AN: I know, I'm horrible. It's taken a whole week for me to get this chapter finished. I suck, and I'm sorry. In my defense, the only thing I could think about was the Broadway production of Lion King that I was going to see in Richmond (fantastic show, by the way, I demand you all see it) and then for several days after I saw it I could not get the songs out of my head. Since I assume you wouldn't want to read a chapter in which the characters suddenly break out in 'I Just Can't Wait to be King' or 'Hakuna Matata', I figured I should wait a little bit to write it.

Although, now I think of it, if anyone WOULD like to read something of that sort, I would be more than happy to oblige- whether by putting it in this story, writing an accompanying one-shot to this this story, or even creating a one-shot not set in this story to appease you. Hehe... now the idea is in my head and won't leave. So, tell me if you're interested :P

Whoops, I'm rambling.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, apparently if I did then the characters would sporadically break out into Disney songs that none other than muggleborns and possibly half-bloods have any business knowing in the first place. Hakuna Matata.

Lunch, Great Hall, Ginny:

Since Slughorn was still enforcing his strict no talking rule in Potions, no one had a chance to talk to Hermione about anything yet. Now that Hermione was sitting next to her at the table, eating peacefully as if she didn't know that all eyes were on her, she had no idea where to start. She and Harry had already decided not to tell Hermione that Malfoy had informed Ginny of her nightmares, nor to tell her that she would be acting on his suggestion. But then where did that leave her?

Ginny bit her lip and wondered what the world had come to for there to be a moment where she was on uncertain ground with Hermione. They were best friends… why should her being sorted into Slytherin have any effect on that? It must just be the fact that they weren't spending as time together, though somewhere inside her she knew that it wasn't true. House rivalries apparently ran deeper than she thought.

She started at the thought, suddenly ashamed of herself, as well she should be. This was Hermione, and nothing was going to break their friendship if Ginerva Weasley had anything to say about it. Ginny was broken out of her debate over where to begin when Daphne sat down at the table, across from Hermione.

"Granger," Daphne said.

She saw Hermione freeze, an indifferent mask drawn down over her face, a sight that made her heart ache. Ginny knew the reason Hermione now had strict control over her facial and vocal expressions, and she knew that it was necessary. To Hermione, anyway. Her friend had confided in her one night, saying that maybe if she had been better at lying with her whole body, perhaps Bellatrix wouldn't have tortured her for quite so long.

And so, Hermione had learned perfect, calculating control. Ginny just didn't have the heart to tell her that Bellatrix would have treated her the very same, no matter what. Not when it gave her friend the slightest bit of comfort.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, carefully neutral, and Ginny had no idea what was going on in her mind. She shared a look with Harry, who seemed to be having the same difficulty. Neville looked nervous.

"No one will tell me if Astoria had anything to do with it. Blaise, Draco, Pansy- they all say the same. That it's your show, you're acting on it, and that they're only to do anything minor. If I want information, I have to ask you," Daphne seemed to be doing everything she could to try and keep herself indifferent, but Ginny could clearly see her control slipping. "Please."

Hermione's face was indifferent, save for the slightest movement of her lips- it seemed that no matter what, her friend still had to bite something when she thought. It really was good to see that some things didn't change. With a sigh, Hermione dropped her façade.

"Yes, Astoria was part of it," Hermione informed the other girl, not unkindly. Ginny instinctively reached out towards Daphne, taking her hand in comfort as she saw the other girl's heart break through her eyes. "There were quite a few, though you will know their identities quite soon…"

Daphne's head jerked up, concern evident on her face, laced with panic. Ginny swelled with pride at the girl, who was still overcome with the urge to protect her sister, despite being disowned and knowing that her sister was a monster, of sorts. Without knowing why, at first, Ginny's eyes sought out Malfoy, who sat with his back facing her.

As Harry had reminded them all multiple times, Malfoy had only been protecting his family. Just like Daphne.

Now it was Ginny who was biting her lip, though she was thankfully brought back to earth when Hermione's voice reached out to soothe Daphne.

"I'm not going to hurt them, those who did it. Not physically, at least, though it's my hope that it will be a lesson they never forget," Ginny watched as all eyes in their section of the table drifted between Hermione and Daphne, noticing how Daphne relaxed an infinitesimal amount. "I cannot make any promises for the others, they only thing I told them was to do nothing that would send them to the Hospital Wing," Hermione added apologetically.

"Thank you," Daphne said softly, before getting up to leave, defeat riding her shoulders. The silence in her wake was thick, and Ginny really hated silences.

"So, 'Mione, blow up any walls lately?" Ginny asked, the coming lecture quite obvious in her tone. Harry crossed his shoulders, taking his cue to glare at his friend.

"About that," he said. "How many times have I told you not to get into life threatening situations if I'm not there to make a huge mess out of things?"

Hermione groaned, supposedly at the prospect of yet another lecture about how stupidly she had acted, but Ginny caught the small smile on her lips which gave her away. Ginny smiled in return, anxious to confront Hermione later that night, but it could wait.

Seriousness was less important, at the moment, than the teasing that would cover up the worry about Dean.

Charms, Goyle:

"That will be a dentition for the both of you! 15 points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!" squeaked Professor Flitwick as a red-faced Weasley and a pale, shaking Finnegan went back to their seats.

Greg couldn't really believe what had happened… weren't Weasley, Finnegan and Thomas all friends? He knew that Thomas had dated the little red one, but surely that can't have been why he seemed so unaffected by what had happened.

Earlier that morning when the Headmistress made the announcement in the common room, Greg had been fully prepared to deal with a shell-shocked Weasley. To everyone's surprise, however, he just shrugged and walked off like he had been told it was cloudy outside. At first he had thought that maybe Weasley was just putting on a brave face instead of getting worried in front of everyone- he could understand this.

But then they had joined the Ravenclaw's for Charms, as usual, and all hell had broken loose. Finnegan came in all pale and shaky, desperate to talk to Weasley in an effort to calm down. Thomas was supposed to be their friend after all, but Weasley had then done something… rather ridiculously out of character for him.

He had shrugged it off and told Finnegan, "What does it matter? He's just a Slytherin so-"

But Finnegan's fist hadn't given Weasley the chance to finish the sentence before it flew into his face and sent the ginger toppling feet over head as he fell over the desk situated behind him. The punch was rather spectacular, actually, and Greg felt inclined to give Finnegan a pat on the back. Too bad he was too busy pulling him off of Weasley and setting him back in his chair.

Really, what was the world coming to if it was him, of all people, breaking up a fight?

No, wait, what was the world coming to when Weasley was turning up his nose at one of his friends just because he was sorted into Slytherin? Granted, Greg knew that many of the stereotypes of his old House were true, hell, he was the embodiment of many of them himself a few years ago, but this situation was a bit ridiculous. Weasley and Thomas had been friends… and Granger and Weasley had been practically tied to the hip for most of the past 7 years. And now he was acting like a heartless prat for no bloody reason other than the fact that they were in Slytherin?

Something was wrong here, Weasley wasn't himself. This Greg knew for a fact. And when he settled himself back in his seat next to Millie, who was quietly shaking her head, he noticed Loony's eyes were on Weasley from across the room. Good thing to know he wasn't the only one paying attention, he could tell that Loony knew there was something going on too, that Weasley wasn't himself.

Greg shrugged, deciding not to worry about it. Who was going to listen to him, anyway?

Slytherin Common Room, Night, Draco:

At least she had eaten a decent amount of dinner, he thought, as his eyes once again wandered to the spot by the fireplace where Granger sat with what looked like half of the potions section of the library sprawled out in front of her. She was searching for something, he could tell by the way she glared at each page, turning them quickly until she gave up on the volume entirely and tossed it into a pile that was growing larger by the second. He had never seen someone go through that many books so quickly in his life.

"Draco! Will you stop staring at the human research machine and get back to work? I don't have to help you with this, you know," Blaise said as he threw a crumpled piece of parchment at Draco's nose. Since Granger had claimed that she needed him to take over the Head's duties for the night, he had called in Blaise to help. There was just no way he was going to go over all of the lists and preparations that needed to be done before the Halloween Masque on his own.

Draco was immensely relieved that the celebration two weeks from now was being handled by the Headmistress; he didn't need any of the added stress at the moment.

"Sorry mate, just wondering what she has planned, is all," Draco lied, inwardly pleased that he seemed to have finally remembered how to do it without sounding like a total wanker.

Fairy Lights

Black Silk Streamers

Butterbeer

Damn, he thought, as he ran his quill down the roll of parchment, crossing out the supplies he'd already gotten approved by McGonagall. He'd almost crossed off the Butterbeer, and he'd yet to even begin the battle with the Headmistress over it. Draco had a feeling that she would give in eventually, though, seeing as he knew she had quite a fondness for it herself. He simply refused to allow Pumpkin Juice to be the only thing served at a Masque he had helped to plan.

"What do you think of Lovegood?" he heard Blaise ask. Draco sincerely hoped that this was a lead in to some sort of a joke.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"I asked what you thought of Lovegood. As in, whether or not she's actually crazy… I had always thought she was but then today she pops out of nowhere and, well, begins spouting nonsense, really," Blaise ended weakly, a crease forming as he seemed to mull something over in his mind. Draco shot him a look that said, 'of course it was nonsense, were we not just saying she was crazy?' before Blaise plundered on with fervor. "But it was nonsense that made sense!"

Wait, what?

"Erm, Blaise? If the nonsense made sense then it wouldn't really be considered nonsense, would it?"

"Just because something is nonsense doesn't mean it automatically doesn't make any sense, Draco."

"Bloody hell, Blaise, now you're actually starting to sound like Lovegood!"

"So do you?"

"Do I what? This conversation makes no sense!"

"Ah, see? But we're not speaking nonsense, now are we?"

"That isn't how it works!"

"How do you figure?"

"Just because something doesn't make sense, doesn't mean it is nonsense, but if something is nonsense then it automatically doesn't make any sense! That would be why it is called non sense, Blaise."

"Rubbish."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, good, you're apologizing for being wrong. Always knew you had it in you, mate!"

"Blaise."

"I'm just saying, you can't have it both ways. Either nonsense can make sense, or anything that doesn't make sense has to be nonsense."

"That's not how it… Look, it just doesn't work the other way around, okay?"

"Says who?"

"Blaise."

"I most certainly do not, if I did we wouldn't be having this chat, would we?"

"Blaise."

"Right."

There was a brief pause in which Draco tried to get his bearings- what were they talking about, again? But before he could clear his head, Blaise started in on him again.

"So… do you?" he asked quietly.

Draco allowed his head to fall into his hands as he let out a groan- he could swear that he heard snickers coming from the fireplace, but when he looked, Granger was back to studying her books. There was no hiding the amusement on her face, though. It almost made him want to laugh, too, despite the throbbing headache he could feel headed his way.

"Do I what Blaise?"

"Do you think Lovegood is starker's," he stated, as though his question should have been obvious. Draco sighed. Merlin, how did he get into this one again?

"I dunno, mate. Never really spoken to her, to be honest," he said quietly, although some small part of his mind wondered what had happened to make it so easy for him to lie to his best friend.

He had owled Lovegood earlier that summer, apologizing for everything that had happened and wishing her well. He had only owled her, though. Not because she underwent anything worse than the others had, but because he could just tell that she wouldn't go running around stating to everyone she ran into that he had actually apologized to her for being a coward.

But he had needed to apologize to someone, to anyone, before he went mad. His guilt was just too much, and he had felt that if he could get just one person he had wronged to accept his apology then maybe there was hope for him after all, maybe he might have a chance in this new world. A new world that he himself wished that he had helped to build. Not that he would ever tell anyone this, of course. Well, no one other than Lovegood.

And to his great surprise, the chit had accepted it. She had sent him a rather long, rather strange letter in return that had caused him to laugh whenever he thought about it for too long. Not a cruel laugh, either, just a simple laugh, a laugh born out of Wrakspurts and Dirigible Plums and the like. Did he think Lovegood had lost the plot? Possibly, but if she had then Draco sincerely hoped she never found it again. The world needed more people like her.

It's because of that reason he felt a bit guilty for lying, just now. That, and he seemed to be getting a bit tired of lying, these days. For all that it was necessary.

Salazar… what was that about anyway? A Slytherin tired of lying? It was almost unheard of! But then, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him, you're not exactly a Slytherin anymore are you? Sod it all to hell; he really didn't want to think about this. He was already confused about too much already.

"Yea, s'pose you're right," Blaise muttered, going back to the sheaves of parchment in front of him, lost in his own thoughts.

"Blaise?" Draco asked, searching around the common room for the first time that night. Really, one would think that after the ordeal last night they'd pay closer attention to their own… But Draco had never thought that she'd be targeted…

"Mm?"

"Where is Pansy?"

"Oh," Blaise looked slightly sheepish. "Er, sorry, I guess when I told Hermione I thought I told you too. Pans got special permission from McGonagall to spend the two hour period in the Hospital Wing, can't remember the excuse she used though. Anyway, she'll be back later, with an escort through the dungeons, just in case."

Draco nodded, relieved, before something caught his attention. Since when was Blaise on a first name basis with Granger? The question called the scene at breakfast to his mind, when Blaise had walked in with Granger on his arm. For some reason he had been unable to tear his gaze away from the petite little hand resting on his friend's jumper. Which didn't make sense, because Draco didn't care what the little mud- muggl- Granger did, so long as he kept his promise to that sodding hat.

Perhaps he really ought to stop staring at her all the time. Noticing all of the tiny things about her wasn't going to help him keep his distance- all it did was give him about a million different questions he wanted to ask her. Ugh, if he hadn't seen her in that sodding robe that morning, then this wouldn't be happening. It was just a stupid reaction to seeing female flesh that kept her on his mind.

Because he didn't care about what she did.

But why did she react the way she had when she had noticed Draco staring at her hand? Was she embarrassed that he had seen it? Was it a touch of affection that she hadn't wanted him to notice, something that was supposed to be meant for her and Blaise only?

He didn't know it, but Draco was starting to glare at Blaise a little bit. Thankfully the other man was too consumed in his own thoughts to notice.

Or maybe she had reacted the way she did, because she didn't want Draco to think there was something going on with Blaise, because it had all just been Blaise acting the gentleman like he always did? It's not like he cared, or anything, it was just his promise to protect her that had him looking at everyone as if they were a threat. A threat to her, of course, not to him. Why would he feel threatened? There was no reason, because he didn't give a damn.

Draco felt the wards drop with relief, and he almost sprinted out into the hall to begin his patrols, trusting Blaise to look after Granger. Which was quite strange since just a moment ago he had been looking at Blaise as a threat. To Granger, not to him.

As he paced the corridors, he wondered whether or not Little Red was going to come that night. He really hoped she would, that she somehow had the ability to get Granger's nightmares to stop. And he only wanted this to happen so that he could get a full night of sleep himself; it had nothing to do with Granger's mental well-being. If it were different circumstances, he would probably he sending Granger nightmares himself!

He spotted a few Gryffindor's sliding into a door down the hall, and Draco grinned, happy for the distraction. He only wanted those nightmares to stop so that he could get better sleep himself. See? Personal gain.

In the name of Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, he did not give a Knut about Granger.

Not a care in the world.

"15 points from Gryffindor," he smiled, "Each."

The three third years in front of him groaned.

AN: Thank you again for all of your reviews, I love you all so much! Keep them coming, my lovelies