Two days had gone by. Two days. As in forty-eight hours, two-thousand and eight-hundred and eighty minutes, and Merlin only knows how many seconds. At the juncture of being stuck in someone else's body, not even Hermione Granger could take the time to calculate the precise math. The thought of that time lost just caused a dagger of depression to penetrate her.

Alas, there she was after two days of feigning to be the Slytherin Prince. She sat in the Slytherin table, a plate of untouched food, a sprawled book by her goblet of Pumpkin Juice, and Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass in front of her.

"I'll get them, I swear it," Nott growled menacingly, his blue eyes narrowing into slits as a few of his house-mates smirked at the black-eye that he was sporting. The murmurs of his latest fight were still being spoken about especially loud to show him no mercy. "I'll start with Finnegan and Weasley, and then I'll get these idiots."

In her unfortunate disguise as Draco Malfoy, Hermione stared with blank and irritated silver eyes at Nott.

Nott turned to Hermione with a scowl. "Don't look at me that way, Malfoy," he huffed. "You know you'd be planning to retaliate if that Half-Blood and Blood Traitor did this to you," he pointed at his bruised face. "I don't care about getting in trouble with our dearest Headmistress. I'm getting them back."

Despite her efforts to remain as Malfoy-centric as she could, Hermione felt herself scowl with a parental expression, the same she used on Harry and Ron every time they got out of hand. "You're going about like this was an unfair fight, Nott," the tone she used was an annoyed one. "The only reason why Finnegan decided to throw his fists around was because, yet again, you decided it was appropriate to push Parvati Patil. Now, if you hadn't attempted to throw an Unforgivable, Ro—Weasley wouldn't have jumped in. And even then, he didn't do anything but disarm you."

Not moved by that scolding look on Malfoy's face, Nott just continued to glare, dropping his fork and pushing away his plate. "If I didn't know any better, Draco, I'd say you were siding with the Weasel," he snapped. Before the boy across from him could say anything to his previous comment, however, Nott rose from the bench. "And believe me, mate, you wouldn't if you knew what I did."

Hermione creased her forehead, remaining silent as Nott stalked away from the table. What did that even mean? Was there something happening among all these Slytherin boys that Malfoy hadn't let her know about?

With a clearing of her throat, Daphne Greengrass looked up with her dark eyes at the boy before her, unknowingly interrupting Hermione's musing. "Odd," she said, her gaze narrowing.

"What's odd, Greengrass?" Hermione asked the girl, making sure to pull on Malfoy's favorite uninterested stare.

"You," Daphne replied straightforwardly. "You're much more logical than what I can remember, Malfoy. And the fact that you didn't sit there and plan attacks of revenge on those Gryffindors for Nott's sake, I'm impressed by." She smiled; the act appeared strange on her always serious expression. "It's just nice to know there's someone else not wasting their time with stupid, childhood grudges when we're at war."

Feeling a little taken aback, not knowing if she should be concerned that she wasn't passing off as Malfoy the way she should, or that she should be concerned that she actually found that Daphne Greengrass was rational herself, Hermione kept her blank stare. "You talk a lot about that, Greengrass. Why?  Why do you suddenly have no hatred for anyone else? Why did you allow Parkinson to call you a Blood Traitor the other night? Surely someone like you has something up her sleeve."

Daphne's dark eyes became impossibly darker, silence looming between both of them. As the Slytherin kept quiet for a moment, Hermione felt a little satisfied that she managed to stun someone the way Malfoy always had. 

"Someone like me," Daphne let out a throaty exhale, a wrinkling frown on her face. Before silence could settle again, she straightened her back, shut her Potions book, and looked at Malfoy head-on. "We used to be friends, do you remember, Draco?" There was no emotion, nor was she waiting for a confirmation to her question. "All of us. We used to be friends. There was no hatred among us, no superiority that wasn't passed as dark humor. We were friends, simple as that. But then one day we weren't. We became what we are now. Just strangers gliding by one another, forgetting the times when we were children and we enjoyed each other's company."

Once again, despite her knowing that she was Draco Malfoy on the exterior, Hermione couldn't help but bite her—well, Malfoy's—bottom lip. There was something in the tone which Daphne used, something about the way she looked so determined and strong that Hermione recognized, that she understood.

"I remember when it happened to me," she continued, not really noticing the odd nervousness on Malfoy's face."When I became one of those strangers," she blinked now, suddenly looking distant. "It was the beginning of our Sixth Year. I came back broken...hostile. Everything I'd known was a lie. We weren't superior, not at all. Every rambling I'd heard from old Purebloods was nothing but a lie. If it had been true, if we were all better, if we were all royalty, why were we servants? Why were we made to do things we didn't want to do? Why were we forced to fight, to kill? If we were better...If we were perfect and flawless, why'd they kill her? Why did they kill my mother?"

Hermione bit harder into Malfoy's lip, using his own teeth as little daggers cutting him open. Her heart was falling down, sliding with sympathy and sadness for the Slytherin girl in front of her. She wanted to reach out, of course she did. She wanted to take her hand, squeeze it, show her support, but she had to resist. She was Draco, not Hermione.

"They killed her to keep us in line—to keep my father in line. And when that happened, when I no longer felt anything anymore, so did he," Daphne continued with her story. "Father didn't want to be one of them anymore. And that was it. We decided to go straight. He didn't want to fight for someone who murdered his wife...who left his daughters without a mother." 

"I still believe some people aren't worthy of magic," Daphne said knowingly. "Take a look at Crabbe and Goyle. Both are too dimwitted to even know what to do with that sort of power. Then there's that annoying Brown girl who, let's face it, is a waste of space. Hannah Abbott, for Slytherin's sake, should've just been born a muggle. She's too sweet and caring and patient. She could've easily become a teacher for those little kids in muggle schools."

"You didn't mention any Muggle-Borns," Hermione pointed out, eyeing her carefully.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm not prejudice anymore, Malfoy. I just told you, I believe some people don't deserve magic, but that has nothing to do with their blood status. But, fine. You want a name of a Muggle-Born? Dean Thomas."

Half-expecting to hear her own name, Hermione just asked bleakly, "Why him?"

"I've seen some of his drawings," Daphne said lightly. "Honestly, they're brilliant. Someone like him doesn't need magic. He'd be better off without it, actually. Because then he could just go ahead and create his own magic in the things he draws and paints."

Hermione tightened those borrowed lips into a line, but said nothing more on the subject. She, however, brought something to the surface she'd been wondering about. "What happened with you and Pansy, Greengrass? You two used to be friends. What changed?"

"I changed," the Slytherin replied instantly to her house-mate. "I submerged myself into my studies, no longer caring what happened in this school and its rumors. I just wanted to learn, and I wanted to get out of here. As my determination to succeed increased, Pansy's fear did, too." She sighed, frowning softly. "Pansy hasn't always been an entirely awful person. She just adapts to what's going to benefit her. When she found out about my mother's murder, her fear became far more intensified. She wanted to do the right thing, to support the Dark Lord without a retort. She just wants to survive."

Trying to settle a few compliments, a few positive remarks to everything Daphne had just confided to her—to Malfoy, for some reason—Hermione settled on saying, "I like you," to the girl as Blaise Zabini approached the table with an intense frown on his dark face.

Daphne blinked once, looking a little surprised. "I'm flattered, Malfoy, really," she began to gather her books, "but the rumor is that a Greengrass sister fancies you, and it isn't me. You're not my type."

Hermione was about to protest, feeling a flush of embarrassment crawl onto Malfoy's cheeks, but she was silenced as Daphne threw him an amused glance, something in her eyes suggesting she'd just been joking around. In a quick movement of time, Greengrass left the table to give Malfoy and Zabini privacy.

Shaking Malfoy's blonde head, Hermione sighed with some sort of sorrow. It was resignation. She felt guilty, even, that if she stayed in Malfoy's body for too long, she'd miss the chance of helping Daphne—something she wanted to do the instant she revealed why she was now an outcast among her house-mates.

Pulling her from her thoughts, another Slytherin, who clearly needed some help, grunted miserably across from her. Blaise was sitting with his arms crossed, his usually glittering eyes were dark, murky, and his expression was scrunched up to that of a very aggravated glower.

"Zabini," Hermione called after a quick clear of the throat, "are you all right?"

Blaise glanced up, his frown not wavering as he looked into the silver eyes of his best friend. "Do I look all right, Malfoy?" he snapped. "I'm on the bloody edge. My mother refuses to send me more information about what I'm supposed to do next, and Nott's being a twat about me not jumping into the fight he started with Finnegan."

Hermione cringed slightly away, adding more distance that the tabletop put between her and Malfoy's friend. Knowing that she had to continue the conversation, because she dared to ask, she settled on picking at the only thing in his comment that she knew about. "Nott's being a git," she said with an exasperation Malfoy was known for. "Why'd he suddenly develop hatred for the Half-Blood and Patil?"

"Patil?" Zabini questioned, raising a thick brow at his friend. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, he seems to be enjoying knocking her down," Hermione remarked. "And that's odd, seeing as Nott usually behaved himself. I just figured there's something off with him now."

Zabini looked in thought, his frown creasing his forehead slightly as he stared at Malfoy carefully. Could it have been, he thought, that Malfoy was now suddenly more attuned to everyone else?

"You must know," Hermione pressed, not liking the suspicion in Zabini's face. "You're constantly around him when he goes into his fits."

Blaise tensed his back, his forehead creasing more, but his eyes went from looking bewildered to looking concerned. A worry he was fighting with himself to push away before it became more apparent.

However, not counting the person in front of him wasn't selfish Draco Malfoy, but smart and observing Hermione Granger, she let him dwell in his moment of abrupt silence. As she did so, as she moved those grey eyes that belonged to Malfoy away from his house-table, to explore the outside boundaries the rest of the Great Hall was, Hermione caught sight of a pair of brown eyes staring directly in her direction.

These brown eyes were focused, in thought, concerned, worried, hesitant, pained, and held a slight form of apparent adoration and caring as they looked on. They were the eyes of Parvati Patil. The only problem, Hermione thought immediately, was that they weren't looking at her, though they were set on the table she sat. No. These brown eyes were zeroed in on Blaise Zabini.

'Apparently, something's up with Parvati.' A memory rushed into Hermione's head, one that was entirely her own as it happen the last day she was in her own body. 'They think she's traded sides or something.'

With wide eyes, Hermione gaped and stifled a gasp as Zabini looked back at her; his mask as an unconcerned-Slytherin clearly on. It was all making sense. Hermione's mind was putting pieces together: little moments of eye-contact that Zabini spared to Patil, the suspicion Lavender had over Parvati's current behavior, that look on Parvati's face as she stared at Zabini's back, and Nott's anger for her.

Blaise raised an eyebrow once more, looking at the shell-shocked expression on his best friend's face as it started morphing into different emotions, one by one. They both sat there in a thick silence, Zabini not realizing the person stuck inside Malfoy's body had concluded that Parvati now held a death-card.

X

"It's simple, actually," Aphrodite Venus' voice echoed among her classroom, her words slithering between the open rows of desks and the students in them. "Once a witch or wizard has mastered their magic, they can proceed to study a spell thoroughly. The spell can then be broken down to its core and then be amplified."

In the class mixed with Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, Cho Chang raised her hand, a questioning look on her face. 

"Ms. Venus," she began as the woman in front of the classroom allowed her to speak, "you're saying it's possible for every spell to be modified? Even the Unforgivable ones?"

Ms. Venus  gave a solemn nod, her navy-blue eyes stern. "Anything can be modified, Miss Chang. It just takes the right mind and skill. However, some who've taken the study to enhance spells have stated that the Unforgivable Curses are trickier than most. They've been able to tweak them to add an extra effect, but nothing powerful or permanent."

"Are we going to learn this?" Neville Longbottom spoke, bringing attention to himself as a few of his classmates turned to him. "How to alter spells?"

"I'm afraid for the time being, since your lessons of Defense Against the Dark Arts are in between teachers at the moment, that'll not be the case," Ms. Venus said truthfully. "However, we might attempt to create a spell next lesson. For now, that's all for today."

At the dismissal from the classroom, many students began to gather their belongings and shove them into their schoolbags. Some murmurs broke out about next lesson, the excitement clear as they wondered what type of spell they'll be creating. Through the whispering and shuffling of feet, Neville eyed the girl he'd been sharing the desk with all lesson.

"All right there, 'Mione?" he asked, slowing his pace to stack his notes.

The brunette still sitting firm and tense in her seat blinked her brown eyes to her fellow Gryffindor, mind faraway as she barely heard the boy speak. In that second Neville was waiting for an answer, watching her carefully, a frown started to crease on the girl's forehead—Draco Malfoy was coming back into Hermione Granger's body.

"Did he interrupt a deep thought?" Coming from around Neville with his leather schoolbag already over his shoulder, Harry Potter smiled jokingly at his best friend. "Oh, there it goes. I can see it growing smaller in your eyes." After he said this, Harry nudged Neville teasingly on the ribs, making the latter's cheeks flush pink and look momentarily embarrassed.

Whatever was the joke between the two Gryffindors, Draco had to resist the urge of snarling at them that he didn't care about their jokes and their caring, smiling faces. 

"Erm, I was actually a little worried about Wea—Ron," he was going to shoot a spell at himself for this, or at Granger for her stupid obsessive worry about the redheaded Weasel. "McGonagall took punishment far, don't you think? Seamus and he are to serve detention, not even allowed to attend class."

"He'll be fine, Hermione," Potter sighed tiredly. "Now, forget about it and let's go to break. Ginny and Luna said they'll meet us by the lake."

Clearing Granger's throat lightly, Malfoy tried to look assured by the Chosen One's comment. "I'll meet you there. I'm just going to stop by the library and pick up a book. I won't be long."

Like the dimwits the Slytherin knew they were, Malfoy watched through Granger's brown eyes as Longbottom and Potter headed for the door without another concerned look,  leaving him alone in the now empty classroom.

Once the silence rung throughout the room, becoming so strong it pressured into his borrowed ears, Malfoy sighed in exhaustion. He forgot all about Granger's things sprawled before him, and stuck her hand into her robes. A little uncomfortable as he graced the side of her breast by accident, he pulled out a squared parchment from the hidden pocket.

Funny, he thought bitterly as he began to unfold the letter, I'm stuck as Granger, but my personal mail is still delivered to me. It really was surprising when he woke inside the girls' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower with an owl scratching the window. He'd been about to blast whoever's owl that was, but when he recognized the elegant feathers on it, he went to retrieve the note in its beak.

Draco,

There's not much I can divulge with you. Every owl that is dispatched or enters the manor is intercepted by a Death Eater. Fortunately, they assigned a completely inept man on duty this week. However, I still insist that you only owl to Spinners End.

As for what you requested, I'm afraid I don't know much. Though it's not my main concern, nor should it be yours, I find myself a bit benevolent for Annette Zabini's circumstance. Meanwhile, I suggest you two go undetected. I'll inform you if anything else arises so Blaise can prepare.

Be careful,

N.M.

He regretted it instantly, accepting the letter from that blasted owl hours ago. He didn't expect his request for information to be this futile.

He'd made a silent vow to himself that he'd help Zabini as much as he could. Yes, Malfoy was aware it wasn't in a Slytherin's nature to be helpful, but some part of him, a part he didn't really know was there, nagged him to assist. He knew how difficult it was to take something on that was ordered by the Dark Lord, and he didn't wish that type of pressure on his friend. It could be maddening, life-threatening—though everything was nowadays.

As he, one by one, began to stack Granger's notes, Malfoy was oblivious to a tall figure slithering in. Once Draco was spotted in disguise with that mass of brown curls and Gryffindor robes, that tall figure headed for him.

"If you were going to be alone," Hermione Granger looked up from her schoolbag, her narrowed brown eyes meeting unnaturally calm silver ones, "then it should be in the library."

"Granger," Draco said scornfully, his vision embedded with his own pale, pointed face, and his entire being. "Lost your way from the Slytherin dungeons?"

Hermione rolled his eyes, his own face not annoyed as she decided not to let it. "Actually, I noticed that you didn't exit the room. I just...I just wanted to know that you were all right."

"I'm not all right, Granger," Draco said roughly. "I'm in your body, remember?"

 "Talking about that..." She trailed off for a second, reaching over with his long fingers to take one of her own curls. "It's been two days since this happened to us. How are you...erm...You know, staying clean?"

Draco squared the shoulders of the body he was possessing, tensing immediately as he looked at his fingers tangled into Granger's hair. "What do you mean?"

"How do you shower in my body, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, feeling a little embarrassed as she said this, but she was curious. "I mean, you have to, don't you? You don't plan on making me walk all...you know."

Malfoy was still uncomfortable. "I don't...I haven't been sneaking a peek, Granger!" He was suddenly offended. "I strip by wand, dress by wand, and when I shower...I just—how're you showering me, then?" he snapped, not liking the flutter his words were making.

Hermione chuckled at his nervousness, though they were mixed with uneasiness as well. She just had to ask, didn't she? "Same as you, I reckon. Though, I've had Pansy Parkinson offer to scrub me."

"Yeah, she tends to offer," Malfoy made a face, a not-so pleased one. "Brush her off, okay, Granger? Though, I don't know how you wouldn't. You're still a girl. Unless you like that, then please wait until you're in your own body. I'd hate for Pansy to think we've got something."

At the sneer Malfoy was making her precious face sport, Hermione glared at him with her disapproval. "Don't make me propose to her, Malfoy," she threatened. "I can convince her to keep her hands to herself and wait until the marriage."

"Don't threaten me, Granger. I'll make sure you're engaged to the Weasel. Though, it's not much of a threat, is it? You'd really fancy that." He was smirking at her still, but instead of making her brown eyes look crude, they were actually playful.

She smiled at him, but decided not to answer that. "How are they, by the way?" 

Malfoy remained silent for a second, watching himself take the open seat next to him. She sat herself down, flashing his silver eyes back at him, making his body calm. "Weasley is Weasley," he said to her. "And Potter...well, his life's not exactly the easiest, is it?"

She smiled dimly. "You're catching that now, are you?"

Malfoy rolled her brown eyes. "Potter said he had a dream," he continued. "That he saw what the Dark Lord was up to. He couldn't really figure it out, but he said he knows what the next Horcrux could be."

Hermione dropped the smile she made Malfoy's lips twist into. "I've told him to practice his Occlumency," she growled, the sound mixed with Malfoy's voice could almost be passed like he was the one who said it. She shook his blonde hair, his silver eyes now strained. "Anyway, there's nothing I can do about that. He's a hardheaded idiot sometimes." Malfoy leered a little, surprised by her not so adoring remarks about the Boy-Who-Lived. "What did he say about the Horcrux?"

"Just that it belonged to Ravenclaw. He's still trying to find what it could be. He had a talk with Lovegood, but he didn't think she helped."

"What did you say to that?" she questioned him, raising one of his blonde brows.

He shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing really. He just wants for you to trust him."

As Malfoy scoffed at that, Hermione shook her head but laughed. "Well, I can't just stay silent, can I? I'll need you to tell me everything. They'll start getting suspicious that I haven't come up with anything yet."

"Fine," he replied to her instantly, complying without a fight or retort. "But you've to do something for me, Granger."

"I'm already improving your mark in Transfiguration," she said to him, her tone teasing. "Do you want me to court a pureblood girl, or something, because I can't oblige. While I'm in your body, your rendezvous flings are at halt."

Malfoy frowned; he hated seeing his face controlled by Granger. "No," he said in irritation, "I want you to keep an eye out for Zabini. Tell him you didn't get any information for him, but that he should stay off the grid for a while. And that means calming Nott, for his own sake."

No longer feeling the slightest bit of amusement, Hermione remembered what she'd discovered earlier in the day. And by what Malfoy had just said, she now wondered if he knew it.

Mistaking her silence for hesitation, Malfoy sighed in defeat. "Zabini isn't a bad person, Granger. If you knew what he was going through, your little noble heart would intend to help."

At the frustration he was oozing out, Hermione couldn't help her 'little noble heart' and put one of his hands on her shoulder, looking at Malfoy reassuringly. "I'll help your friend," she said kindly. "But you've to help me help mine."

Squeezing one of her palms into a fist, Malfoy brushed off his own hand. "Whatever, Granger. Just don't forget we need to help ourselves get out of this body-swap, too."

As a silence pierced the classroom, the Gryffindor and Slytherin mixing into one another, Aphrodite Venus watched from the office inside the room. Her ever constant notepad and golden pen were out as she scribbled down a 'shows improvement, but needs more time'.