**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.... 
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Chapter 7:  Confessions of Innocence

Hermione sagged against a wall and took a deep breath. "Why in the world did I tell him that?" She asked herself.

When Malfoy looked at her that way, with those gray eyes that seemed to darken with his mood, she was unable to lie. She had told him what she hadn't told anyone else, she had almost let him die, done something that she would think only dark wizards would do. And now Malfoy knew. 

Hermione let her bag drop to the ground and then sank to sit besides it. She let her dark hair fall into her face as she pulled her knees up and let her forehead rest against them. Things would be perfect right now if it wasn't for him. The little that she had accomplished in the library that evening had been very interesting. Hermione knew that she could easily lose herself up in that room. She loved Arithmancy; it was so ordered and structured. But no, how could she lose herself with Malfoy glaring at her? It made her so angry to think about him, that smug look, that malicious smirk. All he did was make trouble. 

"And he thinks that he's handsome just because his eyes sparkle sometimes." Hermione grumbled and then stopped, "What am I thinking? If his eyes sparkle it's only because he's thinking something evil." 

"Hermione? What're you doing?"

Hermione jerked up to find Dean Thomas staring down at her,

"Hello Dean," she said smiling at him.

"Are you all right Hermione?" Dean looked fairly concerned about finding the young Gryffindor alone in a dark corridor.

"I'm fine, just thinking about how much I hate Malfoy." Hermione glared around at nothing in particular.

"Oh, and here I thought that something was bothering you." Dean broke out in a large, easy grin. "Now if you didn't hate Malfoy, then we'd start to worry."

Hermione felt herself relax and she took the hand that Dean offered her. He easily pulled her to her feet.

They walked back to the Gryffindor common room together. As they leisurely strolled along, Hermione spoke non-stop about what Malfoy and her were doing up in the little chamber off the library. They stepped threw the portrait hole and the image of Malfoy's face faded completely from Hermione's mind. She had always found the common room to be warm and soothing, at least, when it wasn't being used for as a testing zone for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The evening's Quidditch practice had obviously just come to an end because the whole of Gryffindor's team was standing near the doorway, covered head to foot in mud, and discussing strategy. Hermione waved at Ron and Harry, stifled a yawn, and then started up to the girl's dormitory. Lavendar and Parvarti were whispering merrily to each other over a divination book entitled Palmistry of Love, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and stowed books under her bed. She pulled on her pajamas and crawled thankfully into bed. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was "I hate Draco Malfoy."



"C'mon Hermione, how long does it take you to eat a bowl of porridge anyway?" Ron was impatiently pushing a few raisins around his plate with a fork. 

"Well it is Saturday. I'm not exactly in a rush you know." Hermione told him as she refilled her glass of pumpkin juice. As she told him this, the owls swept in through the high windows. As usual, a brown owl deposited the Daily Prophet in front of Hermione. But before the first owl could take off again, another owl had landed next to it. This owl was a little larger than the delivery owl and a grayish color. A letter was tied to the foot that it extended over Hermione's bowl. 

"Who's that from Hermione?" Harry asked as he watched Hedwig who flew down to deposit a note from Hagrid into his lap. 

Hermione looked up in time to notice Malfoy's eagle owl land at the Slytherin table. "It's from Viktor." She told them. 

Ron's face suffused with color at the mention of the Quidditch player's name. "What's that git still sending you letters for? I thought you told him that you just wanted to be friends."

"I did tell him that I just wanted to be friends, and we are friends, which is why he sends me letters. Really Ron, I thought that you would have gotten past this by now." Hermione slipped the letter into her bag to save for later. There was no point in further antagonizing Ron by reading it here. 

"Are you two ready? Hagrid wants us to come down for a visit." Harry told them as Hedwig flew off with the other owls. Ron turned to Hermione to see if she was done eating.

"You two go on, I'm going to the library in for a bit." She told them as she tore into a piece of toast.

"The library? Hermione, it's the weekend!" Ron told her in a plaintive voice. 

"Well I want to go now so that I can avoid Malfoy." She told them.

"How do you know that Malfoy won't be there now?" Ron asked her.

"I know that Malfoy won't be there because you and Harry were just complaining about how you two can't play Quidditch this morning because the Slytherins reserved the field for practice, he is their seeker in case you have forgotten." She took a drink of juice and pushed her bowl away from her. 

"Well, we'll see you for lunch then I suppose," Harry told her as he and Ron stood up. "And watch out for Malfoy!" He said with a grin.



Hermione sat up in the room in the library. She had opened several different crates that morning. Each seemed to contain charts and scrolls from different years. A few even contained fragile spell books. She looked through these for quite some time before she finally stopped and started to work. Every once in a while she would get up to go look out the window, from here she could see the Quidditch field. Glancing at her watch, Hermione decided to check to make sure that Malfoy was still out on the field. Sure enough, various broom-seated figures were shooting around the field, and one of them had a shock of white-gold hair. Hermione paused and watched for a moment. She had to admit that Malfoy was a decent Seeker, nothing like Harry of course, but he probably wouldn't have needed to buy his way onto the team. 

Hermione opened a window and then sat back down at the table. She opened a scroll and found that it wasn't nearly as interesting as the previous ones had been. This scroll had more to do with divination than with Arithmancy. Hermione yawned and pulled out her quill and settled herself more comfortably in the squishy chair that she had pulled over to the table from the fireplace. Unfortunately, she had made herself a bit too comfortable, and when the quill fell out of her hand and her head came to rest against her folded arms on the table in front of her, she didn't even notice. 

"Granger." 

Distantly Hermione heard a soft voice. There was a light touch to her cheek and the whisper sounded again.

"Granger." 

Hermione breathed in a little deeper and wondered why Lavendar and Parvarti couldn't keep their voices down in the dorm. She felt a soft puff of breath against her cheek and she raised her hand to pet Crookshanks, but instead of fur her hand touched something smooth and cool. The voice, which was becoming clearer as she slowly woke up, repeated again.

"Granger."

Her hand was still pressed up against the smooth surface of what wasn't Crookshanks. Hermione blinked open her eyes and yanked her hand back as if burned with a small cry of shock. Her hand had been resting against Malfoy's cheek. He was kneeling next to her chair, his face only a few inches from her own. Hermione shoved her chair back hard and it began to tip. She only had a moment to realize that it was going over when Malfoy's hand caught hers and he pulled her forward again. He pulled her right out of her chair and she stumbled onto her knees next to him.

"You're awfully clumsy Granger. Tell me, is that because you're a mudblood or is it a Gryffindor thing?" He smirked at her and let go of her hand.

"I thought we had a truce Malfoy!" Hermione snapped as she got quickly to her feet.

"What, have you been hexed?" He asked her innocently as she stood up as well.

Hermione looked around the room at her books and then she held up her arms and examined then looking for some telltale sign of magic, but there was nothing. 

"It did take all of my resolve to not hex you, of course, but I do keep my promises. I am a Malfoy after all." He walked around the table and sat down. 

"And that counts for so much. Death Eaters are known for their truthful ways aren't they?" Hermione pulled her chair back up and started to pack up her bag. Her face was flushed and she felt rather embarrassed about Malfoy finding her asleep. 

"I'm not a Death Eater." Malfoy said quietly. His voice was so firm that Hermione looked up at him surprised. His voice seemed filled with deep resolve and he had a far away look in his slate eyes.

"But your father..." Hermione started only to be cut off by Malfoy who stood up angrily.

"I never said anything about my father. Don't they train you goody-two-shoes not to judge people by their parents?" He came around the table to stand in front of her. All of the amusement that he had felt earlier was gone.

"I've never judged you because of your parents, I've judged you because you are an ill-tempered prat!" Hermione turned to face Malfoy straight on. 

"You take that back Mudblood!" Malfoy growled savagely as he stood before her, his gray eyes seemed to darken as Hermione met them with her amber ones. 

"I will not." Hermione glowered at him and then turned and walked to the door. She stopped before leaving though and turned back to him a slight frown on her face. "You're really not a Death Eater?" 

He glared at her silently and she thought that he wasn't going to answer her, but as she walked through the door she could hear him call out behind her. 

"No Granger, I'm not."