AN: Yes, it has been like years. Absolutely. I'm such a bad person. But life takes over and you move on. Now, it's time to move back. And as obvious as it is, we're reverting to before the seventh book, and as if the guys are still in Hogwarts. There will be focus on Harry's dealing with Voldemort, but it isn't going to follow the book (for obvious reasons as Hermione being in a tent in the middle of nowhere… She is actually at Hogwarts…) But it's more focused for Hermione's personal dealings. All will develop. Massive sorrys, and to new readers, welcome (:

Also, I guess my writing style may have changed a bit over the years. I'm hoping as much as this is a chapter to get back into the swing of things, it does add to the story. It will probably be this format a lot of my chapters will be in from now, they'll probably be quite long as the storyline develops. Sorry again guys, 3

Disclaimer: Still in the same position as before, owning zilch.

Chapter Six

"Granger, what the bloody hell are you crouched there like a complete idiot for? Learning to bow to your masters are you?"

A sneering voice rang out into the corridor, as Hermione's eyes finally shot up to land on the boy in front of her. Silvery hair and piercing eyes stared at her with an amused expression, yet those eyes seemed more confused than laughing.

"Bugger off Malfoy, don't talk to me like that!" A growl escaped soft pink lips, Hermione straightening up with a glare fit to quake most to their knees. Or Ron at least, she mused in her head with a slight wanton smile.

"Laughing at me now are we Granger? Think it's funny? You'll see how funny it is when you're my pet."

"Shut up Malfoy, you and your stupid idealistic world that's never going to happen. It's lights out soon anyway, get to your dorm."

"Lest we forget my dear Mudblood, I also have the same duties as you. I am as free as you to wander these corridors at night looking for troublemakers!"

Hermione sighed, had he not said he wouldn't be patrolling tonight? Was king Slytherin not having his usual foray between his loyal scum followers tonight? The mere thought of them all in their dank dungeons, glasses of butterbeer as they cheered on their Dark Lord and spoke of what they'd love to happen to people like her made her shiver.

"Well, I'm patrolling down here, so you can go to the other side of the castle. Or back to the dungeons. I've everything sorted."

The words had escaped her lips before she could think. Upon his approach, when she had not known his identity, she had been filled with an ice like fear coursing through her veins and the very fibres of her body. But now, that he was here, she felt at ease. How was that possible? That she would feel at ease in the company of such a lowlife as Draco Malfoy and his Arian-like views was almost beyond her. She had not known who to expect when she had looked up, the flashes of her life forming before her as she had thought that finally the person she was avoiding had caught up with her, to finally finish whatever they had started.

Turning on a sensible heel, her robes swishing round her frame, she moved to walk away from the blonde watching her with a keen interest, a slight smirk now placed upon his features as he noticed her in a seemingly lost world of her own, lost between the real world and the thoughts inside that impossibly clever brain.

"What's up Granger? Spook you did I? Scared to be alone with me, Mudblood?" The words laced out of his mouth, hung in the desolate silence as she froze on the spot listening to him.

"Malfoy, for the last time, I'm not a Mudblood, and I'm not giving you the satisfaction. Not even this silly feline here would be afraid of such a loathsome animal. Goodnight."

"My, my Granger. Maybe those articles were correct. A bit jumpy lately aren't we? A bit on edge was it they said? Losing it are we, that dirty blood finally poisoned your mind?"

His voice cut through her once again, each time was like a slash through her core, a little chip at her soul as he decided to torture her. But still, his words held substance. Between the poison of his expressions, had people actually noticed her erratic behaviour? Her strange need to run away constantly, her distance from her friends, her life?

"Malfoy, for the last time, goodnight." She stalked off, bolting around the nearest corner to find solace in the silence away from Malfoy, away from the glares of the portraits around them to quickly finish her round and move to bed.

She heard him snigger as she fled, yet didn't look back. For what Draco Malfoy did, was none of her business. Even if they were to be heads of year together, she wanted as little to do with him as possible. Even if it meant that she must roam the corridors alone, fearing for her life. But surely, the reasonable side of her mind said, nothing would happen to her in the castle. Nothing would be able to hurt her, in the realms of protective magic and the constant threat of another student finding out, if something were to happen to her?

Sighing, she moved down the corridors for another half an hour, a lumos lighting the end of the wand, even though the lights were still gleaming from the sides of the hallways and the ancient lamps lighting them. Catching a rather red couple of second year Ravenclaws, who had obviously missed a lot of each other over the summer, she moved to start to the Gryffindor common room, a goodnight and a "lemon drizzle" to the portrait as it welcomed her to the red drapes and dancing lights in the windows.

Moving swiftly to bed, with a goodnight to the few remaining in the common room- notably not a Harry, Ron or Ginny in sight, she moved out to her quarters, head aching violently from the stress the first day had brought. The train, being made Head Girl, and her encounter with the prince of evil himself, Malfoy. Why had she just not let him be stabbed to death on the train? What a sick thought Hermione, she mused to herself, a slight smile adorning beautiful features as she laid onto the red draped bed, removing the top layers and sliding in. Tomorrow would be another day, and with a sudden clench in her stomach, she remembered, another letter.

-xxx-

Morning came, sun gently tugging Hermione's eyelids open, the filtration of the beautiful casting shadows and dancing amber glows across the dormitory. She turned, her eyes focusing to the muggle clock next to her, 05:56. A groan sufficed out of her throat. Her sleep had constantly been eaten into lately, as so much had passed her mind through the months of torture she had endured. With every night now, cold sweat was the only feeling she had when she awake, a balmy head and a fearful expression. Sometimes, she would awake in the middle of the night, to the soft sounds of others snoring, or more recently to the silence of her bedroom at home. But last night she had clung to the realms of sleep, not waking to the sweat drenched nightmares and the faces she tried to fit to her stalker in her head, instead waking at the bright hour that now befell her.

Moving out of bed with a stretch, she quickly turned her alarm off, set for an hour later, but she didn't wish for it to wake the others up. Heaven forbid, that she wake Parvati and get moaned at for the rest of the day about beauty sleep and how good it was for the skin, and the mind and soul and just a load of rubbish that would spout out of her mouth.

Moving downstairs after quickly throwing on a robe and a skirt and shirt, she fled downstairs, the morning sun still creeping through the curtains as she entered the common room. The floor was littered with red and gold confetti, a couple of flagons of butter beer from the older students adorning various ledges, tables and other surfaces in the room. She sighed, a swish of her wand moving them to one table and a broom sweeping the confetti into a neat pile in the corner, before another swish and they were now neatly piled in the bin near the corner.

A yawn from behind her alerted her to another presence in the room, turning her features illuminated softly to the sight before her.

"Jeez Hermione, why do you get up so early?"

"Should I not be asking you why you are up at this time, Ron?"

A sheepish smile crept over his features as he walked towards her, greeting her with a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Kind of hungry, wanted to get to breakfast early."

"Always hungry! Come on, I'll come down with you. Are you not waiting for Harry? He may be a while."

"No, he'll be coming down with Gin, you know."

She smiled as he looped his arm over her in a sign of companionship, steering them out of the portrait and towards the great hall for an early breakfast.

"You know Hermione, I've been meaning to speak with you."

She stopped, startled almost. Had Ron noticed? Had Ron perhaps seen without her knowledge, the terror she'd been going through? Had he read the papers, did he think she was loosing it?

"Why, what's the matter?" She mustered a wry smile, attempting to look inquisitive. She had never been particularly good at hiding emotion, and now she felt on edge.

It wasn't like she didn't feel the need to speak to someone about what was happening. Inside her, stomach muscles clenched and rolled over as a sick feeling swelled in her stomach. Perhaps if Ron knew it was better, they could work together as a team. They could sort through her problem, bring the idea to justice. But if so, why had she failed to tell them? Why was it that something inside her was keeping this to herself, a secret, almost a dirty secret? They could help her, surely, but somewhere in her mind something was telling her that she shouldn't tell them, that it was for her. What if by telling them, they would be in danger? A flash of the image from the bathroom of the restaurant came across her mind, another sickening twist as she managed to shake her head and look at Ron.

"Oh you know. The papers and stuff…"

Her mind stopped, her heart beat froze. So he had noticed...

"…They're saying that we're leaving you out 'Mione. I want you to know, it's not true. We really wanted you to come stay this summer, we missed you. We didn't mean for you to feel excluded, and we certainly didn't want the likes of Rita Skeeter getting on your back… I just want you to know how much you mean to us, and I know you have responsibilities this year, but you could never be replaced. And don't ever tell anyone I said this, 'cause I've just realised that I sound like a sap."

Her shoulders sagged visibly. He hadn't noticed her behaviour. He was just concerned she felt left out. Should she? She didn't know, it hadn't bothered her perhaps as much as it should. But he hadn't noticed this jumpy, erratic Hermione she'd become.

"Oh Ron!" She smiled, a façade of happiness falling over her face, embracing him.

"I didn't think you were leaving me out silly, but it's nice to know you're human and just not a feeding trough!" She smiled with a wink, dragging his arm into the hall with a wink and a feminine tinkle.

They sat, for what seemed like forever. A lapse occurred, returning them to their previous friendship from before, before the summer, before the darkness had enveloped her life. For an hour they sat, talking about the summer, tales of Percy and his pompous adventures and Molly's cooking extravaganzas in the sunlight of the English weather. They laughed with mirth, Hermione's sense of foreboding lifted as she immersed herself into her happy life in Hogwarts, her life surrounded by friends. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, perhaps she could keep them with her, and perhaps her situation would improve.

Eventually, the hall began to fill, a steady stream of tired students who had the opportunity to lay in bed past noon for the past summer now emerging at the dawn hours, robes askew and hair styles wild with glassy eyes.

Harry and Ginny bound their ways down the halls, eyes watching them from conversations as they glimpsed Hogwarts new golden couple, red hair and a black mop next to each other as they walked. Harry smiled as he saw them, Ginny executing a wave as she grinned at Hermione.

"How are you guys!" Ginny exclaimed, pointedly looking to Hermione as she embraced her, a smile tracing her elfin features as she looked over her friend with an appreciative nod and a wink.

"I'm good… Tell me guys, how did this happen! I want to know everything!" The older girl grinned, Hermione's eyes alight at the amused expressions on her friends faces as they looked at her, a stumble of words escaping Harry's mouth and Ginny's, finishing sentences and complimenting one another perfectly in their rendition of their summer romance. Hermione smiled and nodded gratefully, fully aware of the sun blush tomato that Ron had become. It would appear that he was still not exactly comfortable with the notion of what could be occurring behind closed doors.

Without warning, a sudden rush sounded from the windows. Snapping out of conversations, heads turned over the halls as the owls of the first day flew in sight, a sea of feathers and a smattering of dusky colours like an evening sky.

Hermione froze, she had forgotten about the owls this morning. This hour, of bliss she had experienced with her friends, recalling her true self, had removed the idea from memory. But now she remembered- it would start. She looked up, at the sea of owls floating in, failing to see the miserable bird that had visited her with those awful letters. A smile crept up her features- perhaps, just perhaps, she would not receive one today?

She turned her head, to peak over at the newspaper Ginny had in her hands. The Prophet held up in front of her, the front page open as Ginny intently looked at something inside. The headline on the front page, taunting her.

Gallitinos: Gourmet meals or murder?

A young man, 26 years old, a waiter of the world renowed Gallitinos restaurant in Diagon Alley was found dead this weekend, a horrific scene gracing the ladies lavatories of the establishment. Aurors and investigators have no new leads on the case, says one representative. Full story, page 12

Hermione gasped as she saw the headline, the waiter from the restaurant. The day that she had been there, in the lavatory, had found him and fled the scene like the merciless killer. What if they thought it was her? What if, oh God, what if Malfoy thought it was her and… Oh no.

Before her train of thoughts could continue, a swift plop in her cornflakes alerted her out of her intense gaze as she tried to read the small column of small print underneath the headline. Inside the bowl, before her eyes, was a red envelope. The same maroon colour that had plagued her life for the past months, the same maroon envelope that plagued her dreams. She choked slightly on the orange juice she had been unconsciously sipping, why.

Ron looked at her, startled to the noise in front of him.

"Mione? Theres a letter in your cornflakes." He laughed, pulling the letter out of the cornflakes with a raised brow and a flick to remove the milk from the bottom.

Suddenly, she snatched it from his hand, as jumping from hot coals. Her mouth remained silent, her gaze glassed over hiding dancing eyes of fear from him.

"What was that for!" He roared, snapping his hand back and setting a steely gaze over her form. "I was only stopping it from getting soggy, the ink will run!"

"Uh… Sorry Ron… It's just important, Head Girl business. In fact, I better go, have a meeting this morning."

She moved to get away, gathering her small bag up before turning and leaving a stunned Ron, Harry and Ginny behind. The letter had been noticed, and now she wanted to hide it from them, to open it away from their eyes, to know what it said. If Ron had seen it, he would more than likely have asked to know it's content. But unbeknown to her, the three sets of eyes that had followed her out of the hall, had been joined by a fourth. A pair of steely, piercing orbs that narrowed as they watched the scene that had unfolded previously and the intent of the stare at that newspaper page, and behind in a sly mind had been able to add the situation together.

Hermione moved, toward the bathroom haunted by Myrtle. She looked around as she opened the door, the familiar scent of damp rising in her nostrils yet a feeling of calm. She scanned for any sign of Myrtle, who must have been moping somewhere in the pipes as usual.

Pulling the letter out of the bag, a movement of shaking fingers extracted the paper before her.

YOU KNEW IT WAS ME, BUT YOU DID NOTHING. YOU COULD HAVE TOLD SOMEONE. YOU COULD HAVE FOUND HELP? DID YOU FAIL TO CHECK, THAT HE MIGHT HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE WHEN YOU ARRIVED? THAT MAKES YOU JUST AS MUCH PART OF THIS AS ME. YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER HERMIONE.

She whimpered, dropping the letter and sinking to her knees, her arms hugging around her svelte form as tears welled in her eyes. Where was the way out? Where was she going to be able to free herself from this life of torment, of the constant need to hide secrets and flee for silence to open letters from an unknown assailant? What if the waiter had been alive? The image burned in her mind of his body, still, pale, bloody. She groaned, her hands moving to her hair and burying themselves between her chocolate locks as tears rolled down her face. Her body racked with sobs, louder and louder as the force of the past few months fell on her like a ton of bricks, weighing her shoulders down as her legs splayed out underneath her, eyes puffing and her body screaming for a release.

"What's going on? I knew you were messed up, but sitting on the floor of the bog no less, I might not have expected from it you just yet." A voice cut through her sobs, she'd failed to hear the door click open, the footsteps behind her. But a voice, his voice, was now infiltrating her ears, the sound snapping her head, red eyed, up towards the owner.

Yet should she grace a reply? At this moment, no matter how much her mind urged her to bite back, to run and to shout at him for being an irresponsible and inconceivably large asshole, didn't allow her to. She was exhausted, inside, as turmoil of emotions coursed through her veins. So, she did what any female in her situation would, she ignored him and continued to sit, tears streaming down her face.

His face softened, she noticed from the corner of her eye, as he looked almost flabbergasted at the lack of retort, the lack of fire emanating that would give her a response, him a challenge, together an argument. He had expected fully, her to stand, slap him and snarl something unrepeatable in his face, a concoction of swear words and something akin to the fact that he was pond scum. But nothing. Had it been anyone else, he may not have noticed their behaviour this morn. But being her, he had, he noticed the frown across her features as she read the front of the paper, the horrified expression as that Weasel removed the letter from her breakfast, before the final show of her fleeing the room and ending up here, in the bathroom, on the floor.

For all intents and purposes, however, she was a Mudblood. Nothing but a being of dirt and little worth, and he had hated her since the moment they met seven years ago in the halls of the castle- her know it all ways and nose always pointed in the air like she had a purpose. But now, as she sat on the floor, she looked pathetic. He had always said she was, but now she looked it, something unrecognisable stirred in his stomach. Without realising what he was doing, he crouched to the ground, a rough hand tilting her eyes up towards him under her dainty chin.

"Granger, what's going on?"

AN: And that's the end of that chapter. I wasn't so sure with the ending, I didn't really want him to be so nice to her yet. He'll come to his senses in a minute… Well in the next chapter. Until next time, which won't be long! It may be tonight, but if it's not you're looking at Wednesday as I'm off away for the bank holiday, it's nice to be back (: