AN: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I had a hard time with it, and spent a long time trying to make sure I got everything right. I know I keep saying that I I'll be faster with the updates, but some interactions are harder to write than others- and I'm finding it difficult to make sure I'm getting everyone's POV's accurate.

Anywho, I beg your forgiveness and present to you this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it, and quite a bit of my hair was sacrificed for it due to hair pulling.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Could you imagine it being written by an American? I think not…

Hermione:

Goyle was falling right behind her as she quickly made her way through the halls, doing her best not to think about what it was she was about to do, or how she was going to do it. No, thinking about it wasn't going to anybody any good.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but why exactly are you coming with me?" Hermione asked, trying in vain to calm down the apprehension that was eating her heart.

"I have to hold him back," he answered, and she could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, so all she gave him in response was a nod. Hopefully that gave the impression that she wasn't bothered.

In reality? Hermione was freaking out. With every step her heart began to beat a little bit faster- and she couldn't figure out why. To be honest, she didn't even know why it was that she was trying in the first place. She hated Malfoy, didn't she? But no- that couldn't be right. She may not like him, but she certainly didn't hate him. And for some strange reason, she knew she could trust him. Not much, but she trusted him enough on the night that Dean had been attacked to shield the students. But then, of course he would protect his own House. But Pansy had asked her to do this, and Hermione just couldn't say no.

As she passed through the doors and the brisk evening air hit her face, Hermione panicked all the more. What was she supposed to do? He was hurting- and she was just supposed to walk up to him and hurt him until he broke? How did that make sense? How could she make herself do it? He was a manipulative and cold bastard, but she couldn't just walk up to someone that was hurting and make the pain worse. Was there no other way? What if she tried a more kind approach and tried to make him feel better? But no, the fact that Hermione Granger was trying to help him would probably do nothing other than piss him off.

That was it! She would walk right up to him and tell him that she was trying to help him. Maybe it would make him provoke her- which would make Hermione's job a lot easier. A bully she was not, but if he antagonized her than her tongue would sharpen of its own accord.

Malfoy was sitting at the edge of the lake with his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped around him. In some back corner of her mind Hermione noticed that Goyle had gone over to sit among the rocks, to wait. But all of her attention was on the boy in front of her. The boy who, in his desire to look closed off from everything around him, looked the most vulnerable that she had ever seen him. He was so still, as if to be made of stone. The wind tousled his hair, and made him squint his eyes as it blew across his face. A shiver went through his body, and for some reason, some part of Hermione began to ache.

It wasn't until Malfoy had closed his eyes completely that she recognized why.

Here, where he thought no one was watching, Malfoy had revealed something that he had done it his to hide from the world. Here, he showed that he was human.

And now she had to break him.

Gathering her courage, Hermione walked right up to him, and she knew the exact moment that he heard her, because she saw him stiffen and raise his defenses. And when he turned his head to her, his eyes that she had been so taken with before, were dead. His face didn't even change when he saw that it was Hermione who came to him, and not Pansy. How was she supposed to do this? Best just to start with the truth.

"Pansy sent me out here to help you," Hermione stated, searching his face for a reaction. If anything, his eyes grew colder. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"I haven't the slightest idea as to why she would send me out here, though the general consensus is that I am able to get a reaction out of you quicker than Harry would. He didn't seem too pleased to hear that, surprisingly enough. I'm not sure I think they're right," she ventured. But he gave her nothing. He was openly staring at her, but he seemed just as vacant as he had before. Apparently the fact that Hermione was here to help him didn't anger him as much as she had thought it would.

Interesting.

What then, got under his skin the best? Vulnerability was a good option, especially since she had once read that when a person closed themselves off from the world it was because they were afraid of being vulnerable. And so, Hermione channeled her inner-bitch, and began to try and make Malfoy vulnerable.

"Alright then, ferret. This reminds me, there is something I've wanted to point out for a while now. You are a ferret. Did you know that ferrets are part of the Weasel family? No? Well then, now you do," Hermione said. Did his eyes narrow slightly? She hoped so.

It really shouldn't have, but the fact that she was doing this on purpose wasn't sitting well with her.

"Anyway. Ferret. I'd like to talk about what happened in the bathroom… You apologized to me. You really threw me with that one- especially with all of that crap about not wanting to be like your father. You don't want to be like him? Well that strikes me as odd considering the fact that you've been trying to turn yourself into his miniature for as long as I've known you-"

"You know nothing about me."

Well! This was certainly progress, right? His voice was cold, though. It lacked the venom she had been hoping for. It sounded hopeless, dead, even. But he had spoken. She had his attention.

"You think I don't know you? I'll tell you what I know, and then we shall see."

Malfoy was now turned fully towards her, though he was still hugging his knees to his chest. Hermione sat down six feet in front of him, legs crossed, holding her hands tightly in her lap so that hopefully he wouldn't see that they were shaking. Once she was settled, Hermione began to tell every odd thing that had ever puzzled her about Draco Malfoy.

"I know your face is soft, for all that it's pointy. I wasn't expecting to be met with soft skin or warmth when I hit you third year. I also know that on some level you either felt like you deserved it or respected me for it, because you have never brought it up or tried to seek revenge," she sat. Hermione's voice was cold; it had to be, because otherwise it might waver.

He gave no reaction, but she saw his hands were in his lap. Hermione wondered if his hands were shaking as badly as hers were.

"I know that you didn't want the Death Eaters to get ahold of me at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry and Ron weren't paying much attention, they didn't notice you, Crabbe, and Goyle running around, searching. They only saw you once you were calm and standing right before us. And then you disguised it as an insult- your warning. But it was a warning just the same. I saw the relief in your eyes when they dragged me out of there. Why didn't you want them to get me? Was it because I had earned your respect the year before? Or do you really not hate mudbloods as much as you claim to?"

His eyes had widened, ever so slightly. Was it that he hadn't known that she had noticed? Or was it because she had called herself a mudblood? She kept going.

"I know that you couldn't keep your eyes off of me at the Yule Ball. I know it was quite a transition. I was so thrilled when it had the desired effect- you did know that I did it just to shut you up, didn't you? Well, you and others like you. I can be feminine when I wish it, and it was time for you all to know that. I never expected to be the only thing to hold your attention the whole night. I know that, when you thought no one was looking, you smiled at me. It was a confused little smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. How was it sitting with you? The fact that you couldn't keep your eyes off of a mudblood, while you had a pureblood held in your arms?"

His face was still closed, but she knew that she was getting to him. Her eyes had never left him while she spoke, and because of it, she noticed that his chest was rising and falling a bit faster than it was before. A good thing, because all of these thoughts of the past were bringing up a lot of forgotten emotion and she hadn't an idea of how much longer she could do this.

"I know that you knew about the DA long before Umbridge caught us. Which means you didn't tell a soul. Want to know how I know? You were bragging once, during third year, about your specially made cologne from Italy. One of a kind, you were proud to point out to any who would hear. Well, I got a chance to smell it when I got close enough to hit you. But then I smelled it again during the first DA meeting at the Hogshead. You were there. You were hiding in the back, near the woman who looked like a banshee. Why is it you never told, I wonder?"

Yes, his eyes were definitely wider now. No doubt about that. But nothing she was saying was enough. She had hoped that she wouldn't have to actually make him angry, that vulnerability would be enough, but it wouldn't be. She was going to have to piss him off, and maybe hurt him in the process. The idea of putting another through what had been done to her all of her life made her sick to her stomach. Hermione hated bullies. She hated them. But Pansy had asked her to do this. And so Hermione pressed on.

"I know that you stood by and did nothing while I was tortured right in front of you," Hermione had to stop for a moment. Her throat was clogging itself with the memory. She had a hard enough time confronting it while she was asleep, let alone awake. "I know that you stood there, and watched- you face was as impassive then as it is now. I know this, because I was staring at you the whole time, do you remember? As I screamed, I looked at you. As I begged your Aunt to stop, as I tried to keep my wits about me to lie to her, I was looking at you. I was begging you to help me, and you did nothing."

Hermione had stopped trying to hold back the emotion in her voice. Her throat felt raw, and she could feel the tears falling down her cheeks, and she stared at Malfoy, her gaze accusing. He didn't take his eyes off of her either. There was a furrow so small in his brow that she thought it might not even be there. But there was no denying the pace of his breathing, or his parted lips. It was working. Which was a good thing, because at this point she couldn't have stopped herself if she had tried.

"Your father was next to you. He was smiling, glad to see the mudblood getting what it deserved. Were you glad? You must have been, because you did nothing. You would have stood there and watched her torture me for hours if it had lasted that long, wouldn't you? You would have stood there and watched as Bellatrix either killed me or tortured me into insanity. No, you didn't tell them who we were. But you stood there and did nothing. Which means that you enjoyed it. Or, maybe you didn't. Maybe it bothered you a little. But you did nothing, because you're a coward. You've always been a coward, and you always will be."

Malfoy's mouth was closed now, his lips pressed into a firm line. She had gotten to him, but she had gotten to him with a lie. It took bravery to refuse to kill Dumbledore. It took bravery not to turn them in. She had it on good authority that he had been tortured for it later- House Elves liked to talk, if you were persistent enough. She also knew that Malfoy didn't ever really want to be like his father. And she knew that he wasn't. But if this was going to work, he had to believe that Hermione believed in her lies.

She stood and looked down at him, she had gotten to him. And now she had to go in for the kill.

"A coward and a failure, no wonder your father was never proud of you," she said. For what came next, Hermione mimicked the mocking tone that was so favored by Bellatrix when she was taunting her victims. "Did daddy know that his wittle boy had protected a mudblood? Did he know that he had once thought her attractive? What would daddy say if he knew? But daddy didn't need to know those things to know you were a failure, did he? Did he Malfoy? Because everyone knows that Draco Malfoy is a failure and a coward who can't even redeem himself with intelligence because he's always come in second to a mudblood! Poor, pathetic, cowardly, Malfoy. No wonder your father never loved you-"

"-ARGH!"

Malfoy's howl of rage had twisted his face so that it wasn't recognizable. He launched himself at Hermione, and his eyes told her that he was going to kill her. His wand lay forgotten on the ground as he launched himself; he was going to kill her with his bare hands. But then Goyle was there, holding him back. And as he thrashed against Goyle's hold, Hermione could see the tears streaming down his face. His angry shouts were unintelligible, and they shot straight into her soul. She had helped him, right? So why did she feel disgusted with herself?

"I-I was lying, I know that you aren't a coward… I'm sorry," Hermione gasped through the sobs going through her body. "Oh, Godric I'm so sorry!"

She doubted that he had heard her, but she hoped that he did. She couldn't stand there and watch the aftermath of what she'd done, and so Hermione turned around and ran.

She ran faster than she could ever remember running. She ran through the doors and down the corridors, leaving tears in her wake. She burst through the Slytherin Common Room and then flew to her own portrait- ignoring the gasps of everyone there. Required time, be damned. She couldn't stand the thought of being around others after what she had done.

She felt sick, she felt disgusting. She felt no better than those who had tormented her all of her life. Hermione rushed to the toilet and locked the doors behind her, before she fell to the floor and retched up everything she had ever thought of eating in her life, wondering who the hell she had become.

Goyle:

He had watched the whole thing, he had heard everything. Granger had told things that he hadn't thought anyone else knew about, but somehow she had. Greg had always thought that Granger was too smart for her own good.

But she had done it, and he had known that as soon as she had started in on Draco's father that he had to be ready to move. It had all gone according to plan- until Granger had broken down.

"I-I was lying, I know that you aren't a coward… I'm sorry! Oh, Godric I'm so sorry!"

Granger had had him convinced that she had believed everything that she was saying, but he was torn from his thoughts when he almost lost his hold on Draco. Perhaps her apology would make it easier to calm Draco down than normal, and he hoped that was the case. Allowing Draco to beat up on him until he came to his senses hurt a lot more than he would ever admit.

As his best friend struggled in his arms, sorrow welled up in him. Greg wanted nothing more than to help out his friend, but he had never been a man of many words, and as such he had no idea what to say. Never had he regretted his near constant silence more than in this moment. His heart hurt for his friend, and there was nothing he could do about it. But he damned if he wasn't going to at least give it a shot. And so, ignoring Draco's unintelligible curses, Greg tried to speak.

"Draco," Greg's voice was a lot stronger than he had thought it would be. "Listen to me, mate. Did you hear her? She doesn't believe what she said. She said she was lying. You aren't a coward, Draco. You know this. She was lying, Pansy sent her out here to set you off, and she did it. But she was lying. You're not a coward. You hear me? Not a coward. She was lying Draco."

He knew he was being repetitive. He knew he wasn't eloquent, but for some reason, it was working. Draco had stopped cursing and was now simply trying to escape.

"No, I'm not letting you go until you hear me. She sat there and pointed out exactly how you aren't like your father. She knows you're nothing like him. You're a better man than he was, Draco, and you're not a coward. Merlin knows you are not a coward. She was lying. Now pull yourself together because I think Pansy is coming and if she sees you like this then you're going to have to deal with one of her hugs. Think about it, mate. One of Pansy's hugs. Nothing is worth that," he said, completely serious.

And then a miracle happened, and Draco stilled in his arms, going limp, and then he spoke.

"I get the point, alright? Now put me down before she gets here," Draco said. His voice was hoarse and shaky, but it lacked the violence that was then before.

"You're not going to try to kill Granger?" Greg asked.

"No."

And so Greg put his friend down and stepped away to give him space. He had meant to keep watching him, but then he could hear Pansy's screeching and he had to turn to prepare to defend himself from her. No one knew what to expect once Pansy started screeching.

"Gregory!"

He flinched. He hated it when people used his full name, and she knew it. Her eyes were wild, and completely centered on him, and he doubted that she even remembered that Draco was there. Which was good, he thought, because it would give his friend a moment to compose himself.

"You were supposed to keep him from doing anything stupid! So imagine my surprise when Hermione comes running past me in the corridor with tears running down her face and looking as if someone had died? What happened out here? She was supposed to piss off Draco, not get hurt herself! Did you leave them alone? You should know bett- wait, where is he?" she finished, when she had finally taken her eyes off of Greg to look around them.

Greg looked at her as if she was senile.

"What are you talking about, he's right-"but he had to cut himself off. Draco was nowhere in sight.

Bugger it all, he must have disappeared when Pansy was yelling at him. He tried to see if there was anyone going up to the castle, but the grounds were dark, and his eyesight wasn't the best. A thought occurred to him, and while Pansy was calling out for their friend, Greg was searching the ground where he was positive he had seen it fall. But it wasn't there.

Draco was gone, and he had taken his wand with him.

AN: Hope I did it justice.