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In Need of a Hero by jazzy4ver

Format: Novella
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 6,834
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Draco, Pansy, Ginny, Blaise (M), OtherCanon
Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Lavender, Other Pairing

First Published: 03/30/2012
Last Chapter: 05/29/2014
Last Updated: 05/29/2014

“You think all Gryffindors are heroes and all Slytherins are rotten to the core cowards. But you’re wrong. You are brave. You know when to stand up to your enemies when the time is right because you know to pick a fight. And I am scared out of my mind of death and war and love.” Hermione finally said.

Life is not simple, and people can’t be boxed into either being a hero or a villain― Jessica Hagedorn

Chapter two is written!

Chapter 1: Dark
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Hello! This a Dramione in sixth year. I spent most of my night writing it so I hope you enjoy it! :D And to my Uncovering Truths fans (if you’re reading this) the next chapter is currently being written.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. *sadface*

Chapter One

It is the unknown we fear
When we look upon death and darkness,
Nothing more.
—Albus Dumbledore, from the Half Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling on page 566


The Platform nine and three quarters was bustling with students. Hermione was trying to make her way onto the train without looking at anyone. It was an uneasy task to walk by when she felt everyone was watching her.

Did they know? Would they even care if they did? Would they hate her? Would they think she was dirty, worthless?
She felt dirty and worthless.

So accordingly, yes, they would, she reasoned. Nearly half the students already thought so from her bloodlines alone. No one would want to go near her now. She was a murderer. Her hands were stained with blood. Not literally of course, their blood had never touched her hands…

The blood was on the floor. It was flowing its red river down the stairs, staining the pure white carpet her mother took such pride in keeping clean. It pooled on the landing, like a lake of cherry syrup.

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. The scene down below was her doing. If only she hadn’t picked up her wand.

Hermione shook the memory from her mind. She hadn’t meant to. It had been an accident. At their graves, their cold granite graves, she had told them again and again she was sorry as she cried for them. But sorry doesn’t reverse what happened.

After she had opened her letter for the next year of Hogwarts, she hadn’t felt the euphoria that usually made it impossible to stop smiling until she got to the school. This time, she had considered not even using her magic ever again, and had almost thrown the Hogwarts letter in the trash bin. Guilt and indecision had kept her from doing so.

But that plan was a fool-hardy one; her magic would cause more harm being unused and boxed-in inside of her. She would have to eventually use magic, and Hogwarts might serve as a distraction and safety net for her.

Accidentally, not to have Seamus Finnegan, a fellow Gryffindor in her year, notice her, she turned around, and caught sight of a girl― probably a first year― hugging her parents goodbye. Her eyes fled from the sweet family scene quickly, but the image still burned in her mind. That would have been her parents and her today― hugging her parent’s goodbye for only a year, not eternity.

Once on the train, Hermione found an empty compartment. She looked around before hastily locking it with a charm. She did not wish to face Harry and Ron just yet. She was scared of what they knew of her summer holiday and what they thought of her. While the uncertainty was unnerving, it was far better than having Ron tell her that they weren’t friends anymore. Harry, though more rational than her red headed friend, couldn’t possibly want to be there for her either, if he knew.

She knew that they or any others wouldn’t be able to get in. Not, many people were good at breaking locking charms as strong as hers.
But he had…

A loud crash from above startled Hermione. She had been watching a horror film for the past half hour, and although she knew there was nothing that could hurt her in the muggle London suburbs with her being a witch, had still been nervous.
What was that noise? She thought to herself, images of grotesque creatures or villainous killers like the ones in her movie flashed in her mind. Another loud clamor from the rooms upstairs only proved her paranoia true.

Someone had broken into the Granger’s house. A tad bit frightened, Hermione flew up the flight of stairs.

What she saw on the top of the stairs, she was not prepared for. Hermione for once was caught unbearablely off guard. There was a wolf. A wolf half-personified by the darkness in his soul. A werewolf, she realized, as she looked closer, seeing the beast for what it was.

Only werewolves were once wizards or witches. They were never muggles—the werewolf venom was too potent for muggles to handle and change—meaning that the half wolf in her home knew exactly whom she was and had taken down her carefully placed guards surrounding her house and neighborhood to get her.

No. Stop thinking! Stop remembering!
She ordered herself. It was difficult; the memories of that night were always sneaking into her thoughts, a hidden torture for the only one in the audience― her.

To distract herself, she let Crookshanks out of his cage. The cat leaped into her arms and nuzzled her neck. His purring vibrations of contentment tickled her chest; she wondered how he could stand being so close to her.

Animals were supposed to have an intuition about danger. Couldn’t he tell she wasn’t the girl she was before the summer began? That she had been, in fact, dangerous?
But if anything, the orange furry cat had become more affectionate towards her.

The train started soon, and so the journey to Hogwarts had officially begun.

Thirty minutes into the train ride, she was rapping her nails rapidly on the leather binding of her book. Hermione knew she should be at the Prefect’s meeting that was just starting. She was a sixth year, and had to stay longer because she had more responsibilities than last year. It was a mandatory meeting, even the Slytherins were known for coming early for them.

A knock at her door startled her away from her thoughts, and she looked to see who it was.

The aged man at the door was tall, but his stomach stretched out like a beach ball. A mustache vaguely reminding Hermione of a walrus hid his mouth. He smiled kindly at her after pulling a tassel away from his face.

It’s a new professor.

Hermione opened the door with a flick of her wand, and sat up straighter since she was meeting him for the first time and wanted to impress him.

First impressions always matter, her mother had told her countless times.

“Hello dear, what an impressive locking charm you have there. I couldn’t even counter it.” he said with a chuckle. “What’s you name dearie, what year?”

“Oh, Hermione Granger sir, a sixth year. I’m sorry for locking you out professor, I-”

“Nonsense, we’ve all broken rules every once in a while.” He winked before continuing, “Now, would you be interested in coming to my cabin, in say a few minutes, with some others for a snack.

Knowing she shouldn’t say no to the new professor, Hermione answered meekly, with a tiny smile, “of course!” the smile felt odd, but cheerful.

When Hermione entered the professor’s compartment, she was dazzled to say the least. Slughorn’s compartment was lavish with deep purple couches, bright maroon pillows with golden tassels for sitting in one corner. There was reading materials (mostly knitting magazines) placed on the mahogany side and coffee tables.
In the center was a sweet trolley filled with both muggle and wizard confectionaries of many kinds. The bottom rack was occupied with nothing expect sugared pineapples. A sign on the top of it read: help yourself. The walls were bright, unlike the furniture- a merry shade of soft yellow.

“Do you think it, dear? I decorated it myself. Sprout says I have no taste in interior design, but I find that the colors blend together quite splendidly. Don’t you?”

‘It’s lovely Professor. You’d think the colors would clash and make everything look off since they’re so different, yet they don’t.”

“The wonders of complementary colors.” Professor Slughorn said with a slight chuckle. ‘Please sit,”

She heard a snort and the words ‘ass-kissing Mudblood’ come from Zabini, a Slytherin in her year. Much to her displeasure, the only sit open, without appearing snotty, was next to the proud Slytherin.

Either the new professor was ignorant to the young boy’s rude remark or not, the attention was taken off Hermione when Harry and Ginny entered the room.

Both students gave her an odd look, but said nothing of it as they took a seat next to her.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” Harry whispered to her, his green eyes overflowing with concern. They made Hermione feel even guiltier than she felt when she saw them enter the room.

“Yeah, why didn’t you go to the meeting, Ron was lost when I left. He always needs you to help him understand what’s going on.” Ginny piped in.

“Um, I’m getting over the flu, and was struck in the bathroom for most of the train ride.” She lied.

“That’s rotten luck. It’s a good thing your feeling a little better though. McGonagall will most likely understand; you are her favorite student.”


The Prefects meeting was dull. Draco could hardly keep himself from walking right out of it. There were far more important matters at hand than first years running around late, or finding students in the middle of ‘physical relations’ as McGonagall put it. Maybe he should have listened to Zabini and just skipped it. If he heard one more word about
skipping patrols, he was sure to hex the old bat.

Too bad not even the Mudblood was there, just so he could annoy her. Although it was just as much fun as taunt the Weasel when he realized Granger wasn’t there. The git had turned red and hadn’t changed back yet. The thought made him snicker.

Draco unfortunately did have to admit that it was unlike Granger to skip, much less be tardy for anything school related. She was an insufferable teacher’s pet, always kissing up their arses, and just being a know-it-all. Two things that made her already undesirable before you learned she wasn’t a pure-blood.

Draco was taken out of his thoughts when a paper was thrust in his hands. He looked over at Pansy and mouthed, what’s this?

“Patrolling chart. Weren’t you paying attention?” Pansy asked, while giggling, as if his cluelessness was the funniest and cutest thing ever. He rolled his eyes, before reading over the parchment.

The patrolling arrangement wasn’t that bad. He would be with Pansy mostly; apart from one day, so as long was she kept her mouth shut most of the time, things would be fine.

“This is for the first half of the year. As you can tell, Slytherins and Ravenclaws patrol Sundays through Tuesday s, during Wednesdays all houses are patrolling with each prefect paired with someone from a different House, and Thursdays through Saturdays are for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Any questions?” McGonagall explained.

No one asked.

“Meeting is dismissed. Mr. Weasley could you hand Ms. Ganger her patrol sheet to her, since she couldn’t make the meeting?”

“If he has the brain power to do that.” Draco whispered to Pansy. She snorted like the pig she was.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you think Mr. Weasley is mentally incapable to do this, I will gladly let you do it for him.” McGonagall replied, looking up from her papers, a faint smile on her wrinkled face.

He just smirked, “Of course I’m capable to do it, Professor.”

Of course, on the inside, he was furious. Why should he have to help the Mudblood because she didn’t come? What made her so special to have him help her?

“Good,” she handed him the paper and walked off.

Draco was on his way to leave as well, with Pansy practically chained to his side, when the lights began to flicker.

“What the-” Draco started, as Pansy dragged him back to their compartment, unaware of this.


Hermione was not enjoying herself. Zabini was making vile remarks to her under his breathe, to where even she could barely hear them. But she did, and that’s what mattered. They were mostly concerning her parents.

“Too bad they won’t make it through the War, ay Granger?” she thought she had misheard him. Surely, she had.

But she never got the chance to question him, because the moment she opened her mouth, lights went out, sending the students into darkness.

The train shuddered, and Hermione grabbed on to Harry’s arm, seeking out protection as a child afraid of the dark might have. The lights turned back on, and then off. This time the train stopped completely throwing Hermione out of her chair and rolling in to a wall. Her arm was hurting from having smacked it on something, which had also caused her to drop her wand somewhere.

“Harry?” she called out. “Ginny?”

But she never heard there voices. Instead, she heard the sound of wheels rolling, and felt the impact before she heard it. And that’s when everything truly went black, as Hermione passed out.

Oh no! Poor Hermione :( Please review guys! Tell me what you think. What you hate. What you love. What you want to see. I’ll love you forever. And if you don’t, I’ll probably still love you because you read it. So I guess that’s kind of an empty threat. :/
jaz xoxo

Update 08/08/2012

Just changing up a few things, nothing major. Review please!!!

love always,
jaz xoxo

Chapter 2: Home
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Chapter Two

Trying to hide the pain,
Going to the place where love
And feeling good don’t ever cost a thing.


A loud crash from above startled Hermione. She had been watching a horror film for the past half hour, and although she knew there was nothing that could hurt her in the muggle London suburbs with her being a witch, had still been nervous.

What was that noise? She thought to herself, images of grotesque creatures or villainous killers like the ones in her movie flashed in her mind. Another loud clamor from the rooms upstairs only proved her paranoia true.

Someone had broken into the Granger’s house. A tad bit frightened, Hermione flew up the flight of stairs.

What she saw on the top of the stairs, she was not prepared for. Hermione for once was caught unbearablely off guard. There was a wolf. A wolf half-personified by the darkness in his soul. A werewolf, she realized, as she looked closer, seeing the beast for what it was.

Only werewolves were once wizards or witches. They were never muggles—the werewolf venom was too potent for muggles to handle and change—meaning that the half wolf in her home knew exactly whom she was and had taken down her carefully placed guards surrounding her house and neighborhood to get her.

Hermione moved her hand to her pocket slowly as to not startle the beast. Her fingers gripped what should have been her wand, but instead curled around nothing but air. Nothing? Where had she put her wand?

Horror flooded through her as she realized it might have slipped in-between the couch cushion while she had been watching her movie.

But what was she going to do with no wand? She couldn’t duel the beast with wandless magic. That kind f magic was a rare gift and strenuous. She herself could barely cast Accio properly while wandless.


Taking a deep breath, preparing for the pain to come from the charm, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to think as loudly, clearly, and convictionally as possible for it to work.


Bright lights burned her eyelids. It was the first thing she become aware of as her mind slowly ebbed away from her worst memory. The next was the dull throbbing of her head. She flinched at the first wave of pain.

Lastly, she became aware that she was not as alone as she had previously thought. Someone with a large, warm hand was holding her right hand, while on her left a more petite hand held on. And a possible third person—she noticed this when her ears woke up—was speaking desperately. With a sudden grasp at reality, she knew that the person speaking was calling for her.

That voice was familiar. Wait…Hermione knew that voice! It was Professor McGonagall. The always calm professor calling for her so frantically made her want to wake up fully and open her eyes.

Slowly—the lights were blindingly bright and her eyelids still heavy—Hermione forced her eyes open, curious to know what was going on. The last time she had been woken up in the same manner was in second year after she was un-petrified.

The first person she saw Harry. He was staring at a wall, his black eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as if trying to keep focus on something truly troublingly. He was the one on her right. She looked to her left to see Ginny. The red-haired girl was holding on to her hand tightly, an expression of fear and motherly concern etched on her face. She leaped up and flung her arms around Hermione the moment she saw her staring. Hermione pretended not to flinch in pain when the girl rubbed on the wounds hidden under her clothing.

“Hermione!” she cried out. “Are you alright? Do you remember what happened? It was simply terrifying! The lights went out; there was a screeching, and the train positively shuttered to a stop for no reason. Thankfully, the emergency lights came on after a few minutes. And Hermione…Harry…I…we were so worried about you.”

Hermione held the hysterical girl in her arms and rubbed her back as if Ginny were the one injured. “Gin, I’m fine. What happened though, besides the train shuttering to a stop?” Mentioning the train stopping had caused snippet only seconds long to come to her, but nothing helpful.

She turned to Harry for and explanation and help with calming Ginny down, but Harry being Harry, was useless around a group of girls, much less one. Nostalgically, Hermione remember his girl fiasco last year with a Ravenclaw called Cho Chang.

McGonagall did help fill in some of the answers. “After the train stopped, I went to make sure all the students were un-harmed. When I came to Mr. Slughorn’s compartment, I was nearly mauled down by your friends.” She momentarily glared at Harry. “They were carrying you unconscious out of the room, and your head was bleeding.”

Like in the movies when someone mentions a head wound, Hermione moved her hand to her head, filling the smooth skin of her scalp. It was perfect skin, unharmed in any way.
There were no bandages or scabs like in the movies though.

“Severus healed you, left not a mark left on your head. It was a good thing he was on the train too, talented with healing charms that man.” McGonagall explained. Hermione didn’t know whether to feel grateful or not that the Potions master had cast charms on her.

The door opened then, and a startled looking second year rushed in, breathless. “The conductor wants to speak with you about something urgent!” the boy panted.

“Thank you Conrad.” The deputy Headmistress said before rushing out with the boy.

No sooner had she left than Harry raised his wand and looked the door, spilling what had been troubling him, “I think Malfoy had something to do with this.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione questioned. “What could he have possibly done? Harry, he’s a sixth year like us. I don’t think he could perform something this drastic that not even the teachers knew of. Besides he was probably still at the prefects meeting when everything started occurred.”

“But that’s just it. McGonagall said that the Prefects meeting had been over for at least five minutes or more before the train stopped, giving Malfoy and his cronies plenty of time to put his plan into action.” Harry explained, his nostrils flaring in disgust at the mention of Malfoy.

“Why are you so against him this year, Harry?” Ginny piped in. “I mean, it’s Malfoy, sure, but Hermione made a point. He’s only a sixth year. What could he have done?”

“You guys, his father was a Death Eater. It stands to reason with Lucius being out of the picture in Azkaban, that be maybe taking his father’s place.”

“I still don’t believe he did it.” Hermione concluded stubbornly, crossing her arms as best she could with Ginny still clinging to her.

The train lurched to life moments later, spending the trio swaying from side to side, before the motion stopped and the train was moving again. Ginny unlocked the door, saying that it would be bad if McGonagall came back to find it locked.

Harry was still trying to convince them both that Malfoy was behind every thing. “Malfoy did it, Hermione. I know he did.”

“I still don’t believe it was him who did it.” Hermione argued back for seemed like the a hundredth time in the past twenty minutes.

“Don’t believe who did what, Ms. Granger?” the tree became aware of another presence occupying them in the room. Professor Snape observed them, his beetle back eyes squinting into a glare all non-Slytherin students were accustomed to since their arrival to the school. “And why, Ms. Weasley, pray tell me, is it that you decided to injure Ms. Granger further by squishing her to death? Five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate use of an infirmary bed, and another for not changing into your robes on time.”

Ginny blushed a vivid red and scooted of the bed quickly. Harry glared back at the Potions master with only that of pure contempt in his eyes, but did not retort back as Hermione knew he was wanting to do. Hermione too also outraged by Professor Snape’s abusive use of his Head of House power, but too, kept quiet. She already had enough excitement for the first day back.

“Well, what are you waiting for? We will be arriving at Hogsmeade in no less than twenty-seven minutes and as fashion forward as your Muggle attire may be, it is against the rules.” He drawled snarkily.

Harry and Ginny left the room reluctantly, leaving Hermione alone in the room with Snape.

“Ms. Granger, as we were not at Hogwarts when your accident happened, there was no nurse, so McGonagall had me make sure you were out of harms way until he reach the school.” He sounded like he was fishing for a thank you. “Tell me where it hurts, if any pain is present and to what degree.”

Hermione gulped, feeling extremely alone and vulnerable with only Snape, who was by no mean her biggest fan. There was something about him that set her nerves on an edge. “There is no pain professor,” she lied smoothly, not wanting to be alone with him a moment longer. “Now if you’ll leave, I’ll change into my school uniform.”

“What are those wounds from?” He demanded suddenly.

Hermione decided her best tactic as of right now was playing dumb. “What wounds?” Hermione asked, more scared that Snape may have told someone than why he had seen the gashes.

Had Harry seen them? No, he would have demanded to know what happened. So only Snape knew.

“The ones only a few weeks old, running from rib to hip, if those are the only ones you have.” His voice suggested that he might have seen the others on her lower back and possibly knew what caused them. But then, that could have all been in Hermione’s head.

“I tripped and fell…at my cousin’s bout…house.” Without knowing why she was hiding it from someone who—even though it was unlikely—might help her, she fibbed, but not very well. Even to her own ears, she sounded false.

“Very well, play your game. I don’t know what you were a part of this summer, and I won’t pretend to know either. But when they become infected, as I see they are starting to be, you may want to be more truthful.” he said, his words carefully said to make them sound more daunting, but with no need. Her fears spiked at the mention of infection.

Snape left, his robes billowing out dramatically in a way that only the Potions Master could knew how to.

Taking a deep, long breath, Hermione waited for her heart rate to slow down. It was thumping erratically in her chest and echoed in her ears frantically. Seeing her trunk was brought to the compartment—probably at the expense of a house elf—she rushed to it and changed into her robes. The task of changing clothes was only one for hands unfortunately, and her so the fears of infection and death stayed at the forefront of her mind.

Only moments after she pulled on her outer robes, the train stopped for the second time that day and thankfully at its proper destination.

Hermione left the compartment was soon as she closed the trunk and set out into the middle of a crowd full of wild and exhausted students. If only she had turned around for a second to see the plumes of black smoke coming out of the door she had just exited and the figure that walked out.

The figure smiled. Their plan was coming together perfectly.


Hermione was the last of the stragglers to exit the train. It was lightly misting outside and there was a slight breeze. Hermione held her outer robes closer to herself to keep warm.

Being the last off the train meant she was last on the carriages and as her luck—or rather lack of, because her day was lacking it plenty—it was no surprise that fate would stick her with two people who she was very uncomfortable being around.

Cho and Hermione sat in silence side by side. After the accusations made by Cho during Valentines last year, neither of the two girls wanted to be the first ones to speak, but not the second one either. Gathering up as much proverbial Gryffindor courage as she had left, Hermione spoke to the seventh year Ravenclaw.

“You made Head Girl.” She stated, pointing to the badge on the girl’s robes. “That’s a great accomplishment.”

The only other occupant of the Therstral-drawn buggy scoffed at Hermione’s weak attempt at small talk. But what else could you expect from Draco Malfoy? Hermione choose to ignore the childish boy and so did Cho, she noticed.

Cho smiled tentatively at the praise. “Thanks. I didn’t see you at the meeting. I heard you got hurt. Someone said it was your head. Oh, and that reminds me…the meeting…Malfoy, do you still have her schedule?”

Malfoy gave the Asian Head Girl a what-in-the-bloody-hell look before reaching into the depths of his pockets and pulled out a piece of crumpled, damp parchment before throwing it at her. “It’s for your patrolling duties,” he explained dryly while rolling his grey eyes.

“Thanks so very much.” Hermione replied sarcastically while trying to un-crumple the paper without tearing it in the wet places.

“You know me Granger. No thanks is necessary when helping out mudbloods such as yourself.” He retorted back snarkily.

Both Cho and Hermione sent a glare his way. Mudblood was a foul word in the wizarding world. A derogatory term for a witch or wizard whose parents were both muggles. It was never a word used civilly.

Cho pulled out her wand, and for a split second looked as if she were to hex Malfoy, but spelled Hermione’s ruined schedule. In seconds, the ruined paper was brand new, not a cringle or wet splotch on the parchment.

“Wow, that’s a useful spell,” said Hermione.

“My dad taught the spell to me. With him being a lawyer, he has to keep all the papers nice, so it’s pretty handy to know. I use it to fix my homework before class.” Cho explained.

Malfoy just sneered. “You two are pathetic.” It was sad that for someone who would have advantages at learning so much clearly had no appreciation for magic.

When the carriage reached its destination at the gates of Hogwarts. Hermione could help the smile that fought its way on her lips. She had missed Hogwarts. Missed the classes. Missed the people who made her laugh. The books that made her think and forget. And most importantly, she missed the security. It was like coming home after spending the night in the seventh circle of hell.

I’m home, she thought before stepping off the carriage and through the doors

I'm soo sorry for not updating. My other story kind of took over for a while, but here it is chapter two! Thanks to the two reveiwers ilove_HP7899 and thehpyears. Reviews are like heaven, or having your very own Draco Malfoy. ;) Please leave one!

love always,
jaz xoxo

disclaimer: anything that you do recogonize from Harry Potter does not belong to me. I do this for fun not money.

Update 08/08/2012

I changed a lot of things, made some scenes longer, and added a creepy part! I wasn't really proud of the first version of this chapter, so I hope this one is much better. :p Reviews are like cupcakes! Everyone loves making and getting them!

love always,
jaz xoxo

Chapter 3


And what do you think you’d say?
I won’t listen anyway
―Goo Goo Dolls


That wonderful feeling of security left as rapidly as it had arrived the moment Hermione walked through the intricately detailed doors of the Great Hall. The feeling of a million pairs of knowing eyes staring straight into her soul hit her, making the palms of her hands felt clammy, and her heart raced so fast it almost physically hurt. Hermione felt conscious of every person in the Great Hall looking at her, and felt as though they were all staring at her because they knew what she had done. If only she knew, no one was staring at her the way she perceived and one would ever blame her for what happened. They were simply startled that she, Malfoy, and Cho had walked in after the sorting ceremony.

She hurried as fast as her quaking legs would carry her to Ginny—she had saved Hermione a spot at their House table—and sat down, dropping her gaze to the platter of food in front of her. She barely registered what it was holding—roasted potatoes—before she helped herself to it, hoping she looked more like a normal hungry student and not the murderer she was. Filling her plate with more of the delicious food the elves (slaving away no doubt in the kitchens) had prepared, she ate quickly and quietly until she noticed something was strangely off…

“Where in Merlin’s pants is Harry?” Hermione asked, looking to both Ron—he sat in front of Ginny—and Ginny for answers. She also blushed, having never used wizardry—or muggle—cursing in her vocabulary.

Ron, his mouth full of food, gave a shrug for an answer at the same time that Ginny told her that she hadn’t seen Harry since Snape had made them leave her compartment.

“He didn't tell you where he was going when you two left?”

“To the toilets, to change. Harry told me he would meet me back at the castle. I haven’t seen him since. We were hoping he was with you,” replied Ginny.

“You don’t think he was spying on Malfoy, with his cloak do you? He seemed awfully determined that it was Malfoy who stopped the train.” Hermione said, worrying. The last time her friend was late for the feast he was nearly expulsed from the school for exposing magic to muggles. How much trouble was he going to get into tonight?

“I hope he finds some dirt on the rudy git.” Ron grunted in between bites of his shepherds pie.

“I hope he wasn't spying in the first place. Just because I don’t believe Malfoy was the one responsible for what happened today, doesn’t mean that I don’t trust him. He could try to hurt Harry if he were caught,” said Hermione, eyeing a mischievously laughing Malfoy from across the Hall.

When Harry didn't come in the next ten minutes, and it was dessert, Hermione was fed up of wondering where her best friend was. If Malfoy knew, then Malfoy was going to tell her.

Preparing to get up, she glared at the Slytherin table. But just as she was getting up, someone sat down on the other side of Ginny.

“Blimey, Harry! What did you get on the wrong side of?” Ron sputtered, rightly so.

Their best friend’s nose was dripping blood on the treacle tarts, trying to catch it with a damp rag. He looked a little more worse-for-wear since she had seen him last.

“You were spying on Malfoy, weren't you?” she said disapprovingly, knowing he was going to say yes. Which he did. “Harry!” she scolded.

“Hermione, I had to. What if he’s planning something else?”

With another stern rant ready, Hermione opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Ronald. “Did you find anything out?” she was going to scold Ron as well, but a glare at her friend would have to suffice, since Harry began talking.

“Not exactly. But I know he is hiding something. Why else would he have broken my nose and left me for good on the train?”

“Perhaps it’s because you and Malfoy aren't on good terms, you’re the main reason his father is in Azkaban and you were snooping on him—again?” Hermione suggested.

Ginny, not one to step on Harry’s toes, said meekly, “She’s probably right.” Much to the surprise of everyone, then added, “but I don’t like that he did it.” To get back in Harry’s good graces.

True to his form, Harry, decided to drop the case, and asked what the Sorting Hat had to say. Ron replied by saying it had spluttered rubbish about staying together in trying times and a whole load full of such nonsense about joining the whole school together, Slytherins and all.


Draco was not having a good day.

When Draco had tried teasing the Mudblood by saying, “What has gotten you all smiley for, Muddy?”, nothing that Granger usually did happened.

At the name, Granger whipped her frizzy head in Draco’s direction, as if forgetting he was even in the same carriage. Stupid mudblood, he said while rolling his eyes. Granger kept quiet, which pissed him off. He wanted a reaction out of her. What else were Mudbloods good for besides taunting and being in superior? The Chang girl took points off Slytherins House. That only made him angrier. As if House Points were going to matter, not after what he had to do.

No, Draco did not want to think about that. That sort of thinking was reserved for later tonight when he had to see what he was working with.

The night only got better when that idiot midget of a Charms professor asked him for his name. Was it not plastered on the front of the Daily Prophet, or was the paper too big for the oaf to read?

At dinner, Pansy stuck to him like a fly stuck to honey. Draco had mix feelings for Pansy. Certainly nowhere near romantic feelings, but feelings, nonetheless. He was flattered that so much of her time was devoted to him—what man couldn't be please by that?—, sorry for her that in the end she wouldn't get the ending with him she wanted, and a little annoyed, not to mention terrified, by the fact that she just about worshiped him obsessively at times.

And now he was stuck with said person patrolling the completely empty halls of Hogwarts. It was absolutely pointless to do this. The only people brave enough to sneak out of their dormitories past curfew were the ones that Prefects, such as himself would let slide. Like Zabini. Or Potter and Granger, but she was a prefect (which kind of took the fun out of it) now, so she could now run around in her fuzzy muggle pajama bottoms and no one would give a hoot! Well, besides him. Fuzzy muggle pajama bottoms were hideous and filthy.

Pansy was chattering on about how pointless it was as well. It was nice to know his point of view was shared, but hearing the same thing he was thinking was surprisingly grating on his nerves. He just had to do something about it.

“Pans, I believe that if we split up the remainder of the grounds we have to cover, this pointless job will end much faster. Don’t you? Then we can get back to the common room and do more important things.” He said, trying to sound off-handed.

“You think so?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, I do or I wouldn't have said it.”

“Are you sure, Draco ,because it would seem boring to walk down the rest of the main and second floor alone.”

“Pans, just go check out the dungeon floor. I’ll be back soon.”

“Fine.” she said huffily, marching hastily to the stairwell.

Draco breathed a heavy sigh of relief for finally being alone. The relief and loneliness, however, only lasted for several minutes.

While making his way to the Room of Requirement, he was stopped by a Professor. It was the Head of his House, and while that should have made him feel nervous for being caught on the wrong floor, he was only miffed that his once favorite professor was following him for a reason of a different nature.

“Draco, what a surprise to see you on this side of the castle.” Snape greeted.

“Same to you, Professor.” He said back curtly.

“You know, Draco, what ever you need I’d give it. Be it ingredients, tutoring, help with certain tasks-“

“Glory?” Draco snapped. The Head of House sent him an ice filled glare. Yes, Draco knew he didn’t really want to help unless it meant getting in even better graces with him.

That was what set Slytherins apart from the others—apart from being of pure unadulterated magic. They were endlessly ambitious to the bone. Any foothold they could find to each the top, whatever it could be, they would step on it. Using a younger person by pretending to be a helping mentor was one of those many footholds. Draco was not as blinded by youth as his elder professor thought.

It only made the older man appear more desperate when he tried to convince Draco otherwise. “If you could only see how dangerous this is, whatever it is. It won’t be easy. If sharing the burden would help, you know you can at least tell me. I’m here for you.”

“No you’re not. You’re here for yourself.” Draco replied back hotly. The aging fool was wasting his time. He could already be working on it. Instead he was having a pointless argument. Draco heard footsteps close by and by the way the professor was looking around the corner, he knew he was not imagining them. He lowered he voice as he ended their disagreement. “Do not bother me again. I can do this by myself. That’s why I was given this task, so good evening Professor.”

Author’s Note

First off, I apologize to Professor Flitwick, because he is not an oaf or an idiot midget. Draco's a mean person, so I have to bash on people. :( Secondly I apologize for not post in so long. Sooo what did you think? It’s my first chapter in forever and I know it’s a filler but the next chapter has more action. Please forgive me for making the chapter so short :( The next one is already in the works and so is my favorite one, which I’m so excited to post! ;) Please tell the poor, lonely box what you liked, didn't like, or want, or anything really… it’s quite a lonely box… and author… lol


disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I can still pretend I'm J. K. Rowling