(A/N: Here is the next chapter, sorry for the little hiatus but hopefully I'll be back for good now. Thanks for waiting and I'm so happy to have finally figured out how to get to the ending I'm envisioning. The characters don't belong to me but I hope you enjoy the chapter.)
Draco's knuckles were white, he noticed and loosened the grip he had on the armrests of his armchair. He needed to get a grip on his emotion, people would soon notice the riled up look that was so uncharacteristic of any Slytherin student, the same look that had been plastered on his face for the past few days. He was trying to listen to the conversations going on in the Slytherin common room, several had made his ears perk at the mention of the attack on every Slytherin's least favorite mudblood, Hermione Granger.
All of the conversations were the same; one person would laugh about the misfortune that had fallen the know-it-all Gryffindor, the other would laugh along and then question if anyone knew who'd 'put the girl in her place'. Neither person would know the answer but they'd bat around ideas of who it might have been. The most popular theory by far was that the attacker had been none other than Draco Malfoy. Draco had to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from sneering each time he overheard the popular theory, he wasn't keeping a calm facade, his attempt to read his potions textbook was futile and almost everyone in the common room was sure that his distracted behavior was proof that he'd attacked Granger.
Draco slammed his book shut, making half the room jump at the sudden noise. There was a flicker, all eyes in the room flashed to him but quickly looked away. Though Draco had been acting strange his reputation still kept his housemates in line through fear. Fear of what Draco didn't know, nor did he care, and he was relieved to have that power. No one in the common room dared to move as Draco made his way towards the stairs that led to his bed chamber. His robes billowed out behind him, his exit sparking life back into the common room, the conversations began again, the students even more sure that Draco was Hermione Granger's attacker.
The stairs that led to the bedrooms were long and winding down, further below the lake than any other part of the castle. It was cold and dank, ironically the founders found it reasonable to put the largest group of students used to high luxury and put them in the metaphorical basement of the school. Draco was alone in the stair well, the sound of dripping water and his footsteps on cold stone engulfing him. Suddenly there was another set of footsteps. They were light and fast paced, the huffing breath of another student projected ahead of him. Draco wasn't aware of the footsteps until he was nearly tackled by the other student.
"Watch it!" Draco sneered, knocking the younger student down as he pushed past. He wanted to make it clear that he was in no mood for any underclassman shenanigans.
"S- s- sorry, Mr. Malfoy." The boy got up quickly brushing the dust off his robes as he started walking off. Draco had taken a few steps past the boy but at the sound of the younger student's footsteps he turned to look back.
He recognized the boy as Michael Massimo. The younger student was a second or third year from a very old family, the pureblood family had been once involved with the Dark Lord but all of the older relatives were long dead or with one foot in the grave as they served sentences in Azkaban. Like any other arcaic, pureblood family, just like Draco's, he'd been taught the unforgivable curses, some other dark spells and hexes as well.
Draco couldn't help but watch the boy walk off. He bore a striking resemblance to the Malfoy family, same pale skin and platinum blond hair. He may have been a far off relative but the resemblance was there and indisputable. Draco thought about the boy, he was usually quiet but confident, not looking for trouble but his allegences were clear to anyone. He sided so strongly with the dark lord that it wouldn't be a stretch for him to join the ranks of the death eaters. But there was something off about him now. The look he'd given Draco as they passed in the stairway, the fidgeting and stuttering were so grossly out of place it was almost comical.
Draco started walking again, realizing it would not do to be found staring off into space. The boy was long gone and Draco needed to think. When he finally made it to his bed he cast charms, making it appear to anyone that he was asleep. He thought about everything, going over what Hermione's statement had said, her description of her attacked. After an hour of thinking he resolved that the next morning he would find out what he already believed to be true.
In the last moments before he drifted off the sleep for real Draco pulled a small photograph from the breast pocket of his sleeping shirt. It was a magical picture, he'd found it in one of the books she'd lent him earlier. Hermione had told him all about the photo before telling him he could keep it if he wanted.
It was at the Burrow over this past summer, Hermione's parents were visiting and Arthur Weasley had given Mr. Granger access to a magical camera. It was taken in the wee hours of the morning, so early that the only ones up were Mrs. Weasley, who could be seen cooking in the background, Mr. Granger, and Hermione herself. Her hair was pulled up, containing the sleep frazzled curls, and she was sprawled out on the couch in a pair of blue plaid short and a black tank top. In her hand was a worn book with a brown leather cover, engraved in gold lettering was the title of the book, "The Hobbit". Hermione had told him all about the book, how it was the first magic she'd truly believed in before finding out she was a witch. He could tell that it was her favorite, the pages were worn and the edges of the cover blunted. The picture was moving but it was just a brief snapshot of her looking up from the book to see her father taking her picture. She blushed as she waved her father off with a hand, trying to hide behind the pages of the book. The smile that came on her face was something he'd hope to see for himself one day. It was a glimpse of her in a completely different setting, one he'd never had the chance to see. He folded the picture again, sliding it back into his pocket with another concealing charm to make sure no one found it accidentally. His eyes slid shut, a night of unrestful sleep ahead of him but he was certain tomorrow would yield answers to his questions.
(A/N: Thanks for reading and dealing with my break from this story. Now that I've finished the other stories I was working on I'll hopefully have time to continue this one the way I want to. Please review, any and all comments are welcome and will keep me writing and updating faster.)