Follow Through

I don't believe all the things I hear

And all these things I hold so dear

I won't take for granted

I always thought that you'd be there

But now it somehow seems unfair

You're asking me to take it

And do you see the danger

Creeping up inside

Cause you're turning me inside out

You're breaking all these promises we made

Maybe time will make it right

You're turning me inside out

It's taking all my strength and will to stay

Maybe time will make it right...

"Inside Out" Vonray

**

"So now you've got all the evidence you need?" Ron asked, panting slightly as Hermione Apparated with a quiet pop at his side. They were continuing the conversation they had been having when they had arrived at a safe location to Apparate over to Harry and Ginny's. "You can print your story?"

"Well, I have to write it first, of course, but yes," Hermione replied excitedly. "I'd like to see if I could find out why Malfoy did it to Filch, since that's what started this whole investigation, but I really don't think I can discover that unless Malfoy miraculously shows up and starts talking."

"Yeah, well, when we catch him, I'll be sure to ask him for you in interrogation," Ron promised with grim satisfaction. With a quick glance to make sure no Muggles were watching, he deftly jabbed his wand, and without a sound, the door to Harry and Ginny's apartment complex opened. Ron kept his wand down and at his side while reaching out with his free hand to take Hermione's. He grinned widely, imagining the panicked look on Malfoy's face when he strode into the interrogation room. "Yeah, I'll get it out of him for you," he reassured with immense satisfaction.

"Ron,--"

"Hermione, come on--let me have some fun with my profession," Ron wailed good-naturedly.

"Ron," Hermione repeated in a louder, clearer, and calmer voice. "I know. I'm all for you having fun." She gestured toward the stairs where a tall, dark-haired figure was descending, his head down. "I just think you should clear it with your partner first."

"Harry," Ron said with relief, leading Hermione over to the bottom of the stairs to meet Harry. Harry jolted to a stop, but he wouldn't look at his friends. Hermione's brow creased with concern, but Ron was too relieved to notice straightaway. "There you are. What--" Ron broke off as Harry finally lifted his head and he caught a clear glimpse of his partner's face. His fingers instinctively clamped down on Hermione's, intensifying the sharp jolt of mutual worry zinging between their intertwined fingers.

Hermione's breath halted as she, too, saw Harry's eyes. She hadn't seen Harry's eyes like that since the tragedy of sixth-year, and the memory was enough to make her cling to Ron's hand just as urgently as he held hers. She hated seeing Harry's eyes like that. The deadened desperation, the fury, the smattering of ten million emotions visibly rushing around in his head--they were all clearly there in Harry's eyes. Harry's eyes were almost as expressive as Ron's, although he often worked as hard as he could to conceal his emotions, while Ron didn't bother. Hermione reckoned that that was why moments like this startled her so much. She was used to seeing whatever Ron was feeling written all over his face. When Harry, on the other hand, actually dropped his stoic façade and fully revealed that at this moment he was irately heartbroken, Hermione knew something really awful had to have happened.

Ron soon found his voice, but he didn't relinquish her hand. "Harry, what--what?" he stammered slightly. "Is everything okay?"

Harry unclenched his jaw to nod tightly up the stairs. "Malfoy's up there."

Hermione's hand was almost squashed completely. "What?" Ron demanded. His face was now tight with rage; the idea of a Malfoy in his best friend and sister's flat was enough to knock any fear clean out of him.

Hermione glanced over Harry's shoulder edgily. She had just been commenting about how useful it would be to find Malfoy for her story, and now here he was upstairs. Malfoy was less than a hundred meters away from her. Something dreadful and thrilling grabbed her at the very pit of her stomach, and she swallowed hard. This whole search for Malfoy and the Switching Spells had stemmed from a peculiar, innate desire to see that bastard again, and now here was her chance.

Neither Ron nor Harry noticed Hermione's curiosity; Ron was still too shocked, and Harry looked as though he was having trouble keeping his lunch to himself. "He's secured, but I don't know for how long--I need to get Kingsley and a squad down here," Harry mumbled rapidly. He raked a hand through his hair so savagely that several strands of his untidy black mop ended up on his fingers. His face was several shades paler than it should be, making Hermione wonder if Harry had somehow been injured in the fight to subdue Malfoy. "I shouldn't have left her alone," he muttered almost to himself.

"Left who alone? Ginny?" Hermione demanded anxiously. Harry grunted in lieu of an answer, and Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Ron before speaking again. That would certainly explain Harry's obvious discomposure. "Did something happen to Ginny?"

"Sort of," Harry snapped impatiently. He angrily dusted the hair off of his hands. "I have to go."

He tried to make a hasty departure, but Ron was too quick. Before Harry could take a step, Ron had blocked his path. "Look, mate, what the bloody hell is going on here?" he asked flat out.

Typically, Harry always appreciated Ron's brutal honesty, but not this time. Today he just wanted to punch Ron in the face, or inflict serious, lasting damage on something. "I have to get Kingsley," Harry said hollowly, shoving through Hermione and Ron's interlocked fingers and storming the rest of the way down the stairs.

Hermione watched him go with mounting trepidation. She hadn't seen him this angry and resentful since the beginning of sixth-year. He was acting as though he was in the middle of the war again, which meant that perhaps he was trying to prepare himself for that possibility. Either that, or something had happened that had really, really hurt him. "Should we--"

"No," Ron swiftly cut in. He shook his head firmly. "No. Leave him. He's too mad--let him cool off." Ron stared up the rest of the stairs, curiously examining the door to Harry and Ginny's flat as if it had the answer written across it. "Come on," he urged abruptly, pulling on Hermione's wrist. The couple ran the rest of the way up the stairs. Ron dropped his hold on her arm. "Stay here," he warned.

"Ron--" she began to protest without thinking. It was just part of her defiant nature not to stay behind whenever her friends were in trouble.

"Hermione," he cut in with a sharp authority that he only displayed in the most desperate of times. "No."

Hermione's failsafe logic returned to her, and she nodded. She could tell that it was making him more and more furious each time she tried to disobey him. Granted, she wasn't under any obligation to obey him; it wasn't as though he owned her just because they were in a serious relationship. It was just that the two of them shared a deep, intrinsic trust. Hermione knew when it was right to trust him completely, and Ron knew in which moments he had to put all of his faith in her. Right now was one of the moments that Hermione just had to trust Ron.

"Right," she replied briskly. She didn't know what she was thinking. Of course she wouldn't be allowed to follow him. It was his job to go in there, not hers. This wasn't like the old days. They weren't a team anymore. Hermione bit her lip. She hated that change. "Be careful," she added.

Ron briefly considered making some sort of flippant remark, but settled instead on dropping a quick peck on her lips that said more than any sincere declaration could. She knew that he would do whatever it took to come back to her. Besides, Hermione told herself as he unlocked the door and slipped inside the flat, it wasn't as though he was heading off to Siberia. If she heard any sign of trouble, she could be by his side in ten seconds flat....

Hermione frowned as a random thought suddenly struck her: if Ginny was here, as Harry had insinuated, did he lock her in with Malfoy?

With that troubling question echoing in her mind, that's when she felt it: Ron was shocked. And it wasn't as though he had just been scared by the twins; he was so shocked that he was unbelievably terrified, confused, dumbfounded, bewildered, frightened, furious, and surprised all at the same time. Hermione bit her lip as she tried to shift through the whirlwind she was sensing, and with a great deal of focus, she was able to sense the message that Ron was unconsciously screaming to her:

Get in here.

She didn't need to be told twice. Hermione yanked her wand free, burst through the door, and instinctively headed toward the living room where she somehow knew that she would find Ron, and possibly Ginny and Malfoy. However, there was no way she could have anticipated the sight that beheld her the moment she ran through the doorway and smack into Ron, who had frozen in place, jaw dropped in horror. He was attention was riveted to the two people standing in the center of the room, and all other thoughts in Hermione's frazzled mind grounded to shocking halt.

Ginny and Malfoy?

Hermione found that she could only stare, a hand covering her open mouth. It wasn't possible. She had to be dreaming. She knew Ginny Weasley, and that girl did not let slimy, sinister bastards lay a finger on her, let alone kiss her. She knew that Ginny Weasley especially didn't let other men touch her because her heart and soul had always, and would always belong to the man who had stormed out of the complex a few minutes earlier. Therefore, since Hermione knew her friend very well, she knew that this couldn't be happening. This was just too disgusting and wrong to be true.

Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy couldn't--

But they were. His hands were roving up and down her back, possessively fingering every curve and detail of her stature as he tore into her, lips and tongue hungrily attacking Ginny's face and neck. Ginny had her arms wrapped around his neck, head leaned back so more skin could be exposed for Malfoy's delight. Her eyes were closed in rapture, and her expression was one of pure ecstasy. She was enjoying this.

Without thinking, Hermione's free hand went to Ron's sleeve to prevent him from chopping Malfoy into little tiny pieces, but Ron, too, was still frozen in place. His eyes had bugged with horror, and slowly his face was twisting into a horrified and murderous scowl. Although he showed no signs of preparing for violent actions, Hermione tightened her grip on Ron, nevertheless. She knew him all too well: any minute now, he was going to strike.

Hermione squeezed Ron's forearm warningly as she tried not to look directly at the nauseating sight before them. It was rather like a train wreck; she really didn't want to be watching this, yet it seemed nothing could tear her horrified eyes away. After disgustedly taking it in for a few more seconds, Hermione cleared her throat. Despite the fact that she was cheating on Hermione's best friend, Ginny deserved to be warned that yet again she had unwanted company. The couple, however, continued to tongue-wrestle, and Hermione decided that all tact had to be discarded.

"Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded loudly.

Ginny bolted out of Malfoy's arms. "Hermione!" She turned visibly paler at the sight of her big brother. "Ron." She swallowed hard and tried to appear as though the sight of Malfoy sticking his tongue down her throat was a regular occurrence. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione was still so dumbfounded that she couldn't even think of a witty retort. "What do you think you're doing?" she repeated instead. She gesticulated disgustedly toward Malfoy. "With him?"

"Nice to see you too, Granger," Malfoy greeted with his hateful pompous drawl and a small wave.

"Don't. Talk. To. Her." Ron finally managed to speak, but he could only bite out one word at a time, since he was shaking with so much suppressed rage. Auror training had helped discipline him in many ways, but it wasn't enough to calm him at the sight of his little sister being molested by Draco Malfoy. There was nothing in the world that could calm his temper right now, unless you consider beating someone to a bloody pulp to be soothing.

Hermione squeezed his arm again reassuringly; although she had no idea how on earth she could rectify this situation. "Ginny?" she finally implored helplessly, silently begging her friend to be honest with her.

Ginny pulled down on her jumper guiltily and smoothed her hair so that it no longer resembled the tousled hairstyle one had after committing a major indiscretion. "Look, it--I--" she floundered helplessly for several moments. Then, a glance over at Malfoy's pointed, foul face filled her with some sort of confidence. "It's not like Harry and I are married! I can do as I please!"

Hermione just gaped at her friend open-mouthed. For the first time, she truly believed all of the awful rumors that had circulated Hogwarts about the catty games Ginny Weasley played with men. She couldn't believe that this was her dear friend standing before her, actually trying to convince her that this affair with Draco Malfoy was acceptable. It was as though the Ginny Weasley Hermione had known her entire life was gone, and she had been replaced with this selfish, petty twit. Hermione's fists clenched. She had the sudden urge to whack Draco Malfoy across his twisted, smirking face for instigating such a horrendous personality change in her friend.

But she wouldn't. She wasn't in third-year anymore, and although she knew she was perfectly capable of punching the lights out of the creep, she wouldn't give in. She would, however, get Ginny outside so they could have a long discussion about the situation. "Ginny, come on," she ordered. "Let's go outside and talk about this."

"No," Ginny refused flat-out, stubbornly folding her arms and leaning comfortably into Draco's broad chest. Malfoy's smirk grew even wider and more malicious as he obligingly wrapped an arm around her waist to cuddle her even closer. "Anything you say to me, you can say in front of Draco."

Ginny was making Hermione so furious that without thinking, she dropped her hold on Ron to step forward and attempt to take Ginny outside by force. "Ginny--" she tried again.

But that was as far as she got. Free of his restraint and pushed way too far at the sight of Malfoy cuddling with his sister, Ron snapped. He pounced past Hermione, lunging straight for Malfoy's throat, while his other hand went to pry Ginny from the Slytherin's arms. Ginny let out a shriek as the three of them tumbled to the floor. Hermione narrowly managed to escape by leaping clear just in time. Momentarily sandwiched between the two furious men, Ginny wiggled and kicked her way free and rolled away, gasping for breath. Once he was sure that his sister was safe from the fray, one of Ron's deepest desires came true as he soundly punched Draco Malfoy square in the nose as hard as he possibly could. Blood spurted from Malfoy's nostrils as the bone crunched and cracked, but one thing about the Malfoy family--they never give up. Sputtering, Malfoy shoved Ron off of him so he could scramble to his feet. Hermione jumped forward to grab him, but her straining fingers only grasped air. Ron was already swinging away, and his hot-headedness almost cost him dearly. It was only with a stroke of good luck and a great deal of Auror training that he avoided the curse Malfoy zapped toward him. Ron fell to the floor to avoid any more curses while whipping out his own wand to retaliate.

It was at this point that Hermione could no longer sit by and watch. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" She shouted so loud that she felt her vocal cords instantly strain. Both men ignored her as they decided, without a word, that this matter should be settled masochistically with their fists instead of their wands, and set out to charge at each other once again. Hermione sighed as she pulled out her own wand. She hated using magic on Ron, but it had to be done. A quick Impedimenta curse stopped both of them in time for her to get in between them, but by that point, they had shaken off the curse and were trying to charge again. Hermione's heart thudded wildly in her chest as she automatically went to Ron first, shoving him backward as hard as she could. The depths of Ron's anger had always frightened her; he loved and hated with such a passion that when his emotions got the best of him, Hermione knew he was capable of anything. He was even capable of murder, as he had proven before.

Ron abruptly pushed her head down and toward him, and she felt a burst of wind whiz past the back of her neck; she had come mere millimeters away from receiving a punch in the head herself. That seemed to set Ron off even more, so knowing she had to do something fast, Hermione just kicked backward, reveling in the fact that she had managed to catch Malfoy squarely on the shin. She heard him recoil, howling in outrage at being beaten by a Mudblood once again. "Stay back!" she ordered furiously to Malfoy. Malfoy scowled at Hermione, but Ginny finally recovered a brain as she jumped forward to grab Malfoy's arm to ensure he obeyed Hermione. Speaking soothingly, Ginny pulled out her wand to heal Malfoy's broken nose; Malfoy, feeling that he had already lost enough blood for the day, finally stopped struggling so she could perform the necessary spells on his injured nose. Letting out a relieved breath, Hermione whirled back to Ron and pointed toward the door. "And you, get out."

Ron's ears were a livid shade of maroon, and his shoulders heaved with furious breath. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted. "Why did you get in there--why didn't you let me at him?!"

"Because you'd kill him, you'd be put in prison, and I don't have time to think of a plan to break you out of Azkaban!" Hermione snapped. She whirled around to confront Ginny who was watching her brother and his girlfriend with wide, fearful eyes. "Ginny, come on."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Ginny protested wildly. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair, almost dazedly touching her forehead as Malfoy's hand came up to the small of her back. Ron growled, but Hermione was already two steps ahead of him.

"Ginny," Hermione insisted vehemently as she forcibly pushed Ron so that he stumbled into the doorframe. Malfoy continued to watch the interplay with a contented smirk of approval, one finger almost possessively stroking the curve of Ginny's back. Ginny shook her head, but Malfoy chose that moment to lean forward, his lips almost touching her earlobe. He whispered something intimately into her attentive ear, yet his eyes never strayed from Ron.

Ron's ears and face were so red that Hermione knew that the next time he charged, all of the magic in the world wouldn't be able to stop him. She turned her back on the perverse couple so she could devote all of her energy to pushing Ron out of the door. "Ron, get outside."

"Not yet," Ron bit out. "You go ahead. I need to kill someone first, and then I'll be right there."

"Ron!"

"No!"

"Get out!"

"No!"

"Ron!"

"Hermione!"

"For the love of Merlin," Malfoy interrupted loudly. "Why don't you two just start shagging!?" Not so tenderly, he pushed a suddenly compliant Ginny forward. "Besides, she's ready now." He smirked suggestively in Ginny's direction. Sensing his eyes on her, Ginny tried to turn and reciprocate, but Hermione caught her arm just in time. "We carried on enough, don't you think?" Malfoy called to her.

Hermione didn't know how she did it, but with an incredible amount of desperate strength, she dragged both Ron and Ginny out the door and slammed it shut, cutting off the sound of Malfoy's sadistically overjoyed laughter. "All right, let's calm down," Hermione said immediately.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Ron exploded.

"None of your business!" Ginny snapped.

Hermione sighed. She was rather stupid to expect two Weasleys to be able to calm down that quickly.

"Look, Harry's gone all the time!" Ginny shouted.

"But HIM?" Ron shouted. "Why HIM? It's Malfoy, Ginny! Do you remember all he did to us, Ginny?! He cheated at Quidditch, he tried to get Hagrid fired, he made fun of our family all the time! He made fun of you, of me, of Harry, of Harry's mum, of Hermione--and oh, yeah, wait a minute, let's not forget about how he nearly killed Hermione!"

He turned around and punched the wall so hard that it left a deep dent and a coating of powdery plaster on his knuckles. He swore and shook his fist furiously, and for the first time, Hermione, who had seen Ron really angry on countless occasions, was seriously worried that if he kept this up, he was going to give himself a heart attack or a stroke.

Ginny must have sensed that too, for she made an obvious attempt to placate things by taking a deep breath and speaking in a low, calm voice. "That was a long time ago. He's different now. He didn't know what he was doing back then. He was under his father's influence--"

Ron interrupted with a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter. "Yeah, he didn't know he was doing. He had no idea that jamming a knife in Hermione's jugular would kill her."

"Ron," Hermione interjected sharply. Her hand had automatically gone to her throat. She remembered all too clearly when Malfoy had described to her how he was going to kill her, and she had firmly believed that he was very aware of what he was doing. Ron didn't need to remind her of it.

"Sorry," Ron apologized. He glanced over at Hermione, and for the first time since seeing Ginny and Malfoy, he began to breathe properly. "Sorry," he repeated. After another slam of his fist against the wall, Ron retreated to the stairs, dropping down exhaustedly on the top step and burying his face in his hands, wondering if he wrenched his eyes out whether he would have to see the image of Ginny and Malfoy kissing and touching. Ron groaned and mashed his fingers into his hair. Not even self-mutilation was going to make him forget this.

Hermione wished that she could sit beside him and try her damnedest to soothe him, but she couldn't--there were other issues she had to attend to. Although he hadn't said it out loud, she could sense that Ron had now delegated her to sorting through this awful mess. "Okay," Hermione said slowly. Ginny turned to her expectantly, tired defiance still gleaming in her eyes. "How long has this been going on?"

"A week," Ginny replied. "I ran into him in Grantham and we've been together ever since."

"So you did go to Grantham for me that day?" Hermione asked with surprise. "You just didn't tell me because you knew I wouldn't approve of Malfoy."

"Yeah," Ginny admitted. She was finally starting to look halfway guilty for deceiving everyone she had ever cared about.

"And you've been skipping work all week to be with him?"

"Yes."

Hermione sighed. "Ginny, why? Why would you do this to Harry?"

Ginny folded her arms over her chest, the old stubbornness returning to her posture. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Hermione challenged.

Ginny hugged herself closer and looked at a point on the wall over Hermione's shoulder. "I missed him, Hermione. When Harry's gone, I miss him so much I don't know what to do with myself. I just feel like such a mess--I don't feel like me--I've always known that Harry was the one ever since I met him, but lately--" Ginny touched her forehead again in confusion and shook her head slightly. "--I don't know, I met someone who gave me something that halfway resembles what I have with Harry. I mean, I know," Ginny swallowed hard, "I know what I have with Harry is the real thing, and it's what I ultimately want, but I don't know, at the time, when I ran into Malfoy, I just needed someone to touch me and fill me with something that I thought only Harry could. But I was wrong. Someone else can. And I don't care if that someone is Draco Malfoy, it's what I needed. I needed someone to touch me and tell me that I'm beautiful and that he needs me, and before I knew it, oh bloody hell, I'm in love with him." She let out a disbelieving laugh as Hermione's eyebrows shot up and Ron groaned. "Yeah, what are the odds? I love him. I love Draco Malfoy. But I still love Harry." Ginny's voice dropped to a low, but touchingly sincere tone, giving Hermione the first glimpse of the Ginny Weasley she knew and was good friends with. "I love Harry very much." Her voice grew stronger and the new, selfish, blindingly stupid Ginny returned. "But I love Draco, too. It's different. I can't explain it. It's something more primitive--deeper, more powerful, almost purely sexual--"

"Oh, for the sweet love of Merlin, kill me now," Ron begged into his palms.

"It's heat," Ginny finally defined. "There's fire between us, and something tells me I should put it out, but I can't--not as long as he's gone and I have nothing. It's--what I have with Malfoy is powerful and hot and overwhelming--it's almost like--" Ginny's eyes abruptly widened, and for the second time, Hermione saw her dear friend from school.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply. "It's almost like what?"

"I--uh--nothing-it couldn't be that, never mind, forget it." Ginny dismissed it hastily, but Hermione certainly didn't forget it. She tucked it into a spare corner of her mind, knowing that it would definitely come in handy later.

Ginny looked as though she was about to launch into the wonder that was Draco Malfoy again, but Hermione had heard enough about that subject. "What did you say to Harry?"

Ginny looked at Hermione as if she were as thick as Pansy Parkinson. "Do you think I would actually tell him?"

Hermione returned the look. "No, but I would think you would have explained yourself when he walked in on you."

"Walked in on us?" Ginny repeated with pure terror.

"Yes, we saw him coming down the stairs just before we came up--" Hermione stopped dead as she realized what must have happened, and at the same moment, Ginny and Ron seemed to come to the same realization. Harry must have entered his flat without making too much noise, seen Ginny and Malfoy going at it, and not being able to handle it, just walked out without a word. He locked the door to secure Malfoy, which was why Ginny had been locked in with him, and simply left to follow procedure. It was just like Harry to go into autopilot mode whenever his emotions threatened to overwhelm him; it was a common practice of his during the war.

Ginny's hands covered her face, and she appeared as though she wanted nothing more than to sink into a useless puddle of nothing onto the carpet. "No, no, no, no," she moaned. "He's going to hate me," she whispered miserably.

"Well, no bloody shit he will!" Ron finally spoke up, getting back to his feet so he could yell at his sister properly. "What did you bloody well expect--Harry to walk in and suggest a threesome!?"

"Ron!" Hermione protested, but once again, this argument was only for Weasleys.

"I don't know!" Ginny admitted frantically. She dropped her hands from her face, revealing a splotchy and tearstained face. "I love Harry! I don't want to end things with Harry! It's just--I was just--oh, I don't know what I was doing, but it makes sense to me, I swear!"

And just like that, Hermione knew. She didn't know whether it was because of what Ginny had just said, or because Ginny was acting almost like a completely different person, but she just knew. She was known as one of the cleverest witches to ever graduate from Hogwarts for a reason.

Ignoring Ron, Hermione strode straight over to Ginny and took the younger woman by the shoulders. "Ginny, look at me," she demanded. Ginny took a moment, but when she finally raised her eyes to her friend, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed. Her stomach twisted sharply into a tight knot, but she tried to not let it show on her face. "Go," she ordered immediately. "Get out of here, Ginny. Go find Harry."

Ginny let out a sarcastic laugh through the tears that were trying to blubber free. "Harry won't talk to me now," she reminded Hermione miserably.

"Make him speak to you," Hermione pressed. "You're a Weasley, for Merlin's sake. Make him talk to you. Apologize, or tell him off for making you feel this way, I don't care. Just go. You're not going to solve anything standing here crying, now are you?"

That statement just seemed to make Ginny want to cry more than ever. She let out a squeak and clapped a hand over her mouth again. Ron stared at his girlfriend in utter confusion. It wasn't like her to be so abrupt and impersonal. "Hermione, what--?"

"Go with her," Hermione told him. It didn't look as though she was going to be able to convince Ginny to go, so she would have to have Ron take her. "She can't be left alone like this." Ginny was now crying in earnest, and although Ron had never been this furious at her, Hermione knew that it was killing him to see her like this. "Get her some air and a glass of water. I'll be down in a minute."

"What are you going to do?" Ron demanded.

She gestured to the door. "Someone has to properly secure this door. We broke the charms Harry put on it when we entered." Ron opened his mouth to offer to do it, but Ginny had now collapsed into him, lost to her misery, and Ron had to use both arms to keep her upright. He stared at the top of his sister's head in perplexed worry. He had never seen her this upset, and after all that had just happened, it seemed completely out of character. Something had to be seriously wrong with her. He looked anxiously up at Hermione, but she just gestured to the stairs. "Go on--standing here isn't going to help her any." Ron nodded, and without another word, he helped his sobbing sister down the stairs.

Hermione waited until the two Weasleys were out of sight before striding to the door, not to lock it, but to open it and charge inside. Malfoy was lounging in the living room, his feet propped up disrespectfully on the arm of the sofa, paging through a book that could only be Ginny's diary. He had already taken the time to clean the blood off of his shirt. Once again, he appeared to be the epitome of refined perfection. "Back so soon?" he inquired casually, as if Ginny had been out for a cup of tea. He looked up, and his smirk widened when he realized whom it really was. "Oh. You then." He considered her for a moment, then shut the diary and swung his legs off the couch. "All right. I guess I could stick it in a Mudblood once. Let's get on with it."

"Shut it!" Hermione snapped in distaste, suppressing an actual physical shiver of revulsion. It sickened her to be alone in a room with Malfoy, but it had to be done. Malfoy had to be told just how disgusting he really was. "You're sick," Hermione informed him heatedly. "You can't be going around playing with people's emotions like that--you're disgusting!"

The malicious smirk just grew even wider. "I can't help if the little Weasley finds me irresistible, Granger--"

"You gave her a love potion," Hermione interjected. "I've read about the symptoms, and Ginny just said it herself--what she feels for you is like what Tom Riddle made her feel for him through Dean: synthetic sexuality. She doesn't find you irresistible--it's a spell. You put a spell on her. You're just playing with her to get to Harry, aren't you?!" Her arm twitched sharply again; she would absolutely love to hit that git again.

"Maybe," Malfoy conceded after a long moment, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Why?" Hermione exploded in disbelief.

Malfoy shrugged slightly and gave her the most sadistic sneer Hermione had ever seen. "Why not?"

Even someone with Hermione's intelligence couldn't comprehend just how malicious Draco Malfoy could be. Hermione just couldn't understand why someone would do something like this for no other reason than because he hated Harry as much as he did. She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around that concept, and she recoiled a step in disbelief, fists clenched. How sick was this man?

"You're going to get put away, you know," she informed him. "Harry came in and saw you just before Ron and I got here, and he's on his way to get an Auror squad. You'll be in Azkaban by the end of the week."

A distinct flicker of fear passed over Malfoy's eyes, but by the time he got to his feet, it had passed. "And Weasley assigned you to be my guard?" He fingered his wand threateningly, but Hermione didn't even blink.

"No," Hermione replied. "That locked door back there with the twenty irreversible charms is enough for someone like you. I'm just here to ask you a few questions."

Malfoy snorted. "The wittle reporter has a question for the big bad man?" he taunted in a baby voice.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Hermione gave him her toughest glare, the glare she was legendary for at Hogwarts--the one that all other prefects tried to copy whenever they attempted to elicit information from recalcitrant students. "Why would you do that to Filch?"

"Ah!" Malfoy crowed with understanding. "Your wittle story!"

"I see you've heard about it," Hermione noted. Goyle must still be in contact with Malfoy after all.

He clapped in false admiration. "Well done, Granger, taking advantage of a dangerous criminal's capture to get him to go on the record for some silly little story you're trying to scramble together--bravo!"

It was on the tip of her tongue to proudly inform him that for his information, her silly story would not be scrambled together: she had a source that was willing to go on the record about everything. But Hermione knew what a fatal mistake that could be, so she decided against it. "What did Filch ever do to you?" she pressed. "He worshipped the ground you walked on. There are so few of those deluded people left, I would think that you'd want to keep him close at hand."

"Well, I started a club, actually." Malfoy dropped back down on the sofa so he could spend more of his energy leering at Hermione. "I have a wide fan base, especially in Wales. We all join up once a month to get together, bow in front of a statue of me, and discuss my many attributes. You may want to join, Granger. We're pretty full, but I bet I could squeeze you in." He gave her a perverted wink. "It could fill up all of those nights you're stroking your cat, waiting for Weasley." The leer grew even wider.

Hermione ground her teeth. She felt like she was back in school and was squaring off with him in the library. It was immature and childish, yet he never failed to get a rise out of her. "Just talk, Malfoy. Maybe I can convince Harry and Ron to go easy on you if you do."

"Well, I thought we were talking," Malfoy said in fake surprise. "I've always wanted to know what your preferred method of stroking your cat is. It'll be a nice visual to hold on to when I'm in Azkaban."

Hermione clamped her lips in disgust. She was completely aware of what he was suggesting, so she quickly changed the subject. "You seem awfully calm for someone who's about to go to prison," Hermione commented suspiciously. In fact, she was quite surprised that Malfoy had tried to jump her yet. Granted, she'd had her wand aimed at him under her robes the entire time, so there was no way he would ever be able to lay a spell on her. Still, it was shocking that he hadn't tried anything.

Malfoy simply shrugged. "There are ways around this."

"And how will you manage that?" Hermione inquired sharply. "You know, they caught your father too."

Unnervingly, his expression remained stoic. "Did they?" Malfoy remarked as if Hermione had just told him that she thought it was going to rain later that day. "Pity." He gave Hermione a small smile, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. She didn't know why she even bothered; she had no bloody clue why she was up here. There was more to this interrogation than just gathering the information she needed for her article--she just couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, that something was.

"So. Why did you do that to Filch?" Hermione tried again.

Malfoy just shook his head. "You'll never believe me."

"Well, I also never could believe that someone's hair could naturally be that sickening shade of platinum, but--" Hermione trailed off with a shrug.

"Oh, Granger, has it really come to this? Insulting hair?" Malfoy clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head. "I thought we were above this."

We are, but that's just how furious I am, Hermione screamed to herself as she let out an aggravated cry and paced away for a minute. She was getting so frustrated that she could barely see straight, and she knew that her precious time was running out; as distracted as Ron must be right now, he'd still be able to pick up on her distress.

"Look--" she began, but Malfoy smoothly interrupted her.

"Besides, I think we all know I have loads more material on that subject than you do." He glanced meaningfully at her frizzy curls. "Big hair," he added childishly.

Hermione almost screamed aloud, but one last shred of self-control kept her together. "Malfoy--"

"Granger, I'm not going to tell you," Malfoy cut in again, gazing at his fingernails. "We're all entitled to our secrets." He looked up for a second. "I think you should know that better than anyone."

It was bait. Hermione knew he was baiting her. He wanted her to bite, and then he would say something else insulting, and then Ron would have run up here to stop her from slapping Malfoy clear over to America. But with her chest tight, her fists clenched, and her head held high, something inside Hermione snapped. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you know about secrets." Malfoy now was dusting invisible lint off of his immaculate robes. "You know, since Weasley is away all the time, doing Merlin knows what." He held up a hand to amend his earlier statement. "Excuse me. Merlin knows who."

Without another word, Hermione whirled around on her heel and stormed over to the door. She didn't know what she was thinking, expecting Draco Malfoy to just tell her everything. Above his freedom, he hated her even more. He would do anything to ruin Ron, Harry, or Hermione. Why she was willingly subjecting herself to his abuse, she didn't know. She must be mad; Ginny's lunacy must be rubbing off on her. She had to get out of there and go help settle Ginny down and convince Harry and Ron that Ginny hadn't been acting of her own free will. She shouldn't be wasting her time.

"And that's not the only secret he has!" Malfoy shouted after her. "There is that whole pesky matter about killing Dolohov!"

Hermione stopped dead. Shit. This was why she was here.

"What are you talking about?" she called without turning around or walking back into the living room.

"He never told you, did he? He never told you about what happened that night? He knows that you want to know, yet he doesn't say a word: why? Weasley won't tell his little Mudblood the truth: why?" Hermione heard his footsteps halt at the door, and knowing his sinister ways, Hermione could almost see him lean against the doorframe and shake his head mockingly. "Something really awful must have happened to you."

She forced herself not to look at him. "He wants to protect me."

"Since when have you ever wanted to be protected?" Malfoy drawled perceptively.

Hermione swallowed thickly, her heart drumming so hard it felt like it might burst out of her chest. "Do you know anything?"

"Yes."

Her hammering heart dropped straight to her toes. Yes, now she knew exactly why she'd had such an intrinsic urge to find Malfoy these past few months. "What do you know?" she demanded flatly.

Malfoy laughed, sensing how shaken Hermione was. This was almost as fun as it had been to slip Ginny that love potion. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he repeated mockingly. Then, his tone turned surprisingly serious. "But I will tell you one thing, Granger. Memory loss can be a scary thing, but there are ways to fix it. There are things you can brew to fix it."

Hermione finally turned to discover that her suspicions were correct; he was leaning against the doorframe, but his eyes were unusually somber. "Brew? You mean a potion?"

"Maybe."

"I can brew some sort of potion to restore my memories? Anyone's memories?" Hermione demanded, thinking that Malfoy had unintentionally helped strengthen her story for the Prophet.

"Maybe."

That meant yes. Hermione bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling. She was so close. She was so close to solving a lot of old problems and tying up loads of loose ends, and due to some bizarre twist of fate, it was all thanks to Draco Malfoy. Hermione could hardly believe it, and she didn't intend on leaving without saying so. "Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked. Hoping to make him lose his composure, she stared straight into his eyes.

It worked. Malfoy looked away and smiled again, but this time it wasn't his trademark smirk. It was wistful, nostalgic, honest, and unbelievably humane. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."