Once Granger was asleep that night, Draco decided it was time to go walking. He had too many questions swirling around in his mind to sleep anyway, and he intended on paying a certain Slytherin a visit.

After all, talking to Blaise with Granger bleeding on the ground was a bit distracting. He knew the Italian wouldn't tell him everything with her hanging around, and there was definitely more to the story than Blaise let on. Even Granger's shotty explanation didn't fill in all the holes.

As far as he knew, Blaise didn't play a big role during the war, but it was hard to tell with the extreme measures his long term friend took in tormenting one little prisoner. Her position didn't make a damn difference, he thought all the extra effort was wasted. Emotionally she still seemed to suffer from what happened, so the physical damage that lingered seemed a little excessive.

And he intended on finding out why Blaise went to such extremes. He didn't even know the Italian knew such complex magic. He'd never let on that he did before.

Voldemort couldn't have had that much of an influence.

Entering the common room, he was immediately attacked by Astoria, who threw her arms loosely around his neck in what he assumed was supposed to be a hug before nearly toppling over. If they weren't friends he probably would've just let her eat the floor.

"Draco! We've been looking everywhere for you!"

He frowned, knowing that wasn't true as he guided her to the nearest chair and pushed her down on the cushions. She giggled there, wiggling her eyebrows at him for a moment before getting distracted, immediately looking around for a bottle she'd left somewhere else. Shaking his head he moved on, knowing she'd be more than able to find another one soon.

They were all supposed to drink in Hogsmeade, but he should've known the festivities wouldn't stop there. Half the house seemed to be crammed into the common room, lying lazily around on the furniture either already passed out or still holding onto the liquor they were consuming. The whole place would be a disaster come morning.

And he missed out.

Shifting around between his housemates he tried to fight down his disdain. If he wasn't busy chaperoning his dorm mate for fear that Blaise would do something to her he'd be smashed by now, and would probably be smashing someone.

It didn't take a lot of effort to locate Blaise in the back of the room, locking lips with Pansy of all people. Draco decided to ignore the fact that his mate was presently smacking on his ex, and rolled his eyes when Pansy adjusted her top as they pulled apart.

Well, they were pretty drunk if the smell seeping off them was an indicator. Rolling his eyes Draco cocked his head to the side, ignoring Pansy in favor of the Italian.

"Blaise."

"Draco," he replied, his voice much more controlled than he expected. Maybe the reek of liquor was primarily Pansy, because from his tone of voice he had a hard time believing Blaise was even buzzed. "I didn't think you'd make it down tonight. Figured you'd be… occupied."

He didn't miss the hostility in his friend's voice, or the odd look Pansy shot his way. Apparently she didn't know anything about Blaise's warped mind either. He needed to error on the side of caution, especially since he didn't really know what Blaise's mind was coming up with.

Besides, if he even feigned interest in whatever warped idea Blaise had going, he could potentially figure out what he was aiming for with this spell.

"I don't have any plans," he replied smoothly, hands slipping down into his pockets. "In fact, I think I was supposed to partake in our drinking escapade tonight."

Blaise smirked, shifting until Pansy got up off his lap. He moved to the far corner, Draco trailing a safe distance behind. So far he hadn't seen Daphne around anywhere, which got the gears in his head spinning. Weren't they supposed to be dating?

He got distracted when Blaise handed him a drink, noting the lid still unopened. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about being poisoned. Popping the top he glanced around, noting the few scattered people around the room who were still awake.

"I'm guessing you got the Mudblood all fixed up?" Blaise asked, his tone light even as their topics shifted.

Draco scoffed, fixing his friend with a glare. "No, I believe you worked pretty damn hard to make that impossible. What's the payout Blaise? What are you really getting by watching her suffer?"

A knowing grin danced across Blaise's face, but he didn't respond. "It's really interesting to watch what the effects of a master spell can do to a person. Did you ever get to read study personally under the Dark Lord, Draco?"

Narrowing his eyes, he clenched the bottle in his hand. He hadn't been a favorite of Voldemort's for quite some time leading to his death. "Can't say we were all that close."

"No," Blaise agreed, bobbing his head, "you weren't. Too many fuck ups in a row and he just lost interest in you, no matter who your father is. It's a shame, you could've worked these spells beautifully."

Tapping his tense fingers against the neck of the bottle, Draco tried to figure out what exactly Blaise was playing at. He rarely came to the Manor during the war when Voldemort came by, so unless the pair met in private there was no way he'd have gotten some sort of special treatment snake-face was alive.

He'd always heard rumors of Voldemort searching for a prodigy in case he met his demise, but Draco couldn't see Blaise being that person. He was too distanced in the war, never actually playing a part just dancing around. Half the time when Draco did see the boy he was mouthing off about old Voldy, deeming the majority of his decisions unnecessary and piloted by an emotional grudge towards the boy who lived.

In hindsight, Blaise wasn't totally wrong. Voldemort and all his direct followers weren't cautious enough, believing their location to be both warded and difficult to find since only so many pureblood families knew the location of the manor. In the end, nearly all of them died the night the manor was swept through.

"And Voldemort just handed you the knowledge of these spells?"

Blaise's lip twitched, almost pulling into a half smile before dropping again. "I suppose you could call it that. Of course, the knowledge didn't come without some discipline."

"And I'm sure he was all too willing to dish that out," he scoffed, shaking his head. "He always was a glutton for punishment."

"As we all are," Blaise agreed, smirking. "It's a shame Granger isn't too… perhaps she'd see why we have to punish her."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco assessed the man in front of him once more. Blaise was a wild card for the most part, silent until the last few months. He couldn't fathom what would make the Italian go after Granger of all people, someone he didn't even associate with prior to the war. His reasoning just didn't seem to fit together.

"And why is that?" he asked, popping the bottle open. May as well get a little something out of this if all Blaise planned to do was ramble. "Granger's a Mudblood was you said, punishing her seems like an extra bit of work."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Blaise whined, momentarily pouting. "You used to go out of your way constantly to screw with the lives of Potter and his friends. Is it so unheard of that I would go after Granger?"

"I just don't see the reasoning," Draco admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "She has no particular meaning to you, and to boot she's one of the most-watched faces in the magical world. If we weren't in school right now the media would've caught wind of her mysterious curse. And you'd be facing time in Azkaban and soon as she admitted it."

Blaise laughed, his eyes dancing with life. "I'm not worried Draco, and you must learn to relax. She's not going to breathe a word."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco sipped the remainder of the drink before tossing it aside, watching it bounce into the rubbish bin. "Why the hell won't she? You should be worried Blaise. I may have found out by accident, but now that your spell hasn't killed her she's more than willing to tell everyone what's really going on."

I pray to Merlin that's true.

Shaking his head, he never once lost his air of arrogance. "Draco, come now. Don't be rash. You don't seriously think that I put this whole thing together without an insurance policy, do you?"

"An insurance policy?"

"But of course." Blaise reached up, tapping the side of his head. "Of course she'll get up the gumption to tell someone, that's a given. I knew the moment I decided to curse her that she'd eventually get brave enough to say something. I simply put another spell in place to counteract this. The girl was fucking dying when I cursed her! I doubt she even remembers it."

Draco stiffened, unsure he wanted to hear what Blaise did. If he asked he would have too much information, and he might actually start wanting to help his bleeding roommate.

After all, she couldn't rightly just bleed out every night. He'd have noticed the stench of blood at some point and would've asked questions either way.

"What secondary curse?"

Tapping the side of his head again, Blaise winked. "Trauma. She'll literally start losing her mind, hallucinating and seeing things that aren't there if she talks. No one's going to believe her if she sounds batty. And if the bint is smart enough to throw it off, and I'm not arrogant enough to believe that isn't a possibility, then her mouth, throat and tongue will bleed when she tries to speak and it will continue until she stops or dies."

Surprised, the blond didn't have a response to that. This was intricate magic, the type that Draco himself had little practice with. To cast such a spell – no, a curse – on someone took an immense amount of magical strength, not to mention the intricacies of compiling multiple spells and requirements into a single binding act.

Blaise didn't do this on a whim. Whether the spell was originally planned for Granger or simply happenstance was not important. He intended to lock someone into this binding curse, trapping them behind requirements that might not even be obvious.

And if Granger was bound to be harmed again by simply trying to tell the truth, then he had to keep her from saying something yet. At least he knew, and that was something.

Now he just needed to decide if he would do anything to help.

"I can see the gears in your mind turning," Blaise continued, looking amused as he glanced around the room. "I won't bore you with all the details Draco, and I'm not certain you can yet be trusted with them. Your loyalties still teeter between light and dark, but I believe you can be persuaded overtime. Watch the head girl in the coming weeks, you'll see a difference I'm sure."

Biting the inside of his cheek, Draco forced his internal battle to be quiet. He needed to speak carefully with Blaise. For whatever reason he was giving him information, but just because he was being upfront about things didn't mean he was truthful. "You still haven't explained how this benefits you."

"In due time Draco, in due time," Blaise remarked, reaching out to squeeze his friends shoulder. He stiffened beneath the hold, reading Blaise's body language. He seemed at ease about everything but something was off, hovering behind his eyes.

Doubt. Be it for his plan or Draco's faith in him, Blaise had something to doubt. Draco hoped it at least stayed that way.

"Oh, and one last thing," Blaise continued, filling the silence when he didn't speak again. "It's not going to be so easy anymore for someone to just happen across Granger's physical appearance. I've been able to successfully place a spell on her since you found out, so now those who do not know of the situation will see nothing wrong, other than her outward pain. As far as their understanding goes, she'll just look like a girl in an odd amount of pain."

"I suppose that keeps your cover from being blown," Draco muttered, shaking off his hand. "You wouldn't want to leave a sliver of room for your plans to fail."

"No, that would be foolish of me. I've learned from our lord's mistakes."

Draco's eyebrows drew together, hating that term. It implied that Draco still worshipped that maniac, and he'd learned along the way that Voldemort was not pushing for a better world, but simply trying to destroy the present one. "I've heard enough. Clearly your main goal is to watch Granger suffer. Fine, have it your way. I think you've taken some extreme measures, but I'm not going to fight with you. Do whatever you please."

But I still don't agree with you. All that torture was supposed to be left behind when the war ended, not shift into our school instead.

Blaise nodded, but his eyes were practically glowing. He didn't buy Draco's lie, and the blond didn't care. So long as it sated his friend for the time being, that's all that mattered. "I'm not sure you can detach yourself from the mudblood long enough to hold true to those words."

"What are you implying?"

"If you were so impartial towards her wellbeing, you would've let her fight herself when we ran into each other," he replied, smirking. "You've already shown me that you at least have empathy for the girl. That could be dangerous."

"Dangerous for whom, exactly?"

"Well, that depends on where your loyalties lie." He raised his glass, cheering Draco's drinkless hand. "But that's enough talk for one night, don't you think? It's late, and we've drawn enough attention to ourselves. Go on, party. There are plenty of eyes watching you."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco didn't stop him from sweeping past and returning to the same group of people he was with before. Glancing around he did note the odd stares they received from the people still awake, partying amongst themselves but distracted by the whispering duo.

Off to the side he noticed Daphne and Theo sitting together talking, the girl looking like she'd been crying. Well, at least he knew where she was now. Deciding nothing good could come from staying he moved towards the door, hoping to escape the tension filled room before anyone could catch him.

No such luck.

"Have a chat?" Theo asked, cutting him off at the door. He'd left Daphne alone, the girl staring down at her feet. "So glad you could finally be bothered to show up."

"I had some things to attend to."

"Yeah, that's what Blaise said. Really Draco, you took some damn patrols on a Saturday night? What the hell is wrong with you? Most of the time you don't even go on your own patrols and now you're ditching us to hang out with Granger?"

That cheeky bastard told on me.

"Something came up," he replied, shrugging. "Since Blaise knows everything about my life now maybe you should ask him what the fuck's going on."

Shoving past Theo, he let the door slam behind him. He didn't need this right now. He had enough things on his mind without worrying about without wondering what his precious friends thought of him from blabbermouth Zabini.

Didn't he have something better to do than tattle?

Shaking his head, Draco tried to focus. He'd only had one drink, an extremely light one at that and yet his emotions were starting to feel supercharged. Even when he was drunk he didn't usually feel this wired.

Maybe something was wrong.

No, he wouldn't think like that. Blaise was just trying to get in his head and make him feel bad for helping out the Mudblood. It was totally unfair, but he was beginning to believe a lot of things Blaise did didn't follow the rules.

He just didn't get why.

By the time he made it to the dorm door he was feeling light headed. Something was definitely wrong. He could drink with the best of them and not end up this unsure with his footing.

Falling into the door he was finally able to mutter the password, practically falling into the room when it opened up. Damn, the bloody thing seemed to be moving fast…

Fast. He liked fast things. Brooms, drinks, partners…

Draco shook his head. He couldn't focus. The entire room was starting to spin, something he hadn't experienced in years since he began drinking. Running a hand down his face he tried to keep his mind on track, feeling his head lull as a wave of unexpected heat swept over him.

Nearly cursing, he realized what happened. Blaise must've cast a spell when he handed him the drink, somehow successfully drugging him.

A spell that could do the same damage as a potion… that's some serious magic levels there.

Stumbling towards his room, Draco tried to keep his eyes focused on the door but found them constantly drooping down to his feet. He only made it a couple meters away from his door before he found himself falling forward, slamming into the ground with an undignified drunk.

God damn wanker.

Draco let his eyes slip shut, feeling a wave of exhaustion fall over him. Distantly he thought he heard the sound of a door opening, but that was probably his imagination.

Hermione, momentarily stunned to find the blond man passed out in their living room, took several moments to compose herself before stepping forward.

What was this dimwit doing out this late? She wanted to deal with Zabini in the morning after she had some time to think of what she really wanted to do. She needed to do this before she lost her nerve.

But something was wrong. They both went to sleep hours ago so he shouldn't be dressed like he just came from somewhere. Crouched beside him now she could clearly see he was wearing school robes, not any form of sleep attire.

So he'd gone out. She wondered why before remembering it was none of her business. Unless he was out making Zabini more of a problem for her she didn't need to actually care.

It's not like he cared what she did either.

Crouching beside Malfoy now, she hesitantly brushed his fringe out of his face. He really did look awful, eyes half closed and muttering something to himself as he laid there. She wasn't even sure if he was conscious.

"Erm… Malfoy?"

"The… r-o…"

She frowned, pressing one hand to his forehead. He had a fever going, his skin almost burning her to touch. Stepping back she immediately assessed his position. He had to have fallen, and he could potentially be drunk but his breath really didn't smell that bad. Pulling her wand from her bathrobe pocket she levitated him onto the couch, watching his facial expressions as she moved him.

If he was awake before, he wasn't now. The git was snoring.

"Maybe he is drunk," she muttered, moving back towards her room. She'd heard Malfoy come back absolutely smashed before, and this was different. He was either a jerk or snoring incredibly loudly, but not lightly and not muttering nonsense. Something didn't feel quite right.

Digging through her drawers she found a pepper-up potion, hoping this would do the trick if he was just drunk. She wanted to know where he was. Zabini was a Slytherin after all, and Malfoy had some sort of bizarre interest in her predicament. She hoped he hadn't picked a fight with the arrogant Italian, or worse tried to figure out what he wanted.

She wasn't even sure about that.

"Okay Malfoy, wake up," she grunted, returning to the common room. He was still dozing, lost in his own little world. She grabbed his shoulder, shaking him a couple times until he grunted, cracking one eye open to glare at her. "That's better."

Without warning she shoved the vial into his slightly gaping mouth, ignoring the surprised look when his eyes widened. Using every bit of her strength she made him down the potion, recognition dancing in his eyes. Well, hopefully he realized what she was trying to do.

Malfoy nearly ripped the vial out of his mouth when it was empty, throwing it across the room. She let him, falling back onto the chair next to him, eyes staring into his. At least he didn't seem so exhausted now.

"Bloody hell Granger," he muttered, sitting up to grab his head. He looked confused, staring around the room like he wasn't sure how he got there. "How long was I out?"

"A couple minutes maybe. I heard you come in and collapse. Too much drinking?"

He flashed her a glare, sitting straighter on the sofa. His eyes were dark, mixed with some sort of hate she didn't usually see. "No."

"Oh. Are you going to make a habit of passing out in the common room then?"

She could see the vein by his temple bulging, his annoyance almost comical as they sat there. "It's not from drinking, at least not from the alcohol itself. I think Blaise drugged me."

Eyes widening, she tightened her hands into the seat of the chair, holding on for dear life. "Why… why would he do that?"

"Oh I don't know," he snapped, shaking his head. "To send a message, for the fun of it, who knows. I should've never had the beer he offered. He did something in passing it off to me."

"Why, why would he drug you? He didn't seem angry earlier at you when we… when we ran into each other in the halls."

"I told you, I don't know. Maybe it's a warning. I know about your curse, but he was pretty insistent that no one else will find out."

Hermione hesitated a moment, unsure she really wanted to know where this was going. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy relayed his encounter to her, her fear spiking the longer he told the story. So Zabini did have precautions set in case she wanted to blab. Either he just set those in place when he realized Malfoy found out and wasn't being totally truthful, or Malfoy was an exception to these so-called rules since he found out on his own.

"Even if I try to tell someone, it's not going to work," she whispered, staring at the floor. "He's caught me, with almost no extra effort. If I tell anyone else, it'll just kill me."

"It could be total bull," he reasoned, staring at her. "We have no reason to believe what he said. It all seems very convenient, doesn't it? He can't have a solution to everything, there's no way he can anticipate every outcome and obstacle. Even if some of it's true there's no way all of it can be."

"And how do you propose we find out what is and isn't, hmm? Should I just try telling or showing someone else and see if I bleed out while they can't see a thing? Maybe I should just run up to Harry and Ron and demand that they talk to Zabini themselves, that'll do the trick. Why don't we get everyone killed while we are at it."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, giving her an unimpressed look. "Don't you think that's kind of extreme?"

"All of it's extreme," she grumbled, shifting her gaze around the room. "It's dangerous to test his threats anyways when I don't even know what to believe. Telling you was a mistake to begin with."

"I resent that. If I didn't find out you'd still be wandering around suffering all by yourself in that pitiful state I found you in." He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to one side. "How did that potion work anyhow?"

"It helped," she agreed, giving him a brief smile. "The pain was definitely less, which is more than I accomplished on my own. It's almost dawn, the pain usually starts to go away by now. It just left a little earlier today so… thanks."

"Told you, you just needed one of my potions," he smirked, ignoring her irritated look. "Now if you excuse me I have to brew myself something. Pepper-up potions are nice, but I don't trust Blaise. I want something stronger to make sure whatever that was goes away. Good thing he was never all that powerful when it came to enchanting things, just curses I guess."

Hermione nodded, believing that wholeheartedly. "I'll think about what you've told me. I don't know what to do to be completely honest. I thought I might be ready but now… I don't know how much more pain I can take."

"I figured you'd say that," he grumbled, standing from the sofa. Her eyes followed his movements, looking increasingly troubled. "Whatever Blaise tried to do failed on me. If you still insist on keeping it a secret, fine. I'll just have to tell someone myself. After all, he didn't say doing anything will kill me."

A/n: So here's chapter five. Do you think Blaise was being truthful or lying to save face? Let me know! Hopefully I can get another chapter out in two weeks instead of almost four…