AN: La di da, here's the next chapter. You are all amazing, and your responses to that last chapter… I just… beautiful. All of you.

Thanks go out to Chelsea Lynn, who made a few decisions for me that I couldn't get past. You rock, girl.

Also, I'm going to start putting the dates in here more often, so hopefully that'll help in the long run.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything else that belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just put them through even more angst, because they totally didn't get enough of that the first time around.

October 4th, Morning, Hermione:

She woke up groggy, and with the distinct taste of hot chocolate in her mouth, though it took her a moment to remember why.

At some point while she and Malfoy sat together on the bathroom floor, Ginny had shown up and forced the two of them to drink a mug of hot chocolate before ushering the snuffling duo into the respective beds. Never had Hermione seen her friend emulate her mother more than in that very moment, even Malfoy didn't dare to do anything other than exactly as Ginny said.

That night Hermione had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, relaxing into the hands rubbing circles on her back, grateful for an escape from the intense emotions and feelings that were so confusing and contradictory that they couldn't be sorted out rationally. Sleep was the perfect escape from that.

Now, however, that she was awake, Hermione had no way to hide from everything that her mind had had problems trying to sort out the night before. But the worst part about waking up that morning was the realization of how badly her chest was aching- as if someone had taken to carving runes into her heart as she slept. The pain was so intense that it had the tears falling down her cheeks hot and fast, faster than Hermione could even come up for a reason why she was crying.

When she tore Malfoy's wall to shambles, she hadn't quite realized that she had been doing the same to hers, as well.

And what was with being able to accomplish the task Pansy had set before her, anyway? Why was she able to do it? Did doing it turn her into the monster that she had always imagined Slytherin's to be? But that couldn't be so, could it? Surely if Hermione had become a monster during the War, her friends wouldn't still be there for her, would they? Her friends would have abandoned her if that were the case… but some of her friends had. Ron had left; he wanted nothing to do with her. Was he right? Was Hermione as big a traitor as he claimed that she was?

These thoughts clamored about with the guilt over what she had done to Malfoy, despite the fact that he had thanked her after very nearly going through with the rage in his eyes and killing her. Hermione wasn't thinking when she dropped her wand, but she just couldn't bring herself to guard against him. Not when it was her fault. Not when she deserved it.

But she couldn't start thinking about Malfoy, not now, not when she was already confused about so many things. She had no idea what to do about him anymore- why had he told her never to call herself a mudblood? Was him saying that his aunt was a bastard his way of apologizing? Or was that his way of stating that he hadn't wanted her to be tortured in the first place? What had stopped him from cursing her? No, thinking about Draco Malfoy was not a good idea, not if she wanted to keep her sanity.

Hermione could only hope that she wouldn't have to speak with him about what had happened anytime soon.

When she rolled over she noticed that although the spot next to her was still warm, Ginny was nowhere to be seen. She must have left not long ago. Shrugging, and slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to relive the events of the night before quite yet, Hermione got ready for her shower and appealed to whomever might be listening that she not have to have yet another bathroom encounter with Malfoy that morning.

Slytherin Common Room, Pansy:

Exhaustion clung to her as Pansy sat on the couch in front of the portrait that led to the Head's Dorm and stared at it intently, refusing to turn her attention from it for any reason and risk missing either of her friends leaving. She had hardly slept that night, despite Little Red's assurances that both of them were alive and more or less unharmed. More or less unharmed could mean a lot of things, though Greg was positive that no physical harm would have come to them, Draco's rage notwithstanding.

For what must have been the millionth time she questioned her decision to send Hermione after Draco in the first place. Those two were explosive in their own right, let alone when emotions were high. Blaise had to keep reminding her that this was the exact same reason that Hermione had been chosen anyway, and worries or not, it had worked. Not for the first time Pansy cringed, remembering the mantra that had been haunting her since she had first heard it escape from her mother's lips, 'for the greater good.'

Ignoring the damage it would do to Hermione, and accepting the damage done to Draco as the lesser of two evils, Pansy had acted for the greater good. And now she was left wondering how big a price must be paid for that act.

The portrait began to finally creak open and she leapt to her feet, ready to trap whoever it was and demand that they submit themselves to a once over with her wand, when she heard Draco curse. His curse was followed almost immediately by a loud thump and the sound of books and other supplies falling to the floor. Some sheaves of parchment slipped through the small opening that the barely opened portrait made and so Pansy went to pick them up and put them into some kind of order, knowing how much her dear friend hated having his things untidy. But one of the pieces of parchment was actually a rather thick envelope. A rather thick envelope that held an address on it that made Pansy stop what she was doing and stare it in shock- her disinterested mask not even attempting to fall into place.

Mr. Arthur Weasley

The Burrow

She was still staring at the envelope in her hands when Draco finally emerged, frantically searching for, what she assumed, was that very same letter. He stopped short when he saw her, and for the first time in her life, Pansy was unable to read the expression in her friends eyes as he looked from the letter in her hands to her face and back again, as if deciding how good his chances were that he would be able to grab it and run without her being able to do something about it. And although she was now nearly bursting with questions and the need to demand the answers about this new development was nearly overwhelming, the need to pull Draco into her arms and squeeze the redness out of his eyes was stronger. Barely.

And so, Pansy did one of the hardest things she had ever done, and held the parchments and the letter out to him, noting the bewilderment etched into his features as he hastily grabbed it back and the way his shoulders tensed, as if waiting for the onslaught.

"I won't ask, Draco. Just tell me when you can," she said softly, although she had to force each syllable out with as much willpower as she had. Pansy hated not knowing things, and to willingly pass up on a chance to get answers was the most out of character thing that she had ever done. The gratitude and relief on her best friend's face, however, was completely worth it, in her opinion. After a moment passed between them, she cleared her throat imperiously.

"Don't think that you're off the hook completely, Draco," she started, before lunging forward and squeezing the life out of him. She knew that all of her friends claimed not to like her hugs, but she felt as if there had to be at least some small part of them that did, a bit, or else they wouldn't allow her to give them as much as she did. When she released him, Pansy didn't even give the lad enough time to catch his breath before starting in on him. "What happened, darling? I mean I understand the basics dear, but as far as what happened between you and Granger…"

His eyes snapped open at this, and the glare he sent her way was surely meant to inspire terror, though all it accomplished was to fill Pansy with joy at the sight of her friend getting some of his fire back.

"About that, just where do you get off send-" Draco began, a lecture on the tip of his tongue, but it was interrupted by the portrait swinging open once again to reveal a Hermione that looked just as awful as Draco did.

For the most part that year Granger's curls had been kept in some sort of organized chaos, but that day there was no organization about them, they ran wild and free. But that was not the most interesting bit about her appearance that morning. No, it was the way Draco's posture changed, leaving him looking vulnerable and guarded all at the same time. And then there was Hermione who, upon noticing Draco and Pansy standing right before her, seemed to shrink about two sizes all the while sticking her chin up slightly in defiance.

For a moment nothing was said, and Pansy was left staring at the pair before her who were eyeing one another as if the other was the most interesting Dementor they had ever encountered in their lives. Terrified, but unable to look away at the same time. Alarms of all shapes and sizes were sounding off in Pansy's mind, though she hadn't the slightest idea as to what they all meant. Hermione recovered first, coughing slightly before straightening and addressing them both.

"Good morning Pansy, Malfoy," she said softly. "Erm, Malfoy, did a house elf drop a note from McGonagall by you this morning as well?"

Pansy felt as though she didn't really exist at that moment, for although neither Draco nor Hermione were looking at one another anymore, it was very clear that all of their attention was focused on the other. Instead of being put off by this, she instead took this as a rare opportunity and examined every movement her friends were making, and the picture that was being painted in Pansy's mind wasn't making the slightest bit of sense whatsoever. She saw Draco shift, and stare intently at the stitching on his shoes, while he answered.

"Yes, actually, she wanted to meet us before breakfast, I was just going to attempt to run a small errand beforehand. Though I suppose that can wait until later, now," Draco responded, using a light and conversational tone that wasn't fooling anyone. It wasn't fooling Pansy, and it most certainly wasn't fooling Draco, she could see the cringe in her friend's eyes easily.

"Are you sure? I'm positive that I can head her off if you wanted to do it now…"

"No, really, it's fine. Let's just go and get this meeting over with, yeah?" Draco rushed, and Pansy caught him chewing the inside of his cheek, which only baffled her even more.

Just what the hell was going on? Did Little Red know?

"Alright then, shall we?" Hermione asked as she took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the door, still looking anywhere but at Draco. Either that or she had never seen a stone ceiling before.

"Indeed. Cheers, Pansy," Draco nodded in her direction. Pansy didn't even have a chance to offer a parting comment of her own before they were out the door and gone from sight- walking quickly but well away from each other.

What in the name of Salazar's Forked Tongue was going on? What did she miss? Nothing was adding up, nothing made sense, and she hated it. She wanted answers, and since she couldn't have those, she needed to freak out- but there was only one person who was available for it because Madam Pomfrey had told Pansy that she couldn't come to see Dean that morning due to his final tests. Heart beating fast, Pansy did the only thing she could think to do.

Off like a shot, Pansy sprinted in the direction of the boy's dormitories yelling for Blaise.

Her Office, Minerva McGonagall:

She had no idea what to do with the pair of students sitting before her. She had expected to have a simple meeting with her Head Boy and Head Girl discussing the rules put into place at the start of term feast, yet there they were, halfway into the meeting, and yet Minerva was the only one to have spoken a single word.

The tension between her students wasn't the normal undercurrent of hatred, but it was nothing that she had ever seen before. The best way that Minerva could describe it to herself was that for the first time in 7 years Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were fully and completely aware that the other individual existed, and they hadn't quite managed to finish processing that information. The moment she had first looked upon them, the Headmistress had had to press her lips into a firm line in order to hold in her laughter. Unfortunately by now the situation had lost some of its hilarity and she was beginning to resent the soft laughter that she could just hear coming from the direction of Albus' portrait.

Merlin but she dreaded the day that Severus' portrait was completed and she had to deal with him as well.

"I did not invite the both of you here so that I might listen to myself speak, I did ask you here because as Head Boy and Girl I would like to receive your input on such matters," Minerva admonished gently, trying to pry a response from either of the individuals in front of her.

"Well," Hermione began. "You stated in our start of term letters that the entire purpose of this exercise is to promote House Unity. And yet there are so many regulations in place that are keeping students glued to their Houses. I think it's time that we dropped the new regulations so that we can see whether or not this experiment will actually work, don't you?"

Why was it she had wanted to get her student's opinion, again? Minerva could now clearly hear the portrait of her mentor laughing outright, and she vowed to find a way to silence him at some point. She already felt made a fool by Ms. Granger, she did not need the same from Albus as well. And though she respected Ms. Granger far more than she would ever let on, the bluntness of her former House member was still slightly irritating.

What was more irritating was the Ms. Granger was correct. She wouldn't allow her students to leave without getting in the final word, however.

"Very well, the new regulations are hereby dropped. You are both dismissed to breakfast," Minerva stated. She waited until they were at the door before adding something. "Oh, and before I forget, Peeves took the liberty of repainting the House Tables last night. Each table now is painted with the House Crest and colors of another. I trust that you'll both have a chat with him? Lovely."

Lunchtime, Library, Seamus Finnegan:

As glad as he was that his best mate was back on his feet, Seamus didn't really want to spend the entirety of his lunch break helping Dean get caught up on his coursework. He knew that he had it easy, and that Hermione and Parkinson would be helping Dean out with most of it, but he'd had double potions with the Hufflepuffs earlier and he'd used up most of his energy trying to perfect the Blood Replenishing potion he had been working on. His brain was completely dead, which might explain the reason he was having such a rough time wrapping his head around the fact that Parkinson was going out of her way to help Dean in the first place.

"So, wait a mo'. Parkinson is helping you with all of this… why?" Seamus asked. He really didn't feel like he deserved the glare that Dean threw at him.

"Her name is Pansy. And where've you been? She and I have been friends since about a week into term. You knew this already, mate."

"I know you've been friends, yeah, but I feel like you're not telling me something here."

Whatever he had expected, Dean blushing and refusing to meet his eyes most definitely wasn't it. About to reach over and snatch up the book Dean was blushing into and make his mate tell him just what the bloody hell was going on, Seamus stopped, listening. He could have sworn he heard Harry and Hermione arguing about something. Sure enough, a few seconds later they rounded the corner and made to leave the library, still talking quite loudly and unaware of whom may be listening in.

"I'm sorry Hermione but there is just no way that I can get him to listen to you, despite the progress we made last year," Harry told her, and Seamus thought he might have sounded a bit exasperated.

"Not even if you order him? I mean, I do have another option but it's not one I really want to turn to, especially because once you lot find out about it you're never going to let me live it down. But Harry, surely he cannot disobey a direct order?" Hermione begged.

Seamus tried to strain his ears to see if he could catch Harry's response, but by then they were already too far away and the only thing he could see was Hermione hanging her head in disappointment. He looked to Dean, hoping that his friend might be able to shed some light on that overheard conversation, but he looked just as flummoxed as Seamus felt.

"Don't look at me mate, I've been stuck in the Hospital Wing," Dean said, shaking his head. He turned back down to his book a bit too eagerly, as if hoping that Seamus would forget what they were talking about before their friends had interrupted them.

Grinning, Seamus snatched up the Ancient Runes book and raised his eyebrows at his friend, waiting. For a split second Dean looked cross, but once that moment passed there was a slight grin on his face as he threw up his arms in defeat.

"Alright, you win!" Dean laughed. "So, she's been too see me several times a day since I've been in the Hospital Wing…"

Owlry, Around Midnight, Draco:

He watched the owl that held his letter fly off into the distance with a heavy feeling in his heart. All day he had debated about sending it off, but now it was done, and there was no turning back. He could only hope that it is received in the spirit with which it was sent- though at this point it could really go either way. If nothing else, Draco had sealed his fate in one way or another.

There was no particular reason for why he had chosen the Father Weasley, merely that once he had decided to do it; his was the first name that came to mind. Perhaps it was because of the animosity between their families, or perhaps it was because Draco knew that, at the very least, if he had chosen anyone other than the Father Weasley there was more of a chance of everything blowing up in his face much the same way that Peeves had blown up several objects in his face earlier.

Merlin but that meeting had been awful! For over an hour he and Granger had attempted to reason with the poltergeist while Peeves had blown raspberries, sung at the top of his lungs, and pelted them with moldy peanuts. On top of that, Draco was still unsure of what to do about Granger.

It was clear that neither of them really wished to have the discussion that they both knew would have to come eventually, but to be quite honest Draco felt that it was very possible that the two of them would be able to avoid that particular interaction for quite some time, if they worked at it. One thing Draco was completely sure of, though, was that he was getting rather tired of spending all of his time thinking about Granger.

He exited the owlry and continued along on his patrol, doing his best to find something to entertain his mind other than confronting the events of the night before.

As he passed a portrait of a blonde-haired witch, Draco remembered that he had caught Blaise talking to Loony Lovegood after dinner in the Entrance Hall. What was that all about? First his best mate was asking strange questions about the girl's sanity and next he is seeking her out for a conversation? As much as he wanted to ask, he was also slightly afraid of having another conversation about the chit like the one they'd had before. His sanity was in enough danger, thank you very much.

Though it seemed as if insanity was catching, those days. Especially when Draco considered the relationship that had sprung up between Daph and Longbottom of all people. Yes, the bloke had chopped off the head of that scaled monstrosity, but surely that wasn't grounds enough to fall for the man. Then again, if he had been in the same position as her, he would probably be seeking out comfort in some rather strange places as well.

Draco's heartbeat quickened as he realized that he was a hairbreadth away from being in that position, and once again his mind wandered around to Granger, try as he might to stop it. It was then, as he was scowling at everything in sight, that a portrait of a large bowl of fruit opened up and the very same bushy haired witch that had been dominating his thought process stepped out, clearly determined to try not to be seen.

He should have stopped her and questioned just what she was doing sneaking out of the kitchens, for he was quite curious, but that would mean that he would have to initiate conversation with her. Since that was something he would rather avoid at all costs, he ignored what he had seen and tried to go back to his patrol in peace. Unfortunately by that point he could think about nothing other than Granger, because everything always seemed to come back to her.

He wanted to know everything about her, but he wanted nothing to do with her.

Draco was quite certain that if things continued at this rate for much longer he would soon find himself locked up in St. Mungo's.

AN: Alright! I know that was a lot, but it all needed to happen because next update there will be a little bit of a time jump. Just a teeny one though! We shall finally get to see what Hermione is up to :)