21. Truth

Author's Note: Due to the fact I've been updating more quickly than usual, I fear that my chapters are coming out kind of rushed. I really hope that's not the case. I'm just really anxious to finish this story, because I'm actually enjoying writing it at the moment. :D

Disclaimer: I'm getting kind of sick of seeing these disclaimers, too. :P

Strangely enough, Draco's dreams had stopped completely. He blamed it on the fact he was sleeping lightly, in fear of there being another Dementor attack. But there was none. It was beginning to appear as thought it had been a one-time-only thing.

He never brought it up again to Hermione, granting her request of pretending like it had never happened. And he didn't go to Dumbledore, though he had wanted to on many occasions. And he followed her, as inconspicuously as he could, after every class to make sure she was safe. It was not a pleasant job, but it wasn't like he really had anything better to do.

During the week, Harry kept him updated on the status of their potion. By late Saturday night, he had tested it on himself and said it worked fine, and that they would be using it on Hermione on Sunday. His throat hadn't closed up, so that was a good sign.

When Draco had woken up Sunday morning, Hermione was already gone. He had a feeling she was already off with Ginny, which was good for him, because he didn't really feel like seeing her before he was to betray her trust just a few hours later.

In the couple of hours before he was to leave, he wanted something to take his mind off of new Hermione, so Draco did the one thing he promised himself he would not do again: he began reading more of real Hermione's journal. Deciding it would be best to start from the beginning, he opened up to the very first page:

Dear Diary,

I've never really kept one of these things before. They always seemed so, I don't know, trivial to me. I mean, why waste my time writing down my thoughts and feelings, when I could be studying – you know, learning something? Besides, writing in a diary has always seemed to me like such a girlish thing to do. What am I supposed to write about? Boys? Hah! That would be absurd. Me, Hermione Granger - thinking about boys. That's just too funny to even comprehend.

So, of course, Harry gave you to me. I'm not exactly sure why. He can't have thought I would actually use you as a journal, could he? I would think he would have figured I would have just ended up using you as a notebook for class. But if that were the case, why didn't he just save his money and get me a regular notebook instead? I'm sure this journal was not too cheap – not that Harry Potter needs to necessarily save his money, but…oh dear. I am babbling. See? This journal thing is going to turn out to be pretty pointless, I'd say.

Malfoy thinks I am using you as a way to confess my true feelings for Harry Potter – which I DON'T have. Okay, well perhaps I DO have a small, miniscule amount of romantic feelings for Harry Potter, but – well, how the heck could MALFOY pick up on that? I've always thought of him as being book smart, but who ever thought he'd be able to read someone like that? I'm surprised he would even recognize romantic feelings when he saw them. Surely that git has no idea what it's like to be in love – or to BE loved, for that matter –

Inhaling sharply, Draco instantly turned the page.

Dear Diary,

Whoever thought that it was a good idea, putting MALFOY and me together as Head Boy and Head Girl, certainly were not thinking clearly. I want to throttle the pompous git! Seriously, that boy needs to grow a heart in that empty chest of his. Even the smallest of one would suffice –

Ouch. Draco immediately began racking his brain, trying to remember what he could have possibly done to make her so mad. Of course, it was too far back for him to remember, but he figured it was probably something as simple as him calling her a "mudblood" for the three hundredth time. He sighed. He knew it would be a bad idea to read any of her earlier entries.

Flipping through the pages, he stopped in the middle of the November entries. One, in particular caught his eye:

Actually, I guess it is technically the 15th of November, since I am writing this during the early hours of the morning. I've had a very long day. I really should be sleeping right now, but I'm too wide-awake to even consider closing my eyes.

This may be a bit hard to believe, but Draco Malfoy saved me tonight – in more ways than one.

It all started when I was hanging out in the Gryffindor common room with Harry, Ron and Ginny. We began to discuss the Yule Ball, which was when Harry took it upon himself to turn to Ginny and ask her to be his date! Of course, she said yes. After all, I do believe she's been waiting for him to ask her on a date for more than six years now. Honestly, I should be happy for her. And I am! But I was just so...hurt. To have it confirmed that Harry thinks nothing more of me than as a friend is quite painful. Or, at least, I thought it was at first.

But then Malfoy saved my life.

Perhaps "saved my life" is a strong term to use. I honestly do not believe my life was in any danger tonight, when Crabbe and Goyle cornered me in the hallway. Sure, they were probably going to scare me a little - and probably hurt me, too. And to be perfectly honest, I was VERY scared. But when Malfoy arrived, I knew right away that he would help me. If this had occured last year instead, I would have assumed he had come to join in on the attack. But he was actually furious at those two numskulls - so much so that he actually took points away from his own house! Of course, he was quite furious with ME as well - and with good reason. I was certainly somewhat to blame for the whole thing. I really should not have been out so late at night by myself.

But that's not the only way Malfoy saved me tonight. He somehow has managed to convince me that Harry Potter is not worth wasting my feelings for. He said that Harry is a dolt for not realizing how I feel about him, and I actually agree. He has convinced me that I need to move on. And he has convinced me that I deserve better than Harry Potter. Can you believe that? If I'm not mistaken, I think Malfoy actually complimented me.

And then I kissed him on the cheek. I don't know WHAT the heck possessed me to do THAT.

Draco smiled, remembering that kiss. It was most likely that small gesture of hers that had made him start to like her - or, at least, made him admit he had started to like her.

He turned the page again. The next entry was short and sweet - only two sentences - but it was possibly his most favorite one yet:

November 17th, 1997

Dear Diary,

Pansy Parkinson is a bit of a trollop. And honestly, she's not even all that pretty.

Draco smirked. It seemed so out of character for Hermione to resort to gossiping about another girl, but he figured that Pansy had probably done something to provoke it. He wasn't sure, but he swore that he could detect a bit of jealousy in the words – even though she certainly had nothing to be jealous of where Pansy was concerned.

Sighing, he set the journal back on the table. He wanted to continue reading, but he had told Harry he would meet him at the Three Broomsticks at noon. Apparently, Harry had asked Ginny to bring Hermione into the Three Broomsticks at around noon, and then come over to his table and join him. When Draco had complained about Harry getting Ginny involved, he assured him that not only had he not informed her about their plan – but when she asked why he wanted her to do it, he lied and said it was because he wanted to get to know the new Hermione a little better, but was apprehensive about approaching her himself.

Of course, the Weaslette was overjoyed that Harry was going to give her a chance, and she immediately told him she'd have Hermione there at noon sharp, and that she would think of some excuse to leave them alone. Draco, meanwhile, was supposed to make himself scarce until Harry and Hermione were alone, and then he would find some sort of reason to join them – thus making it a bit more comfortable for Hermione.

When Draco had suggested to Harry that he should be the one to interrogate her – and without Harry present – Harry quickly shot down the idea, saying that he didn't trust that Draco would even end up going through with it.

Draco couldn't blame Harry for not trusting him, but he thought the whole plan was a mistake. He felt that having her confess in a public place was unfair. Most likely anything she had to say would be best confessed in private, but Harry pointed out that it was the only way to slip her the potion, without her being suspicious as to why they were offering her a drink. Draco couldn't help but agree with that reasoning, but the whole thing just made him uncomfortable. He felt as though he was betraying this girl. And he was almost certain that the real Hermione would have disapproved of the whole thing.

But Harry was determined. If Draco didn't help him, he would do it by himself, anyway. And Draco figured he should consider himself lucky that he'd even been included in the plan.

It was only a few minutes past noon by the time he arrived at the Three Broomsticks. When he entered the pub, he glanced around until he found Harry, Ginny and Hermione sitting at a table in the far corner. Draco figured Harry must have picked it because of its seclusion.

He stood by the bar and watched them. Ginny was saying something, and an uneasy expression came over Hermione's face. She was shaking her head as Ginny stood up – probably protesting her departure. But Ginny said something else – most likely urging her to stay – and then smiled, waved, and quickly began to walk away. Hermione appeared crestfallen as she watched her go.

Ginny had a pleased smile on her face as she headed for the pub's exit. Her gaze met Draco's as she walked by, and her smile faltered a bit.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged him stiffly.

"Weaslette," he said with a slight nod.

Ginny just rolled her eyes and continued on her way. Once she was gone, Draco figured it was a good time for him to make an appearance. He wasn't sure how long Hermione would survive alone in Harry's presence.

So he made his way over to the table, catching Harry's eye as he did.

"Potter," he said as he approached the table.

Hermione glanced up at him with a relieved look on her face. "Malfoy!"

"Granger," he mumbled. He turned to Harry and said, "Potter, when are we going to start our Potions project? If you're expecting me to do it on my own, then you're more stupid than you look."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry spat. "As you can see, I'm trying to have a conversation with someone, and that someone is not you."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I think I'll join you." Pulling out a chair, he plopped down next to Hermione. "So, what are we talking about?"

"Nobody invited you, ferret," Harry said. He was doing a great job acting like he wanted Draco to go away. Of course, it probably wasn't much of an act for him.

"He can stay," Hermione said quickly.

"Thanks, Granger," Draco said, leaning back in his chair. "See, Potter? I was invited, after all."

Harry glared at him. "Fine. I'm going to go get a drink." He glanced at Hermione. "Can I get you anything?"

"Uh…sure," Hermione said. "Butterbeer is fine."

"Okay," Harry said, standing up.

As he began to walk away, Draco said, "What, you're not going to ask me if I want anything?"

Without even stopping or glancing back at him, Harry snapped, "If you want something, get it yourself."

Draco smirked. When Harry was gone, he turned to Hermione. "He sure is a pleasant fellow, isn't he?"

"Thank you," she said, giving him a warm smile.

Draco glanced at her curiously. "For what?"

"Oh, everything," she replied. "But for starters, thank you for coming over here. I know you only did it because you saw me alone with Harry."

"Did I?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you did. And I appreciate it. So thank you. But…well, I also wanted to thank you for the past few days – you know, with the way you handled the whole situation of what happened in my bedroom. I know you were curious about why it happened, but you didn't press me for information. And the fact you didn't go to Dumbledore, even though you had every right to – it meant a lot to me. Plus, I know for a fact that you've been watching over me these past couple of days, making sure I didn't get attacked again, and that probably means the most of all to me."

Draco groaned inwardly. "Granger, you don't have to thank me -"

"No, I do," she said. "I mean, I've really come to think of you as sort of a…friend. I know you may not think of me as one, but -"

"Granger," he interjected. "Please…"

She was killing him. If he hadn't been feeling guilty about this whole thing before, he certainly was now. And guilt was not a feeling Draco Malfoy experienced often – or at all. But suddenly, he was feeling very guilty, and he didn't like it.

"You're still here?"

Draco glanced up to see Harry returning to the table. He set a mug of butterbeer down in front of Hermione before taking a seat.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely, but she didn't rush to drink it.

Draco's gaze rested upon the mug and his heart automatically started racing. He glanced up at Harry, hoping to catch his eye and somehow telepathically will him to call the whole thing off. But Harry wasn't looking at him. He was glancing eagerly at Hermione, waiting for her to take her first sip.

"Uh, Granger," Draco said. He stopped – what was he planning on doing? Stopping her from drinking her butterbeer? Foiling their evil plan to get information out of her? Who was he kidding? He was just as curious as Harry was – perhaps even more so. He would let her do it. It wasn't like they were poisoning her, as Blaise had. This was perfectly harmless…

"Hmm?" she said, bringing the mug up to her lips.

But he couldn't let her do it – he couldn't let her drink it.

"Wait," he said, "Don't -"

He had meant to say, "don't drink it", but it was too late – no sooner had he gotten the first word out than she had already drank some.

"Don't what?"

Draco glanced over at Harry, who was trying hard to hide his smile. He was no doubt overjoyed to see his plan taking effect.

"Potter," he warned. But Harry paid no attention to him.

"Say, Hermione," Harry said. "I've been meaning to ask you -"

"Potter," Draco hissed. "Don't."

"Malfoy, shut the hell up and let me do this."

Draco shook his head. "No. I'm warning you, don't do it."

Hermione was glancing back and forth at them, looking thoroughly confused. "Don't do what? What's going on?"

"Harry spiked your drink with Veritaserum," Draco blurted out.

Hermione's face dropped. "What?"

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Potter growled. "What the hell -"

Pushing back her chair, Hermione quickly stood up. "You drugged me?"

"Granger, do not engage him in conversation," Draco warned. "If he asks you a question, you will answer it truthfully, and you won't be able to stop yourself."

Harry shook his head. "I knew I couldn't trust you, Malfoy!" Turning to Hermione, he said, "Hermione, why did you -"

"No!" she cried, covering her ears. "Don't. Please, don't."

And with that, she spun around and began walking as quickly as she could out of the pub.

"DAMMIT!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. "Hermione!" he called out as he began to follow her.

"Potter, let her go," Draco said. But Harry wasn't listening. With an exasperated sigh, he followed them both out of the pub, hoping to catch up with Harry before he was able to catch up with Hermione.

Unfortunately, Harry had caught up with her as soon as he was out the door. When Draco had exited the Three Broomsticks, Harry was standing there, looking furious, with a tight grasp on Hermione's arm.

"Get your hands off her, Potter," Draco growled. He reached over to remove Harry's hand, but Harry pushed him out of the way with his other arm.

"This no longer concerns you, Malfoy."

"The hell it doesn't," Draco spat.

Harry ignored him. "Hermione, why did you come to our world?"

A look of panic crossed over Hermione's features as her mouth instantly opened up to speak.

Quickly, Draco said, "Granger, fight it."

"I-I c-can't," she managed to sputter.

"Hermione," Harry said loudly, "why was there a Dementor in your bedroom the other night?"

"Granger, don't answer him."

"I-I- b-bec-because I -"

"Dammit, Potter, don't do this -"

"Hermione, why are there Dementors after you?"

"P-please d-don't make me," Hermione sobbed. Draco could tell that she was fighting the effects of the potion as much as she could, but she wouldn't be able to for long.

But suddenly, Draco found himself unable to stop her from speaking. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to. Suddenly, his curiosity was getting the best of him, with her this close to revealing the truth.

Harry, probably realizing that he was coming off as an insensitive jerk, no longer looked infuriated, and when he asked her a question one more time, he spoke in a much softer tone.

"Hermione, please tell us – why did you run away from your world?"

She was sobbing uncontrollably, but she didn't answer right off. Obviously, their homemade potion was not as strong as regular Veritaserum, or else she wouldn't have been able to hold out for so long. But it was a truth potion, no less, and it was doing its job.

"Granger," Draco began, but she interrupted him.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring straight into Harry's eyes. Tears spilled down the side of her face, but she made no effort to brush them away. "The reason I ran away from my world…the reason why Dementors are after me…" Her voice trailed off.

Suddenly, the world outside the pub became totally silent. Every single noise seemed to disappear as the two boys stood there, eagerly awaiting her next words.

With a defeated sigh, she closed her eyes and spoke; her voice barely above a whisper: "It's because…I…I..." She opened her eyes wide and stared directly over at Draco.

"I killed Harry Potter."