Author's note: I didn't quite get to Hermione's meeting with the boys in this chapter. That will be next for sure. Please please review. I love the feedback, good or bad. Tell me what I'm doing right, but more importantly, tell me what I need to fix or change. Thank you to those kind readers who have already left me their thoughts!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.

The remaining two days in the school week passed quickly for Hermione. Between her essays, the rest of her homework, patrols, and classes, she never found a spare moment to hunt down Ron and Harry and talk to them--straighten things out. Also, she didn't find--create? allow?--another chance to, er, meet with Malfoy. It honestly didn't bother her, either. Twice in one day seemed plenty to her; she had been exhausted.

That Friday afternoon she was sitting on one of the couches in the Heads common room when Malfoy came smirking in through the portrait hole, towing a short, slim redhead behind him. At first glance, Hermione thought it might have been Ginny, but a second look assured her it was a younger Ravenclaw she recognized from the library. The girl had the manners to look properly embarrassed and couldn't seem to make eye contact with Hermione. What, does he routinely troll the library for horny young girls? She nearly snorted when she saw him wink at her, then continue on to him room, shutting the door behind them.

She really wasn't angry that he was parading his sexual conquests around in front of her--she did not feel overly possessive of the Head Boy--and she knew he was trying to get her worked up. She also knew she couldn't keep up with his libido. He had been working on his sexual appetite for years, building up his tolerance level like a drug addict. That thought made Hermione laugh to herself--she wouldn't be surprised to hear that Draco couldn't go a week without sex. Had he not been so obviously flaunting the girl in front of her, trying to get a reaction, she may have been more angry. By now, she knew he was just trying to get on her nerves and get her riled up for his entertainment. She refused to take the bait.

That night she spent with Ginny, checking out the last few books that could possibly have been helpful between serious catch-up sessions. Apparently, Lavender had just discovered "the joys of hanging out with boys, you know, without clothes on," as Ginny so mildly put it, and it had caused quite a commotion in the Gryffindor tower for a week or two before the girls decided not to entertain the girl's need to be the center of attention. Padma was going through what Ginny deemed an identity crisis and had cut her hair to a short bob, which accented her oval face surprisingly well, in order to be seen as a different person than her sister. She still, however, spent the majority of her time in Parvati's company, enjoying the activities they had always shared together. So much for a 'new identity'.

Hermione did not particularly enjoy or advocate gossip, but she missed the company of her friend and the antics of the House she had grown to be a part of. It was tough being on bad terms with Harry and Ron because that meant she was cutting herself off not only from her best friends--which hurt the most--but also from her second family. As she listened to Ginny ramble on, Hermione saw a common thread weave through each new piece of gossip, stitching together the loose thoughts in her mind. These individuals were trying to discover their identities, trying to figure out who they were and who they were to become. She had often times found herself wandering down that dark pathway, late at night when she couldn't sleep, wondering what she would find in the light at the end. Every time she took that journey, however, that light seemed to grow more and more distant. With the upcoming war, it was hard not to spend so much time on such things.

She knew her cause was undoubtably the correct one, but at times she worried whether or not good could actually overcome evil. She knew even from her experiences at Hogwarts that hate was a powerful device that, if properly agitated and directed, could be nearly unstoppable. Then, she would consider all the love she had in her life. There were, of course, her parents. They loved here more than anything she could imagine in this world. Having the unswerving and constant foundation of their love was the base upon which she was able to build her successful life. She knew she would be a fraction of herself without their love. Then there were her friends. Ron and Harry, no matter what they said to her or how dumb they acted sometimes, always had her back. Without the strength of the friendship like theirs, she could not have flourished into the confident individual she was. They knew she was a glutton for knowledge and could somehow never find a way to keep her hand down in class, and they accepted her and loved her for it all the same. Ginny was similar, but she had the female connection with her. The boys could be gabbing away for days about Quidditch or fuming on about Snape and all Hermione would have to do is look at Ginny and she would know they were on the same wavelength. Millicent Bulstrode should not have worn that top today, she looks like a man. Let's meet up later to work on our charms together. Doesn't that color make Ernie Macmillan's eyes look to die for? She didn't consider herself a silly girl, but with Ginny she allowed herself the luxury of voicing such stray remarks, knowing Ginny wouldn't hold anything against her. It was a friendship she truly counted on when she had pressing matters she didn't feel comfortable discussing with the boys.

However, she also knew the crushing force of evil and hatred. While she didn't have that destructive influence in her life, she could easily see what it did to those around her. The perfect model was none other than her co-Head, Draco Malfoy. She was sure his parents--his father, at the very least--never showed much compassion for him. From his birth, he was molded and directed, preened to follow in his father's footsteps. All for the lust for power, the thirst for influence. Being good offered self-satisfying rewards, following evil's path tempted individuals with control, influence, fortune. It is easy to control a world gripped in fear--no one would dare to contradict you for fear of their own lives. Sighing, she felt conflicted about Malfoy. Especially now that she was being physical with him, she felt somewhat responsible for him. She knew she was not to make any ties, but she couldn't fight the urge to save him. Well, maybe that was being a little dramatic. Maybe she if she could just show him that it was possible to step out from his father's shadow, to create his own footsteps...but it all seemed impossible. The boy was so filled with years of evil and loathing--following the path of least resistance to hate without questioning because it was easier than forming his own opinions. That is what scared her the most about Voldemort's army. A set of individuals, scared out of their minds, desperate for a scrap of power, wild for their master's approval, without a thought of their own in their heads, lunging after her throat. There was no way they could succeed, right? Right? That's what she kept telling herself, but she knew the motivation behind fear could be more powerful than that behind the desire for doing what was right. At least, it was easier.

Ginny noticed the distance in her friend's eyes and stopped in the middle of her musings over who Hannah Abbott's secret boyfriend may be.

"Earth to Hermione!" she called, snapping in front of the older girl's face. Hermione awoke from her daze with a start and shook her head, returning to reality.

"Sorry--a lot on my mind," she mumbled, groping around the table at the books they had gathered, "can we just finish this tomorrow? I need some rest." Ginny looked slightly puzzled, but knew better than to bother her about it. She couldn't even imagine the amount of stress the Head Girl must be under, since she herself was barely able to keep her head above water and it was only the end of the first week.

Hermione was back in her common room before she realized she had even moved. She vaguely recalled agreeing to meet with Ginny and the boys at noon tomorrow at the Room of Requirement, then bidding her redheaded friend goodnight. She could tell Ginny knew she was preoccupied, but was thankful that the girl hadn't pestered her about it. She was exhausted and she just wanted to go to sleep. She set her bag down and walked over to the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinet where a slew of medical potions were stored.

"Granger? Hello...?!" Malfoy's sharp voice cut through the fog that seemed to disorient her mind.

"Er, yeah?" she replied, puzzled, as she continued to rummage.

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" he was staring intently at her. She shook her head, wishing she didn't live in a time where she couldn't know whether or not she was going to live to see her 18th birthday. Wishing this wasn't her war to fight, that the people in her world could just learn a thing or two about tolerance. She focused her eyes on Malfoy and felt unreasonable anger begin to burn the fog out of her brain. People like him were the reason she was in this position.

"No, I'm not in the mood to deal with your insults or get you off tonight. Sorry," she snapped finding the potion she was looking for. He blinked and she was sure he would have looked surprised if he was not so practiced at hiding his expressions. He read the label of the vial she was holding instead.

"Dreamless sleep potion? Granger, what in Merlin's name..." he began, testily.

"I said not tonight. I'm going to sleep, enjoy the rest of your Friday," she said, turning on her heel and retreating to her room. Before she managed to shut her door, she heard him call after her something about who would possibly be going to bed at nine thirty on a Friday night. She didn't care. She was sick of constantly worrying, making plans and being responsible. She wanted to be a kid again. The last thing she wanted right then was to lie in bed for hours with everything whirling around in her head, staring up at the ceiling. The responsibilities of Head Girl, all of her classwork, the tangled mess of a relationship she was weaving with Malfoy and her work for the Order on top of it all were starting to wear her thin and it had only been one week of school

She peeled off her clothing and slipped into bed without brushing her teeth. Downing the contents of the vial, she closed her eyes as she listened to Malfoy bump around particularly loudly in the common room as he prepared to leave for the evening.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She opened her eyes, and gave a startled gasp. Her room, pitch dark a second ago, was now dim with the murky light of dawn. Looking over at her clock, she quickly determined that 11 hours had passed in the blink of her eyes. However, she felt incredibly well rested and her mind seemed clearer, neater than it had been the night before as she stretched and dragged herself over to the bathroom. That dreamless sleep potion was a miracle in a vial, she decided thankfully as the steamy shower chased the remaining fog from her brain. Just as she was toweling off and getting dressed for the day, she heard the handle on Malfoy's door jiggle and muffled cursing behind the heavy door. She smiled to herself as she took an extra few minutes on her morning routine before unlocking the door.

"About time, Granger!" he bit, striding into the bathroom. The wonderful night's sleep hadn't cured her of her impatience for his antics just yet and she made her way to her own door before he could get too close to her.

"Enjoy your shower, Malfoy," she said, leaving no room for further comments as she shut the door behind her.

Making french toast that morning, the boy showering in the next room remained in her thoughts. He was, undoubtably, a cruel and malicious person. He was prejudiced and uncaring and ruthless. However, he was also incredibly smart and, though she hated to admit it, extremely good looking. At times, she even found herself enjoying his company. Most of those times included their breakfasts or study breaks together, or when they were in various states of undress, yet they still existed. She wondered about his character. Because he kept himself so carefully guarded and she was so used to being able to read those who surrounded her--usually her friends--fairly easily, it was difficult for her to decide who he was. Was he cruel because he was taught that or cruel because that is what he enjoyed? She had no idea what growing up in his house had been like. But with his brain and his ambition, he could easily be a huge asset to the Order. This war was all about advantages and she would take every last one she was given the opportunity to take. Although they had a mutual understand that, after their huge fights at the very beginning of the term, the subject of the was was taboo, off limits, Hermione decided to broach the topic as they ate that morning anyways.

Just as Hermione finished cutting the slices of now golden french toast diagonally into triangles and stacking them neatly onto two plates, Draco emerged from his shower--shirtless again. She dusted the french toast with powdered sugar, ignoring him as he grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with milk. When he sat down, she held out his plate to him and tore her eyes away from a stray water droplet finding its way down his smooth, pale chest. Focus, Hermione. She leaned against the counter by the stove as usual and watched him carefully as he tucked into his meal.

"What?" he asked slowly, noticing her scrutiny. He stopped chewing as if he suspected what she had done to the food.

"Nothing," she said, as if it wasn't the end of her thought. his eyes narrowed at her.

"What?" he asked again, annoyed now.

"I don't know, I was just wondering..." she was nervous to start the conversation now.

"Out with it, Granger!" he growled.

"Ok, fine. Promise you won't yell at me? Or throw things? Promise you'll stay in your seat?" she tried to figure out how best to preserve her health--or life, with a temper like his--for this subject.

"What are you going on about?"

"Promise," she repeated, as an order.

"As if you would put any stake in one of my promises. We both know you better than that, Granger," he said, the suspicion shifting from the food to the girl standing across the counter from where he sat.

"Fine. I guess it wouldn't make me feel better anyways. I just wanted to know, are you happy?" He almost choked, but carefully kept composure.

"And what does this have to do with me yelling at you?"

"Well, I mean, with your...er...path," she said, unsure how to phrase her inquiry. It had all sounded so focused in her head, but she realized she actually didn't know how to bring this up with him.

"Why are you concerned?"

"Why aren't you answering my questions?" She could tell her was getting angry, but he wasn't going to show it. Not yet, anyways.

"I don't think this is a conversation to be having with you, Granger. You are not to be concerned with my life. Just because we have this deal--" he replied, sidestepping again.

"We're both Heads, Malfoy. We're going to be living together all year. I am going to concern myself with your life whether or not you approve because what you do impacts my life as well," she reminded him. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"Why do you take orders? How do you go along with what others tell you without so much as a question or an objection, if you have no say in your own life? I know you're much too smart for that." As soon as Malfoy realized the direction this conversation was taking, he stiffened and set his fork carefully on his plate. His eyes blazed.

"That is none of your concern, mudblood," he said, managing to keep his voice level, "I make the decisions in my life and they are not for you to question."

"But you don't, Malfoy, you've been trained and groomed from the time you were born! With a brain and drive like yours, how could you let someone else determine your life?" She had set her plate down now, and was gesturing mildly with her hands.

"I believe I have decided to follow my father-"

"Because of what he has been teaching you for your whole life!"

"-on my own accord. Have you ever thought that maybe you are the wrong one here? Maybe you've chosen the wrong path?" He wasn't yelling, he wasn't throwing things. He hadn't even stood up. From a distance, one might mistake their conversation for a civil one.

"Maybe I have, but at leave I've picked it for myself," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "But I care about my friends and my family and I don't want to see them destroyed over this war. You would be a great asset to our side, Malfoy. Consider it. Just because someone has repeated the same thing to you over and over does not make it right."

"I will not discuss this with you anymore, Granger," he said, picking up his fork again. "I am looking out for my own personal safety and I will pick my own path, the one where I end up alive at the end of this-"

"Don't you care about the ideals you're fighting for?"

"- and nothing you tell me can change my mind, just like nothing I say can change yours. I implore you do not bring this up again. This french toast is very good. Is that vanilla I taste?"

"Yes," she sighed, doubtful that anything she said had any impact on him. She picked up her plate and began to eat again.