"Hermione…read this."

Harry handed her a small sheet of paper with a neatly-written note, although the message wasn't exactly what she wanted to see first thing in the morning.

Dear Potty and Friends,

I just wanted to inform you all that after last night's little incident I decided to take a trip to Professor Snape's office and told him that you abandoned your post. Sadly, you won't be seeing him about it, but Weasel and Granger will be meeting Pansy and I in Dumbledore's office right after breakfast today. My, what a shame it'd be if you two got expelled!

Love,

Draco Malfoy

Hermione crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside. She shot a glance at Malfoy, who maliciously grinned and gave her a small wave from the Slytherin table. She sighed and buried her face in her hands.

"I just don't understand," she said. "I thought we made a compromise. . . ."

Harry looked at her intently. "What happened?"

Hermione proceeded to tell him the story about the night before, not forgetting to mention in detail how they found Malfoy and Pansy.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Couldn't they get in trouble for that?"

"We were going to tell someone," said Ron, "but Hermione said we couldn't."

She shot an angered glare at Ron. "I only said that because I knew we would get in trouble if we did."

"How would you get in trouble?" Harry asked. "You weren't the ones snogging on a windowsill."

Ron turned away and mouthed something that looked like "Thank God," but Hermione ignored it.

"I don't mean in trouble at school," said Hermione. She dropped her voice to a mere whisper. "Harry, we just can't risk anything anymore, especially if his parents are Death Eaters. . . . He threatened us with it and I didn't want to take the risk. . . ."

"He wouldn't do it, would he?" Harry asked.

She took a deep breath. "You see, the thing is, I don't actually think he would," she said, causing Ron to turn around and stare at her. "I thought maybe he would in the moment, but when I thought about it later. . . . Well, I wondered what he would be able to tell them anyway. I can't even guess what kind of lie he made up to Professor Snape about what happened, I know he wouldn't dare tell him about him and Pansy, even if he is Snape's favorite. . . ."

"I bet Snape wouldn't even care," said Ron. "He likes Parkinson, too."

"He likes all of the Slytherins, Ron," she said. "But Malfoy's his favorite, I mean. . . . Anyways, at least we're not meeting with him. We're meeting with Professor Dumbledore and I'll take that any day." She heard the scraping of the benches against the floor as all of the students began to get up for class. "Well, Ron, let's head to his office," she sighed.

Ron and Hermione opened the door to Dumbledore's office and saw that Malfoy and Pansy were already seated in front of the Professor's desk. Malfoy turned around, smirked, and sarcastically winked at Hermione.

"Why, hello, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. . . ." said Dumbledore, lightly smiling at the pair as they entered. He gestured towards two extra seats across from him. "Please, do sit down."

Ron took a seat on the end, leaving Hermione to sit beside Malfoy, who exaggeratedly flinched and pulled a disgusted look on his face. Dumbledore, however, caught this, and as Malfoy met his eyes, he sat up normally, careful to not potentially lose his chance to get Ron and Hermione in trouble.

"Now," said Dumbledore calmly, "Professor Snape has told me that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger abandoned their posts last night during their patrol shift; am I correct?"

As expected, Malfoy and Pansy nodded affirmatively, but Ron and Hermione shook their heads.

"An interesting revelation," said Dumbledore, turning to look at Malfoy and Pansy. "It seems that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have a different story." He turned to Ron and Hermione, his eyebrows raised. "Would one of you please enlighten us?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione shot him a warning look. She turned back to Dumbledore and took a deep breath. "Well, Headmaster . . . we were patrolling the corridors around the Gryffindor tower, when Ron suggested that we go check around the Slytherin dungeon. After some time, I agreed, and we left for the corridors near the dungeon. . . ."

"And might I ask what the problem was?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, we didn't exactly have a problem, but these two, sir. . ." She glanced at Malfoy and Pansy. "They were . . . er . . . being rather . . . friendly . . . near the dungeon," she said, cringing as her eyes landed on a small reddish spot on the side of Pansy's neck.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Is this true, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson?"

"With all due respect, sir," said Malfoy sarcastically, "I didn't think it was wrong to associate with one of my friends during a patrol —"

"If that's your idea of 'associating,' I'd be worried to find out what your idea of snogging is," Ron interjected. Hermione put her head in her hands and sighed.

Malfoy stood up, scooting his chair back slightly. "Excuse me, Weasel? Who do you think you're —"

"Now, now, that's enough," said Dumbledore, holding up his hand to stop them. "Mr. Malfoy, please sit down. Yes . . . thank you. Since I was not present at your patrol last night I can only go by what I think is best for the situation." He paused for a few moments before speaking again. "I've made my decision. I feel that it would be best to attempt to dissolve a bit of House rivalry. . . . I will be splitting up House prefects from now on during night patrols." All four of the students before him flinched and exchanged angry looks, but eventually settled down. "Hopefully this will make things fair. . . .

"Mr. Weasley, you will take your shifts from now on with Miss Padma Patil, of Ravenclaw. Miss Parkinson, you will be paired with Mr. Ernest Macmillan, of Hufflepuff." Pansy looked disgusted and cringed, but Dumbledore continued. "That leaves just you two," he said, gesturing to Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione was praying to whoever was out there that he wouldn't say what she knew what already coming. "I will pair the two of you together for night patrols.

Malfoy started and glared at Hermione, who looked more confused than anything. "Are we staying in these groups all year, Professor?" he asked, with widened eyes at Dumbledore. "I mean . . . do we have to?"

"It is my request that you remain in these groups for the rest of the school year," Dumbledore replied. "I suggest that you make the most of it. Well, students, I suppose you should run along and prepare for your next class. . . . My, you've already missed your first one, where did the time go. . . ."

One by one, all of the students rose and headed slowly towards the door. Hermione was the last to follow, but Dumbledore spoke before she could leave.

"Miss Granger, a word, please," said Dumbledore politely. He motioned her over and she walked slowly to him, as the others walked out of the door. He leaned over his desk and dropped his voice to a mutter. "You may think that I'm punishing you. I could tell you were not too pleased with my decision. . . ." He smiled at Hermione's confused expression and went on. "I'm not punishing you. While it may be hard to understand now . . . Mr. Malfoy over there needs someone to help him. I'm not forcing you to do so, but I felt that it would help him to be around a . . . better influence, if you will. I did not assign you with him because you were misbehaving, because I don't really believe that you were . . . but I assigned him with you, because he needs someone like you to hold him back a tad. You have a good head on your shoulders, Miss Granger. And while I cannot tell you why he needs you to be there . . . I would like you to know that it is for the greater good. And, who knows? You might actually befriend the boy . . . well, thank you for helping, Miss Granger."

"It's nothing, Professor."

"You might actually befriend the boy" . . . what a load of rubbish. . . .

Hermione shook her head and stormed out of the Great Hall that evening towards the corridors. She couldn't believe she'd have to spend the majority of her night with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, of all people! She knew that Dumbledore had to request it of her for a reason, but it didn't make it any better. . . .

She leaned against a wall, watching as the students headed towards their dormitories passed by. Behind them emerged a reluctant-looking Malfoy walking towards her.

"All right, let's get this over with," he said. "We've only got, what, five hours to kill?" he asked, checking his watch. "I can't believe I have to spend five hours with you. . . ."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Sorry you can't snog Pansy tonight, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you want to play that way! This'll be an interesting night. . . ."

"More interesting than last?" she asked, as the two of them walked towards a rarely-used hallway, perfect for hiding stragglers. "I still can't believe you."

"For what?" he asked.

"Just…just the fact that you thought that was somehow okay."

"Okay?" He laughed. "I never said that I thought it was okay."

"Don't you have any moral standards?" she asked.

He smirked. "I can if that's how someone wants me to act, if you catch my drift . . . role-playing's a bit of fun, you know?

Hermione pretended to gag and let him walk ahead of her. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

He laughed again. "You realize that I'm just making this up, Granger, right?"

"I mean . . . it just didn't seem that far off . . . it seemed like you would be that way with her. . . ."

"With who, Pansy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He paused for a moment, thoughtfully. "Well, to be quite honest, you're wrong."

"But aren't you two going out?"

"Well . . . er . . . I guess we are . . . kind of. . . ." He scratched the back of his neck and pulled a thoughtful face. After a moment's silence, he spoke again. "What, did she tell you that or something?"

"She told everyone that," Hermione replied. "I thought she was just —"

"Bragging?" Malfoy interrupted, with a smirk.

Hermione blinked. "I wouldn't call it bragging if she's not lucky to begin with."

"So a girl starts talking about how she and I are so deeply and madly in love and you say she isn't bragging?" He shrugged after noticing her confused expression. "You realize that I'm not saying she's bragging because she has me, it's the fact that she's got a boyfriend and you don't."

"But, wait . . . you're not her boyfriend . . . are you? Didn't you just say —"

"So what if I am?" He smirked and raised his eyebrows. "Got a problem, Granger?"

She flushed red, although Malfoy couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, rage, or a tad bit of both. "No, I just thought you said —"

"Relax. I'm just teasing you again. Merlin, get a sense of humor. Is this how every night's going to be? You know, I really did mean it when I tried to ask old Dumbledore if you could resign from prefect duties —"

"We're getting off-topic," Hermione interrupted. "We were talking about Pansy, remember? About whether or not she's your girlfriend?"

"Wow, very concerned, aren't we, Granger?" He scoffed amusedly. "No, she isn't. Not exactly."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, thinking. "But . . . what about last night? . . . Wait, didn't you go to the Yule Ball with her, too?"

"Granger, last night was nothing. It meant nothing to me. I was bored," he said. "And about the Yule Ball . . . yes, I did. Despite what you might think I'm not proud of all my decisions."

Hermione stopped walking. "Why did you go with her?"

Noticing the abrupt stop in the sound of her footsteps, he turned around to face her. "If you really must know, she kept nagging me about it, trying to be really slick by hinting at it during conversations and making a clear effort to look somewhat, er . . . provocative . . . to get my attention." He shrugged. "It didn't work. Well, I mean, it wasn't the reason why I went with her. She's not unattractive or anything. I just don't really like her as much as you might think I do." He paused. "Wait, why the hell am I talking to you about all this?"

Hermione ignored his final remark. "But I still don't understand why you went with her. Didn't any of the Beauxbatons girls interest you? They certainly got most of the Hogwarts guys' attentions. . . ."

"Again, like with Pansy, I didn't find them to be unattractive. There were loads of good-looking girls at that school." He laughed after noticing her embarrassed expression. "Feeling a bit awkward, are we?"

"With an attitude like that I don't see why any other girl would go with you," she said, flatly. "Pansy's just infatuated, and she was the only one you could get, wasn't she?"

He laughed harder than before. "Really Granger, do you honestly think she was my only option? Pansy?" He leaned against the wall and slipped his hands in his pockets, still grinning from the laughter. "Trust me, I had plenty of other offers."

Hermione tried to look disbelieving, but she knew deep down that he was probably telling the truth this time. "Then why did you go with Pansy if she wasn't your 'best offer?'"

"Status, sweetheart." He smirked slightly at her crimson complexion. "I'm a Malfoy, remember? Pureblood supremacy and all that? I could never go with a filthy halfblood or mudblood," he said, as her eyes narrowed and her fists tightened, "and expect to live it down."

"Not everyone in Slytherin is a pureblood, Malfoy," she growled.

"I know that, but do you think that they're proud to not be?"

Hermione looked red with anger and not embarrassment anymore. "What's so wrong with being a halfblood or muggleborn, anyway? Why would someone not want to be?"

He sighed and looked at her exasperatedly. "It's not their blood status itself that they're concerned about, it's the fact that they could get looked down upon for it . . . although, I think most people stopped caring a while ago. . . . I was talking about going with a girl like that and my parents finding out. Do you have any idea how they'd react to that? Most of my other offers were from halfbloods and mudbloods ― oh, come on, Granger, get over it ― and I wouldn't dare take a girl like that to a dance. My parents don't want me even having little flings with anyone who might not be a pureblood. They would count a dance in that. They know Pansy's family pretty well, anyway. . . ."

Hermione was genuinely shocked, even if it was someone she thought so cruel as Malfoy. "But you don't like her!"

"So?" He glared at her and shook his head. "Do you think they care about that?"

"But they're your parents, Malfoy!" she said, her anger now shifting to pure confusion. "Aren't you close with them? You always talk about how you'll talk to your father—"

"HOW THICK ARE YOU?" he roared. "DO YOU REALLY THINK MY FATHER CARES ABOUT MY CHOICES?" He took a deep breath and paused, noticing a glint of tears welling up in Hermione's eyes that she was visibly fighting back to look strong. They remained staring for a few more moments, before they were distracted by the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor, from what they conveniently assumed to be another set of prefects ending their shifts. He hastily checked his watch, sweating slightly. "It's late. Prefect duty's over. Bye."

Hermione watched as he stormed down the corridor towards the Slytherin dungeon. She couldn't handle it anymore. She was crying again. When she was supposed to be so strong, she started crying, again? She knew that he noticed and she wasn't proud. The last thing she wanted was for the whole school to hear about how Hermione Granger cried during the first week of her night shift patrolling the corridors. And yet, something told her again that she had nothing to worry about. She felt calmed all of a sudden, like everything was going to be okay this time, too. . . .

She knew he'd never tell anyone. She had enough dirt on him now, too. He couldn't risk her telling anyone about how terrible his family was to him . . . and, she realized, that she couldn't find enough courage to do it, either.

He seemed so broken down . . . the predator became the prey so quickly that she forgot what he was before. She felt guilty for having provoked him and making him so angry. But, it wasn't her fault, right? She just reminded him of bad experiences, that was all . . . but she still took all the blame. She didn't have to ask about his personal life. . . .

But did he have to tell her? She never would've known just how bad it was . . . being forced to only associate with the ones his parents approved of according to blood status, not to mention the fact that they were known Death Eaters. . . .

As usual, Dumbledore was right. He needed help. And whatever she said to provoke him, it was said for a reason. He needed to let it all out, as shocking as it was sudden to her. She didn't know why he told her, and she wasn't glad about it. She didn't know how to respond.

She wrapped herself tightly in her school robes and headed towards the Gryffindor tower. She hastily wiped the tears streaming down her face with her sleeve. She had never been one to judge a book by its cover, and she certainly wasn't prepared to let that change. . . .

She would never admit it, but she felt sorry for Draco Malfoy.