A/N: Hey everyone! :D Happy Friday! Oh my, has it been a busy week for me! Two exams, homework up to my ears, all that crap. I can honestly say that I haven't missed school a single bit. And I am completely jealous of all y'all who've graduated already... I still have five years. -.- And those five years are definitely taking their time...

GUESS WHAT? And the Bookworm Fell in Love with the Ferret (I seriously need to find a way to abbreviate that T.T) almost has 50 reviews! And in only the first 8 chapters! :D I am so happy right now, I never expected it to get so popular(: Thanks for the support everyone, y'all are the best(:

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So here we are...
We are alone.
There's weight on your mind,
And I wanna know.
~The Truth by Good Charlotte

"How was it?" Saravia asked, clapping her hands together and smiling radiantly at the two rivals. "Did you learn something new?"

Draco glanced at Granger. Her face was pale -nearly the same shade as his own-, and her muddy colored eyes were fixed on the Slytherin with a mixture of fear and awe. He briefly wondered which memory she had seen; surely it wasn't a pleasant one, judging by the mudblood's face. He didn't quite think it would be, either. Fate seemed to have a sudden desire to settle an unknown score with the poor Malfoy heir, judging the recent course of events. A nervous feeling settling in his gut as he reviewed the endless possibilities. The secrets, the lies, the things she could have learned now... He suppressed a shudder.

"I'll leave you two to discuss the memory you saw," The young professor said, seemingly oblivious to Granger's shell-shocked state. "I trust you won't do anything too... Extreme while I'm gone?"

"No promises," Draco muttered darkly under his breath. If the bucked-tooth beaver he sat across from knew something about him, he'd have to do something. Perhaps a simple memory charm, like the one Lockhart used? He began to debate the possibilities.

"But don't think you can get away with anything," she continued, shooting Draco a withering glare. "At the first sign of aggression, that kind portrait over there won't hesitate to alert me."

Draco glanced at the portrait, and was surprised to find that it was the same plump man that resided above their common room fire place. The very same portrait who had gotten them in trouble with McGonagall and the reason why she started these bonding exercises to begin with. He glared at the portrait with every bit of hatred and anger that he could ever possibly muster. The portrait seemed not to notice. That only irritated Draco more.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," Saravia said, giving the two students a bright smile before disappearing behind the door.

Hermione watched Saravia walk out the door, a sinking feeling in her gut. There goes my last chance of escape, she thought hollowly. Now, she was utterly alone.

With Malfoy.

She felt like a deer caught in headlights, with Malfoy as the raging car, coming upon her with such force and anger that instantly ran over her, spilling her guts along the side of the road and to die slowly. Ew, she shuddered. Not a pleasant thought.

Slowly, almost fearfully, she risked a glance at his face. But, to her surprise, he didn't look the least bit upset or fearing, or even annoyed. His stone-like eyes were carefully blank and empty, his harshly pale features utterly expressionless. She thought of the Malfoy in the memory; so open and vulnerable, his eyes swimming in despair and pain, his expression crying out, "Save me!" He was nothing like the Malfoy that sat in front of her now.

"Granger," he said, his voice low so not to let the portrait hear him. It held a hint of a threatening tone to it. "Tell me what you saw."

"I-I... Y-you...," Hermione stuttered. How could she possibly explain that she saw Malfoy's mother slowly dying because of a horrendous curse placed upon her and how Hermione never realized that he loved his mother so much until that very moment? She couldn't. Not without angering him.

"Tell me," Malfoy hissed, more forcefully this time. Hermione noticed how he clutched the ends of the table with such force, she fathomed why it hadn't snapped a corner off.

"Your mother...," Hermione began hoarsely, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"What about my mother?" he demanded, leaning closer towards the frightened Gryffindor.

"S-she was...," Hermione gulped. Why was her throat suddenly so dry? "I-in a..."

"Spit it out, Granger!" Malfoy didn't bother to lower his voice as he jumped to his feet.

"You two better had calm down," broke in the portrait above him. Hermione had completely forgotten he was there. "I don't want to have to alert your professor..."

Malfoy gave no sign of hearing him, but his voice dropped. "Listen here, Granger, I don't have time to play guessing games. You either tell me where you saw my mother, or I will force it out of you." He glanced at the man above him. "Portrait or not."

"S-she was...," Hermione cleared her throat. "I-in a h-hospital..."

For a moment, Malfoy looked confused. Then, upon realizing what Hermione had said, grew wide again. He leapt forward, his face inches from Hermione's, and growled, "If you tell anyone, Granger, a single soul..."

"I won't," Hermione said hastily.

"Back it off!" barked the portrait above them. Malfoy jumped away from Granger. "That is it. I'm telling Professor Saravia." And he disappeared.

"I'll make sure of that," Malfoy growled, glowering at Hermione.

Hermione gulped.

Draco stalked back to his room, seething with rage. The corridor was empty; most everyone was at dinner. But Malfoy was far too angry to eat, let alone put up with Pansy or any annoying first years. No, he feared he might end up cursing someone. Not that they didn't deserve it anyway (it was their fault for being so bloody annoying), but he might get expelled. He certainly couldn't get expelled now.

But being expelled was not his current worry. Right now, his reputation and a dangerous secret was at the hands of a mudblood. The mudblood who never ceased to find a way to anger him, who always seemed to find a way to cause yet another problem in the Slythin king's life. Merlin, why did she have to be so bloody nosy?

He slammed the portrait door shut behind him, ignoring the surprised and frightened squeak of the woman on it as he did so. He stalked towards the piano, his fingers instantly finding their keys and his feet habitably finding the petals. He played harshly, all his anger spilling out from him and into the keys.

He needed to make her forget what she saw. He just couldn't trust her.

But how?

He continued his song, lost deep in his thought.

The most obvious answer was to obliviate her. But when was the right time to do it?

And so, the Malfoy heir began to plot.

Little did he know, Granger had a ploy of her own, too.

A/N: Sorry it's so short! Mainly a filler here, leaving you a little cliffy for next week. ;D Hahaha.