurtle it at him one by stinking one until there was nothing left but a convulsing hump of flesh. Oh, what a sight that would be, but he preferred his woman on in his chambers and on his bed when they convulsed. It was cleaner that way, he supposed. More erotic.

A sudden thought came to him but he was quick to determinate it. He would not think of Granger in such a way, not matter what he felt for the witch. She could not be his in that way, so he settled for a life of teasing and tormenting her from afar.

"How does it feel?" he continued, eyeing her," to be second best at something as easy as casting a non-verbal jinx. Must be frustrating, yeah?"

Hermione made a sound in the back of her throat that indicated her detest.

"Cat got your tongue, hmm?" he purred triumphantly. "Still trying to concentrate? Try hard enough and you'll either blow of a vessel or worse. Whatever you do, though, make sure you don't get it on my shoes. They're new."

"I don't care about your bloody shoes," she hissed, the wall of her patience and dignity crumbling as she spoke. A smirk slowly took shape on his lips just as Snape was strolling toward them. He didn't say a word. "Why I was chosen to be your partner, I'll never know. But, I won't allow you to continue to deride me." In a split second decision, she raised her wand and cried," Stupefy!"

Draco instantly grabbed for his wand and repelled the approaching offense. When he did, the witch looked at him, startled. Completely stunned and speechless, she lowered her wand and glared angrily at him.

"Been practicing, have you?" she seethed. "Think this is funny?"

He resisted the urge to nod. Indeed, he found it funny. Quite amusing, really. The sheer astonishment was photo-worthy. What came next was only the icing on the cake.

"Practice has nothing to do with it, Granger." He whispered to her, knowing that they were just in ear-shot of Snape. "If I were you, I would keep that big mouth of yours shut. We're supposed to be doing this in silence."

"Why you…" she breathed hauntingly. "I'm going to get you for this."

"I'm sure you are," he chuckled. "Now, continue. I haven't got all day."

She was about to try again, then she turned. As soon as she saw that Snape wasn't looking in their direction, she turned back around, aimed her wand at Malfoy's chest, and whispered in a faint voice," Cantis," hoping that the jinx would take.

And, it did.

No more than three seconds passed before Malfoy was forced to sing. For someone so unbelievable malice and cruel, his voice was extraordinarily beautiful. Deep and rich like the most expensive chocolate, he sung in perfect harmony to a tuneless melody. A more sinister part of her wanted to cast another jinx, but she feared that his dancing abilities would be too much. The bastard probably studied ballet and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him twirling around the classroom on the tips of his toes. A sight worth-while, but it wouldn't have conjured the exact humiliation she was looking for. She needed something wicked.

Malfoy suddenly stopped and he opened his eyes, seething at her for casting that particular jinx. She smirked at him and he was momentarily without oxygen.

Damn.

She was good.

"Granger," came the drawl of their Professor.

Gasping, she turned and looked at him with worried eyes. In her haste to get back at the git, she had forgotten that Snape's earing was perfect for someone his age. The dark presence swept between them and she fumbled for words. "Professor, I-"

"I do not want to hear your excuses, Miss Granger." He narrowed his eyes, his lip curling. He appeared to have been waiting years to give her what she rightfully deserved. "May I ask you why you casted that jinx when I explicitly told the entire class not to make a single noise."

"I…H-he provoked me, sir.

"I don't care if a group of centaurs galloped into this room." He hissed. "No one was to make a sound during this lesson. You have failed to listen to instructions. You will serve your detention tomorrow night in the dungeons along with Malfoy since he is incapable of keeping his mouth shut as well. Provoking your opponent is not appropriate when you are just learning to perform non-verbal spells. Do I make myself clear?"

Neither of them said a word, which he took it as they understood. With a swish of his robes, he was gone. He drifted away to antagonize other students.

Only a selected few gave her their condolences, anyway.

Hermione slowly turned and faced Draco. He looked at her innocently. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

Tears began to swell in the corners of her eyes. "You taunted me knowing full well that Snape could pass by at any time. I told you to stop, yet you continued!"

Draco frowned, obvious to the fact that he indeed set her up. She would never know that, of course. "Will you calm down, Granger? It's just detention. I used to get them all the time. It's no big deal."

"No big deal," she breathed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "No big deal? Are you pulling my leg, Malfoy? It is a big deal to me!" She paused long enough to take a shuddering breath. "I've never had detention, you git! I hope you're happy!"

Oh, yes. He should have been happy.

But, why did he feel so guilty?

"Out of all the barbaric individuals, Snape just had to put Malfoy with me!" she cried, dropping her books onto the table in the Common Room and huffing. "And, that wasn't the worst of it, Harry. He forced me to break my concentration and explode! He is the reason that I have detention with Snape on Saturday! If it wasn't for him…" she wrung her robes and growled. "I swear I'm going to kill the git when I see him."

The three of them were in the Gryffindor Common Room. After a long day of classes, they decided to convene together at the tower before supper. They had just arrived when she began to throw out every obscenity that she could think of that perfectly illustrated Malfoy's personal concern or lack thereof. He was the most selfish person she has ever come to know, and if it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have detention. And, on a Saturday night! For some strange reason, Ron decided to comfort her and she openly accepted it. Perhaps, she thought, he was sympathizing with her because of how wronged Malfoy had treated her all these years. She hoped it was because it was the right thing to do, and not because it was chivalrous. Only time would tell.

Hermione dropped into a cushioned seat beside the fire and sighed. She didn't want to think about the impending detention or what she may have to do for the conspiring Master. For now, as resigned as she was to throw all her hatred at the two of them, she wanted to rid herself of every piece of memory that still lingered in her mind.

"He knew exactly what he was doing." She said softly, drying her tears. She had fled the classroom as soon as the bell sounded and was reaping the repercussions of crying. Her eyes were red and it stung when she blinked. "He knew what buttons to press and how to press them. It's like he was asking to be put into detention with me…"

Her eyes widened.

"D'you really think that was his motive?" Harry asked. "Malfoy is a lot of things, but I don't think he would deliberately get himself into trouble and drag you along with him. You aren't exactly his favorite person, 'MIone."

"The evil git probably thought it would be a good chance to rile you up some more." Said Ron, thoughtfully.

The two of them turned and blinked.

"What?" he asked, heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn't said a single word to either of them, much less Hermione. This was the first time in ages that he was paying any attention to her. "I mean, there is only so much he can do in front of Snape, yeah? He might've wanted to get you alone and interrogate you some more. I can't think of any reason he would want to, though…"

Harry remained silent as did Hermione. After some time, he broke the silence.

"The Mark." he said suddenly.

"The Mark?" asked Ron.

He nodded. "We were in the library this morning- don't ask," he hissed, noticing the inquisitive glint in his best mate's eyes," We were coming down for breakfast when we saw Malfoy talking to Crabbe and Goyle. He said some stuff and pulled up his sleeve. We left before either of them had the chance to notice us. When we arrived to the Great Hall, Malfoy and Snape came in after us looking as if they had gotten into some sort of argument or brawl. I'm not certain, but I think it has something to do with Voldemort."

"Don't say his name." hissed Ron, covering his ears. "I'm bloody tired of you saying his name!"

"It's his name, isn't?" he shot back, angry. "It's not my fault you can't tolerate hearing it, Ron. Anyway, I reckon he's looking for something. At the very least, desperate for help. Snape can only help so much, right? So, we does he have to turn to- Crabbe and Goyle."

"What about Nott and Zabini?" asked Hermione warily.

It was clear that Harry never considered either of them. He processed it for a few minutes before saying," They have only themselves to worry about."

"Aren't all their parents Deatheaters, though? Why wouldn't he go to Nott and Zabini first before going to Crabbe and Goyle?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "They didn't take the Mark like Nott and Zabini did."

"If they didn't take it," enquired Hermione slowly," how is it possible that they are able to help him? I don't understand."

He shook his head, rose to his feet and began to pace. It was like he was waiting for this exact moment to express his theories, to grabbed the light and shine it down upon Malfoy and single him out. Of all his offenses, serving Voldemort and doing as he wished had to top it all. Nott and Zabini had to know what he was up to and had to have their own duties and taken the Mark alongside him. Otherwise, they would be the ones to help him. No one would suspect Crabbe or Goyle, which made it the perfect excuse for Malfoy. They always followed in his command and he always sat back and watched them.

"If that's true," said Ron after some time. "What is he looking for?"

Unfortunately, Harry did not know the answer.