A/N: Well, this is another story that I've thought up. It's going to be at least 3-4 chapters long…and quite a bit darker than my others. Hope you like it. :)

Hermione walked slowly towards the end of the corridor, just about to finish with her patrols. Her giggling Hufflepuff partner had long disappeared, giving the convenient excuse of some essay that had to be turned in the next day.

She had to admit that it was getting way too obvious to be classified as simply unusual. All her prefect partners had started deserting her this year in the middle of their patrols. In fact, the only ones that she could get to stick around were the fifth years, that too of her own house. Every single one of them had coughed up some vague excuse or made it seem like some kind of emergency had cropped up and then they'd left her to finish the rounds all by herself.

She theorised that it might have something to do with her blood status. Come to think of it, ever since Voldemort's publicised return, all the purebloods in the school save for her friends, had begun to give her the cold shoulder. Did they seek to distance themselves from her simply because of she was a muggleborn? Or did it have something to do with her association with Harry? Did this renewed social segregation signify as the first stirrings of the oncoming war?

It was time for them to sort out their priorities because all it really came down to was who you trusted more. If you were with Dumbledore, you would respect his wishes and stay strong and united. And if you had thrown in the towel by falling for the pureblood propaganda this time around, again, then it was obvious that you were rooting for Voldemort. Going by the recent changes, she assumed most people were. It could have been fear that had motivated them to revert back to their elitist values, or maybe her years in Hogwarts had only served as a smokescreen to the perception that had always been there, lurking behind every inviting face: she was really just a mudblood. And she would never belong.

There was nothing like insecurity to mess up one's judgement, and she'd be damned if let this get to her. She was loyal to just one person and that person was Harry.

Turning the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of water pooled over the entire floor, and she groaned as she realized that she was on the second floor and this meant that Myrtle was flooding the toilets again. What could a fifty year old ghost possibly gain from that?

She hiked up her robe to her calves and waded towards the bathroom. Strangely enough, it was locked. Had Moaning Myrtle suddenly gained corporeal abilities?

"Alohomora."

She carefully stepped in and spelled all the taps closed with a flick of her wand.

There was no sign of Myrtle but as she walked forth, she noticed a subtle, whitish glow emanating from the rightmost cubicle. She walked curiously towards it.

Feeling extremely foolish, she knocked at the door.

There was no response, but the glow flickered slightly.

Shrugging, she pushed the door open. Her jaw almost hit the floor at the sight.

Draco Malfoy sat folded atop the toilet seat, sound asleep. His patronus- a falcon- was perched upon his right shoulder. If the sight of Draco Malfoy sleeping inside the cubicle of an unused girls' bathroom wasn't surprising enough, the fact that he could sustain a full-fledged patronus in his sleep really succeeded to put things in perspective for her.

If he could conjure such powerful magic in his sleep, who could tell how truly dangerous he'd become? She'd never been particularly scared of Malfoy; he'd barely been a blip on her radar in the past; but now she didn't know what kind of person he'd turned into. There was a tangible change in his personality now, something more sinister and foreboding in the way he carried himself. For the hundredth time she found herself wondering, was he really a death eater?

There was only one way to be sure.

She bent carefully on her knees, coming to level with his body. With an internal shudder, she realized that this was the first time six years that she'd come in such close proximity with him. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

She took a moment to study his face. He was pale, paler than he usually was, and there was an unhealthy grey tinge to his skin. Bruise-like shadows surrounded his eyes, which undoubtedly explained his current state. His face was smooth and relaxed, save for the rapid flickering of his eyelids. His fringe fell in a sweaty curtain over his brow. But nothing could come close to detracting from the raw attractiveness of his features. She'd been aware of it for a while in a vague, cannot-be-ignored sense but now, enclosed in this three by three cubicle with only a patronus for company, his appeal was magnified tenfold.

Gently, she pulled the sleeve of his robe away from his left arm. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the edge of a black skull engraved over the smooth skin. It was the first time that she'd come face to face with the Dark Mark, and it was enough to send her staggering back against the door.

The falcon vanished, and she stared at the person who'd been her classmate for six years, the one boy who'd bullied and insulted her more than anyone in her life, the boy who was now a Death Eater and was staring at her with an intensity that threatened to singe her skin and burn her down to charred remains.

"Malfoy…" she whispered.

With a rapid blur of movement, he pulled her upwards by the collar and pinned her hard against the door. The look of ferocious rage on his face was unlike anything that she'd seen before.

"You're not fit to utter my name, filth." The dead manner in which he said this was so reminiscent of his father that she shrunk back in horror.

He held her in place with his bare hands, keeping her suspended from the ground. For one agonising minute, she was sure that he was truly capable of killing her, right here in this deserted bathroom.

Mirroring her thoughts, he pushed the door open and flung her towards the ground. She landed in a heap in the freezing water.

"You're going to pay for this, Mudblood." Chilling malice coated his word. "You're going to regret the day you decided to put your filthy hands on me."

He began circling her, seemingly contemplating the most painful and derogatory course of punishment for her, and the pause served her as an opportunity to gather her wits.

She reached for her wand and he almost cracked a smile at the action.

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd catch up with the fact that you carry a wand. Funny, how your actions betray you for what you truly are. Just a worthless little muggle." He flicked his wrist and her wand sailed smoothly into his outstretched fingers.

She was disarmed, both literally and figuratively. Wandless magic. In all these years, she'd only witnessed Dumbledore performing it.

Now, she felt the initial burst of fury inside her gut. The little snake. The least he could do was duel her and do it on fair grounds! How dare he stand and gloat when she was obviously at a disadvantage here?

"Your master seems to have taught you some tricks, ferret. You want a medal for the accomplishment?" she stared into his eyes, "But you already have it, don't you? That cattle brand you seem to be flaunting on your arm. It must've hurt like a bitch. Your mother should be proud."

His lips tightened.

He pointed his wand at her face, and in that instant, she knew it. She knew it in her gut that he was going to use the Cruciatus curse on her. He was capable of doing it and any second now, he was going to do it.

She thought of Alice and Frank Longbottom in St. Mungo's, driven mad from the torture of Bellatrix's wand. She'd read of it, she'd heard of it and she'd barely escaped from it last year upon their refusal to submit to Umbridge. She hadn't been half as afraid as she was now but for the life of her, she couldn't stop her arms from trembling. Would she end up in another bed at the ward in St. Mungo's, delirious from the abuse of Malfoy's wand?

Something flickered in his eyes as he watched her. It might have been pity.

He muttered something and she felt a powerful Body-bind curse take hold of her entire body. It rattled her teeth from the impact, so she knew it was no ordinary Petrificus Totalus. It was not going to wear off on its own.

He supplemented the ordeal by performing a Disillusionment Charm over her. It must be something akin to a signature move, she mused, freezing his opponents and then rendering them invisible. Well, at least she'd stopped trembling.

He loomed over her invisible body.

"My mother is dead." He said unemotionally. "Let's see how long it takes for your boyfriends to find you."

He walked towards the door without a backward glance but he paused at the threshold.

"You've chosen the losing side, Granger. I hope you're aware of that."

And then he was gone.

Well, that might just be the statement of the century. If he really thought of her as a worthless muggle, how could he feel that she'd ever been in a position to choose?

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