"You all right, Hermione?"

Hermione turned her head that had been resting on her hand to the left. She forced a smile at Harry, who was watching her with a look of great concern.

"Yes, I'm fine Harry, thank you," she said, turning back to the book on her lap.

"I was just wondering," he said, "because it's autumn and you're sitting in front of the fireplace with a blanket over you."

She looked around her, evidently having not noticed her surroundings. Harry was right; she was seated in a chair right in front of the common room's fireplace, her legs curled up under her, with a blanket draped on top of her.

She flushed red. "I'm just feeling a bit cold, that's all. . . ."

Harry seemed skeptical. "Hermione, it's an incredibly warm day today, not to mention that you're almost directly in the sun."

She looked out the window to her left, and again, Harry was right. The only thing now blocking her from the full heat of the sun was Harry, who had stepped between her and the sunlight.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked. "You've seemed not well for the past few days."

"Well, I ― oh, hello, Ron."

Ron had just appeared beside Harry. He also looked confused at the sight of Hermione.

"Blimey, Hermione, what's gotten into you?" asked Ron, glancing at the scene as if she was insane.

"I'm just not feeling well," she said. "That's all. There's nothing else to it."

"Yes, there is," said Harry. "You always complain about how warm it is in the common room. This isn't normal for you. Just tell us what's wrong."

She knew exactly why she was upset, and she knew that she couldn't tell them. She made a promise to herself the night before to leave everything that Malfoy said private. She couldn't find it in her to embarrass him in that way, even if he was still the same Malfoy that they'd known for years.

"It was Malfoy, of course," she said, truthfully, but she wasn't ready to give out the entire truth. "He — he was just being a bit of a bully last night, that's all. . . ."

She knew that this was hardly true. Sure, he was a bit rude to her when the shift started, but she didn't consider him to be a bully for what he said. She felt that maybe he just wasn't sure how to communicate with people, because he clearly didn't know how to communicate with his family. . . .

"Malfoy?" asked Ron. "I'm not surprised at all. . . ."

"Wait, why were you not with Ron?" asked Harry.

"Dumbledore wanted us to stay with who he partnered us with only," she said. "We can't go wandering off without them."

"I still would," said Ron. "At least Padma's not a total git, even if she's still a bit put off from the Yule Ball. . . . If I had been paired with Malfoy I'd've probably resigned from being a Prefect, even if mum and dad were so happy about it. . . . I couldn't stand that guy for that long. . . ."

"Thank you for your insight, Ron," said Hermione, flatly. She turned to Harry. "Anyway, since Malfoy and I were paired up, he naturally was going to be a bit troublesome . . . I knew it coming in. It was fine; I just ignored him. . . ."

"What did he say to you?" asked Harry, who pulled up a chair beside her.

"Oh, just the usual," she said, as casually as she could. "You know, 'mudblood,' 'how's that blood-traitor boyfriend of yours,' just stuff like that."

Harry shook his head. "What an idiot."

"Hm? How?" asked Hermione, who had let the word slip out before she could think.

Ron looked at her with an expression of even further bewilderment. "Hermione, do you need to lie down?" he asked. "You seem really odd..."

"I just don't see how him talking to me the way he usually does would make him an idiot," she said, closing her book, throwing aside the blanket, and standing up. "Well, it's time for breakfast. We should head downstairs."

Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks behind her back as she swiftly headed for the door. "Come on, hurry up," she said, turning around.

She tried her best not to show it, but she was fairly convinced that she was acting a bit defensive about Malfoy. Not that she actually cared about him or anything, but. . . after she had heard the way he was treated by his parents, she found it hard to not feel something. She tried to convince herself that she simply pitied the boy and attempted to shove it out of her mind. She knew very well that it wasn't just a feeling of pity, but she wasn't about to pretend that she knew what it really was.

The trio reached the Great Hall and sat down with Harry and Hermione seated together and Ron across from them. Harry put a hand on her back and muttered something like "You're the better person," but she wasn't paying too much attention, because she had just noticed who would be the "lesser person" at the Slytherin table.

He, too, looked like he was cold. And in much the same manner as she, he was being comforted, probably being told that he would get better soon. He was seated beside Charlotte Butler, the girl whom Hermione had observed just days before reading a book alone at her House's table. She wasn't touching him at all, but appeared to simply be saying encouragements to him. Glancing over to the seat across from Malfoy, Pansy didn't seem to be too pleased by this. Draco looked as if he was trying to be polite by remaining silent, resting his forehead on his free hand, propped up on the table. He looked like he had a terrible headache. He barely inclined his head, but all the same, met eyes with Hermione. Although his face turned even paler at the sight of her, his gaze did linger for a moment, before he diverted it to Charlotte, who had apparently asked him a question. Hermione, too, turned her gaze to Harry, who opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing.

"I guess there's just something going around the school," said Hermione, with a weak giggle.

Ron snorted. "What, Malfoyitis?" He turned around and laughed when he saw Malfoy. "Looks like the namesake's caught it himself. If I had to look at that in the mirror every day though, I would too. . . ."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I thought you didn't like him because his attitude irritated you."

"Yeah," he said, "but it helps that he's got a terrible face to match it." He turned around and looked at Malfoy again and scoffed. "Look at him! I can't believe that Charlotte girl's all over him, too. I have no idea what she and Parkinson see in that guy, not to mention all the other girls that talk about him every once in a while . . . must be the side effects. Don't get too close to him tonight, Hermione, or you might catch it."

She took a deep breath, staring at him as he laughed. She didn't know why, but she was furious. "You know, Ron, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're jealous."

Ron furrowed his brows. "Jealous? Of Malfoy? I wouldn't be jealous of scum like that if he had everything in the world. . . . Why would I be jealous?"

"Let's just say that you've never really been the center of attention."

She was saved from any further arguments by the sound of other students getting up and heading to their first period classes. She couldn't imagine what Harry and Ron must've been thinking about her little outburst. All she hoped was that they didn't think that she was coming to the rescue of Malfoy.

As soon as Hermione was finished with dinner that night, she ran to her dormitory. She guessed that now was a good time to be in her room because she didn't think that the other girls would be there that early. Tonight her night shift was later in the evening, as a couple of sixth-year students were taking it for the first couple of hours, and so she had plenty of free time. This was time that she would usually spend plotting Umbridge's downfall with Harry and Ron ― but tonight was different.

She pulled her luggage bag out from under her bed and began to rummage through the bottom. After pulling out nearly everything in the bag, she found it ― a tiny black book filled with nothing but blank, white pages. She set it on her bed and found a small quill that went with the book. Dipping it in a bottle of ink that she always kept by her bedside for writing letters and such, she began to write what would be the first diary entry she ever made:

Dear Diary,

I honestly can't believe that I'm writing out my feelings in a book. It's really a stupid idea ― unless, of course, you just don't have anyone left to talk to.

I found myself depressed this morning. I don't know for sure, but I think it may have had something to do with what happened last night.

Last night Draco Malfoy told me some things about his family that I wasn't exactly expecting to hear, especially from him. He's hated me since we've met, because I'm, in his words, a "filthy little mudblood." Although, after last night, I've actually started cutting him a bit of slack for that.

You see, he's forced to do whatever his parents want him to. He's only allowed to do what his parents allow him to. When I first got to the patrol shift and met him there, he began saying things like how upset he was that he'd have to spend that long with me ― I really didn't expect any different, so I just bounced it back on him, apologizing that he couldn't snog Pansy that night . . . but then he started explaining how he really didn't like Pansy as much as he acted like he did. I was convinced that they were dating because Pansy always talked ― or bragged, rather, not that she was exactly lucky to have him, though ― about how Malfoy spoiled her. I don't know why he told me this, but he told me that he didn't really like her because she was so clingy, and that he only went to the Yule Ball with her to get her off of his back and also to appease his parents, who knew the Parkinsons.

I must just be from a completely different planet than he is, but I asked him why he'd go with her if he didn't like her, and why he'd let his parents decide for him who he should go to the Ball with. That's when he got really upset. He began to yell, asking me how I didn't realize that his parents didn't really care too much about his personal choices.

Whether it was his yelling or the sheer cruelty of his parents, I don't know . . . but I began to cry. I tried not to, for fear that he might tell someone about it, but then I realized that he wouldn't tell anyone if I knew this much about him now. We ended the shift much earlier than we were assigned for.

I couldn't believe how he, of all people, was so badly treated by his parents. I had always assumed that he had complete control over them when I was younger . . . he talked about it often. I want to say that I felt pity for him, but I don't think it was pity, exactly . . . but I don't know what it was. I don't know at all, but it wasn't just pity. Whatever it was, I felt so bad for him, even if he can be a terrible, selfish bully.

I guess you can't judge a book by its cover alone, nor a person by their deeds alone.

― Hermione

She closed the diary and took a deep breath. It felt good to let her feelings out, even if it was just to a piece of paper . . . but she wouldn't be able to tell any of her friends about it. That was a promise.

She looked at the clock hanging on the wall and realized that it was time to leave for her patrol duty. She slipped her diary under her pillow and walked out the door, practically running down the steps.

Once she descended the staircases that led to the Gryffindor Tower and found the corridor just outside of the Great Hall where she met up with Malfoy the previous night, she was surprised to not be able to find him.

"Malfoy?" she asked, taking a few, slow steps around. "Malfoy, are you here yet?"

He walked out of a door to her left and he pointed back to it. She realized that he'd just gotten out of the bathroom.

She smiled as brightly as she could. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know ―"

He interrupted her by simply walking past her, silently. It was enough to stop her from speaking for a few minutes. Eventually, however, she ventured to break the silence again.

"You don't have to be so quiet, you know," she said, giggling.

Having been walking ahead of her for some time, he turned around, which stopped her laughing almost instantaneously. He let his eye contact with her linger momentarily before beginning to walk again.

She found a nearby wall and sat down, leaning against it. "Is this how the whole night's going to be, Malfoy?"

He looked at her again, with a slightly more irritated expression, and shrugged. He sat down against a wall opposite her, but didn't face her.

Please say something. Call me a mudblood. I don't care. The silence was unbearable. She didn't know why, but she was dying to hear him speak, if only to break the silence. . . .

Why wouldn't he speak? He still looked just as sick as he did that morning. She initially thought that maybe he was just giving her the silent treatment to be difficult or annoying, but for some reason, she didn't fully believe this.

Then it hit her ― last night, he had told her too much. He told her things that he didn't even appear to have told his best friends. He was afraid of another slip-up, something that might reveal even more about him. . . . And if he remained silent, no secrets could be revealed.

She mulled it over in her head for nearly an hour, trying to decide whether or not to try and speak with him again. About halfway into the shift, she decided what the right thing to do was.

"I haven't told anyone, you know," said Hermione, meeting his eyes, which had looked up as soon as she spoke.

His facial features seemed to soften a bit. She noticed that the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, in what she hoped was the suppression of a grateful smile. It didn't make him speak, however. They spent the second half of their shift in complete silence. Although, Hermione could've sworn that he was watching her occasionally, perhaps to see if she'd say anything else, but she was completely lost in thought, thinking about how she could help Harry in his quest to fight against Umbridge ― this was possibly the first time the entire day that she had gone more than ten minutes without thinking about Malfoy, something that she'd never thought that she'd have to do.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy getting to his feet, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting again, but his entire expression was calmer than it had been. She broke the eye contact by standing up herself, and nodding towards Malfoy, she walked towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Goodnight, Granger."

She quickly turned around, having heard what was unmistakably Malfoy's voice, but he was already gone, having headed towards the Slytherin Dungeon.