Author's Note: Obviously, I do not own nor do I presume to own any of the subsequent characters or settings. The plot and articulation itself is original, all other aspects are not.


PROLOGUE: IN MEDIAS RES



Callous rain, the sort that creeps through skin and numbs your bones, beat heavily and obstinately against the stained glass of Hogwarts castle. A wild eastern wind roared, lightening struck in deafening delight, doors all across the chambers rattled their own icy song, and hallways creaked their agonizing pain. There was no light to speak of, and the corridors had adopted an eerie sense of foreboding that seemed to enhance the ghastly experiences of the past, like a recorder projecting your worst memories; your worst fears. Little could be heard over the clapping thunder, littler still could be thought in its presence, and it was, in all regards, a reflection of the times.

Three students sat, huddled and reluctant, in a far corner of Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary. None dared to speak, for none had the nerve to even look one another in the eyes. Cradled in a blue, soft blanket of down, Hermione Granger narrowly escaped their gazes, focusing her attention on the smallest of insects crawling leisurely across the red tiled floor.

The second Dark war had arrived. They all knew it, they all felt it, the way you feel the heavy, methodical heartache coming on directly after you’ve discovered a cadaver in some inconspicuous location, it startling you, but not being completely unforeseen; because death has become standardized.

The first battled had already transpired, but the speculation and effect of it had not yet commenced their weary minds. It was gruesome, erratic in its pattern, frightening, and moreover, anticipated. None, not even Dumbledore, had seen it coming on this cold, dank day in December, but all, especially Dumbledore, felt it was fast approaching. It was Harry’s seventh and final year, and only adamant false hope or an exceedingly naïve wizard could conceive that he would get through Hogwarts without fulfilling the prophecy of ages. And the prophecy, it seemed, had begun.

*********************

One could argue that the initial confrontation of the war occurred halfway through a Quidditch match: Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw. At first, those who noticed the tall, dark figures in the distance were shocked, and rightfully so; for they deemed them dementors. They would have been far worse off, however, to learn of their true nature as Death Eaters. It must have been well planned. Blatant evil on that level could not enter the castle itself on a whim, but the Quidditch Pitch was another story. They glided on air, as if being pulled on some sort of conveyer belt, and paused mere feet away from the stands. Though shrouded by their black veils and black souls, the presence of their evil grimace was evident in the air. Only a Dark wizard could harbor such arrogance, such disregard for life. Students and teachers alike hung their mouths wide open; stunned, appalled, and intolerably uncertain all at once. What was this? How could this be happening, at this moment, at this place?

Dumbledore rose, raised a steady hand, and the pitch was instantly illuminated by a translucent, pearly bubble that wavered like the sea, enclosing them all within. He ordered Madam Hooch and Hagrid to see the students indoors, with further orders for an immediate lockdown. As he spoke, his voice rang with strict fortitude and adamancy, as opposed to the expected unadulterated rage. The pearly bubble writhed and stretched itself out to form a tunnel along the path leading to the Great Hall. The students rushed through, some screaming, some crying, all petrified. The Death Eaters looked on in a mock, polite puzzlement. Not even a minute later, the tunnel closed as Dumbledore watched the last child scuttled through the door to the Entrance Hall.

Or, at least, the last student that meant to scuttle through the door.

Harry Potter had a personal agenda with the Death Eaters. He realized how risky his next move would be, how dangerous, even if he wasn’t caught by Macnair or perhaps Lestrange; for he’d always have McGonagall to contend with. But the penetrating vision of the parents he never knew, and the lingering heartache from the Godfather he loved and lost, perpetuated his agenda forward. He yelled at Ron and Hermione to leave him, but, as was typical, they refused.

Dumbledore’s silver beard seemed ablaze with quiet fury as it dashed about in the arctic wind. Taking a sudden, reviving breath, he warned the Death Eaters to disappear, to never show their silhouettes near Hogwarts again. He told them a true combatant of a cause would honor the rules of war, and leave innocent children out of it. They did not respond, through action or otherwise. And for a long moment that extended itself into an introspective lifetime, neither side said nothing, did nothing, until-

Several occurrences transpired in quick succession. Thunder roared and left a ringing in all their ears, temporarily distracting the Death Eaters. A bolt of lightening struck something nearby… The pearly bubble turned a deep, velvety blue, and seemed to swell in a menacing fashion… Dumbledore’s voice bellowed from his throat, the way one’s does when magnified through a megaphone. He warned once more, and Harry, Hermione and Ron noticed the Death Eaters retreat a few feet. And, with a whipping sound that could have cracked the sky itself in two, the bubble burst, leaving the Death Eaters twitching in midair, until finally collapsing onto the cold, hard earth hundreds of feet below them.
The professors rushed to restrain Voldemort’s warriors, but were too late. They were already getting to their feet, wands at the ready.

It was a sight that would never leave the three adolescents, nor, indeed, the six teachers. It was a sight for history books, one that could only be fully appreciated and articulated by the most skilled of writers with the highest demand of language.
Time had leant itself a new registration for how long a particular act took. Anxiety, passion, determination, and righteousness loitered the air like a thick haze of fog. It was mesmerizing. There, lined and spread across the Pitch, stood Minerva McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Dumbledore, Moody, and Severus Snape: the manifestation of all that was good and right in the world, but by being so, also all that was vulnerable and beautifully, wittingly, exposed. The six of them faced eight Death Eaters, opposite their position, who represented the malevolence that resides in all mortals, but by being so, also representing the weakness that they can only prevail when good stands idle. On this fateful December night, that was not the case.

And it began.

Hot sparks of light streaked passed, bouncing off the stands, illuminating the Pitch in only the way offensive charms can. Rain continued to pour, lightening threatened to strike, yet Harry did not see any of them flinch once. Blue, red, white, purple, and green engulfed Harry’s, Ron’s and Hermione’s senses. The ironic beauty glued them to their spots, just to the left of the Gryffindor stands. One by one, the Death Eaters began to retreat, until only four were left. The battle suspended, Dumbledore asked why they had come, what purpose they found in such a haphazard duel executed at the most unlikely of places.

One gravelly voice answered, and it was distinctly Macnair’s. He responded that there were no rules in war, that Hogwarts was perfect because it was unpredicted, and that their purpose was obvious: a distraction. And as he finished his retort, a soaking, hooded Death Eater sprang from behind the line of teachers, and attacked McGonagall with the Crucio curse.

She writhed and convulsed in the mud, resembling a beached fish struggling for air. Snape turned about and hit the Death Eater with a spell, causing him to fumble, but the damage was done. The distraction of which Macnair had spoken succeeded, and the teachers no longer had the upper hand.
McGonagall lie on the ground, seemingly lifeless. Snape had just been hit, and Sprout was now battling two at once. Harry gave Hermione and Ron a knowing look that was not lost on them. The three jumped out, Harry single-handedly fighting off Sprout’s two attackers, as Ron and Hermione rushed to McGonagall’s and Snape’s aid. Rain slashed their faces like a thick leather whip, but they quickly magicked them into the air and pulled their unconscious bodies into safety bellow the stands. They ran to help Harry, and succeeded in causing the two to retreat. Moody yelled at them to run away, his eye swiveling madly, presumably on the lookout. But they couldn’t hear Moody if they had wanted to, the storm was so outrageously loud. It seemed to be growing to some sort of climax, the piercing water feeling more like solid metal bullets. Thunder rose, three Death Eaters lunged forward, their intent clear… Harry was blinded by the rain, where was Rona and Hermione? He heard a crunching sound, realized he had stepped on his glasses. Someone laid a forceful hand on his shoulder, and when he turned about to face Moody, he also saw another act playing out its ugly part mere feet away… Lestrange was gliding towards Hermione… Harry yelled, but Hermione was confounded in all the noise and action of the fight… Lestrange raised her wand… sparks flew from it as quick as darts… and suddenly-

Hermione was hit. She didn’t struggle or twitch, but lay motionless on the ground, oddly positioned. Ron rushed to her side, lifting her head, but trying to block the rain. Harry wheeled around, face contoured in rage as he made eye contact with Bellatrix Lestrange; the same woman who’d killed Sirius… and he hadn’t been this angry since Sirius’ death, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to execute justice.

And as the hate rose in his chest like a tidal wave of energy, the rain, the whole storm blew out of focus. He pointed his wand, fully prepared to use an Unforgivable, his mind set on his goal. He raised it higher still, determination etched into every line on his young face… he was about to attack forward, when-

Darkness. A void so deep, he was lost in an eternal shadowy silence. No thoughts, no feelings, no cliché photo album of memories past; only the simple, innate emotion of trepidation endured. The lone, cognizant sensation was the sickening cold gripping his heart, and the unfathomable heat embracing his mind like a Python. A stinging seized his limbs, but he was only faintly aware of it… it eased into a return of the emptiness, and black surrounded his very soul. It was freezing, yet he did not recognize this notion any longer… And as his consciousness leaned into compliancy with the overbearing obscurity of shadow, he knew with all his being, that this is what it meant to die.

CHAPTER ONE: DEMENTORS' KISS


Harry and Ron sat on chairs next to her bed, hesitant to wake her. She had barely made it through the ordeal alive. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed her with a broken shoulder blade and ankle. She’d fixed this overnight, however the pain and bruises left could not be magicked away.

“I think we should just let her be, mate.� Ron suggested.

“I don’t know… she’d want to know what happened immediately, you know that…� Harry replied, though somewhat nervously.

Ron gave him a quizzical look, as if he weren’t sure it was best to do this now. However, they had no room for argument when she stirred in her covers, faced them, and spoke lightly,

“Ron, for once listen to Harry.� She whispered, the pain evident in her voice. Yet she managed a weak smile.

“Hermione, you look horrible…�

“Thanks Ron, you’re quite cute yourself.�

“Oh, come off it, you know what I mean… really, Hermione, we can come back.� Ron said.

Harry reached across to the nightstand, pulled out a tissue, and began gently wiping the blood droplets off her cheeks.

She blinked heavily, the soothing touch somehow extending to her shoulder, ridding the pain.

“I hate it when I’m left in the dark.� Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.

“Right, me too. So…� Hermione used her elbows to slowly push herself into a sitting position.

Harry and Ron flung from their seats, eager to make sure she could manage.

She smiled brightly at them for a moment, but her face suddenly fell into a deep frown. A second later, and to the surprise of Harry and Ron, her hazelnut eyes filled to the brim with tears, a few escaping the confines of her eyelashes and spilling onto her bloodstained cheeks.

“He- Hermione, what is it? What’s wrong?� Ron asked concernedly.

“It- It’s just I, I really thought…�

Harry and Ron gave each other a furtive glance, unsure what to do.

“Well…� she continued, her voice meek with mixed embarrassment and relief. “When we were watching the teachers fighting all those Death Eaters, I felt like- like I knew one of us wouldn’t make it out alive. I was so sure I’d turn around only to find one, or even both of you lying dead… and I…� her voice faded into silence.

“Hermione…� Harry whispered, “We’re all fine, don’t cry, really…�

“And I wouldn’t know what to do if…� she cut off, crying madly into her pillow now, as if perhaps it had the means to comfort her. “…if one of you died. What I mean to say is… well, I prayed it would be me. Right before we dashed out, I prayed that if one had to go, it be me.�

Harry’s and Ron’s mouths were hung faintly open, but their eyes narrowed in deep distress and alarm. Harry’s eyebrows were slightly raised, in what Hermione recognized as minor disbelief.

“Hermione, I don’t want you to ever say- or do- anything like that again… I, I can’t believe you! And what would we do if you’d died? You think that be easier on us somehow? I…� Harry cut himself off, uncertain what to say next. He glanced around the room for the answer, but found none. Though Hermione, it seemed, had it.

She flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, crying uncontrollably. She squeezed and never wanted to let go. Harry squeezed her back, careful of her hurt shoulder, with his eyes closed for fear that his own tears were becoming increasingly obvious. He felt her love surge through him like soft waves of power, and he refused to let her go for a long time. “It’s ok,� he kept muttering, “It’s ok.�

Minutes later, she forced herself to let him go, but immediately flung herself upon Ron. He seemed quite taken aback, but embraced her nonetheless. She pulled herself away, head down, and whispered in what she thought to be too quiet to hear, “I love you guys.�

“I love you too, Hermione.� Harry replied, taking her hand in his.

“Yeah, me too. Don’t worry, we’re all here. No one died, actually…� Ron went on.

“Oh! How’s Professor McGonagall? And Snape? Are they alright?� Hermione gathered her strength and wiped her tears away with the back of her shaking hand. “What ended up happening? The last thing I remember is that dreadful Lestrange woman pointing her wand at me.�

“Yeah, well, she got you pretty good, cause Madam Pomfrey says you broke your shoulder blade and your ankle. They’re fixed, of course…� Ron said.

“Well, that’s only because Lockhart isn’t here to completely do away with them. Better broken than gone,� Harry tried to tease. He got a small laugh out of her, but she continued to stare at the floor. “Anyway,� Harry continued, “McGonagall is fine, she’s resting in her quarters though. She should be back to teaching in less than a week. Snape, however, got quite the blow. He had broken ribs, a broken elbow, and a ruptured lung. Pomfrey had to work quick on that one… but he’s alright. They were both really grateful for our helping them… I’d never seen Snape so… civil. It was unnerving. McGonagall battled with some tears when she hugged us, and she really wants to see you, actually.�

“Oh,� Hermione breathed relief. “Thank God they’re ok. I was worried for them too. I could tell something was up with my back, though. It feels bruised, it hurts to lay on my left side,� she said.

“Yeah, Pomfrey said it would be black and blue for at least a couple weeks, straight through Christmas, no doubt… and you’ve got to take some potion to speed it up, or else she says the fracture will come back,� Ron informed her.

“Oh, splendid. Bet it tastes like honey.�

“Well anyway, like Ron was saying, no one died… which of course, is good in a sense, but that also means the Death Eaters got away unscathed,� Harry continued. He thought it best to sound practical and matter-of fact, so as to not provoke more tears. “But, after you were shot down, I swear…� anger rose in his voice at the memory of it.

If Hermione had been dead, Harry was willing to do whatever it took to put Lestrange in as much pain as possible. He looked in the distance, remembering his mad determination, and must have done so for quite some time, because Hermione said,

“Harry? You alright?�

“Yeah, fine… anyway, I was just about to give her a good Crucio, when I was knocked out or something. It was the strangest feeling, more like there wasn’t much feeling at all. I mean, I knew what was going on… least I thought I did. I thought I was dying, see,� He was cut short by Hermione’s gasp of air. He looked to see her hands covering her mouth, and trembling hysterically.

“No! Hermione, really, obviously I’m fine, but I’d thought I’d died, but the weird part was, I didn’t much care… the only thing I truly felt was an odd tingling in my legs, and then there was just blackness. Same with Ron, wasn’t it?�

“Yeah, just like that, only I did care… sorry, but you’re morbid, mate. I knew I was dying and I was having a fit inside.�

“Well, we woke up about… what was it, four, five hours later? And Dumbledore was standing here in the infirmary with Moody and Hagrid. Hagrid was a disaster, total wreck… he nearly broke my neck hugging me when I’d come through. Anyway,� he continued, “Seems Dumbledore shot around some charm or another. We don’t know much about it, only that he didn’t like having to use it with us there. Supposedly, if your soul is filled with evil or sin, you’re blasted really hard and repelled from the spot. If you’re good, it just knocks the wind out of you. I reckon it did a bit more than that, though,� he finished.

“Oh, wow… I can’t believe they just popped up at Hogwarts like that. How did they, anyway? In Hogwarts, A History, it says there are serious anti-Dark arts spells put all across the grounds… and it’s unplottable. How on earth did they just trot on in, let alone find it?� Hermione wondered aloud.

“Well, we’ve asked Dumbledore that,� Ron began…

“But all he does is reassure us that the castle itself can’t be breached. So, we’re really not sure Hermione. Though, Voldemort went here too, so he at least knew how to find it,� said Harry.

“Oh hell! I’ve forgotten!� Hermione yelped.

“What?!�

“Dumbledore! Is he furious with us?�

“Oh… that,� Ron staggered.

“No.� Harry put simply. “He wasn’t mad at all, seemed as if he expected it, honestly. Which was curious, I thought. Ron and me were just talking about that…�

Hermione laid back down, face turned towards the ceiling. Why wasn’t Dumbledore angry? In the past, he’s always understood, always thanked us… but he always warned us to be careful and not go looking for trouble. ‘But that’s precisely what we did,’ Hermione thought. What was different now?

“Oh! I know!� she exclaimed.

“Do you? Mind filling us in?� Ron retorted.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? This time it’s all different. Before… with the Sorcerer’s Stone, with the Chamber of Secrets… all that, it was different, because Harry was too young, because it wasn’t time for the prophecy to be fulfilled yet. Those years were sort of… errr, stepping stones, I suppose you could say, to what had to happen in the end, which is why Dumbledore understood the circumstances, but didn’t exactly encourage our involvement,� she paused for breath, and saw the revelation cross Harry’s eyes. He understood what she was saying, though Ron sat, eager to hear more, as if he’d been completely out of the loop for the past six years.

“So,� she continued, “Now, he thinks it’s time. Now he knows that you know about the prophecy, so he expects that you’ve come to terms with it by now, and so he expects that you’re going to be on the foreground and in the action of the battles. He wasn’t furious because your involvement is necessary, Harry. Because this time, your part in it all is crucial, essential. Before it was more… coincidental. He was alright with it because you’re ready now, because the second war is here… and because he knows it.� Hermione concluded.

Finally, it all seemed to piece itself together for Ron. Harry nodded a bit, his eyes glazed, staring into oblivion. Hermione wished she hadn’t been so blatant about it. She could only imagine what it must be like to know you had to either kill, or be killed, by Lord Voldemort, nonetheless. Which got her thinking…

“But that still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t be angry with Ron and me. I mean, truthfully, we have no place in any of this. If we hadn’t been friends, we’d be just regular bystanders to it all, with nothing fateful about our involvement,�

Harry looked at Hermione with mounting sorrow, for she’d never understand that, “I need you,� he said. “That’s your place. With me. Dumbledore knows that just as much as he knows anything else about this war. That if I’m going to have to win it, I’ll need you… both of you. That’s why he wasn’t angry.�

Hermione and Ron looked at one another, and their emotions were identical. One could see the love, respect, and trust they had for Harry, just by the twinkle in their eyes. Harry seemed to think his last statement was well-known truth, not anything terribly sentimental, but how wrong he was. Hermione reached across for his hand, gave Ron a knowing look, and said,

“And we’re here, always. Snape’ll marry, errr… Malfoy,�

“Which, actually, isn’t all that unlikely,� Ron interjected.

“…before we’d let you do any of this alone.� Hermione pushed forward, ignoring Ron. She smiled at Harry, eyes alive with compassion, and shook her head at how ordinary, yet exceptional, of a wizard he really was, but also at how remarkable and perilous his situation continued to be.

******************************************

A week had passed since the day of the Death Eater’s spontaneous attack on Hogwarts, and the time had come for the students to decide whether to spend the holidays there or at home. It had been a long, ongoing argument among the trio, but in the end, Hermione won in convincing them to go to the Burrow without her. She had to stay so that Snape could administer her daily potion, but she didn’t want Harry and Ron to hold themselves back for her sake; she knew how much Harry loved the Burrow.

The night before the Hogwarts Express was due to take them to platform 9 ¾ for the Christmas holidays, Hermione sat on Ron’s bed in the boy’s dormitory, watching them pack their belongings.

“Hermione, really, it’s not too late. Say the word now and we’ll stay… I really hate that you’ll be the only Gryffindor staying behind. Who’ll you talk to?� Harry was relentless in his fight to remain at Hogwarts for her.

“I’ll have loads of homework to do, Harry. I’ve missed so much class, it’ll be a wonder that I get it all finished by the time you get back anyways. I really want you both to go, have a good time,� she replied.

“Well, alright then. I still don’t like it,� he said.

“Anyways, Hermione, what fun’ll we have? You know how it’ll go. The Order are so caught up now, in… well, you know, their business… that Mum and Dad won’t be around much, except maybe on Christmas day. So, it’ll be Fred and George in charge of the house, which doesn’t say much for our safety, come to think about it,� Ron snorted with the thought of those two trying to run a household.

“You know it’ll be great, Ron. Fred and George, I’m sure, will supply the entertainment, and the two of you can practice Quidditch till the early hours of the morning…� she trailed off, secretly hurt that she had to stay back alone, for the first time ever.

“Well, look- Dad sent post this morning, he says him and Dumbledore had a chat with Mum. She’s been convinced that Harry needs to know what’s going on, seeing as how…� he hesitated, unsure how to word exactly what Harry’s part was in all this, other than either the hero or the chap buried six feet under. “…right. Well, that means we’ll know everything that’s going on now, so we’ll send word every day to keep you filled in.�

“Yeah, post every day, can you imagine? Hedwig and Errol won’t be too happy. But we’ll make sure you don’t feel alone,� Harry added.

The three walked down to dinner, talking rapidly about what the next phase in this war would be, when Hermione caught sight of Goyle running into the Great Hall, sobbing. She pointed him out to Harry and Ron, who gaped in wonderment at what could make Goyle, of all people, cry in public.

“What in bloody hell?� Ron spoke.

“Hurry…� Hermione said, grabbing their robes and pulling them out of their state of shock. “It must have been something major.�

When they entered the Great Hall, flocks of owls were flying overhead, clearly grasping the Daily Prophet.

“What on earth? The Daily Prophet isn’t issued at night…� Hermione pointed out.

The three sat at the Gryffindor table and joined the rest in staring up at the ceiling, anticipating their own copy. Just then, a loud thud announced the arrival of Hermione’s. She gave the owl a knut and frantically turned to the front page. It read:

SPECIAL EDITION: DEMENTORS PERFORM KISS ON FOUR DEATH EATERS

“Wicked!� Ron shouted.

“Not wicked, Ron… you know what this means?!� Hermione retorted.

“Yeah, it means we’ve knocked up four notches in this war… ahh, four down, only… what do you reckon, 30 more to go?� Ron looked to Harry.

“No, you prat! Oh, this is terrible…� Hermione looked up to see Neville and Seamus staring at her, their expressions of anticipation clear.

“It means the dementors have ignored Ministry of Magic orders! If they’re not under the Ministry’s control, they’re nearly as dangerous as the Death Eaters!�

“Well, how do you know the Ministry didn’t order the Kiss, eh?� Ron piped up.

“Because, I read! Have you by any chance looked at who the Death Eaters were, Ron?�

“Errr…�

Hermione slapped the paper down on the table, the huge black and white picture of Azkaban swaying eerily on the front page. Just below the title headline, in bold black lettering, read the names of the noted Death Eaters, none of which had been sentenced the Kiss: Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, and Lucius Malfoy.

Author's Note- While reading, please consider that this is the first story I've ever attempted to write. I tend to stick to poetry and essays as opposed to fictions and novels. So, try to be lenient. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, however. I hope you stick through to the end of the story, for I promise not to dissapoint. ; )


CHAPTER TWO: BIRTH OF IRONY


No one at the Gryffindor table spoke, but instead, tried to inconspicuously turn around to face the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were huddled together, jerking every now and then, presumably from their soundless tears. Malfoy, however, sat alone at the end of the long, polished table, arms crossed and gazing out into nonentity. His eyes were glazed over, his forehead slightly wrinkled, deep in thought.

“Bloody hell…� Ron whispered.

“Damn it all,� Hermione shot out. “The better half of me is relieved, you know… despite what this means for the Ministry. I feel…� she broke off again, careful how she chose his next words. “I feel righteous, I guess… like they deserved it. But, I have this small… ache… in the pit of my stomach for those gits,� she finished, pointing to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

“It’s not as if they chose that family, or that life…� Harry said all too quietly, clearly unaware he was talking aloud.

“Dumbledore once told me, you know, that it’s not our abilities that show who we truly are, but our choices. We can hate those prats for all their years of… well, being prats… that was their choice. But what family they were born into wasn’t.�

“Awww, Harry, you’ve gone soft! You know they supported their dads, and that was their choice! Anyways, the way I see it, the Ministry had it coming…� Ron mumbled through bites of pie. “…bet they reckon they should’ve listened to Harry a bit earlier, eh?� He continued, triumph in his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes, gave Ron an unmistakable look of frustration, and dashed out of the Great Hall.

“But they’re on our side now, and we need all the help we can get, Ron. And…� he paused, then gave voice to his thoughts without fully meaning to. “…and I know what it’s like to go without a dad. I didn’t choose that any more than Malfoy did.�

Ron looked suddenly very embarrassed for coming off so harsh about the matter. Neville patted him on the back saying, “It’s alright mate… Harry knew what you meant.�

**********************************

Hermione sat on the grand staircase, fuming over Ron’s lack of sensitivity; not for Malfoy, per se, but for the whole situation. She knew she’d regret her temper when they’d left and she was lonely for them, but right now, despite herself, she only felt awful for the three Slytherins who were now without a father.

‘Sure, they’ve been gits, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sympathy for losing their Dad…’ she tried reasoning with herself. ‘Harry’s right… their father’s occupations wasn’t their doing.’

Just then, Crabbe and Goyle walked past the staircase, heads hung low. This, however, failed to disguise their red, puffy eyes. Hermione mused for a moment about saying something to them, even if it was just a simple, “I’m sorry,�

She lost her nerve, though, and watched despondently as they disappeared through the dungeon doors.

Next second, Malfoy stalked out of the Great Hall, head hung just as low. His eyes were curiously normal considering the circumstances, but his morose demeanor still pierced the very air in which he stood.

She wasn’t going to lose her opportunity… even if all he did was ignore her, she had to extend an olive branch of sympathy, no matter how transitory and temporary it might be. Gathering her courage, she stood and quickly made her way across the corridor.

“Malfoy!� she called. He stopped dead in his tracks, but didn’t turn to face her. She edged slowly around, her eyes crumpled in concern.

“Errr… I, ummm, just wanted to say, I’m really sorry about your Dad…� she said, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t speak. But he didn’t walk away either. He just continued to stare at the ground, his attention focused on looking anywhere but at her. He couldn’t have her seeing him vulnerable. Hermione wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what that was. She searched around, and finally decided to add,

“I don’t know what it’s like… to lose a parent… so I won’t say I know what you’re going through… but- I, errr… I’m sorry, Malfoy,� she finished lamely.

He stood there, physically unable to speak. Unusually, no malevolent thoughts came to pass his mind, no witty insults came to pass through his lips; he had nothing left to say, to anyone. He could barely feel.

She had just decided to walk away when he finally spoke, in hardly more than a whisper,

“I didn’t lose a father. I never really had one.�

Hermione stood frozen, shocked to the spot. Where had that come from? It was a brief window into Malfoy’s emotions, his inner most feelings on his father; something Hermione never expected to receive from him...

Malfoy could tell Hermione didn’t know what to say to this. He himself was unsure as to what made him speak such truth to such filth. He needed something to counter it… he took two steps away before turning around and saying, “Apology accepted, Granger.� He snickered, and then walked on.

********************************

“Apology accepted?! What the hell does that mean?!� Hermione spat out back up in the common room.

“Well, I reckon he blames us, Hermione,� Ron pointed out. “After all, we’re responsible for his Dad being there to begin with.�

“Oh, that’s rubbish! His dad being a big, fat, evil Dark wizard is what got him there! Besides, Harry made it public! Not me! He should be furious with Harry!�

“What the… Hermione, you sound like that was a mistake or something!� Harry shouted.

“Well, no, of course it wasn’t, I’m just saying… either way, it sure as hell wasn’t an apology, none of us owe him an apology! Stupid, fat, awful, evil little…�

“You know, that’s what you get for trying to be civil with a Malfoy,� Seamus piped in.

“Yeah Hermione, what were you thinking anyway?� Neville finished.

“I just- I don’t know, I felt sort of bad for the guy…�

“Merlin’s beard, it’s the apocalypse…� Ron said, amazed. “Honestly, I never thought I’d hear those sinful words come out that mouth of yours, Hermione. And I’ve heard quite a bit come out of that mouth…�

“I understand, Hermione,� Harry whispered. “It’s odd… and I don’t feel sorry for Lucius, but I know what you mean about Malfoy.�

Hermione gave him a smile of gratitude, and he reached across and gave her shoulder a loving squeeze.

“Right… I’m going up to bed. Early morning.� Harry said.

“Yeah, me too. Goodnight Hermione, night Ginny,� Ron called over his shoulder. “Coming Neville?�

“Yeah, just a minute! Hey, Hermione…� he leaned over to her ear. “Just wanted to say… I thought that was right decent of you tonight, saying those things to Malfoy. Took courage, I think.�

Hermione blinked heavily and smiled, “Thanks Neville.�
He patted her on the arm, and walked up to the boy’s dormitory.

**********************************

The next morning Hermione joined Harry and Ron to the Entrance Hall to see them off for the holidays. She had to continuously remind herself to suppress her tears, and she felt like a fool for being so upset about it. She’d gone longer than two weeks without them before… not much longer, mind. ‘Don’t be a fool, Hermione,’ she thought vindictively. ‘You know it’s not just their leaving that’s upsetting you… it’s everything, right down to Voldemort himself.’

When all their things were by the door and Filch was reading off names, Harry reached over and embraced Hermione in an affectionate hug.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?� he asked uncertainly.

“Oh, sure… I’ll be fine. Promise to write though,� she responded, the tears swelling up. “And be careful, Harry. No dangerous adventures without me, ok?�

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,� Harry replied.
Hermione looked to Ron now, who seemed to be struggling with whether he was going to give her a hug.

“You’re such a pansy,� she said, making the move to embrace him first. He gave her a weary smile as his ears turned four shades of red.

“Right then… well, have fun, Hermione.�
Ron was looking over Hermione’s shoulder as he hugged her, and noticed Malfoy walking through the dungeon doors, as Crabbe and Goyle walked outside and into the carriages.

“Uhhh…� Ron stammered.

“What?�

“I, err… I think you’re stuck here with Malfoy, Hermione.�

“What?!� She flung around, but couldn’t spot him anywhere.

“I just saw him go towards Slytherin common room… he was still in his night robes and all,� Ron said.

“Oh, this is just lovely. So I’m the only remaining Gryffindor, and he’s the only remaining Slytherin. It’ll be battle of the Houses, it will…� she stormed on, still not believing her terrible luck.

“I wonder why he’s staying, but his little bouncers aren’t?� Harry pondered aloud.

“Beats me. Weird, though, eh? I’ve never seen him get on without those two. You know if there are any Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws staying behind?� Ron asked.

“Well, Ginny said there’s two fourth year Hufflepuffs staying, and a fifth year Ravenclaw. They looked familiar, but I don’t know them.� Hermione informed them.

“How does your back and ankle feel?� Harry asked.

“Oh, alright I suppose… my ankle is fine, but it still hurt to move my left arm too much, or sleep on that side.�

“Well, you be sure to take care of it. Don’t do off with the potion, hear me?� Harry said with a smile. Rolling her eyes in distaste, she gave him a brief nod of consent.

“What luck, Hermione… bruised back, and Malfoy for Christmas. Hey, if you get a chance, set him right with a good hex, won’t you?� Ron smiled at her indignation, and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Bye you two… please, please be safe!� Hermione called after them. She longingly watched their figures load into the carriage, and then watched their carriage fade into the misty distance of the December snow. When Filch shut the great oak doors, she turned around, feeling quite lost, and started for Gryffindor tower- but only to bump headlong into Malfoy.

“Ouch!�

“Pathetic, really. Standing there, freezing to death just to watch their carriage trot away. I didn’t know you were so dependent, Granger,� Malfoy sneered.

“Oh, like you’re any better? I saw your friends leaving earlier, too, and I’ve never seen you parted from them before… must be sickening for you.� Hermione retorted, all sympathy for him flushed away by his evil grin.

“Nah, not so much. The only thing that sickens me, really, are foul little mudbloods running about this school as if they own it,� said Malfoy.

Before Hermione could either punch him across the face, or think up a witty comeback, Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore walked across the Entrance Hall towards them.

“Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy! What luck to find you two together… please, follow us,� McGonagall called.

Hermione gave Malfoy a disgusted look and pushed him out of the way with her left hand.

“Ooo, anything to touch me, eh Granger? Masking your love with hate… all too typical, I’d expect you’d come up with a more clever plan to win me,� he said.

“You’re such a pig, Malfoy,� she spat. Smiling at her righteous anger and predictability, he trailed on behind her.

They followed the three professors into the teacher’s lounge, where Dumbledore sat on the puffy chintz armchair, smiled brightly, and motioned for the others to sit as well.

Malfoy sat as far away as possible from Hermione, as Snape and McGonagall purposefully positioned themselves between them.

“We’ve asked you here because an unfortunate circumstance has arisen,� Snape began. His eyes flickered to Malfoy, and showed him a look of regret, as if saying ‘I’m sorry for what I’m about to put you through’.

“It seems that Professor Snape here has some… errr, business, to attend to out of town over the holidays. This news is very recent, and so we’ve had to accommodate accordingly in regards to Ms. Granger’s required potion. Madam Pomfrey was very insistent that it be administered daily,� Professor McGonagall continued. “And so, Madam Pomfrey herself will be making the potion, but she is quite busy herself, as are we all, what with the looming… umm, circumstances,� she added uncomfortably, “and we haven’t the time to run up and down Gryffindor tower twice a day.�

“Which,� Snape picked up, “is where our young Mr. Malfoy here comes in.�

Malfoy looked around, quite confused as to his role in it all. Hermione, however, caught on immediately, and had to use every ounce of will to suppress a loud, disconcerted groan. And as if Dumbledore read her mind, he chimed in at just that second, smiling just as broadly.

“The reason this situation has been brought to you in such a serious fashion, is that frankly, we’re well aware of the… shall we say, tension, between the two of you,� he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, remaining quite content as he sipped on a gilly water.

Hermione glared at Malfoy, who was sitting, arms crossed, staring at her as if she’d planned this; apparently he had caught on. ‘Tension is an understatement’, Hermione thought venomously.

“And so,� Dumbledore continued, “the plan is that our dear Mr. Malfoy will get the potion from Madam Pomfrey, and deliver it to Ms. Granger twice a day: once at 8 in the morning, and the second around 8 at night. Is this suitable, Draco?� Dumbledore inquired politely.

“Yes sir.� Malfoy answered, quite unenthusiastically.

“Good,� McGonagall interrupted. “Then I don’t expect to hear of any bickering from the two of you. You will both behave, as I trust you will, the way Hogwarts students are expected to behave: civilly and respectfully.�

Dumbledore smiled at Hermione, a twinkle in his eye, and dismissed them from the lounge.

Hermione did not turn to meet Malfoy’s stare as he followed directly behind her, back towards the Entrance Hall. ‘Ignoring me, is she? Stupid Mudblood,’ Malfoy thought. And with that he sped up a bit, and fiercely elbowed Hermione as he passed; not knowing he had hit her sore back.

She took a deep breath in pain, and nearly tumbled onto the cold floor. She grabbed hold of a picture frame just in time to prevent this, and Malfoy looked on as if she’d gone insane.

“What’s with you Granger?�

“You elbowed me in my broken shoulder, Malfoy!� she screamed.

Malfoy looked suddenly very uncomfortable. Instincts would have him apologize, but he remembered who it was, and thought better of it.

“Oh. I… didn’t know it was your shoulder. Too bad, eh?�

Hermione didn’t respond, she simply glared at him menacingly, stalked away and ran up the staircase as quickly as possible. ‘This is going to be a long holiday,’ she thought miserably.

********************************

The rest of the day lagged by, even though Hermione kept herself buried in her studies. She made up three quizzes that day, and completely finished all her Herbology homework, but she still felt swamped. By nightfall she was mentally exhausted, emotionally drained, and physically weak. Dinner had been quite bizarre; the House tables had vanished, and in their place stood a single, dark table with just enough seats for the remaining teachers and students. Somehow, Hermione managed to get a seat directly across from Malfoy, which seemed to diminish her appetite. And when eight o’clock came around, the fatigued Hermione was in no state to have Draco Malfoy knock on the portrait hole, revolting potion in hand.

But that’s precisely what happened.

“What? Hello?� she called out.

“It’s me Granger, open up!�

She plopped back down in her seat and gazed longingly into the crackling fire, remembering how beautiful it looked before Malfoy had distracted her gaze.

A moment later, he knocked again.

“Open up! What the hell are you doing in there?�

With a heavy heart, she stood and walked towards the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. She reached out, causing her back to swell with pain, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady, allowing Malfoy to enter. She immediately walked away and sat back down on her comfortable sofa.

But he didn’t enter.

“Ummm, Granger? You want to take this so I can get back to more important things?� he called from outside the entrance.

“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake, you can come in, you know.� She said, as if this were the most obvious thing.

“What, you want me, to come in there? That’s like… the Gryffindor zoo chambers, it is. I’ll get filthy with your theoretical, courage and… whatever else it is you’re supposed to have,� Malfoy drawled.

“Oh, please. I’m not getting up again! You mine as well just step through!�

A minute passed, but finally, Malfoy hesitantly stepped through the portrait hole, his face alight with revulsion and annoyance. Once inside, however, he took in the scenery, amazed at the detail. Everything was red and gold, and he wasn’t sure if it were the colors or the fire that warmed him. Their common room was slightly smaller, but cozier. Huge, luxurious sofas were spread in front of the fire, a few spare armchairs outlining them. All the pillows had fluffy frills, the glass seemed to be enchanted to look snowy and frosty, and even the tables provided for homework purposes on the opposite side of the room were dark, solid wood, lined in gold paint. The light from the fire danced on the walls, gently illuminating even the darkest of corners; it even smelled pleasant- almost like the faint scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.

“You know Granger,� Malfoy began, shutting the portrait behind him, “if the Gryffindors ever find out you let me in here, they’ll reserve a spot at St. Mungos for you,�

“Yes, well…� she said, thinking he were probably right.

“So… here it is.� He said, handing her the potion. She looked at it incredulously for a while, and then gestured for him to sit down. She figured that Olive Branch might do well now.

“I’d bet you love it, wouldn’t you, if I continued to grace you with my presence?� Malfoy drawled. “Well, you’re out of luck today Mudblood.�

“Look, we mine as well try to act civilly towards each other, else it’ll be a long holiday,� she stated matter-of-factly.

“Listen to me, you stupid prat,� he almost whispered, clearly controlling his rage. “…I will not take orders from filth like you. Least of all orders that’ll have me treating you as if you’re anything more than filth.� He flung the vial at her, and she barely caught it with the tip of her fingers.

She’d never admit it, but it still hurt hearing someone say those things to her. What had she done to be so inferior? ‘Nothing,’ she thought defiantly. ‘That’s just Malfoy, little git that he is.’ She glared at him while chugging the potion in one fell swoop. He thought he saw the smallest flicker of sadness swipe across her eyes, but quickly did away with this possibility and turned around to leave.

Hermione conjured a butterbeer on the table. After taking a few sips to wash the taste out, she conjured another and yelled out to him.

“Want one?� Her readiness to forgive and forget surprised even her, but she thought it in her own best interest. Otherwise, she’d have to put up with his nonsense for the next two weeks. ‘Kill him with kindness,’ she thought.

He turned back around and looked at it questioningly.

“Oh go on, you just watched me do it, there’s no poison in there,� Hermione said.

“Why are you being so nice to me Granger?� Malfoy asked suspiciously. He wasn’t going to fall for any of her tricks.

“Well, that’s a good question, Malfoy, seeing as how you had your fair share of smart comments today… and you hit me in my back, of all places, so I can’t give you a logical answer,� she spoke, her voice full of quiet venom.

“Alright, then… how about an illogical one?� he persisted.

She made a heavy sigh, and said, “I suppose because we’re going to be associating with one another for the next couple weeks, and I’m not up for petty teenage drama, least of all around Christmas. So, I figured we should call a truce. Temporary, though it might be,� she added with a slight chuckle.

Malfoy still looked quite suspicious. He couldn’t believe he was even humoring the idea of being nice to her… but many things had changed over the past few days, so, he thought, this should be the least shocking.

“Whatever, so long as you’re not pitying me because of my father,� Malfoy replied, his voice soft and yet stern all at once.

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to this. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the words didn’t come out. She turned away, and after some deliberation on her part, decided to reply.

“I’m not sure if what I feel for you is pity or downright disgust that you seem to be very unemotional about it. I was ashamed of myself for being so sensitive to it, and I got quite the beating for it from several Gryffindors, I’ll have you know… but I’m still sorry that any of this- Voldemort, the War- happened to begin with. And some odd part of me feels that you’re just as much a victim of it as I,� she finished, feeling good about her response. Until she saw Malfoy’s jaw hanging slightly open and his eyes scrunched in concentration.

“You… you said his name?!�

“Oh… that.,� she sighed with relief. For a moment, she’d thought he was about to scream at her. “Yes, of course I did. I’ve been saying it since the third year, I think it was. Why’s he so great to deserve anything better than a name? You know, he’s properly called Tom Riddle,� she informed him, sounding as though this were a nice, casual side note.

“And how in the hell would you know that?!� he practically yelled.

“Because in our second year, Harry got hold of his journal. He tried ensnaring him through it, by giving him hints about the Chamber of Secrets, disguising himself by his real name. Him and Ron found the Chamber, and I had been petrified, and Harry defeated him again, for the third time. It was Voldemort, but he was manifested as a memory of Tom Riddle, his former self.�

Malfoy was silent, still registering what she’d just told him. The look of skepticism was clearly etched across his face. He ran his fingers through his platinum hair, and looked about as if unsure to even believe what she’d just said.

“So you mean to tell me…� his voice broke off. He wasn’t sure what to say, or even what to think.

“Yes, I do. What reason would I have to lie about something like that? You have no idea, do you? What he’s been through? What he’s going through? This whole bloody war depends on him, and he’s sixteen! It’s ridiculous, and this whole time, you’ve done nothing but tease him and make his daily life at the only place he calls home a living hell,� she was raging now, had completely forgotten that Malfoy was, for once, being communal at the moment.

“Look, Granger, I’m not totally buying this rubbish. Let’s just say Potter did get his hands on You-Know-Who’s journal-� he was cut short.

“Oh, he did, believe me! If your father still had his senses about him, you could trot on up to Azkaban and ask the miserable bloke yourself, he’s the one that put it in Ginny’s cauldron, evil bastard that he is, setting Harry up like that!�

Immediately, Hermione felt repulsed with herself. How could she have said those things, now, at this moment, when Malfoy was actually being calm with her? When he’s just found out his father received a Dementor’s Kiss? She should have said those things before, when it made sense, like second year, perhaps. She lowered her head, too afraid to speak.

His eyes had gone suddenly very empty and cold. He leaned closer to Hermione, enabling her to notice every stitch of color in his eyes.

“YOU,� he began slowly, “Know nothing of what I’ve gone through, nothing of the life I’ve been forced to lead outside these four walls. Never again deduce conclusions about me. You- know- nothing.�

He leaned back, his eyes still harboring immense amounts of rage and intolerance.

“I don’t need this, least of all from you… dirty, nasty…� Malfoy’s voice trailed off as he turned to leave.

“Malfoy, wait…� Hermione reached out and grabbed his robes at the arm. He flung himself around and shoved her against the wall. Her shoulder ached and contorted in violent pain, but she bit her tongue.

“Don’t- ever- touch- me,� he said through gritted teeth. He let her go, and her round, chocolate eyes became glossy with tears.

“I’m really, really sorry, Malfoy… that was awful of me, I- I shouldn’t have said that,� she stumbled. She had let his arm go, but she held his gaze as tightly as ever, hoping he’d see the sincerity in her eyes.

Malfoy was caught off guard by her apology, and couldn’t bring himself to break their gaze. Her eyes were sorrowful, pleading for forgiveness, and full of… something that Malfoy couldn’t place. Emotion, perhaps? He couldn’t look away if he’d wanted to… She looked intently into his eyes, and found herself deciding whether they were stone cold slate gray, or sparkling, blue silver.

She had no time to choose, however, because at that moment Hedwig flew through the opened window and landed gracelessly on the table beside them.

“Hedwig!� Hermione shouted. “What’s wrong, you look awful! Malfoy, could you go get some water? Please?� she asked.

“Get your own damned water,� he hissed.

She looked back up at him, her eyes pleading for help.

With a small grunt of indignation, he stalked away into the nearest bathroom to fill a tray. Hermione leaped to Hedwig’s aid; she was clearly out of breath. She carefully untied the letter attached to her leg, and took the tray of water from Malfoy and sat it down next to her.

“It’s post from Harry…� she informed him.

“Post? All ready? Can’t live without each other, can you?�

“Well he did promise to write every day…� she began.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,� Malfoy rolled his eyes at this information.

“…but I didn’t expect a letter tonight,� she finished.

She opened the letter and immediately noticed that the handwriting looked rushed. Malfoy saw the blatant concern cross her face, and henceforth became increasingly interested in the letter’s contents.

She turn the letter right side up, and read aloud:

“Hermione: After the Weasleys picked us up from platform 9 ¾, we drove directly to the Burrow- When we got there, Voldemort’s Dark Mark was glowing right atop the house. We turned right back around and we’re on our way to Headquarters now. It seems we’ll be spending the rest of the Holidays there. Mr. Weasley seems really worried… Ron says he’s not letting on some information, so we plan on using some extendable ears to find out the details tonight, if they won’t tell us. Love, Harry�

a/n: Long chapter, I know. But it's necessary. Try to enjoy it, for I probably won't be posting another chapter for a few days. I really hope you like it.



CIVILITY OR MORE?



Hermione slowly sat on the red and gold sofa behind her, arms shaking madly. She kept peering at the letter as if it would offer some reassurance. For the hundredth time that day, tears stung her eyes, this time having free reign across her tired face.


Malfoy was caught in a battle of will. Should he attempt to comfort her? He tried rationalizing why he would do this, and didn’t think of anything remotely logical. But then he remembered Hermione’s earlier words: “…so I can’t give you a logical answer, Malfoy…� She had been nice without reason; he’d repay her out of the kindness of his heart… though just this once, he thought to himself.


He kicked his feet up on the nearest table and looked around as though slightly amused.

“The Dark Mark, at Weasel’s place?! Doubtful, isn’t it? It hasn’t been seen in ages, other than the Quidditch World Cup, and that wasn’t serious, they were just having a bit of f-� he cut himself short, instantly realizing something.

He remembered back to the Quidditch World Cup, replayed his father’s words in his mind. He’d told him they were just causing a stir, nothing serious. He’d told him it was all a big joke on the Ministry for being so uptight about security…

“Oh…� he whispered. It was all clear now.

It hadn’t been a joke at all. Then he remembered his harsh words to Hermione that night, and felt like snickering at his genius remarks; but he held back, still in wonderment about his own stupidity.


Draco Malfoy had never known his father to be a Death Eater, just one to dismiss compassion and Dumbledore as if they were degrading. He’d always imagined his father’s coldness towards the world to be a simple character flaw. He’d never imagined, until he was sent to Azkaban, that the rumors had been true… that his family was a lying lot of murderers… His eyes stung curiously with the resurface of this penetrating realization.

“It isn’t doubtful at all, Malfoy,� she responded, her voice barely audible, it intertwining with the crackling fire. She shook her head. “What- what if someone… someone is dead, Malfoy? Oh, you just don’t know… you just have no idea.�

Snapping back to reality, he straightened up in his chair, feet still propped up. He raised an arrogant eyebrow as he surveyed her.

“Well then come off it. Fill me in, Mudblood, since you know everything. I’m sure you’ve loads to say to me, and if I were you, I’d take this precious time in my company to spat it out,� he said.

“Oh!� she began, her sorrow quickly manifesting itself into fury.

Malfoy winced, knowing full well the blow that was coming. ‘I can’t believe I’m letting this happen,’ he thought. ‘She’s just a stupid little Mudblood, I should just leave her here to wallow in her self-pity.’

“So, you think I should get it all out, eh? Fine, then.�

She walked over to him, bending forward to meet his eyes. He rolled his own, murmuring something about her being a drama queen, and was just about to get up and leave without another word, when her next words stabbed through his stubbornness.

“I’ll start with you’re a no good, evil, dirty, insensitive, nasty little prat, and I’ve severely disliked you from the very moment I laid eyes on that cocky, sneering face of yours!�

Well, she thought to herself, that was a good start.

“You’re so arrogant, so caught up in your own little world as if you’re the only one who matters. You don’t give a rat’s ass about Crabbe and Goyle, you just like the convenience they offer of doing your dirty work! You have no idea what it’s like to be Harry, to have to live in a shadow of a legend that hasn’t even developed yet, to be known for some stupid scar on your forehead, as if that’s more important than all the things he’s done! And he didn’t save Ginny or stop Voldemort countless times because his name is Harry Potter, he did it because that’s his character, because that’s what’s right, whether your names Potter or not! And you don’t care! You don’t care about anything other than yourself! You tease him like it’s a hobby, you mock his parents and their sacrifice while your own are out there murdering innocent people! Muggles and Wizards alike! You think he’s the conceited one, but he didn’t ask for his fame! You think he consciously planned on being an orphan, living with miserable Muggles, and having his Godfather die?! That’s why he’s famous, Malfoy! A stupid scar that got him nothing but turmoil, nothing but a giant pattern of death in his life… and you call him conceited?! And you think you’re so clever because you pick on Ron’s clothes, as if that’s less superficial than picking on Harry’s scar! You’ve no idea what it’s like to live like him! Constantly one less than everybody else, because you’ve so many siblings that you’re only a small slice of it all! His best friend is the most famous wizard of our age, and he’s smart enough to know that wasn’t his choice! But it still gets hard to not get any attention, because all you’re considered is a poor little Weasley. You’re stuck too far up your own ass to see anything, anything at all Malfoy- you can’t see tragedy when it’s walking right down the hall next to you, you can’t see opportunity when it’s banging it’s fist off at your door, you can’t see beauty when it’s staring you in the face, you can’t see evil when it’s your own father, you can’t see good when it’s your own Headmaster, and you can’t see ignorance when it’s yourself, staring at you through a mirror!�

She took quick, deep breaths as she finished, and stared him in the eyes as if daring him to speak. The seconds that passed seemed to take hours, and very slowly, Hermione began to calm down.


After a long, tense minute, Hermione was sure he’d explode on her, possibly even set a hex on her. His eyes were stone cold, unwavering, and it scared the daylights out of her. He didn’t look angry, he looked more hurt and misunderstood than anything else; and this notion made her want to plop down and cry again.


Malfoy stared her hard in the eyes, could see the sincerity of her words, which made his heart feel like it was being ripped out his chest. Half of him was ready to set her straight, give it back full blown, scream until she went deaf. But the other half just felt miserable. Since his father’s imprisonment, he’d had fewer guts to be the depreciatory, icy Malfoy that Hogwarts knew. It was as if, for the first time, true, pure emotion seeped through his chilly demeanor and pressed him to reflect on himself. ‘Maybe,’ he had thought countless times, ‘if my father had analyzed himself, he wouldn’t have become a Death Eater…’ All the clichés seemed to make sense to him now. Maybe it was true that his dad was just insecure, and that’s why he had to run on those power trips… maybe that’s why he felt he needed to be loyal to Voldemort, because he was powerful…

Either way, what struck Malfoy most was Hermione’s courage to say those things to him. He couldn’t help to gain a small bit of respect for her. His eyebrows raised, he tilted his head and gave a slight nod as if in confirmation of his newfound admiration.

Finally coming back to the current situation, he wondered, briefly, how she could think such things about him; it was so plain she’d fallen for his cold façade like everyone else in the castle. The fact was he was like that because it was almost demanded of him.

Plus, he'd found an easy target in those three and clung to that for dear life. He never even gave much thought to the likelihood that Harry was a good wizard, a good person; growing up in the Malfoy Manor, it was always a prerequisite that anything of or relating to Potter was sinful. He knew why that was now, but two years ago, he was only certain of his father’s judgment. How foolish he was.


And his new revelation at his foolishness was all that held him back from setting Hermione with a curse; for truth be told, she didn’t know what it was like to be him either. She had no idea the torture he’d endure at home, the overwhelming lack of compassion and love. Trying to be a normal human with feelings and passions at the Malfoy manor was harder than trying to suck water from a rock.


To Hermione’s great surprise, Malfoy didn’t say a word, but sat down on the sofa. She eyed him cautiously, like he was a ticking time bomb. She slowly sat, still staring, and waited for the inevitable- only it didn’t come.

“Well…� he finally began calmly as ever. “You’re in luck, Granger. It seems that your skillful articulation on how much you despise me was impressive enough so that I’ve decided not to kill you,� he finished with a smirk.

He looked mildly amused at her shocked expression, and so went on.

“But let’s get a few things clear. I admit I haven’t been too keen on Potter and Weasley, and I admit that may have been some wrongful judgment on my part… well, maybe. I’m still not fond of them. And I’ll even go as far to admit that sometimes I can’t see things for what they’re worth,� he thought bitterly of his father.

“But YOU owe ME quite the apology for being so presumptuous as to think you have any idea as to what it’s like to be me,� he finished acidly.


This took Hermione slightly off guard.

“I, errr… I never said I knew what it was li-�

“No, you didn’t, but it was implied in that tangent of yours, and if you deny that, you’re either excessively stupid or far more ignorant than you say I am,� he retorted.

“Ummm,� she thought for a moment. He was right on that one. “Yes, I suppose… sorry about that,� she finished as she looked around the room, eyes still bright with tears.

“Ok then.�

Silence. For five whole minutes neither spoke or made a single move. Hermione kept glancing over to him, but he seemed content on focusing his concentration on the fire. She was just about to suggest he leave and go to bed when he said,

“I don’t want your pity, Granger.�

“Ok…� her voice fell to barely a whisper. “Then you don’t have it. But… how about my sympathy?� she asked tentatively.

“And what’s the difference?� He looked at her with disgust, mouth still clenched tight.

“Well… pity is sort of, showing mercy for someone because of a bad circumstance. Sympathy is showing compassion -for- their circumstance,� she said meekly, hoping it made as much sense to him as it did to her.


He was taken aback by her sudden display of benevolence and wit. He eyed her, as if seeing her for the fist time.

“Answer me this: how can you go from screaming at me like the insane git that I’m sure you are, to offering me compassion and sympathy?�

“Because…� her voice faded, as she tried to articulate what she was feeling. She took a heavy sigh. “…because those angry words, they’re just words. They represent years of pent-up anger and stress, they don’t represent my personality. They… well, they were an inaccurate depiction of what I feel now, here and today. Because now I only feel sadness, now I feel despair for us all, and there’s no room for anger anymore. That tirade was… it was just a projection of the old me,� she stumbled on.


Malfoy took in these words. This whole situation left him quite amused; not in the way a carnival leaves you amused, but the way an extremely ironic circumstance does… like the bad taste of medicine in your mouth that you eventually grow used to out of necessity.

His mind raced back to her little speech, and it stopped on a particular phrase:

“You said you severely disliked me… you didn’t say hate. Why?� he asked bluntly.

“Well, because the only one I hate is Voldemort. Hate is too powerful and too evil to let it consume your emotions for anything more than one person. And I don’t…� she felt embarrassed already, and she hadn’t even said it. “I never hated you, Malfoy. You can still be such a git… you say these things, these smart comments, and I just don’t know what I’ve don’t to deserve them. But, you’re right, I don’t know anything about you, so I can’t very well judge without being a fat hypocrite. So… we can try to be friends, can’t we?� her voice faded.

Malfoy peered into her soft, round, hazelnut eyes. It was an abnormal day for the Slytherin. He was so used to his façade of cocky superiority. But since the news of his father’s true identity, and his father’s ‘death’, so much in him had changed. He was slowly becoming the Draco that was always inside gasping for air to escape… the one that thrived and refused to die no matter how many snide remarks he threw out. The one that allowed him to sit in the presence of a 'Mudblood'… the one that made him so naïve about his father, yet so determined to never be like him.


While he was looking into her eyes, he saw the hurt, the pain, and the sorrow. His forehead wrinkled in concern on sheer impulse, and he was strangely attracted to Hermione’s eyes now.

They spoke such truth, truth and honesty that Malfoy had never known. He unconsciously moved closer, placing him a mere ten inches away from her face. Her hair lay in gentle, moose curls around her face, and the gold across the room seemed to reflect itself in her eyes.

Her presence taught him emotion, sincerity, and kindness- three more things Malfoy had never known. Staring into her this way made his emotions feel ripe, alive, like they’d just come out of a deep hibernation. He didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to end that strange feeling, but he became suddenly very aware of himself, and pulled away.

“I don’t know about friends. I -might- settle on civility. But don’t get your hopes up.�


************************************


Hermione scribbled a response and sent Hedwig on her way. Soon afterward, Malfoy stood to leave. As he did, Hermione shot up from the sofa.

“Oh, leaving?�

“Well, yeah… it’s nearly 10:30. I’m not supposed to be walking the halls this late as it is,� he said.

“Right, of course…" She smiled nervously.

Malfoy noticed her state of edginess and quickly became quite proud that he had such an affect on her. Though, he rolled his eyes wondering, ‘How could she be so blunt one minute and so meek the next?’


He took a few steps toward the portrait hole.

“Unfortunately, I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early,� he commented.

He thought about his choice of words- ‘unfortunately’… well, Granger’s going to have quite the time reforming me. He gave her one last glance before he left the common room, and Hermione was almost certain he’d given her the smallest of winks.



Hermione dragged her feet to the fireplace and sat on the floor, legs crossed. What was she getting herself into? She reflected on the day, and realized exactly how draining it had been. She had to say farewell to her two best friends, make up three tests, completed all her Herbology assignments, hung out with Draco Malfoy, and recently, dedicated herself to establishing some sort of relationship with the prat.

Worse above all, it was quite possible that one of the Weasleys was dead… ‘Dead,’ she thought wretchedly. It was just now sinking in. And as though hearing it for the first time, she pictured Ron and Mr. Weasley driving up to their home, only to see an omen of death. She closed her eyes, silent tears spilling from her lids. Rage, sadness, vindictiveness, and grief all seemed intertwined in her innermost emotions.


She’d really bitten off more than she could chew this time.


Attempting to calm herself, she thought about the coming day. Organizing a schedule always eased her mind. Her first priority would be surviving another visit from Malfoy.

All in all, however, she thought she had quite the genius plan. Not only would befriending Malfoy make the Christmas holidays much easier, but she’d have someone to talk to, and she’d prove to Dumbledore how mature she was.


But even now, after reflecting on the practicality of it all, she couldn’t get the image of Malfoy’s staring eyes out of her mind.


She gazed into the fire and saw them there too. He’d looked at her as if he didn’t completely detest her. True, they had gotten a lot off their chests tonight, and true they were being civil for once, but the look he gave her wasn’t one of mere civility- it was one of higher emotion, one of…

Her thoughts were cut off by the need to rest. She vaguely felt her had flop onto hard floor, her cheeks still damp with tears, and quickly fell into a fitful sleep.


*************************************************


“Harry! Ron! Get out!� Hermione sprang up from the floor, screaming. The fire was barely crackling, and the darkness that penetrated the windows told that night was still upon her.
She quickly turned around, looking every which way, expecting to see her nightmare become reality.


She’d dreamed the Death Eaters had figured the location of Headquarters, and were on their way. Only she knew because, somehow, she’d heard Voldemort telling them where it was… she was sending them a message, her head in the floo powder-filled fire, yelling at them to leave Grimmauld Place, when she’d woken.


It had seemed so real, so vivid. Then she remembered Harry’s dreams, and how they’d come to be actual visions, and her heart began to race frantically. She didn’t have a connection with him as Harry had, but she was so sure it were real… sometimes fate lets you in on secrets, that’s what this must have been.


Making up her mind, she flung herself towards the portrait hole, and instantly felt the consequences of sleeping on the wooden floor with a bad shoulder. The entire left side of her upper body swelled with pain; she was certain her arm was ready to detach itself, but she stumbled through anyway. She raced towards the Entrance Hall, trying to get to the teacher’s lounge- surely someone would be there.


But just as she reached the last step on the grand staircase, her bad ankle gave out and she tumbled down with a loud smack against the cold floor. The air had been beat out of her, and she felt numb all over. She made a futile attempt to stand, but she was just too weak. Rolling over, she thought maybe she’d conjure a message and send it to McGonagall for help, but soon realized she’d left her wand in the common room. Feeling defeated, scared, and helpless, she propped her body up against the bottom step, hoping against hope that someone would come rescue her, frustrated tears filling her eyes.


And, as if mocking her for her lack of faith, a higher power answered her wish, as Draco Malfoy stalked out of the dungeon doors, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Hello?� he called. It was too dark to see Hermione at that distance.

“Malfoy! Oh, I never thought I’d be so happy to see you,� Hermione laughed as she spoke.

“Granger? That you? What in bloody hell are you doing?�

“Please, help me up, I need to get to McGonagall,� she pleaded.

Malfoy walked over, eyes squinting as they fought to adjust to the dim light. When he finally saw her propped against the stairs, legs sprawled out awkwardly, he felt his heart do another turn in his chest, and rushed to help her.

“Thanks,� Hermione whispered. He placed her right arm around his shoulder, holding it with his right hand, and stabilized her body by gently grasping his left arm around her waist. Her head rested perfectly against his shoulder, and at every turn of his own he smelled the sweet rose petal scent of her hair. He closed his eyes at the pleasure of it, but quickly regained his senses and began walking, feeling ashamed of himself for his brief moment of weakness.

“Wait! Where are we going?�

“To Slytherin common room, Gryffindor Tower is too far. We’ll never make it up the staircase.�

“No, no, no, we must find McGonagall! I’ve had an awful dream, and I’m positive it’s real, she has to know!� Hermione’s voice was full of panic.

“Hold on, let me guess… it was about Potter and Weasel, wasn’t it? It was just a nightmare, Granger, get hold of yourself,� he sneered.

“No, you don’t understand, this happened to Harry before, he was seeing visions through Voldemort and they were real! If he hadn’t acted on them Ron’s dad would have died!� she yelled, trying to make him understand.

Even now they were wasting time. Malfoy could hear the urgency in her voice, but he was still stunned by this new information- Potter had been seeing visions through Voldemort?

“Potter saw visions through You-Know-Who?� he asked skeptically, exactly as he’d thought it.

“Yes, yes! He did, and I don’t have time to explain Malfoy, please…�

“Look, Granger, no one knows how to get to the teacher’s sleeping quarters, and we don’t know the password to Dumbledore’s office, so we mine as well get you lying down. Potter’s connected to the prat through that scar of his, but your connection wouldn’t make sense,� he finished.

“Haven’t you ever heard of fate, Malfoy? Sometimes there’s nothing magical about it, and sometimes it’s random and, and you know, hard to figure out, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to it!�

“I tell you what,� Malfoy went on, his voice calm. “I’ll take you to my common room, and I’ll get my head into wherever they are through the floo network and make sure they’re good, ok?�

Hermione thought about this for a moment. Even if they were good now, the Death Eaters could still be on their way…

“And,� Malfoy continued pointedly, “If there’s no answer or if they’re in mortal peril,� he spat sarcastically, “I’ll rush off and find a teacher or die trying, right?�

She wasn’t sure about this, but her back and leg were really starting to go numb, so she shook her head yes. He began gently pulling her along through the dungeon doors, and she took noticed of how sweet he was being. Then, she immediately noticed the climate change; it was much colder in here.

After two winding staircases and a few long corridors, they reached a seemingly solid stone wall. Malfoy glanced at Hermione, realizing he’d have to disclose the password to get in. With a mild sigh, he said,

“Parselmouth.�

Faint from the pain, Hermione randomly said, “Oooo, Harry’s a Parselmouth.�

Malfoy sniggered at her obvious state of confusion. “Yes, I think the world found that out second year, Granger.�

He slowly helped her through, careful not to bump her head on the way. He felt her shiver so sat her down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and watched her take in the decorations. Everything was silver and green, with the occasional black thrown in for variety. The sofa he’d sat her on was a deep emerald green with black pillows. She sat, shivered again, and Malfoy walked up to his dormitory for a blanket.

When he came back down, he was surprised to see Hermione writing something on parchment.

“What’s that?� he asked.

“You’re probably right. There’s no way that dream could’ve been real, I was probably overreacting. But I’m still worried, so I’m sending him a letter by owl post first thing tomorrow. I want to know more about what happened after they got to Headquarters anyway,� she responded. “…and about, well… the umm… the Dark Mark.� She coughed uneasily at the thought of it.

This, however, was not completely true. In the couple minutes he had left her alone, she did come to terms with the impossibility of her nightmare, but still had plans for Malfoy to check it out- until she remembered that he’d need the address of their whereabouts, which she was definitely not disclosing to him.

“Oh, alright then.� He said simply.

He walked over, sat down next to her, and wrapped her body in his own soft, black blanket. She pulled it tighter around herself, and got a faint whiff of his scent- she couldn’t quite place what it was, but she liked it enough to inconspicuously bury her face in the blanket.

“Umm, I just wanted to say,� Hermione murmured, finally breaking the silence. “That… well, thank you …for everything. For being nice to me, helping me…� she added with a half smile that made Malfoy’s stomach get an awful fluttering feeling.

He looked past her and into the blackness of the common room, and nodded.

Suddenly, as if being slapped across the face by a large bag of bricks, he realized how thoughtful he was being. When did that begin? He became abruptly afraid that she’d see his new vulnerability and hurt him… he didn’t want to be nice for too long, afraid that she’d come to read him like a book, gain power over his emotions. He couldn’t show weakness. With this, and feeling more awkward than he’d ever felt in his life, the old defense mechanism sprang back into action.

“Don’t mistake this for friendship, Granger. That would be my nightmare,� he drawled.

She looked up at him, her face scrunched in confusion.

“You were doing so well there,� she sighed.

“You know, I really can’t figure why you care so damned much about how I act,� he bellowed. What did she know anyway? She was lucky for the brief spell of consideration he bestowed upon her…

“Wh- what? Malfoy, you hurt my feelings! That’s why I care! Y- you act as though you think I’m the filthiest thing alive!�

“Believe me,� he practically yelled in tones of superiority, as he glanced casually at the ceiling. “…it’s no act,� he spat.

‘I hate how she thinks she can train me like a dog,’ he thought acidly. ‘Who does she think she is? In fact, I can’t believe I’m even sitting here with her.’

“Malfoy, you- you can’t possibly mean that, you were just being so nice…� She couldn’t believe this random sprout of hostility. Wrapping the blanket tighter around her, she stared vacantly in his direction.

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean! You see? I try to be civil with you and you come off all high and mighty on me. You know, this really isn’t going to work. I’m pureblood anyway, so it clearly wasn’t meant to work.� He turned away, refusing to face her. ‘Ignorant Mudblood,’ he thought.

“I- I can’t believe you’re saying… Malfoy, why are you being like this?�

“BECAUSE!� he screamed, fury pulsing through his veins. “YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’VE GONE THROUGH MY WHOLE LIFE! AND YOU HAVEN’T THE FAINTEST CLUE! AND YOU’RE TRYING TO CHANGE WHO I AM! WELL YOU CAN’T! SORRY IF I’M NOT UP TO YOUR STANDARDS, BUT THIS IS ME, WICKED AND EVIL, SO DROP THE SYMPATHY ACT! I’M A LOST CAUSE, ALRIGHT?!�

Hermione was stunned. She looked fearful, her eyes wide with shock… she was much too afraid to move, let alone speak. She was conscious of her trembling hands, but more so of her tearful eyes. ‘Don’t let him see…’ she thought miserably, and turned away. She felt so alone now. Harry and Ron were gone, the War was asphyxiating them all like a snake wrapped around an infant’s neck, her family was hundreds and hundreds of miles away, and all she had- or thought she was beginning to have- was Malfoy. And as second rate as that was, it was something to keep her from going insane with anxiety.

After a long minute, Malfoy gave her a disgusted look and stalked away into his dormitory, roughly slamming the door behind him. She didn’t want to be left alone…

“Malfoy?� she called sheepishly. He didn’t answer. Tears spilled down her face, her vision was so blurry now…

“Malfoy, p- please come back…� she cried as she pleaded.
He still didn’t answer. She buried her damp face in the blanket, and sobbed harder than ever, as she relived every bad thought she’d had in the last 48 hours in her head, and pondered on how lost she felt… some corner of her mind, however, began to feel ashamed and mortified over her lack of will.


A moment later she heard a squeak that was the unmistakable sound of a door opening. She immediately ceased her crying as best she could, and looked up to see a very blurry figure of Malfoy standing over her.

Before she lost her nerve, she said, “I- I don’t think you’re a lost c-cause, Malfoy… you’re not a b- bad person, and I never meant t- to make you f- feel like you were,� she sobbed.

‘How pathetic,’ he forced himself to think; Though Malfoy’s hardened face did softened slightly.

“It’s j- just,� she continued, “…everything is so wrong… and unfair… Harry…�

She stopped, unable to control her steady flow of tears. She still couldn’t make out what Malfoy looked like, but she noticed his figure wasn’t as stiff.

Eyes alight with mild concern and a tinge of regret, he listened carefully, but still refusing to sit beside her.

And finally, all her thoughts spilled out as quickly as her tears.

“I love Harry so much, it’s not fair everything happens to him! W- why does it have to be Harry? If he d- dies, I swear I’ll die t- too… I d- don’t know if I could live knowing they were g- gone forever… if anything bad happens to any of t- the Weasleys… if one of them is hurt, I’ll- I’ll KILL Voldemort, I will! I swear I will… And n- now they’re both gone, and I can’t be t- there with them, and… it’s b- breaking my heart…�

She looked hopefully into his face, praying that he’d understand, even a little… praying that he heard the sorrow in her voice, saw it in her every gesture. Little did she know, his heart was melting… and he found himself quite humiliated of his outburst.

He barely gathered enough courage to sit down, and say quite hesitantly, “Sorry.�


She wiped her eyes and was finally able to see him properly. He looked slightly perplexed, and extremely worried.
His eyes shifted back and fourth between hers and her hair, which was scattered across her face. After a little thought, she gave a mischievous sort of grin, and mockingly said,

“I don’t want your pity.�

He stared at her, utterly taken aback. Then realizing what she was playing at, he broke out into a laugh. They smiled at each other for a long time, Hermione occasionally wiping her eyelashes free of tears.


“So…� he began softly to break to silence, “I heard about the battle and all that, I mean, I saw them coming at the match… I’d just gotten the Snitch, too,� he said in hopes of making things a bit light hearted. “But… I mean, what happened to your shoulder and all?�

“Broke it,� Hermione said through the blanket. “And my ankle too. The bones are all right, but they’ll only stay so if I take that dreadful potion twice a day for a few weeks. They’re bruised like mad though, which is why it hurts.�

She looked up at him and noticed his wrinkled forehead. She smiled a bit and thought, ‘maybe this won’t be so hard after all’. Still, it was a very odd sensation, sitting there in the Slytherin common room with Malfoy. Just a few days ago, this situation seemed far less likely than being killed by a Death Eater. Hermione felt like part of her world was being turned upside down by this new “civility� between them… or maybe, it was turning right side up.


Malfoy was having similar feelings. He still thought it all must be some sort of nightmarish dream, intended to shock himself into an analysis of his life. Nothing about befriending her made sense, and this blatant lack of logic irritated him… But the more he considered it, the more he realized that his whole outlook had been shaped by his father, who had turned out to be Voldemort’s right-hand man. Perhaps it wasn’t so ludicrous.

Nonetheless, Malfoy was having a hard time adjusting. He hated looking in her eyes like this… it made him feel weak, vulnerable, and this new experience with raw emotion was leaving him very unnerved.

Unexpectedly, he thought of something that he thought might help her wounds…


“You know…� he gave her a quizzical glance, and then rushed back up the stairs. A moment later he’d returned with a small red vial.

“What’s that?� she questioned.

“It helps with bruises, I noticed. It’s meant to warm you up, but when you rub it on a bruised spot, it alleviates the pain for a bit. I’ve used it loads of times when I’ve come in sore from Quidditch. Which shoulder is it?� he asked.

“Ohh…� she pointed to her left one, feeling a bit awkward.

He handed her the vial, but she stared at it hesitantly for a moment. She looked back up at him, and saw that he clearly misunderstood.

“What is it? Look, I’m not tricking you, alright? Though, I can’t think why not…�

“No, it’s not that, it’s…� she felt very uncomfortable now.

“What, then?� he was dreadfully confused and it showed in the eyebrows that were disappearing into his hairline.

“Well, it’s more my shoulder blade than my actual shoulder… and, it- well, what I mean to say is, I can’t reach it myself,� her voice fell at the end of her sentence.


So did Malfoy’s face.


‘Damn me!’ he thought to himself. 'Why did I have to go get the bloody vial?'

Now he either made it awkward by rubbing it on for her, or he made it even more awkward by refusing to do so.

After a mental smack, he decided on a bit of comic relief.

“Oh damn, Granger, you really are dependent. Hand it here, then.� He said with as much energy as he could muster. She slowly handed him the red vial, and turned her back on him even slower. She heard him take the top off, and decided to do the same.

‘Oh, this is so embarrassing,’ she thought glumly.

She tossed the blanket from her shoulders and very gradually lifted the back of her shirt, revealing smooth, bare skin, and a decent sized black and blue bruise.

She heard Malfoy gasp.

“What? What is it?� she asked nervously.

“Noth- nothing, it’s just, err, really bruised, is all.�

He’d really gasped at the sight of her bare skin, not the bruise; he’d gasped at seeing the fire’s light dance playfully on Hermione’s nude, soft back. He’d gasped at the way her long, chocolate curls hung across her exposed shoulders. He’d gasped at how beautiful it was.

Now, however, he only felt the instinct to be revolted that he was about to touch her. Nonetheless, her suppressed this as best he could.

With slightly trembling hands that he couldn't explain if his life depended on it, he tipped a small bit onto her bruise. He began soothingly, slowly, rubbing it in, and at first Hermione shuttered at the feel of his hands on her; but she quickly got used to it, as her body soaked up the warmth. She let her head fall to one side, exposing her neck a little, and let out the smallest of moans. Malfoy heard it; he tried pretending that he hadn’t, but his scarlet cheeks deceived him.


He was very cautious not to hurt her- his hands motioned ever so carefully around her shoulder blade, and the fluttering feeling, as if he’d just fallen a hundred feet, came back with gusto.

He wanted to lean back, to allow the fluttering to die down, but he had to continue, else she’d know something was wrong. She turned her head around so that her back faced him at an angle so she could see him. He shifted over on the sofa so he could make eye contact with her, and as soon as he did, instinctively pushed her locks out of her face to get a better look. Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her cheek tingling with warm where his gentle hand has just been. And then, just as if to tease her, Malfoy whispered,

“Ok, you should feel it now.� And he stopped with a mischievous grin. He knew she was just putty in his hands right then, and he loved knowing that he had this impact on her. He leaned back, hands behind his head, and continued to give her a half smile with the infamous raised eyebrow.


“Oh, yeah… thanks, that helped,� she added shyly.

And without thinking, he reached up and grabbed the top of her shirt and very gently pulled it back down. He reached for the blanket, pulled it over her shoulders, and watched in awe as she turned back around and saw the now familiar gold flicker in her eyes. Her eyelashes were long and dark, and Malfoy remembered seeing tears spilt from them.


Instead of the previous smug grin, he realized that his heart was racing- his hands tried taking on a mind of their own, but several times, he stopped them right before they had caressed her face. A couple curls still hung flirtingly across her eye, casting a slight shadow on her soft cheeks. She stared at him intently- it made him feel like she was seeing through him, and the part of him that was the true Draco, but also that vulnerable part that he loathed, loved it. He secretly wanted so badly for her to see through his façade, to understand that his attitude is all he has sometimes in a family, a world that hates him- to know he’s really, deep down, just mildly insecure and very uncertain.

Hermione’s heart began to race now, as she saw the ice behind Malfoy’s eyes begin to thaw. She felt like she saw a bit of his soul, a bit of the real person that lay behind all those layers of false arrogance. She knew it must be difficult growing up in the cynical, cold-hearted Malfoy Manor. She knew there was so much more to him… once again, she found herself deciding what sort of look he was giving her. She was mesmerized by the soft light on his face, his hair lying playfully across his forehead. Without knowing, Malfoy had leaned in much closer- Hermione felt his body’s heat, mere inches away from hers… she felt his gaze grace her lips, and felt butterflies embrace her stomach at the same time. She leaned in too, so close now… she wondered- would he?


‘No, way… this is insane,’ she thought roughly. And she pulled herself out of the trance, and noticed Malfoy had done the same.

She took a deep breath, tried clearing her mind, but it was useless. She didn’t want that moment completely lost- she wanted it preserved forever in memory. It was testimony of Malfoy’s hidden compassion, and Hermione felt strangely flattered that she’d been given that gift. She opened the blanket up and motioned for him to share it with her. It was evident through the scrutinizing look on his face that he was tremendously reluctant.

“I promise, I won’t bite,� she giggled.

He raised an eyebrow, but the look of longing she gave him melted away any apprehension he had. He tucked himself next to her, with a perfect blend of disgust and desire forcefully streaking through him; the oddest sensation he’d ever felt.


He closed the blanket around them as she rested her head on his broad chest. He took a deep breath of her hair’s compelling, sweet scent, but, of course, immediately denied to himself that he’d done so. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought nastily. ‘I- I’m touching her. What have I come to?’

But these thought were just the projection of HIS former self, and that same part of him that yearned for escape knew it.

Hermione felt his heart beating and hesitantly admitted that it was one of the most beautiful sounds she’d ever heard.


She noticed, though, that it was beating rather fast.

a/n: I've tried to refrain from pleading, but... please leave reviews! They always brighten my day, even if they consist of nothing more than constructive criticism. I just want to know people are reading. Thanks kiddos.



CHAPTER FOUR: FORESHADOW




The following morning’s light burst through the dark Slytherin common room like a piercing knife. Malfoy awoke slowly, keeping his eyes closed. ‘What time is it?’ he wondered.

He sensed a tall, dark shadow hovering before his face, and he very grudgingly opened his eyes to reveal thin slits of light. Feeling a headache coming on, he quickly shut them; until he felt the shadowed figure move closer.

Opening his tired eyes he saw not the expected fireplace or familiar green sofa, but a seemingly enthusiastic Hermione, smiling brightly, staring at him mere inches away from his face.

Startled, he jerked back, causing a heavy throb to pound through his right temple.

“It’s snowed again!� she whispered excitedly.

Malfoy couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape his lips. Sitting up, he looked around as if searching for an answer that presumably lied in the thin air.

“What time is it?� he asked groggily, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“It’s time to get up!� Hermione said, a bit too loudly for Malfoy’s taste. “It’s quarter of eight, and we have Hogsmeade today!� she continued shrilly.

“You mind calming down a bit Granger? You’re not helping this migraine…�

“Oh, sorry,� she answered awkwardly.

Malfoy paused- a sudden memory lapsed his mind, one that bewildered him yet made the corners of his lips rise into a half smile.

He remembered last night, falling asleep with her in his arms. He remembered watching her as she slept, cradling her body as if it were a delicate treasure. He remembered leisurely bending down to smell her light, chestnut hair. He remembered who he was, and quickly stood in defiance, as if that would shake the experience out of reality.

Looking around, he saw Hermione’s face full of anticipation. He heaved a deep sigh before saying,

“Hogsmeade, you said?�

“Oh, yes!� She yelled.

Malfoy shuddered, and then, remembering his headache, Hermione hastily fell into a mild whisper.

“Errr, yeah… I, uhh… I figured we’d go… together, you know, since we don’t know anyone else that stayed behind… and I was really looking forward to shopping a bit, and I don’t want to…� she coughed. “…go alone.�

He temporarily considered the look on her face if he’d right out refused to go with her, but he unpredictably found himself much more adept to the look on her face when she was happy.

‘Get hold of yourself Draco,’ he thought glumly. ‘One night of close physical contact doesn’t constitute nasty little thought like that…’

Even though his every thought was still lingering on his father and the war that he’d been sucked into through him, and even though he knew he’d regret it later, he recalled her smiling eyes that could stare a hole into one’s heart, sighed in defeat, and said in spite of himself…

“Alright, then.�

Hermione bounced into the air, hair frizzing madly, squealed in delight and rushed towards the common room’s exit.

“Better hurry! I’ll meet you down in the Entrance Hall at 8:30!� and she disappeared out of sight.

“Wait!� he called out.

She abruptly turned about and peeped her face around the corner.

“What is it?�

Malfoy was suddenly very embarrassed with himself as he realized how humiliating his question was going to be for him.

“Umm… you going to be alright walking up to Gryffindor Tower alone? Just, you know… your ankle and all,� he asked, eyes looking steadfast at the ground.

Hermione smiled cheerfully and said, “Yes, I’ll be fine.�

‘Not that I care,’ Malfoy thought defiantly. Rubbing his temple, he stalked into the bathrooms for a quick shower.


*************************************


Forty minutes later, Malfoy leaned impatiently against the wall beside the Entrance doors. Combing his fingers through his hair for the hundredth time, he thought aloud, “And she had the audacity to rush me...�

“Oh don’t look TOO enthusiastic now Malfoy… you might give off the impression you’re happy for once,� he heard her yell from the Grand staircase.

He meant to retort with something along the lines of his usual sneering remarks, but instead caught himself watching her distractedly as she approached him.

Cheeks slightly blushed, ringlet curls tidy yet hung playfully under her red beanie, and skipping merrily towards him, Malfoy was astounded to conclude that he’d never known anyone quite like her. She’d always been the typical Mudblood: unworthy, dim, arrogant…


Yet he now finally appreciated how unique she really was. He’d never known anyone so cheerful about the smaller beauties in life; he’d never known anyone so strong that they could recognize peril and responsibility, yet remain optimistic about the outcome. He’d never known anyone to be so… intelligent about life, insightful about circumstances… and so gorgeous all at once.

At this last thought, Malfoy literally clapped both hands to the side of his face in amazement, attempting to knock it out of him. ‘Never, ever, allow your mind to wonder that far again,’ he thought viciously.

Hermione grabbed his coat and pulled him along out the doors.


“Ok,� she began in an official tone of voice. “I thought we’d get the shopping out of the way first so we can enjoy the nighttime a bit,� she went on as she continued to hold onto his coat sleeve. “…I always love Hogsmeade when it snows, but it’s particularly beautiful at night. And the two combined is just…� she made a gesture with her wide, sparkling eyes that indicated nothing else compared to this sight.


The rest of the way Hermione wondered aloud what to get Ron and Harry for Christmas, as Malfoy secretly wondered what it’d be like to have someone that cared enough to ponder the issue.

Once arriving at Hogsmeade, Hermione made a beeline for Dervish and Banges. Malfoy remained silent as she bopped around the store.

“Oooo, Malfoy look at this!� she exclaimed. “They’re two tickets to a Chuddley Cannons’ game! You’d never think you’d find this in Hogsmeade… that’s perfect for Ron, he’ll go bonkers,� she finished.

After picking out a Quidditch Tips book and another Broom Servicing Kit for Harry (he’d used up his last one), the two set out into the lightly falling snow.

“So, where do you need to go?� Hermione inquired.

“Nowhere,� he answered dolefully.

Hermione was just about to ask why, when she remembered he didn’t have friends like she had, and didn’t have a good enough relationship with his Mum to buy her anything. And seeing as how his father was soulless…

“Oh, ok then…� she responded uncomfortably. Then, as if fate was steering her thoughts, she got a randomly brilliant idea to brighten Malfoy’s Christmas morning.


“Hey, I’ll meet you in the Three Broomsticks soon, ok? I’ve just forgotten something…� and without waiting for a reply, she shot off in the opposite direction.

Malfoy shrugged and walked solemnly towards the Three Broomsticks, the icy winter wind reddening his cheeks.


***************************************


After sending her presents off to her dormitory with some owls, Hermione finally made her way towards her meeting place with Malfoy.


Forty minutes after separating with Malfoy, Hermione stepped into the pub looking very windswept but cheery, nonetheless. She stressed her eyes in search of his familiar blonde hair, but found none. She took three steps to the left for a better perspective. ‘No blonde anywhere,’ she thought.

Just as she was about to get worried, she noticed a boy of about his stature tucked away in the farthest corner of the pub. His head was hooded and rested on his right hand as if unable to support itself.

Hermione made a little skip as she walked over. Malfoy heard her pulling out a chair and rotated hands so he was facing her.

“Here,� Malfoy muttered as he handed Hermione a hot Butterbeer.

“Thanks,� she smiled. “So, it’s not even two… we have a good three hours to pass before we walk to the edge.�

“Edge of what?� Malfoy asked unconcernedly.

“Of Hogsmeade. You’ll see why later. Anyway, where to?� she asked innocently as she sipped off her Butterbeer.

Malfoy shrugged. He wasn’t much in the mood for trotting about Hogsmeade as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He was rather enjoying sitting in this far corner of the pub, isolated from the world. He’d been forcibly wrapped up in his father’s nonsense much too long to care about snowball fights and whatever else came with being cheery on a winter’s day.

Hermione was slow to catch on to this, but it was evident how apathetic he was at the moment.

“Malfoy, are you ok?� she asked as sweetly as possible without sounding insincere.

He shrugged again.

“Malfoy…� she whispered, clutching his robe. “Please, tell me what you’re thinking…�

Malfoy looked at the ceiling for reassurance. When that failed he looked back at Hermione, and instantly felt obligated to spill his thoughts. He lowered his hood and gave Hermione a meaningful look.


“I’m thinking that… that I hate having to guard my feelings like Gringotts guards gold. It’s ridiculous… truthfully, I don’t feel like being here. It’s too happy, and I can’t stand that sort of atmosphere when I only feel like crawling in a hole and dying.�

Hermione bent her head down, eyes wide in mild shock. She really hadn’t thought Malfoy was all that shaken up about things… he seemed perfectly fine; better, actually, than normal, seeing as how he wasn’t spitting out insults every minute. This, however, was a sign in itself that something was slightly off. Hermione gave herself a mental kick for not seeing it sooner.

She was usually so good with emotions.

“I- I’m sorry, it was really insensitive of me to drag you along like this-�

“No, don’t apologize. Just… let’s just sit here for a while. Maybe I’ll be alright to walk around later.� He laid his head in his folded arms on the table, face down, platinum hair scattered contrastingly across his black robes.

Biting her lip, Hermione took another quick sip of Butterbeer before interrupting his thoughts.

“Really, we can… we can go back, I didn’t even think about… well, you seemed alright, I couldn’t tell anything was wro-�

“I said don’t apologize,� he repeated, head still buried in his arms.

Hermione stopped mid-sentence, mouth still hung slightly open.

Fifteen full minutes passed without a sound coming from either of their mouths. Hermione watched people walk in and out, all smiling and laughing.

She felt an anvil drop in the pit of her stomach as she watched Malfoy stare blankly into nothing. His head was still down, but faced towards her now. She chanced a glance at him, and this time saw he was staring at her; at least, he was until he was caught. She smiled weakly and put her head down next to his, staring purposefully into his eyes.

“It’ll be alright, you know…� she began, never flinching from his deep stare. “It never feels like it will at these points in your life. But the fact that you’ve made it to another one is proof that you’ll live to endure yet another.� She gave a small pause for impact’s sake. “Which, I know doesn’t sound reassuring, but it should.� She wasn’t sure if these words had any affect, but she knew that positive assurance always lifted her a bit.

Then, taking the enormous risk of bringing it up and infuriating him, she recklessly plummeted forward.

“You’re not your father, Malfoy.� She whispered in his ear. “You’re not doomed to his fate. And… and I know you despise everything right now… and you have every right to,� she added hastily, afraid he’d mistake her words for egotism. “…but, I’ve noticed… I’ve noticed that through everything you’ve learned about your father and this war, there’s still… you. There will always be you, there will always be… how YOU turned out, how great of a wizard you are, regardless of your tribulations and upbringing… you still managed to turn out magnificently,� she smiled weakly, placing her small hand on his. “And whether you believe it or not, that prospect demonstrates a bit of hope to me… and makes our circumstance seem much more tolerable. That’s saying some, Malfoy. That’s saying that someone derived hope, patience, and faith… just from you.�


Malfoy came to learn in the subsequent years that nothing anyone could ever say to him would amount to the words Hermione had whispered on that cold December day.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and immediately recognized the sincerity and hope in her face. No snide remarks came to mind, no hindering feelings of hate were housed in his heart, there was only- astonishment. Astonishment at her… ‘everything’, he thought.

And very reluctantly, he recognized that those were the nicest words anyone had ever said to him.

He suddenly felt like a giant ice cube that was thawing, revealing the warmth that lied deep within.

His stomach did an awkward sort of flip when she strengthened her grip on his hand. Smiling gratefully, he gave a brief nod that made Hermione feel good about herself for the first time in weeks.

His fingers tingled with the need to touch her face, and he only caught them just in time to stop them. His eyes were scrunched into a look of concern, but they expressed only gratitude and amazement. She gave him another half smile and rested her head on his shoulder.

He had just collected enough courage to wrap his arm around her when they heard McGonagall’s voice coming from the opposite side of the fireplace.

“He’d better show, this concerns him as much as anyone,� she spat, clearly displeased.

“He will show, Minerva, I am certain of it.� Dumbledore’s voice echoed.

Hermione shot up. “Shhh!� she whispered to Malfoy. “I bet they’re here on a meeting! If we’re quiet, we’ll find out some information,� she informed him.

Malfoy nodded and Hermione slowly shifted her seat closer to his, in order to fully block them from view behind the fireplace.

“Ahh, Cornelius. How good to see you. Please, have a seat.� Dumbledore said.

“Cornelius? Fudge is here?� Hermione whispered to Draco. “Why, he isn’t Minister anymore…� she continued, clearly bemused as to his role.

“Yes, well…� Fudge’s voice responded. “I have to begin with some…� he sighed as though speaking took a great deal of energy. “…with some terrible news.�

The silence hung ominously in the thick perfumed air of Butterbeer and candy canes. Hermione was sure if he didn’t speak up soon she’d burst with anxiety.

“It seems… well, obviously the dementors aren’t taking orders from the Ministry any longer. Their performing the Kiss was evidence of that,� he began.

Malfoy’s face fell yet his eyes remained creased in concentration. Hermione gave him a nervous glance.

“However, the relatively good news is that they’re not taking orders from You-Know-Who either.�

“How can you be sure?� McGonagall spoke up.

“Because… you know as well as I that the only reason I’m kept in the loop of things is because of my ability to communicate with the dementors… they’ve grown accustom to me, I’d even venture to say they trust my word. I should hope that if they could manage that, you could as well,� he responded spitefully.

“Of course we trust your word, Cornelius. I’m positive Minerva meant nothing otherwise. We were merely wondering how you came to gather this information,� Dumbledore spoke.

Fudge coughed uncomfortably.

“They showed me.� He stated.

“Showed you?� McGonagall asked suspiciously.

“Yes, yes… showed me. They can’t talk, you know… they showed me in a vision…� the last words hung in the air with death’s grip.

Fudge’s voice clearly gave away that dementors’ visions were not a pleasant experience.

“…They want more independence. It seems they’ve grown weary of being pawns in a war that, otherwise, doesn’t concern them. Performing the Kiss without the Ministry’s orders was meant to signal this to us. However, performing it on Death Eaters was meant to send the same signal to You-Know-Who.�

“Is there any chance of winning them on our side?� McGonagall asked hopefully.

“Possibly. We’d need to play our cards properly. Azkaban is their perfect occupation, but they insist on more freedom. I’ve gathered… well, obviously they’re more prone to be on You-Know-Who’s side… but I’ve gathered that if we include them in on… errr, things… they’d remain loyal to us. What I mean to say is we need to give them more prey, allow them to attack Death Eaters at will, without trial.�

“Impossible! You know this!� McGonagall huffed.

“If we allow Justice to be tampered with and tainted by Voldemort, through any means, we’ve already taken the first step toward failure, Cornelius,� Dumbledore sighed.

“But what of the ones we know to be Death Eaters, for certain? Malfoy, for example… clearly he was no loss to the wizarding world, other than to perhaps You-Know-Who himself! And that’s not a bad thing, I don’t mind saying!�

Malfoy suddenly became very tense.

An instinctive wave of fury broke out through his veins. His rational mind screamed that he’d already known this; that he should be prepared to hear such things, especially when he knew them to be true. This rational part, however, was being crushed by the innate sense to physically injure anyone who spoke ill of his family.

Hermione felt him stiffen. She immediately wanted to dart out of the pub. She closed her eyes in aggravation with herself for putting him through this.

“Malfoy, let’s go…� she whispered.

“No.� he spoke so clearly and firmly, it startled Hermione. She blushed a little, embarrassed, then quickly looked away.
It seemed their brief conversation led them to missing a part of Dumbledore’s.

“Right, well… moving on… how’s Potter?� asked Fudge.

“He is doing well under the circumstances,� Dumbledore replied calmly.

“The poor boy has been through so much, it’s hard to imagine it’s really just begun,� McGonagall sounded very shaky.

“Harry is an individual, not a wager, and quite the multifaceted one; by far one of most extraordinary people I’ve had the pleasure to know, and I feel slightly ashamed to speak of him in the abstract. However, I cannot address this subject too thoroughly. Preparations and plans for his fight are kept strictly between him and myself, and to whomever he chooses to divulge it. I shall only say that it has grown more and more apparent to me that he, indeed, was meant to be fall of Voldemort.�

Fudge let out a small hiss at the sound of his name, and a deep intake of air could be heard from McGonagall. Aside from this, however, the silence was deafening.

Malfoy looked over to Hermione. She was shaking and her eyes had once again become glossy with the need to cry. She hung her head down, keeping her gaze away from Malfoy’s.

And though she was shaken, she couldn’t help but feel immensely proud to be Harry’s best friend at that moment.

“Well…� Fudge spoke at long last. “Have you gathered and further information on ‘HIS’ plans?�

“Directly after the battle at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was sent on a highly dangerous mission to learn of their plans,� McGonagall began.

“So that’s why Snape had to leave,� Malfoy thought aloud.

“…so he’s been trailing them for the past couple days. However, we just got word about an hour ago that he lost them, but it seemed that they were moving in our direction. I’ve ordered the immediate lockdown of Hogwarts. Professors are out right now to ensure that the children head back to the castle.�

Hermione gave Malfoy a dark look. He nodded and the two quietly slipped out of their corner, crawling toward the door.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione abruptly stood and ran out the pub, Malfoy hot on her trail. Once in the snow, however, she didn’t stop.

She ran for ten full minutes, all the way to the edge of Hogsmeade. Night had just begun to fall.

Breathing heavily, Hermione stopped and flopped down in a tall mountain of snow. Still catching his own breath, Malfoy said,

“You think they’re coming?�

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to stick around to find out. There’s a path here behind this hill… it leads to the back of Hogwarts, straight to the Quidditch Pitch. It’s faster,� she panted.

He gave her a nod of consent before grasping his side and sitting next to her.

“So, this is the edge?� he asked.

“Oh! Yes… here, follow me,� she said running up the hill. The last thing Malfoy wanted to do was walk more, but he followed obediently.

Once he reached the top, he grabbed a ball of snow and pushed his hot face into it. Hermione giggled, but tugged impatiently on his robes.

“What?�

“Look…� she whispered in astonishment.


Malfoy turned around as he wiped his face clean of snow. But he stopped in the middle of this action, hands left covering his cheek, when he finally saw what Hermione had been marveling over.

It was a bird’s eye view Hogsmeade, standing atop the steep hill. It seemed quietly ablaze with small dots of Christmas lights and glistening, powdery snow. He instinctively gasped at the breathtaking sight before him. The illumination was reflected in the light flurry that continued to fall from the now inky sky. Every house looked as if it had been glazed with icing and gumdrops, for nothing was left uncovered by either snow or lights. The gentle contact of the flurries on his face made his body quiver in wonder. The faint scent of Butterbeer and candy canes lingered from the pub, and he took a great intake of air to heighten his senses. Though very quiet, Malfoy could almost hear the distant sound of a Christmas carol playing in the background, as if magicked there by the sheer splendor before him. The village became, in that moment of time, so much more- it was the exact vision of beauty that Malfoy could never have placed unless he’d seen it firsthand.

But then he glanced to Hermione, who stood smiling silently in awe- eyelashes fluttering, curls askew across her face, which was lightly lit by the glow of Hogsmeade- and he realized that she was even more beautiful than the overwhelming sight in front of him. Malfoy unwillingly took notice that he was much more content on watching her than it.

Snow flurries had gathered in her curls, and this combined with her rosy cheeks made her resemble a stunning porcelain doll, only without the phony outfit and artificial, insincere smile. She looked as if heaven lay in front of her and nothing else in the world made her happier that to be in its presence.

“Now can you see why I brought you here?� she asked so quietly, Malfoy’s ears strained to make out the words.

“Yes,� he whispered back.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s simply… breathtaking.�

“Yes,� he whispered again, still looking at only her.

“It’s just… I mean, have you ever seen anything more beautiful in your life?� she whispered rhetorically.

“Yes...�

Hermione snapped out of her trance and faced Malfoy. He was staring right at her… ‘Had he been talking about me?’ she asked herself incredulously.

Malfoy felt a tight, gripping yearning in his chest that hadn’t been there before. ‘Ooh, kiss her before you explode… kiss her!’ his mind roared achingly.

Taking a timid step closer, Malfoy couldn’t believe what was going through his mind- what was going through his heart… another cliché began to make sense to him: We are all afraid of the unknown.

And love was something he’d never experienced, which spoke volumes about how terrified it made him. This, in effect, was the reason he’d been so reluctant to accept the feeling.

Malfoy blocked everything from focus other than her soft features and soft soul that peered through him out of her russet eyes.

He offered her a weak smile, not knowing that he was also beginning to offer her his heart.

He hadn’t spoken in several long minutes, but words were useless at moments like these. She read his expressions as easily as she read letters on parchment… eyebrows wrinkled in wonder, she leaned a bit closer, his eyes silently pouring out every insecurity that he’d harbored for so long, but had covered up so well.

His display of vulnerability was endearing to Hermione, as she felt deeply humbled by it. They were so close, if she reached out just a little, she could feel his soft, ivory skin…

She faltered for a moment, unable to shake the shock of what, she was sure, was about to happen next…

a/n: I've tried to refrain from begging, but... PLEASE review! It's always nice to know people are at least reading your work, even if they don't particularly care for it. Thank you!


CHAPTER FIVE: THE WAR AT HOGSMEADE



Entranced by his silver stare, Hermione trembled at her loss for words.

However, they weren’t needed. For just then, Hedwig, blending perfectly with the snowy ground beneath them, landed beside Hermione gasping for air.

“Hedwig!?� she exclaimed.

Malfoy felt a proverbial smack across the face as he snapped out of his daze. He looked down at the white owl in front of him, unable to fully suppress his annoyance with it.

Hermione lifted the bird on her arm. Hedwig swayed ominously, clearly exhausted from a rushed flight in stormy weather. Gently detaching the letter from her leg, Hermione handed her to Malfoy while she read. He glared at Hedwig menacingly.

She must have had orders to return immediately, because before Malfoy could give her a piece of his mind she took flight again, disappearing into the chilly night air.

“OH!� Hermione gasped in terror. She dropped the letter in the snow and it nearly blew away. Malfoy caught it with his shoe and held it between two fingers.

“What?? What’s it say?� he asked hurriedly.

“I- I didn’t get past the first li- Oh, Malfoy, Percy’s- Percy Weasley is dead!�


Malfoy’s jaw dropped. He thought about Ron and for the first time in nearly seven years, felt truly appalled with himself for all his malicious insults about his family. Meeting her gaze, he studied Hermione’s face and instantly saw her stunned expression that did nothing for suppressing her tears.
Hermione fell to the ground, shaking madly. She couldn’t control her muscles, they jerked almost as if having a seizure. Malfoy grabbed her arm.

“Are- are you sure Granger?� was all he could think to say.

He could never have been prepared for this.

She nodded. Her eyes were wide with horror as salty tears stuck frozen to the side of her face. She pointed at the letter, indicating to read:


Hermione,
I’m sorry you have to hear it like this- Percy’s dead. But there’s no time to explain. Do NOT go to Hogsmeade today. Lupin just got word from one of our spies that the Death Eaters are heading that way. Apparently, they’re goal is to set the Imperius Curse on several witches and wizards they know to be powerful and force them to fight for Voldemort. But they won’t refrain from killing. If you’re already there, get out NOW- use the path behind the hill, it’s faster. I’m sorry this doesn’t explain much. Be at the Gryffindor fireplace at 10 tonight.

Love, Harry


Malfoy reread the letter in disbelief. It struck him how much he’d really been ignorant about for the last few years. He’d no idea things were this bad, no idea how involved Hermione, Harry and Ron really were. Quickly coming to his senses, Malfoy heaved Hermione up from the snow and kept a firm grip on her arm.

“We have to go, now.� He dragged her along, forcing himself to ignore her small whimpers of emotional pain.

“W- what did the rest s-say?� she cried.

“That we have to leave, now. They’re coming.�

He relentlessly pulled her along and heard her sharp intake of breath at his words. She broke out into a run, as she now dragged him along.

“Run!� she yelled.

Malfoy had never realized how hard it was to run in the snow until this day. Hermione finally let go of his arm and darted into the woods just behind the hill.

“Hurry!� she screamed, the panic vibrating through every syllable.

Malfoy’s legs ached with the need to rest. If he didn’t stop soon he’d collapse… his breathing was shallow and quick. The freezing night air stung his throat like daggers, but Hermione’s panic seemed to coarse through his body, compelling him to run on.

Then, through the clearing in the woods, Malfoy saw the familiar tall goal posts of the Quidditch Pitch. He sighed with relief. The pleasing sight seemed to empower him as he quickened his steps to catch up with Hermione.

But he ran right past her, for she’d abruptly come to a halt.

“Granger, what’re you- �

“GET DOWN!� she shouted, and, with a few long steps, jumped in front of him and pushed him into the hard ground all at once.


Malfoy’s face crushed against the frozen earth that lied just inches under the snow. He rolled over and felt Hermione’s limp body pressing against his own. Panic struck him like lightening.

“Granger! Granger, are you ok? Granger, wake up!!� he shouted as he tugged on her robes.

Her arms were askew; her face was pale and limp. She’d been knocked out.

Looking around Malfoy could only see the goal posts and massive, white trees that no longer seemed to resemble glazed icing, but rather pale death. ‘What just happened?!’ he wondered frantically. Then a hoarse, sneering voice echoed from the opening of the woods. Malfoy jumped up, only to see a tall, dark hooded figure gliding slowly towards him.


“Ahh, Master Malfoy,� it beckoned sinisterly. “Forgive me, I nearly hit you. I did not recognize you at first. Luckily you seem to have an admirer.� His voice mocked. “I am sorry about your father. Believe that he is being avenged as you and I speak.�


Malfoy’s mind raced. He needed to get Hermione to the Hospital Wing immediately, but if he showed concern for her this Death Eater would surely strike. He wanted to be defiant, tell him his father hadn’t deserve anything less than the fate he got… but as he glanced at Hermione’s lifeless body, he knew he’d have to play along if she stood a chance.

Searching around the woods as if condolences would be spelled out in the trees, he stood to full height.

“Perhaps you do not recognize my voice. You may call me Rookwood,� he continued.

“Yes, I know. My father had told me much about you. Held a rather high opinion, if my memory serves me.� He turned on the old Malfoy charm like a light switch.

It felt oddly refreshing, being so cynical again after two long days of strained civility. He knew, however, that he preferred consideration to his old ways. Nevertheless, his contemptuous Malfoy-charisma was a good trait to have mastered in moments like these.

“He and I were quite close, yes. I must say, however, that he would have been most displeased to find you gallivanting with this filth,� Rookwood motioned to Hermione.

Malfoy’s face reddened with rage, and he hoped his acting skills could counter this; for he knew it was showing.

“Trust me, sir,� he spoke calmly. “…If I had any choice in the matter, I would have nothing to do with this Mudblood. I’ve been directed by my professors to escort her around. Apparently, one of your fellow Death Eaters did quite the job injuring her last battle. She suffered a broken ankle.�

“Well, I am sorry Lestrange’s actions put that upon you. Too bad this girl is so easily blinded by Dumbledore’s fanciful visions of hope and morals. Her skills as a witch would have made an asset to our side.�

Malfoy quickly registered how hypocritical this statement was; she was filth, yet she would have been an asset to Voldemort?

Malfoy merely nodded, however, and frenetically racked his mind for ideas of how to escape. He could just convince Rookwood that it would be suspicious if he and Hermione didn’t return to Hogwarts soon… ‘No,’ he thought… ‘He’ll let me go but he’ll surely kill Granger… maybe I should distract him with false hints about-’


“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!�


Rookwood went rigid as a board and toppled onto the hard ground below him, unable to move a single limb.

Malfoy spun around, eyes wide in confusion; but it all made sense when he saw Hermione’s weak head lifted, her wand raised unsteadily. She let her head fall back to the earth with an audible thud.

Malfoy rushed over and bent down beside her. His eyes darted across her body, searching for a wound.

“Are you ok?!� he asked hurriedly.

She grabbed her side with trembling hands, but managed to give a weak nod.

Malfoy was filled with such an intense level of relief, he felt light headed.

“T- they’re here…� she whispered warningly. She could feel them around, closing in on Hogsmeade.

“Come on,� he said powerfully, beginning to stand. “…We have to get out of here. What spell did he use?�

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but her voice failed her.

“Its ok, don’t try to talk…� and Malfoy slung her arm around his neck and began to lift her.

She struggled to walk on her own, but it was in vain. Malfoy quickly rejected the idea of merely pulling her along and swiftly grabbed under Hermione’s legs and lifted her in his arms. Giving into her lack of strength, Hermione allowed her head to rest its full weight on his shoulder.


******************************************


Pushing through the Hospital Wing doors, Malfoy yelled out for Madam Pomfrey. No one answered. He walked further into the room and softly laid Hermione on the nearest bed. After tucking the covers in around her, he rushed off in search of the school’s nurse.


“Madam Pomfrey?� his voice echoed loudly through the room. He ran over to her office door and banged on the glass. It opened so abruptly Malfoy continued knocking on air for a second before he noticed.

“Yes, yes what is it?� she asked, the tones of frustration blatant.

“It’s Gra- Hermione Granger, she’s just been hit with some spell by a Death Eater,� he spoke quickly as he ran to lead Madam Pomfrey to her bed. He could hear Pomfrey’s sharp gasp and her quickened footsteps directly behind him.

“They’re in Hogsmeade… we just barely got away,� he added as they reached Hermione’s bedside.

“Oh, my dear! Do you know what he hit you with?� she sounded fearful.

“Isn’t that your job, to figure that out?! She can’t talk! Just fix her, will yo-� his panicked fury was cut off by the sternest glare Hermione could muster; Malfoy got the hint.

She could scarcely mumble a sound, but managed to whisper, “S-Stupefy,� before closing her eyes in agony. Madam Pomfrey remained exceedingly worried, but she appeared visibly calmer.

“Well, then, you should be alright. Expect to be very sore with a number of bruises to add to your collection, but nothing too major. Though, this does mean Mr. Malfoy will be visiting you with your potion for longer than expected.�

Pomfrey swiftly bustled around trying to make Hermione as comfortable as possible. She made comments about how dangerous things were nowadays and how absurd it was that children were fighting Death Eaters, but neither Malfoy nor Hermione were listening.

They had gone into another trance, in which only a loud explosive or crowbar could peel their eyes from one another.
Malfoy smiled in adoration at her as he remembered her kind words back at the Three Broomsticks. Then his mind played back to her heroism just minutes before- it was so obvious to him now how experienced she was in these matters. This partly impressed him, and partly terrified him. She seemed to astound him more and more by the minute. He looked at her now in amazed puzzlement- the way one would look at a beautifully bright rainbow printed against a black night firmament.

Hermione saw flecks of light blue in his eyes, and it reminded her of the clear blue sky shining through gray storm clouds. Her stomach turned and fluttered uneasily, but not from her injuries…

“Ms. Granger!� Madam Pomfrey shouted.

Her head shook a bit as her eyes grew wide as if snapping out of a daze.

“What on earth were you spacing out on? I’ve been asking you, where were you hit?�

Hermione lifted a shaking hand and pointed to her back.

“Oh, lovely… your entire back side will be black by the end of term!� and with that, she scurried away to retrieve some potions, muttering to herself all the way.

Malfoy took a few steps closer then sat gingerly beside her on the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; he found it took more courage and nerve to do that than to deceive a Death Eater.

“Why did you do that?� he asked her softly.

Hermione gave him a clear look of innocence and incomprehension.

“You know what I mean… why did you take the spell for me?� he softly pressed on.

Hermione scrunched her shoulders into a shrug before hissing in pain at the movement.

“You’re quite dense, you know…� Malfoy chuckled. A tense moment passed as he watched her eyes wearily wonder across the room.

“You haven’t answer me,� he whispered again. “…Why did you do that?�

Hermione’s eyes darted around Malfoy’s face. Truthfully, she didn’t know exactly why she’d done it. Part of her felt it was instinct and part of her felt she should know better than to blame it on that.

Her mind wondered back to previous encounters with Death Eaters. She knew she would have easily done the same to save Harry or Ron because she loved them, but… Malfoy? If it had been anyone else besides Harry, Ron or him, she admitted, her reflexes wouldn’t have been so alert.
She smiled up into his concerned face. “Reflexes,� she simply murmured, feeling unexplainably guilty that her answer wasn’t all together accurate.


Malfoy eyed her curiously, but didn’t argue.


************************************************


Hermione eventually fell into a much-needed sleep and didn’t wake until nearly nine that night. When she did, it was only to find Malfoy sitting in a chair, head on her bed, fast asleep himself.

She took notice that Madam Pomfrey hadn’t forced him to leave, which was quite unusual. She also saw that she had left out several small potion vials on the table next to her, each labeled with instructions as to when to take them. Hermione’s mouth scrunched just at the thought of tasting all those in one day.

“Feeling better?�

Hermione jumped- she turned back around where Malfoy’s head was still lying on the bed, but his eyes were opened and looking at her.


“A bit. I can talk all right now,� she smiled. “What time is it?�
Malfoy looked out at the enormous grandfather clock in the nearby corridor.


“About quarter after nine,� he said.


She nodded and rested her head back on her pillow. Malfoy stared at her as he slowly moved closer. He was right above her face, just staring. Her eyes fluttered open and quickly became round in mild surprise at seeing him so near. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed her ever so softly on the cheek. When he leaned back he had to struggle to keep his own surprise at his daring from being exposed.
If there are fifteen shades of red, Hermione’s face went through them all. She suddenly found herself wishing she didn’t look such a mess.


Then Malfoy suddenly remembered-

“Potter!� he yelled as he shot up from his seat.

Hermione looked hopelessly confused. “What?� she asked.

“Potter! In the letter, he said be at the Gryffindor fireplace at ten tonight!�

He glanced again at the clock in the hall. It read 9:33. ‘Had I really been staring at her for fifteen minutes?!’

“Come on,� he said quickly. “We need to hurry.�

Hermione didn’t need telling twice. She tried moving her legs, but before she could come to the conclusion that they were too weak, she found herself being lifted in Malfoy’s arms for the second time that day. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he set out toward Gryffindor Tower.

CHAPTER 6: IN THE WAKE OF WAR



“Lemon drop,� Hermione piped up as loud as she could.

The Fat Lady’s portrait swung open, revealing a stifling cold common room. Malfoy carefully stepped through, keeping his hand on top Hermione’s head in case it was bumped against anything. After sitting her on the fluffy sofa, he used his wand to start a blazing hot fire.

The two sat in silence for ten minutes, Malfoy occasionally glancing around the room. Hermione had her eyes narrowed on the fire.

“What do you suppose could be keepi-� She began, but gave a small gasp.

“What? What is it?� Malfoy inquired.

“I- I just saw Harry, in the fire… or, I thought I did… but he disappeared. Why would he do that?�

Then she saw his face pop up again, this time wearing a look of mingled disgust and confusion. But he immediately disappeared again.

“Look there! Did you see him? That’s odd, why wouldn’t he just stay put?�

“Because I’m wondering what the hell Malfoy’s doing there,� a voice spoke from the flames.

“Harry!� she yelped. Instinctively trying to reach him, she nearly fell off the sofa. Malfoy caught her around the waist just in time.

“Thanks,� she whispered to him, quite embarrassed. He rolled his eyes.

Hermione and Malfoy could hear another voice coming from the flames, one that didn’t belong to a visible head, but was quite recognizable nonetheless…

“Malfoy?! Did you just say Malfoy, Harry? Get that bloody twit out of our common room, his Dad was one of them! His Dad was one of them, Harry! I’ll pop through that fire and-�

“Ron, shhhh!� Harry yelled behind him at the wall.

Malfoy stared at the ground, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed at his last name. He didn’t dare look at Harry.
Hermione bit her lip- she hadn’t the time to consider their reactions when they found out she was hanging around Malfoy.

“Hermione, are you alright?� Harry asked. His bright emerald eyes peered through the orange flames and stung Hermione with the need to hug him.

“I- I think so…� her voice trembled. She needed him and Ron there; she belonged with them.

Malfoy sat hunched over beside her, keeping both eyes glued on her every move in case she made the ridiculous decision to fling herself into the flames again.

“Are you ok? Oh, how’s Ron doing?� she added, remembering Percy.

Hermione could tell Harry didn’t know what to say- if he told her they were fine, he’d be lying. If he told her anything otherwise, the few lashes that were now barely restricting her tears would be overrun.

“I’m… I’m doing ok under the circumstances,� he thought that answer was his best bet. “And Ron… well, obviously the Weasley’s have a lot to be getting on with… they’ve been taking some time with just the family the past couple days. Ron’s here now, though… he wanted to say hi.� Harry’s voice was low with despair.

“Oh, Ron…� Hermione began crying. “I’m so, so sorry, Ron… I don’t know what to say… I wish I could be there for you… I’m so sorry…� she whimpered.

“It’s alright Hermione…� Ron’s voice trailed away unconvincingly.

There was a moment of silence in which Harry’s face stared determinedly at the ground. When he looked back up, a single tear escaped from his eye and slowly crawled down his cheek. Hermione buried her face in a pillow.

Malfoy twisted uncomfortably in his seat. He took notice that a full minute had passed in complete silence. He felt so out of place; so undeserving to share this moment with them. Whom had he saved? What had he done? Nothing remarkable; unless you count tormenting them for six years. He finally understood why they’d always reserved a special look of disgust just for him. Malfoy felt paralyzed by his own self-loathing. He could almost feel the walls of his life crumbling around him…

The moments ticked by so gradually that Hermione felt like each ticking sound was an affirmation of Time’s mocking attitude toward their situation. But finally feeling strong enough to ask, she mumbled…

“What happened, Harry? I haven’t had any idea what’s been going on…�

Heaving an audible sigh, Harry looked up and began explaining everything, his tone drowning in sorrow.

“It started after Mr. Weasley got us from King’s Cross. When we got to the Burrow the Dark Ma-“ he suddenly stopped and peered directly into Malfoy’s eyes with a threatening glare.

“Hermione…� he began, still looking at Malfoy; now Harry’s tone was drowning in revulsion.

Malfoy instinctively glared back, but quickly dropped his gaze to the dark red rug rumpled below his feet.

“Umm… yes?�

“Is it safe to discuss this with him here?� The emphasis Harry put on “him� clearly denoted a heightened level of hatred. It was more a rhetorical question. Harry wanted him out of his sight. All he could think about were the Weasley’s and how Malfoy’s mates were the cause their anguish…

“Oh, yeah… really, it’s fine Harry. I trust him.� She spoke steadily for the first time in hours.

Something in Malfoy’s eyes flickered. ‘She trusts me…’

“Right.� Harry still sounded unsure; truth be known, he had no idea why Hermione trusted him. Last time he’d checked, they loathed each other as much as anyone. But this wonderment took a backseat to Harry’s need to tell Hermione everything.

There was a pregnant pause in which Harry contemplated threatening Malfoy. He wanted to show that he trusts Hermione’s judgment, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out:

“Malfoy, if you ev-�

“Harry…� Hermione whispered pleadingly. ‘Please… don’t start this now,’ she thought.

Harry read her mind. He glanced at her, sighed, and then nodded. Only for Hermione and maybe Ron would he ever bottle so much anger.

“Anyway…� he finally continued through gritted teeth. “The Dark Mark was hovering above the house when we got there. We didn’t even stop- Mr. Weasley just turned around and drove off fast as possible. When we were a good distance away, Ron, Ginny and me were relieved that Death Eaters hadn’t popped out and attacked us. But then Ron noticed his Dad was shaking and wasn’t saying much. That’s when I wrote you that letter. When we got to Headquarters, Fred and George told us…�

Harry’s eyes wondered behind him and seemed to be looking at something through the wall. Hermione knew he was watching Ron. She saw Harry nod, and assumed Ron had said it was ok to go on. Though, when he did, his voice was noticeably softer.

“They told us they’d left Percy at the Burrow that morning. He- He’d wanted to finish some report.� Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes again and immediately wanted to push through the flames and hold her, but knew if caught, he’d be in more trouble than imaginable.

The Order was being very strict with Harry’s security, and having him tossing around through fireplaces would infuriate them. Harry just hated seeing her sitting alone and trembling, with no one but Draco Malfoy, of all people, to comfort her.

“We tried sending an owl,� Harry reluctantly continued. “…But… there was no reply. When nightfall came, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley disapparated to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley came back five minutes later, crying…� he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “…And Tonks was holding her. That’s when we… when we found out.�


Harry wanted nothing more than to scream his fury. He felt as though his whole life had led up to this year, this one year, this one chance to do what needed to be done, for everyone’s sake. And now that he was there, it wasn’t how he expected. He’d expected pain and sorrow and injustice; but he’d expected it for himself. He’d anticipated physical pain and emotional turmoil- but not like this.

And far too late, Harry realized that one can never fully prepare oneself for the death of a loved one.

He hadn’t been ready to witness this…

Neither had Hermione. Both her and Harry were now utterly engulfed in the Weasley’s, but more so Ron’s grief. And while someone’s life had been unjustly taken, and while sadness pulsed through their veins quicker than blood, both Harry and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of duty and of urgency that empowered them to move on- for Ron’s sake.
It had been several long moments since Harry’s last words.

Malfoy hadn’t looked up once. Apparently, the tattered red rug was immensely interesting.

“Hermione, I- I’m sorry…� Harry whispered.

Hermione looked startled. “For what?�

“For… for you being alone. For me not being there with you… I know what it feels like to be alone in times like these,� he thought back to the summer before fifth year. “…And it’s… well, I’m really sorry. For you having to find this out in a letter. For you getting hurt on account of me-�

“Don’t,� she said firmly. “…Don’t even go on blaming yourself for any of it. You’ve done so much... Don’t apologize… I- I love you Harry,� she smiled weakly. Tears gathered in Harry’s eyes; tears that, he felt, he’d been born with.

“And I would get myself hurt again for you, or Ron, without thinking twice.� She finished.

For the first time in several strenuous minutes, Malfoy looked up. He saw the two staring into each other’s eyes with such an intense level of feeling, that it sparked several sentiments in him.

Malfoy found himself quite sad, heartbroken, even. Which were emotions Malfoy had rarely given himself the permission to fully experience. He was sad that Hermione was going through so much pain, sad that he’d never understood Harry, sad that he’d teased Ron for so long, sad that his father caused any of this, sad that he couldn’t stop any of this, and moreover, sad that Hermione wasn’t looking in his eyes that way.

And he’d never admit it, but the slight burning feeling in his chest and the little pinpricks he felt in his heart were the comings of jealousy.

“So… I guess you got my letter then?� Harry finally spoke up.

“Yes,� Hermione began solemnly. “…Hedwig delivered it while Malfoy and I were at the edge-�

“The edge?!� Harry suddenly yelled. “You were there? You didn’t get it in time?!�

“No! No, it came just in ti-�

“Then what were you doing in Hogsmeade?! Did you see any of them?!�

“Well, yes-�

“What?!�

“Harry, listen-�

“Did they see you?! Were you attacked? Are you hurt?!�
Harry continued frantically.

“Yes, but-�

“WHAT?!�

“Harry- Harry?�

Harry’s face had just disappeared. Then, just as quickly as he had gone, he was back, this time body included. It happened so fast Hermione barely had time to register it in her mind.
And there, after several long, excruciating days without him, Harry stood in front of Hermione, worry etched into every wrinkle on his forehead.

It was a hurricane of slightly frizzing hair. Hermione was so stunned yet so quick on the uptake that she flung her body, full force, to crash with Harry’s. She’d never felt such an overwhelming power of relief and joy sweep through her. Her arms clung tightly to his back as she buried her face in Harry’s neck.

Harry held her, squeezing so hard it hurt Hermione’s back. But she didn’t care. Neither had noticed that they had sunk to the ground in a heap, completely entwined in each other’s arms. Harry rested his head on top Hermione’s, his eyes closed, determined to keep the salty manifestations of sadness within their cells.

Hermione cried for everything: Ron, the Weasley’s, Harry, Hogwarts, Malfoy, herself… but at this moment, she only cried out of relief that she was once again with one of her two best friends. They’d only been gone two days, but they were an agonizing two days. Hermione’s whimpers forced her body to jerk; Harry easily let her go to look in her face.

Pushing the hair out of her eyes, he softly asked, “What happened?�

Hermione glanced over to Malfoy who looked on with a stagnant, blank expression. Too many emotions were teeming through him, that not one could overpower the others to show on his face.

When Hermione looked back to Harry, she saw a tall figure walking closer behind him.

“Ron!� She seemed to have instantly found her strength, for she’d popped up in the air and flung herself into Ron’s outstretched arms.

“Oh Ron, I love y-you so much… I’m s-so sorry about P-Percy…� she choked on her words.

Ron just held her tight, knowing there was no proper reaction to a situation like this; and he wouldn’t have cared if there were. Then they too fell to a heap on the ground.

And for the first time in nearly seven full years, Ron cried.

Not a whimper cry, a sobbing so forceful his body shook. Hermione immediately adjusted to this new experience with him and held him in –her- arms, every now and then kissing his forehead. Harry sat beside them, holding Hermione’s free hand.

As the three huddled together, bound by grief and their common union of incident, Malfoy’s body began to tremble, his fingers shaking uneasily. He’d never felt so out of place in his life. He turned his head and looked determinedly at the portrait hole, stealing glances back at Hermione only when heartache, curiosity and mild jealously interlocked, forcing his head to turn.

He could hear Hermione telling Harry about Rookwood. From the way she’d talked about it, it was clear they’d had some personal experience with this particular Death Eater. Malfoy found himself wondering if they’d ever fought his father…

“B- but Malfoy convinced him that he w- was on Voldemort’s side, which bought some time for me t- to gather my strength,� he heard Hermione stumble over her tears. “I could hardly mo-�

“Wait,� Malfoy interjected. “…You heard all that? I thought you’d passed out?�

Harry and Ron shot Malfoy a look of utmost contempt. But Harry’s physiognomies were softened by the realization that Malfoy had, ultimately, helped save Hermione.

Nevertheless, Harry felt obliged to say, “I can’t believe you jumped out to save him,� once again, the tilted emphasis on ‘him’.

Hermione gave Harry a worried look, then met Malfoy’s gaze.

“I had… been knocked out, I mean,� she spoke quietly. “…I came through just when you were telling Rookwood about Lestrange injuring me.�

Malfoy looked utterly perplexed.

“And- and you didn’t think I was telling the truth to Rookwood? How’d you know it was a put-on?�

“You’re not that great an actor, Malfoy,� Hermione smiled weakly. But when she saw his glare remain serious as stone, she finished, in nothing more than a whisper, “…I trusted you.�

And though she’d spoken it so quietly, to Draco, her words seemed to reverberate against the walls and through his very soul.

“So that’s when I used the Total Body Bind on him," she turned slowly back toward Harry and Ron. "Malfoy carried me back up to the castle. I fell asleep in the hospital wing and just woke up about two hours ago,� she finished.

Ron’s tears had subsided, and he was sitting leaning against the stone fireplace. Hermione grabbed a blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around Harry, whom she noticed was shaking.

“Thanks,� Harry said without looking at Malfoy. “…For helping her.� His words seemed to drain him of any energy he had left.

Malfoy nodded, even though he knew Harry couldn’t see him.


*******************************************


A half hour later, Harry and Ron told Hermione they’d better get back to Headquarters. Malfoy politely left the common room and waited outside the portrait hole so that they felt comfortable saying the address. Hermione hadn’t wanted them to leave, but they’d succeeded in convincing her that they weren’t supposed to be there to start.

Harry promised to write Hermione first thing the next day, telling her the latest plans. Harry felt certain that, after two consecutive attacks, all the Order would be getting together for some serious planning; and it wouldn’t be complete without Hermione there.

Their last minutes together were spent wondering what had happened in Hogsmeade, and praying that no one had died. Hermione promised to talk to Dumbledore next day and relay everything he said. Hermione’s relationship with Malfoy never came up. Trite things such as that rarely do under the pretense of death and war.

Hermione pulled her body to a standing position, but kept her eyes on the fire. It had just gone red again, for the floo powder wore off.

Then a new sense of dread filled her thoughts afresh. She’d been so overcome with Harry and Ron that she’d forgotten Malfoy was even there. Not until he excused himself from the common room did she remember.

Hermione was hoping the experience didn’t make him feel worse; though she knew this was wishful thinking.

Crossing the room to the portrait hole, she braced herself for whatever blow was about to come. She knew by now that Malfoy had a tendency to mask his sadness and fear as anger, so she quickly built a mental fort in hopes of blocking any insults he might throw out.

But when she pushed open the portrait, she saw a man who looked as though the last thing he wanted to do was yell. Malfoy was sitting, leaning against the corridor wall next to a bookshelf.

Hermione directed all her strength to her legs as she climbed slowly out the hole.

“Malfoy?� she asked tentatively. “Are- are you ok?�

He looked up at her for a moment, then resumed his staring contest with the bookshelf. Hermione bent down beside him, but this action agitated her wounds and she hissed in pain. Malfoy turned around, caught her under her arms, and began lifting her again.

“You really are dense, you know?� his voice didn’t sound vicious, but there was no hint of laughter detected either.

“Come on, you should be lying down.� He said as he pulled her through the portrait hole.

The knowledge that a life-changing conversation was about to transpire came to Hermione when they had reached the sofa inside Gryffindor common room; for Malfoy was looking deep into her eyes with swells of glistening tears in his own.

CHAPTER SEVEN: VERBAL EXCHANGES AND OBSCURED AFFECTION



“Malfoy…�

“Don’t ask. I don’t know the answer. I don’t know anything anymore.� He said bluntly.

Hermione shifted nervously in her seat. He looked so miserable. He didn’t let a tear fall, but they continued to fight for freedom.

She knew what was needed… he needed answers. He needed solidity, not whimsical emotion. He needed a certain amount of toughness. Anything ambiguous would only make matters worse. Any vague, hazy, or indistinct answers would only add to his confusion and pain. He needed a firm foundation from which to build his confidence. She had to be all-knowing now, even if she didn’t have the proper answers. She at least had to offer him insight.

“Ask me.�

Malfoy stopped rubbing his temples and looked up with a confused expression plastered across his pale face.

“What?� he asked incredulously.

“Ask me what you want to know.�

“Well you’ve grown exceedingly cocky, haven’t you?� he said with a laugh. “What makes you think you have the answers to my questions? What makes you think I’d even care to hear your answers? You have no idea what I’m feeling, how could you possibly kn-�

“You’re feeling so much it’s as if you’re not feeling at all. You’re body is aching to go numb with confusion and agony but your heart won’t allow it. Your heart won’t allow it because your soul has just been stirred, as easily as if Evil itself just plunged a spoon into your spirit and began whisking. Your heart won’t allow it because it’s confused, shaking with mixed disbelief and knowing all at once. You’re heart won’t allow it because it has questions that need answering. So… ask me.� She stated, as if a teacher speaking to a promising pupil.


“H-How would you know that?� was all Malfoy could think to ask.

Hermione just peered through him with her piercing gaze, as if to say, ‘don’t be thick’. But Malfoy knew how- she’d felt it so many times herself it had become instinct to spot it in others.

After a long agonizing minute in which Malfoy contemplated which question to ask first, Hermione said:

“Don’t organize your thoughts. You’ll never manage. Just say them as they come… ask them as they come.�

“This is ridiculous. What right do I have to feel-�

“Every right in the world, Malfoy. You’ve had to endure a lot in the past week. News of your father… realizations and epiphanies on yourself and your life… then you’ve just had to sit and watch those you’ve despised mourn a death, making everything you previously knew questionable. Is Harry really so awful? Though, you know that answer: Of course not. He’s a fine wizard. But then that begs the question, are purebloods really so superior? Deep down you know that answer too: No, not necessarily. Which then leaves you questioning everything you’ve grown to trust, everything you’ve been raised to believe, and every action or inaction you’ve done based on that. Including hating me, Harry and Ron. Your social and personal life is being scrutinized and judged by your own heart, and you have no answers to mend its confusion. To top it off, you feel incredibly guilty about the War, for two main reasons: The first, your father was a key player in its configuration, and the second, you feel guilty about not helping us. You feel even worse that you let your Dad play you like a chess game for so long, and as a result, you’ve hindered Harry’s life; and now you realize that it is Harry’s life that gives us hope in this War. Which, of course, only adds to your frustration. Am I spot on or not?�

Malfoy took a deep breath. She was spot on. Though, he’d never heard her sound to sturdy and practical before. It startled him, seeing her like this. He knew it was what he needed, but it was odd having her drill him, despite that the sense of strength it gave relieved him.

Malfoy nodded. Then, with little to no thought, plunged into the first burning question on his mind.

“Did you ever battle my father?�

“Yes.�

Malfoy took a sharp intake of breath. He didn’t know why this surprised him. Deep down he’d understood this answer forever. He supposed it was because from whom it was coming. As he surveyed Hermione’s slim female figure, he wondered how on earth she’d managed escaping his father. How amazing, he thought, that she… this girl… be a soldier.


“What, happened?�

“We escaped unharmed.�

“Was there more than one occasion?�

Hermione thought.

“In a manner of speaking. First year- no, your father was not a factor. Second year- your father slipped Voldemort’s, or Riddle’s, diary into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron, setting both her and Harry up to battle him. Third year- no, your father played no decisive role. Fourth year- Harry met him when the Triwizard Tournament cup, which was a Portkey, sent him and Cedric into Voldemort’s grasp. Your father was there, and did his part in trying to kill him, but was obviously unsuccessful. Fifth year- Yes. We met him at the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. We, as in Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and myself fought a number of Death Eaters, your father being among them. Last year, obviously not, since he was in Azkaban.�

“What was it like?�

“Terrifying. There’s nothing courageous about it. You just end up in the situation and have no alternative other than to fight.�
Malfoy shook his head.

“That’s not enough.� He racked his mind. “How could you face me in class after all that?�

Hermione wanted to answer that she didn’t know… that his was a very good question. But she knew that wouldn’t do.

“You and your father are not singular entities, Malfoy. We’re smart enough to make the distinction between him and you.�

He nodded.

“What’s happening now? This… ‘Order’ I’ve heard about…�

“It’s a secret organization of witches and wizards who’re fighting Voldemort.�

“What do you guys do?�

“Firstly, neither me nor Ron… or Harry, for that matter, is an official member of the Order. We attend certain meetings, and frankly we’ve had just as many encounters with Death Eaters as the adults… but we’re not official until we’re of age. We spy, we plan, we protect. Anything we can do to counter Voldemort’s- oh, for Heaven’s sake, I’ve had it. Say it.�

Malfoy had flinched every time she’d said Voldemort. She thought it was about time he grew up and spoke the name.

“What?�

“Say his name. Go on…�

Malfoy looked hesitant. Though he couldn’t refuse… he had too much pride.

“V- Voldemort.�

“Louder.�

“Voldemort! Happy?�

“Yes, thank you. Now- go one with your questions.�

Malfoy concentrated hard. What did he want to know? ‘Everything…’ he answered himself.

“I want to know everything. From when it began to where it is now… every last detail you can remember.�

Hermione sighed. This was going to be a long night.


**********************************************


Hermione began her story with first year, and told Malfoy every last minor aspect of her years with Harry that she could remember. She told him all about the chambers through which Harry, Ron and herself had to work through to get to the Sorcerer’s Stone. She told him about Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets, beginning to end. She told him all about Sirius, which took longer than anything else. She told Malfoy everything that occurred in fourth year and in fifth, then worked her way up to present day. She explained in fuller detail things that the Order of the Phoenix had done and were doing at this moment to counter Voldemort’s plans. But through it all, she kept one final, essential piece of information to herself: the Prophecy.

Malfoy never thought to ask why Harry had been targeted in the first place. For this Hermione was thankful. She trusted Malfoy much more than she thought possible just a week ago, but she felt that the Prophecy was solely Harry’s right to tell whom he wished, and no one else’s.

When she’d finished, she took a deep breath and looked intently into Malfoy’s eyes. They looked like they were pleading for something…

“Malfoy?� she asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just… I just can’t believe… all those years. All those times I’d walked past you three in the halls…� his voice trailed off. “I had no idea,� he whispered.

Hermione smiled weakly.

“Well, you’re not Seer, that’s for sure.� She teased.

Malfoy gave a low sigh. He shifted his body so that he was staring directly into the burning, red fire before them. It danced a ballet of shadows on the walls.

“Ermm…� Hermione slowly began to feel less and less confident in her words. She’d succeeded in helping Malfoy, in bringing his consciousness back to sturdy ground. But now that she no longer had that duty to distract her, thoughts of insecurity and worry began to refill her mind.

“Thanks,� Malfoy whispered.

“You’re welcome.�

A fair few minutes passed in silence. Malfoy’s mind was suspiciously empty of deep thought now that he knew everything. He didn’t feel quite so out of place any more. Now he was more exhausted than anything else, both physically and emotionally. He looked to the clock atop the fireplace.

“Good Lord! It’s after three in the morning!�

Hermione snapped out of her depressing thoughts of the Weasley’s recent loss.

“What?!�

“It’s 3:25!�

“Oh, thank Merlin it’s Holiday break. No cla- oh, no!�

“What??�

“I promised Harry I’d talk to Dumbledore first thing tomorrow morning! He’ll be expecting an owl by lunch! Oh, there goes my sleeping in...�

Hermione flattened her back on the sofa and kicked her feet on the other side.

“I’m doomed,� she continued. “That means I have to be up by seven to make breakfast in time.�

“What do you need to talk to Dumbledore about?�

“Oh, everything!� she cried miserably. “I must find out what happened in Hogsmeade. Who was hurt, who’s injured, all that. Hopefully that’ll be a short conversation, if there were no causalities…� she had stood and was presently pacing the room, one hand clasped to her cheek and the other wringing the air as she spoke.

Malfoy had completely forgotten about Hogsmeade.

“Then I need to find out what he has to say on the Order and all that… we need to arrange concrete plans. It’s not safe with all our members spread out… there’s Snape and Kingsley who’re spying for us, Merlin only knows where they are… The Weasleys, Tonks, Lupin and such are at Headquarters… then Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape are here! Oh, it’s useless Malfoy! We’re too unorganized-�

“You don’t know that. Truthfully, you haven’t the faintest what they’re up to. If you had, you wouldn’t need to ask Dumbledore.�

Hermione looked like she’d just been smacked. She stopped abruptly in the center of the room.


“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what I do and do not know about-�

“Granger- calm down…� he said slowly. “Calm down. You were just steady as can be a minute ago, what in bloody hell happened between then and now?�

“I- I got my senses back, that’s what happened!� she resumed her pacing.

"Or lost them again..." Malfoy commented under his breath.

“It’s hopeless,� she continued. “Have you ever thought about what this all really is?! It’s a grumpy old, narcissistic, genocidal man, who, coincidentally, happens to be one of the most powerful Wizards of our age, trying to- to kill a teenage boy! That’s what it is! It’s madness! Percy’s dead, Malfoy! Does no one understand that someone- oh, Percy is dead!� she cried.

“…And we’re sitting on our fat arses chatting like a big lot of prats… I just can’t imagine this War turning out well. I can’t imagine us winning, there being no Voldemort to contend with… I can’t imagine anything ahead other than more death…�

She heaved an audible sigh.

“I know that’s awful of me. And I’m trying so hard to stay optimistic, for Harry’s sake, but realistically… I can’t imagine a happily ever after.� Her voice faded.

Malfoy lifted himself from his seat at grabbed Hermione firmly by each shoulder.

“Listen to me. You told me-� He sighed, his cheeks tingling red. He was remembering her kind words back at the Three Broomsticks… the ones she spoke about him representing hope…“You told me that- ugh, look at me, Granger. Look.� He said, staring her hard in the eyes.

“This is Draco Malfoy, in Gryffindor common room, talking to you. No-�

She had just giggled a little, and turned her head as if to say she got the message.

“No- don’t look away. Look at me.� His voice was serious and strong. Hermione turned back to him with wide eyes.

“Now- a week ago, did you imagine this? Did you imagine that it would be me here with you, and not Potter or Weasley? Did you imagine this- me, you- last week?�

Her eyes relaxed into a faint smile.

“No,� she whispered.

“When you were hurt down in the Department of Mysteries, did you imagine you’d survive? When you were six, did you imagine you’d be chummy with Harry Potter? Did you imagine you’d escape from Rookwood? Just three days ago, did you imagine me to be this way?�

“No,� she whispered back. She still looked him dead in the eyes.

“No. No, you didn’t- you couldn’t imagine those things; because they all seemed so unlikely, so impossible. But they happened anyway. You’re no Seer yourself, Granger. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you are.�

He slowly released his grip and let his arms fall limp to his side.

Hermione smiled up at him, small little tears swelling in her deep brown eyes.

“T- Thank you... Draco.�

Malfoy stood rigid at the sound of his name on her tongue. He nodded with a very weak smile, and very red cheeks.

Hermione seemed in much better spirits now. She grabbed Malfoy’s robes and pulled him onto the sofa with a broad smile.

It was nearing four in the morning, and they agreed they mine as well stay up the whole night. And so there they sat, in front of the fireplace, talking. Nothing about the War or Voldemort, just about their lives. Hermione told him about her parents, her Muggle pets (she had three dogs and some fish), and about Viktor. Malfoy was slightly stunned to hear about him, but he kept himself composed. He told her about his life up until Hogwarts, how he almost went to Durmstrang, and above all, about his father.


Time sped past in lightening speed. Before Hermione could finish telling him about S.P.E.W. (which he found highly amusing), the first light of day teemed through the painted windowpanes, casting a long, glittering beam across the red and gold rug.


*******************************************


Hermione rushed into the Great Hall at exactly seven. Malfoy came walking in behind her, hands in pockets, casting a sneering smile across the Hall. Nothing would ever completely rid him of his innate arrogance.

“Professor McGonagall!� Hermione called when she reached the teacher’s table. “Where’s Professor Dumbledore?� she asked pleadingly.

McGonagall looked forlorn and restless, as if she’d stayed up the whole night as well.

“He’s not here, Ms. Granger. Is there something I can help you with?�

Hermione’s panic rose to insurmountable heights. Luckily, Malfoy was now behind her, and had an easier time keeping himself composed. Using the same Malfoy wit that saved Hermione from Rookwood, he strolled next to Hermione and casually leaned forward.

“Would you happen to know when he’ll be returning, Professor?� he said with a wry smile.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t say with any accuracy when the Headmaster will be back. For the last time, is there anything I can help you with?�


Malfoy glanced sideways at Hermione and saw that her mouth was hung stupidly open as if about to speak; only no words escaped her lips.

With no prefacing his deliberate question, Malfoy inquired,

“We want to know what happened in Hogsmeade yesterday.�

McGonagall’s face slackened. Her lips tightened and pursed, she looked hastily to each side. No other teachers had yet arrived. The wrinkles in her tired face shown more clearly than ever.

“Are you certain this is a suitable topic to be discussing with two students, Mr. Malfoy?�

Malfoy intentionally spoke before Hermione’s frustration made her yell something rash.

“Professor McGonagall, you know as well as anyone that Granger here is no typical student. She’s helped Potter conquer Voldemort-�

McGonagall clenched her eyes tightly. Malfoy was slightly surprised to see her, of all people, react this way to his name. He felt that if he could manage to say it, certainly the head of Gryffindor house could hear it without flinching. Though, he continued as if not noticing.

“…conquer Voldemort countless times, thereby being not only an asset, but a protector of Hogwarts and the wizarding world. If I may speak freely, Professor, it’s a bit disheartening to have you be so forgetful of this so quickly.�

Their new friendship was now apparent to McGonagall, and she eyed them both curiously.

She gave a brief nod, then spoke in a firmer voice than previously used.

“Indeed. Well, then, Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind?� she motioned him to leave.

Malfoy looked offended.

“Professor-�

“No no, you were quite right. Ms. Granger does deserve to know what’s been transpiring, though I never heard mention of your merit.�

Hermione gave Malfoy a nervous glance.

“Fine.� He said, and sulked away.

“Follow me, Ms. Granger.�

Hermione kept closely behind McGonagall as she led her into a room off the side of the Great Hall. Hermione recognized the location to be the one where Harry was taken after his name shot out the Goblet of Fire.

Closing the door with a swift snap, McGonagall turned to face Hermione, lips pursed.

“Now, what exactly is it you want to know?�

“Well, errr… everything?� she answered tentatively yet honestly.

McGonagall gave a brief snigger. “I see.�

“Umm… did anyone- was anyone hurt yesterday at Hogsmeade, Professor? What happened?� she clenched her eyes, afraid to know the answer. But it was no matter- for it didn’t come.

McGonagall sighed. “I will leave it to the Headmaster’s discretion- you’ll have to wait on that one, Ms. Granger. I’m not altogether sure how- what, I mean, to tell you.�

McGonagall tried hiding her grief, but it showed in her rather lackluster eyes.

“Well, errm… where is Professor Dumbledore?�

“At Headquarters.�

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into a much more relaxed position.


“Oh, Thank Merlin...�

“He went very early this morning. As you can imagine we have…� she paused, fishing for the proper way to phrase her word. “….we have much to be thinking about.�

“Yes! Exactly!� Hermione nearly yelled in triumph. She was so thrilled to hear that they were organizing, planning.

After a moment, Hermione spoke again in an almost official tone.

“You and Professor Snape ought to be there as well… err, ma’m.� she added.

“Ms. Granger, please rest assured we are formulating plans as best we can. If you must know, all the Order will be here tomorrow night. That is why Professor Dumbledore left. He is gathering as many members as possible and bringing them back here.�

Hermione had to catch her squeal of delight in her mouth.

“Oh, that’s- that’s wonderful!� she could have hugged McGonagall.

“Yes, well…�

“Harry and Ron too?!�

“Yes, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley as well…� her face seemed to unwind into a sad expression. Hermione could tell she was worried for Harry and distraught for the Weasleys.

“So, err… will- will I be able to see everyone?� Hermione asked lightly.

McGonagall thought.

“I hadn’t given thought to it. But, I suppose it’s only natural you attend the meeting. Harry doesn’t go through anything without you beside him, does he?� she stated, with little amusement in her voice.

But that didn’t matter. Hermione smiled broadly up at her and involuntarily gave a small hop in the air as she shot towards the door.

“Thank you professor!�

McGonagall nodded tightly. “I’ll come fetch you when they arrive.�

Hermione skipped out the door and skidded to a halt in the middle of the Great Hall. There were only about eight students who stayed behind over break, but all their pairs of eyes were fixed on her as if she had four heads.

She looked eagerly around for Malfoy, but no shots of silver-blonde raced across her eyes, so she continued running into the Entrance Hall. She found him there, leaning against the staircase with an air of impatience.

“Malfoy! They’re coming!� she shouted as she ran to him. “They’re coming tomorrow night! All of them!�

“Oh, lovely… just in time to ruin Christmas. Brilliant timing.� He spat sarcastically.

Hermione thought: ‘Christmas?’ It had slipped her mind completely. ‘Tomorrow is Christmas Eve…’ she remembered. Then, recalling Malfoy’s comment, looked him in the eyes with her own hurt ones.

“Oh, don’t take it so harshly, Granger. I’m only joking.� He said, though with no hint of laughter.

“Well…?� he pried.

“What?�

“What about Hogsmeade?!� he snapped.

“Oh… she- she wouldn’t tell me,� Hermione said with worried eyes.

“Oh,� was all he replied.

“Malfoy…� she nearly whispered. “I don’t think the answer would have been good. She’s having Dumbledore tell me… I can’t help but worry that means-�

“You can’t know what it means. Just- don’t think about it for now. We’ll know soon enough anyway.�

She nodded slowly, and then coughed to clear her throat. Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair and looked around the hall with a manner of mild confusion.

But it only disguised his thoughts. After hearing that the Order was coming to Hogwarts, he began to feel extremely out of place again.

This lead him to remember what it felt like when it was just he and Hermione, no strings attached; which, in turn, brought his mind to the moment they shared at the edge of Hogsmeade. He was so close then… so close to recognizing what that new feeling was in the pit of his stomach. He was right on the verge of labeling it… but that blasted bird had ruined it.

And that moment seemed so far away now. He’d learned too much since then, experienced too many new feelings to recall with any certainty whether he hadn’t just made that one up. But when he looked her in the eyes, or felt the tug of her hand on his robes, and especially when her rose-pedaled scent reached his senses, his deeper consciousness knew- one cannot fabricate such a feeling. Nonetheless, there, behind closed doors, it stayed; there, in the depths of a newly found soul, hidden behind insecurity and arrogance, was admiration… respect… love.

And, in a place not far off from that one, was the innate necessity he had to mask his innermost emotions with a façade; and usually, as was his trademark, the façade manifested itself into bitter coldness and cockiness- one that, even when temporarily forgotten, never fully left his personality.

Malfoy pulled himself out of his stupor. He had been staring blankly down the corridor.

“Well,� he began, “I’m going to Slytherin common room. I’ll… see you later.�

He began to walk away, leaving a slightly confused and very hurt Hermione in his wake.

“Oh,� she said loudly to catch his attention. He had almost reached the dungeon doors. “I… I sort of thought that- that we’d… never mind.� She finished with a feeling of defeat.

“What?� Malfoy prompted.

“No, nothing…� she turned around and slowly headed toward the grand staircase.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, sticking both hands in his pockets. He could tell she’d thought they’d spend the day together. He admitted it was logical, seeing as how the previous days had gone. ‘How pathetic…’ he thought rashly, ‘…can’t even gather enough of that Gryffindor courage to ask me to stay.’ He sighed.

“Granger,� he called out. “Come on. We’ll… play chess or something.� He offered a weak smile.

Hermione’s eyes lit up with happiness. She skipped her way to him, but stopped as she felt like a silly school child.

“Alright, but I can’t play well…� she confessed.

“Well, I’ll teach you.� He said as he opened the dungeon doors. Halfway into the dungeon, he turned to her with an amused chuckle and said,

“But don’t expect I’ll let you win.�

He gave her a mischievous grin, winked, and raced down the stairs.


*****************************************

A/N: The past two chapters (including this one), have been transitional ones. I'm sorry they've been relatively boring, but they're necessary. Plenty of more interesting aspects will begin to emerge next chapter. ; ) Please review!

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I'm half through the next chapter, so the wait won't be so bad this time. Thanks to ALL my wonderful reviewers- your words mean SO much. I hope you like the update.



INTERNAL STRUGGLES, EXTERNAL FORCES:


Hermione had fallen asleep on the sofa in Slytherin common room, and awoke the following morning being much better at Wizard’s chess.

Stretching her arms as she sat upright, Hermione blearily looked around for any sight of a certain pale face or platinum hair. She was relieved to see he must have gone to bed in his dormitory, for she knew she must look a fright. Hermione was growing curiously aware of her appearance more and more each day. She’d caught herself glancing in a mirror on several occasions, and now even made a point of always magicking her hair dry, as opposed to letting it air dry; it was less frizzy that way.

As her eyes continued to struggle against the morning light, a faint memory sprang into Hermione’s head: As she had tumbled softly to sleep the previous night, she found herself hoping against hope that Malfoy thought her pretty. Now that it was morning and her mind was properly awake, she figured that was just idiocy derived from lethargy.

Though, this didn’t help ease her wonderment.

She stood and immediately noticed how wintry it felt without her blanket. Bloody dungeons… she cursed.

Wrapping the deep green cover around her shoulders, Hermione slipped off into the girls’ bathroom. When she closed the door and got a better look at the place, she noticed plastic bottles of mascara and dark smudges of what seemed to be eyeliner were strewed recklessly across the countertops.

As her eyes spaced off on the smudges, she felt an uncomfortable, anxious squirm ache in the pit of her stomach; and it had nothing to do with the unkempt bathroom. It felt as though she was waiting for something.

Well, that’s obvious, she thought. I’m anticipating Harry and Ron coming… But some part of her heart knew this wasn’t all.

Sighing from tiredness, she twisted the shower’s knobs adjusting the temperature, then began to undress.


*********************************


Meanwhile, up in the boy’s dormitory, Malfoy lay awake and staring at his ceiling. He hadn’t drifted into dreamland until after two in the morning, for though his body throbbed and stung with the need to sleep, his mind raced a marathon of emotions and thoughts around his heart.

However, his thoughts were held on standby when he suddenly heard water moving through the pipes overhead.


Granger must be in the shower, he thought. He looked resolutely at the ceiling, but was now tracing where he thought the water pipes might be with his eyes.

Figuring he had a good fifteen minutes until he had to remove his aching body from his soft, silk sheets, he allowed his eyes to drift shut in thought.

Clearing his mind, he forced himself to see white: simply a blank canvas on which to paint whatever picture his mind wished.

Thank Merlin, he reflected. …I need some time to clear my head.

But before he could truly finish this thought, his mind, it seemed, had chosen its picture. And slowly, as if visualizing the strokes of a paintbrush, Hogsmeade’s edge came into focus.

Malfoy flung open his eyes in defiance.

NO, he thought rather savagely, …I won’t go back to that. I won’t let my mind wander on- on that Mudblood...

But as he thought the word, he simultaneously clasped a hand to his forehead.

Don’t call her a Mudblood, his inner voice cried. You’re no better than she, don’t go back to being that way- don’t let the memory of your father scare you into stupidity, his mind spat.

He closed his eyes again, but his conscious had finished its portrait.

Now, clear as if she stood before him, he saw Hermione with soft white snowflakes contrasting against spiraling dark blonde hair. The lights of Hogsmeade reflected in her russet eyes as they twinkled their way deep into Malfoy’s heart. He could hear the slow-versed Noel song in the background that was never really there, sung as if by angels watching them with smiles from above. In this surreal vision, Malfoy had taken a bolder route and cradled Hermione’s chin in his hand while his other longingly explored her soft, rosy cheeks. She was still smiling, eyes still glowing up at him expectantly, when he took a final breath in hopes of calming the butterflies that had now gathered in his stomach- both in and out of the vision.


CLANK.


Hermione had shut off the water.

But this time when Malfoy opened his eyes, he had reached a decision.

He must suppress these childish, whimsical feelings he harbored for Hermione; he couldn’t be distracted by it. The times in which they lived were far to dangerous to be gallivanting on about fanciful thoughts of school-age crushes.
Besides, he would never concentrate otherwise; he’d spend every night lying awake with false hope that someone might love him. Hermione would never have him, and he would never have her. They were too different. The War- or Potter, more specifically- needed her.


Stupid, he thought to himself. What a ludicrous idea- me and Granger? Now you know you’ve gone mad, his head screamed; though, not near as loud as his aching heart.

He would tough it out, for her’s and the War’s sake; force his mind to stray on other things.

Some very small fraction of his mind voiced how unfair it was, how exceedingly unjust his whole situation had become. But as he did all things, Malfoy shoved this voice deep within, pretending not to hear.

And with a considerably darker, anguished mood, Malfoy rose from his bed and silently sulked away to the shower, where he could drown in his own bitterness.


*****************************************


The day lagged by the way most days do when you anticipate the end of it.

Hermione stayed in Slytherin common room until lunch, reading silently as Malfoy pretended to do homework. After stealing several awkward glances at him, Hermione decided she would retreat to Gryffindor tower after lunch. Something in the way his eyes remained stagnant on his parchment told her he was deep in thought, and she felt strange intruding upon it.


After lunch, she followed through with her plan and waved goodbye to Malfoy at the bottom of the grand staircase. He was happy to be alone, but once back in the cold dungeons, he was vaguely aware that it seemed much emptier.
Hermione spent the remainder of the day working steadily through her homework, and by the time dinner was being served, had completed everything with the exception of her Ancient Runes essay.

Exhausted, Hermione flung herself into an open seat at the table in the Great Hall. Ignoring the soreness of her back, she noticed dimly that it would probably be another three hours before she saw Harry and Ron.

Before she could finish her contempt thoughts on having to take more of that dreadful potion soon, she saw a streak of blonde hair whiz past the corner of her eye.

Hermione’s stomach gave a curiously uneasy flip as she saw Malfoy walking towards her. Hands deep in his pockets, Malfoy was casting a tired yet sneering eye around the Hall. A moment later he was sitting next to her at the table.


“Hello, Malfoy,� Hermione breathed sweetly.

“Granger,� Malfoy spoke sternly with a brief nod.

He sat and cast a weary look at her, eyes pleading for something, before turning to stare at his plate.

“Errm… I expect they’ll be here soon,� she whispered.

Malfoy nodded again, still transfixed on the table.

“Well- I umm… I spoke to McGonagall again before dinner,� she continued.

“Oh?� he asked indifferently.

“Ermm, well… I asked if it would be ok for- for you to come with me to meet Harry and Ron later…� her voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Come with her- is she mad?! Malfoy thought angrily. Like I need to witness that all over again… she’s not even considering my feelings…

Before he could lend voice to his thoughts, Hermione had tugged on his robes. Turning to look, he saw the familiar tears glistening deep in her round, chocolate eyes.

Merlin, she’s a human hose pipe, his mind reeled.

“Ermm… well, she said you could, you know- come with me, I mean. I- I just thought it would be good to, umm…� Hermione racked her mind furiously. “…to get acquainted with the Order members, since-�

“Since what?� Malfoy’s voice came angry and harsh. “Since my Dad’s lost his soul and my Mum despises me? How many time do I have to get this through that thick skull, Granger: I- don’t- want- your- pity,� he spat.

Getting up from the table, Malfoy practically ran out of the hall without so much as a second glance back. Hermione felt his heat rising, knew he was going to react that way. She was reminded dolefully of the summer before fifth year, when Harry’s temper had skyrocketed to insurmountable heights.


********************************************


The clock on the mantle read 10:36. Hermione’s patience was wearing thin, and for the first time in her life she was not comforted by Gryffindor common room’s soft warmth. All the fire in the world could not heat the glacier that had grown around her heart. Her feelings of curious anticipation had manifested into blatant fear that something awful was about to happen.

BANG.


Hermione stiffened. She could hear muffled voices just outside the portrait hole. With the deepest sense of foreboding, she eased her body closer in an attempt to make out the words.

CRASH.

Now she shuddered from the ringing in her ears.

“Oh, like that was any better!� came a young man’s voice.

“At least it was on accident! I can’t believe you tried apparating, least of all in here…� came a second voice, sounding amused and annoyed at once.

“Well, I hadn’t thought about it, alright? George said it was easy, and if he says so, you know it must be,� said the first man. Their voices had grown louder as if they were a foot away.

Hermione was beaming. She stood in front of the portrait hole, arms crossed, ready to pounce as soon as they entered.

“You think she’s awake?�

“Come off it, of course she is, she’d never-� Harry’s voice cut off as the Fat Lady’s picture swung wide.

“Hello, Hermione,� he spoke with a grin.

Stumbling through the entrance to their common room, Hermione barely gave them time to stand upright before she had flung both arms around Harry, and then Ron.

“You’re both so stupid!� she wailed. “I could have heard you coming a mile away!�

“Well, Ron here thought it’d be good fun to try apparating, even though Dumbledore told us to not let any other students know we’re back,� Harry smiled.

“Yeah, this is supposed to really secret. McGonagall was really strange about letting me in on it,� Hermione said. But when she saw the bemused, slightly shocked looks on their faces, she added hastily, “Oh, but of course she’s going to. She just seemed hesitant, is all.�

There was a brief pause while Hermione shifted nervous glances at Ron.

“So, ermm… how are you doing, Ron?�

The slight smile he had been wearing upon seeing her melted off his face. He quickly focused on examining his shoes, but Hermione took a step close and embraced him in a much stronger hug than before. Rubbing his arm affectionately, she slowly pulled away to see sparkling tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m ok, honest… just- just trying no to think about it now. I’ve done my crying, and there’s work to do if we’re going to- well, you know,� his voice faded. Hermione nodded knowingly before turning to Harry.

“And you?�

“Fine,� he said simply. Hermione narrowed her gaze.

Harry shrugged. “Really, I am. I just want to start doing something, instead of sitting around planning it," he said.

“Well then, let’s not stand here all night,� Hermione answered as she strode purposefully toward the portrait hole. “Where are we meeting anyway?�

“Room of Requirement. The whole Order is there. Ron and me just met a couple dozen people we didn’t even know,� he chimed in.

“Wow, that’s wonderful! How many are there, then? Twenty-five? Thirty?�

“Fifty, more like. And Fred and George reckon those are just the ones near and around London. They overheard Charlie telling Mum that he’d figured another forty or so from Ireland,� Ron said enthusiastically.

Hermione was glad to hear this, but even more glad to hear Ron sounding happy.

“Any Ministry officials?� whispered Hermione as they made their way to the corridor with Barnabas the Barmy.

“A good few, yeah. Mostly aurors. Not more than fifteen, though. Even with Fudge sacked and everyone believing me, there’s still a lot of resentment towards Dumbledore around some of the Ministry,� Harry commented.

“Yeah, some blokes just don’t want to admit it,� Ron said darkly.

They had reached the corridor.

“Now what?� asked Hermione.

“You have to think these words as you pace the corridor,� Harry said as she handed Hermione a small slip of parchment that read, in scrolling neat handwriting:

The meeting for the Order of the Phoenix is in the Room of Requirement, Hogwarts Castle.

Hermione nodded and gave a furtive glance around the halls. She half expected to see Malfoy running towards her, ready to meet the people she had told him about. She was feeling slightly guilty for having said so much. Hoping that she hadn’t made a bad judgment call, her stomach fluttered uncomfortably again as a picture of his face seeped through the crevices of her mind. Above even her guilt was her worry that he was going to be ok.

Heaving an audible sigh, Hermione began pacing up and down the hall, as Harry lit the slip on fire with his wand.


*************************************************


Malfoy sat in Slytherin common room with a Wizard’s Chess set that he had bewitched to play on its own. He wasn’t really watching as one of the white knights brutally smashed a black rook to pieces.

His mind was racing despite himself. Every time he closed his eyes, her picture popped into his head. Every time there was silence he could hear her soft voice whispering those deadly sweet words to him in the Three Broomsticks. ‘

I’m going mad, he thought miserably.

He stood and walked circles around the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

I really should have gone to that meeting, he thought. I can’t believe I’m sitting here on my arse when I could be sitting in at an Order meeting, his thoughts continued in anguished tones.

He couldn't remember the last time he was so angry. It was all flooding over him like one massive tidal wave of fury. He was angry at his father and mother, angry with Hermione for reasons he couldn’t grasp, and angrier still with himself.

CRASH.

The black queen had smashed a white pawn, bringing Malfoy out of his reverie. He examined the board.

“Checkmate,� he whispered aloud, then stopped dead in his tracks.

I’m going, he thought resolutely as he continued to stare at the white king, which was not shaking slightly out of fear.

I’m sure to find them lurking around Gryffindor Tower… I’m sure as hell not sitting here alone. I need to go, she needs me… I need to go for Hermio- Oh, get a hold of yourself! he thought for the hundredth time that day.

She’s a friend, nothing more, and she’s lucky to be that, he forced himself to think.

Malfoy strode to the entrance of the common room and reached out his right hand to push open the door. He barely had one foot out when a familiar, cold voice caused Goosebumps to run freely down his spine.

It spoke in tones of mock curiosity, the man's sneer evident in his voice.

“And where, Draco, do you think you’re going?�

Disclaimer: As always, if you recognize it, it's not mine. All names, settings, and inspiration belong to the exceptional J.K. Rowling.



THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX:



“Wotcher, Hermione!�


“Tonks!� Hermione shouted as she ran to give her a quick hug. “How are you?�

Tonks’ smile faded from her face. She cast deliberate glances behind her, and to Hermione’s horror, she saw Mrs. Weasley buried in Mr. Weasley’s shoulder, sobbing audibly.


Harry and Ron gave each other a nervous glance as they watched Hermione walk slowly towards the pair of them.

“Ermm-� she mumbled tentatively. “Mrs. Weasley?�

Mrs. Weasley looked up and immediately began drying her eyes on the back of her robes. This did nothing to hide her bright, puffy eyes.

“Hermione, dear,� came her muffled voice. “Oh, please forgive me… I’ve been doing so well today, but seeing everyone here and knowing Pe- Per-�

Hermione’s eyes were growing bright now, and frown lines began making their slow descent down her cheeks. She gave a small hiccup, but covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, no dear, don’t you cry now… I don’t think I could control myself if you cried,� said Mrs. Weasley.

“I- I’m so sorry… I don’t know what t- to say…� Hermione managed.

Mr. Weasley reached out and gave Hermione a firm grip on the shoulder.

“He was a really fine wizard… and- and they’ll pay, Mrs. Weasley, I- I swear they will,� she mumbled through her tears.


“Oh, darling!� Mrs. Weasley wailed as she pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. Mr. Weasley looked as if it were taking all his strength to just breathe.

When Hermione finally pulled away, she was deafly aware that every eye in the room was on her.

“H- have you met McKinnon, Hermione?� Mr. Weasley asked in a hazed tone.

“Oh, no… umm, hi- how do you do?�

“Quite well, thank you,� McKinnon smiled warily. He gave the distinct impression of a pompous old man, the sort to yell at you for walking too close to his finely kept lawn. He was tall and frail looking, though with a rather strong chin.

“He’s an Auror… and this here is his partner, Flarine…�

Hermione shook hands with a young witch who sported long, dark brown hair and round russet eyes to match. And so the introducing process went on for a good fifteen minutes. After meeting the new members, Hermione was greeted by Fred and George who looked, for the first time since Hermione had known them, very depressed. They both managed smiles, as did Bill and Charlie, but the air surrounding them did not deceive their true feelings. Mad-Eye gave Hermione a rather startling wink as she moved past him to say hello to Lupin, Kinglsey, and another stately looking wizard Hermione had never seen.


Ron and Harry had taken seats at the enormously long, dark wood table that was located square in the middle of the room. Slowly, the rest of the Weasleys- Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George- gathered around on each side. Hermione took a place next to Harry and played with her fingernails as a nervous twitch. The whole table was somber, yet everyone spoke in politely interested tones.

“I wonder what Snape has to report,� a witch named Daniella Conustra whispered from across the table.

“Report? Report my fat ass,� spoke Flarine. “No need to report. We know what’s going on, don’t we McKinnon?�
McKinnon merely took a sip from his gilly water. Flarine gave him a disgruntled look. “Well, at any rate, I’ve had enough with reports and procedure, and- and protocol… I say we track ‘em down and give ‘em a nice right slap of avada kedavras, if you ask me…�

“Here, here!� called Fred and George.

Hermione couldn’t help but notice how strange it was sitting in on a meeting. Her, Harry, Ron, Fred and George had been given more lead way since the start of term, but they’d never been officially invited to sit in as an Order member.

Just then the door to the room creaked open as Dumbledore stepped through, wearing long, midnight black robes that were speckled with tiny silver stars. Closely followed behind him were Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, and Hagrid.

“All righ’ you lot?� Hagrid asked with a flourish. Several of the new Order members were staring at him with looks of mingled shock and awe. Dumbledore conjured a great, tall chair for him directly across from Ron, then motioned for the stragglers to sit.

He gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione a weak smile before beginning.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m thoroughly pleased we’ve managed to organize this meeting, and even more so that so many were able to attend,� his voice boomed around the room. Then, with a grave sigh, he continued. “However, before we begin, I’d like to say a few words. Firstly- I’m sure I speak for everyone in the room when I say that we extend our sincerest apologies and deepest regrets to the Weasley family.�

A few heads turned to look at them.

“They recently lost a beloved member of their family to Voldemort’s ranks. Percy was an exceptional wizard with talent and ambition to spare. His presence continues to be strongly felt through the love his family keeps for him. Let us never forget Percy, for his story is the one for which we fight. We fight for the innocent, the unknowing victims of brutal hate. And, the time will come when Percy’s- and other’s- memories must inspire us to go forth,� Dumbledore finished and allowed his words to sink in.


Mr. Weasley gave Dumbledore an appreciative nod as the other Weasleys cast tired looks around the table.

“On a lighter note,� he finally resumed after an extended minute. “We have some business to take care of before I begin informing everyone on what is to be done. We have a few new members, as it were, to introduce.�

Hermione, Harry and Ron looked expectantly around the table at Conustra, Flarine and McKinnon. Only, they did not stand or make any movement to indicate it was they to whom Dumbledore was referring.

On the contrary, they seemed to be staring back at them.

“Fred and George Weasley, please stand and make yourselves known,� Dumbledore said with a smile.

They stood, slightly shocked, and smiled around the table. Dumbledore clapped and the rest followed suit.

“These two young yet brave men are of age and have been, errr… persistent, one could say, that they join immediately.� Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled.

Once they had sat back down, all faces turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“Mr. Ronald Weasley and Ms. Hermione Granger have both played key roles in the past six years in assisting the Order through various ways. Whether is be taking on three-headed dogs,� Hagrid’s chest puffed up. “…Giant Wizard’s Chess sets, or the grime of Headquarters, these two have most definitely proven themselves worthy and capable,� he finished.

Hermione and Ron stood to a polite applause.

“I daresay our last member needs no introduction- Harry, if you please?�

Harry stood slowly, casting awkward glances around the room of fifty or so faces.

No one clapped. Everyone seemed transfixed in awe as they stared avidly at Harry; some, such as Lupin and Hagrid, wearing distinctly prideful grins.

“This, to those who need reminding,� Dumbledore stared pointedly at Flarine, whose mouth was hung slightly open. “…Is Harry Potter.�

Dumbledore began clapping, and the newer members were slapped out of their trance. Snape pretended to ignore Harry’s presence, but everyone else’s applause grew louder and louder. One by one, beginning with Hermione, Hagrid, and Ron, the whole of the Order of the Phoenix stood out of admiration.

The room was on its feet. The clapping was almost deafening, and Hermione beamed as she noticed Harry’s cheeks grow red. He gave a sheepish smile as his hand instinctively shot up to straighten his hair. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes were bright once more, but this time out of pride. Lupin gave him a wink, and Dumbledore, who clapped loudest of all, smiled the largest smile Hermione had ever seen.

Finally- for the first time ever- Harry Potter was being recognized for the deeds he’d done and the person he was; and not as simply “The-Boy-Who-Lived�.


**********************************************


Malfoy stared at the man in the corner of his common room with an opened, disbelieving mouth.

“Close your mouth, son. Malfoy’s do not gape,� Lucius sneered.

But Malfoy still could not utter any sensible words.


“You’re wondering why- or more accurately, how- I am here. Are you not?�

Malfoy continued to stare, trying to force his mind to remain calm. What if he found out about his friendship with Granger? What if he learned of all his hidden thoughts about him, about the Dark Lord? It’s quite likely- he’s a skilled Legilimens.

“Wager a guess, Draco,� Lucius continued.

Malfoy’s mind raced. He closed his eyes and flashbacks of the past week flew through like little slides. There had to be a clue… had to be a reason…

One thing was for sure: the Kiss had never happened. There’s no way to return a soul once a dementor has it.

So why did the Daily Prophet- wait…

“The Daily Prophet,� Malfoy murmured as he opened his eyes. His heart has sunk from his chest and was sitting somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes, very good. The Daily Prophet,� Lucius snickered approvingly.

Malfoy looked up to meet his father’s eyes. So, the Daily Prophet had lied? They’d reported mistaken information? But that still did not answer why…

“Oh, come now, Draco. Surely you can guess why?� Lucius asked. Malfoy hastened to drop his gaze once he figured out that his father was using Legilimency.

Lucius sighed.

“You’re very disappointing. Allow me to explain, then,� he said as he began pacing around the common room.

Malfoy inched away and placed himself as close to the door as possible. Lucius paused near the chess set that had stopped playing minutes before, and twirled the white queen between his fingers.

“The Dark Lord had me place the Imperius curse on a number of the Prophet’s most distinguished writers. I then told one- Skeeter, I believe her name was- to write the article on four Death Eaters receiving the Kiss. This, of course, signaled victory for Dumbledore’s ranks in more ways than one. Not only were four very prominent and powerful opponents removed from the spectrum, but the dementors had also signaled their defiance against the Dark Lord. Of course, this makes Dumbledore feel a bit more at ease. He thinks the Dark Lord has lost followers- both Death Easters and dementors,� Lucius finished as he placed the queen back on the board.


“B- but Fudge…� Malfoy stuttered.

“Ah, yes, our dear old ex-Minister. Well, he’s quite useless to us now that he holds no position of power. We set the Imperius curse on him as well. An all to easy feat, might I add,� he sneered.

Lucius looked up and inspected his son carefully, as if reading into his emotions. His face tightened in skepticism, he glided over towards Malfoy and clasped his face between two cold, pale hands.

“What lies behind those eyes, Draco? What deceit have you committed against the Dark Lord?�

Malfoy suppressed his mingled feelings of fear and fury.

“None,� he answered. And the sound of determined resolution in his voice startled even him.

Lucius continued to eye him suspiciously. Turning his son’s face from side to side, his grip grew stronger. Malfoy refused to wince.

“Very well,� Lucius said in a soft whisper. “I trust you know better than to betray your master,� he added.

Malfoy’s innate arrogance and shrewdness for acting surfaced once more.

“Of course I do, father,� he spoke. “But- I still don’t understand… how did you come to escape from Azkaban?�


Lucius gave an impatient snort.


“Don’t be stupid,� he spat. “Death Eaters have broken out before, why couldn’t we again? The Dark Lord cares for his loyal followers. He did not leave us there long.�

A riotous silence rang in young Malfoy’s ears. He watched as his father sulked away, examining the Slytherin common room.

“This place was lined in authentic silver in my day,� he spoke in an undertone.

“Father?� Malfoy asked tentatively. Lucius whirled around. “I met Rookwood- in the forest. Did you know?�

“Yes,� he answered. “I just learned of that last night. You were escorting that Granger girl, on Dumbledore’s orders, were you not?�

“Yes, that’s right. Lestrange had injured her so badly Granger couldn’t go to Hogsmeade alone,� he puffed.

Malfoy thought it a good idea to offer an excuse for his contact with Hermione immediately, before his father had time to question it.

Lucius merely nodded, then returned to examining the room.

“Rookwood seemed convinced that you had been administered the Kiss. Did he not know?�

“No, he did not. Rookwood is loyal, yes, but not the brightest. We thought it better to have our plans kept within a tight circle. Only Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, myself, and of course the Dark Lord knew of this,� he breathed.

Malfoy walked around to the sofa and sat in an attempt to act normally.

“I- I’m glad you’re alright, Father,� he lied.

Lucius turned to face him. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, but Malfoy quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, pretending to be embarrassed by his comment.

“As you should be,� Lucius responded. “Now I must go. I only wanted to calm your nerves. I imagine your mother will be hysterical when she sees me,� he added in a voice clearly brimming with disgust.

Malfoy stood and nodded.

“Keep away from Granger as much as possible. Not only is she filthy, but she’s conniving as well.�

Malfoy’s face contoured in rage, his mouth became dry and his voice hoarse. His eyes flashed dangerously as his father took a few steps closer.

“But do not be obvious. Dumbledore must see no sign that you are aware of any of this. Keep away from him as well. You only have another week until term begins. At such time, keep close to Crabbe and Goyle. I need not speak of the consequences if Dumbledore were to catch word of what I’ve told you,� he added.

Draco shook his head.

“Well- what are your plans now?� he asked his father.

“Now Dumbledore is unprepared. He knows not that the dementors are fighting on our side. We’re planning an attack- dementors and Death Eaters alike- on Hogsmeade and London within the next month. Our vantage point, evidently, being our element of surprise. Now, I must go,� he said.

Malfoy nodded and stepped aside from the fire.


“Heed my words, Draco. You won’t be hearing from me for a number of weeks. Don’t disappoint me,� he added menacingly.

And with a flash of green flames, Lucius flung himself into the fire and disappeared.

Malfoy tottered on the spot, feeling weak and bemused. With a loud thump, he allowed himself to slip dramatically against the wall and onto the hard, stone floor.


**********************************************


“So- so they were never given the Kiss?!� asked Flarine in tones on disbelief and horror.

Snape’s lip curled devilishly.

“Yes, I thought I had made that plain,� he drawled.

Hermione cast an anxious glance at Harry and Ron, who looked back with wide eyes.

“So- Professor…� Hermione cut in tentatively. Noticing the whole of the Order focusing their attention on her yet again, she sunk a little in her chair.


“Go on, dear, it’s alright- you’re entitled,� simpered Mrs. Weasley.

“Errr…� she began lamely. “I- I’m afraid I don’t understand… you were at a Death Eater meeting and- and Lucius Malfoy was there?� she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Granger, he was,� Snape snarled. “Along with Crabbe, Goyle, and Macnair; soul completely intact, I am sorry to report.�

“But- but how?!� Tonks chimed in.

“Our best guess,� McGonagall answered. “Is that the Daily Prophet is in some way connected to You-Know-Who’s plans. He’s obviously taken the time to ensure he keeps control over them. What with their puppet Fudge unable to direct them subliminally, they probably resorted to the Imperius curse,� she added.

The whole room was quiet. Hermione took notice, in her state of shock, that she could have dropped a pin and its sound would have reverberated along the high walls. An extended moment passed as she reflected on Malfoy’s reaction when she told him. She was not looking forward to it.

Finally, Lupin broke the silence.

“Someone had to of known the Kiss was never administered,� he said gravelly.

“Yes,� Dumbledore spoke. Every eye stared at him. “Someone did know; or rather, a number of creatures. The dementors of Azkaban are the only ones capable of realizing this information. Humans never frequent the prison, unless they are overseeing a routine check or else escorting a new inmate,� he said darkly.

“S- so the dementors…. They’re on his side?!� A plump yet attractive witch bellowed.

“We fear that they are, yes. It is the only logical explanation,� Dumbledore responded.


The room fell into a deafening quiet once more. Hermione was shaking madly. She thought of Malfoy, of his anger and frustration. She thought of how this news would kill his spirits further, of how little he had to look forward to anymore. Then- like a brick slapping her across the face--

“Wait!� she nearly shouted. “Lucius- the others- they just revealed themselves last night?� Hermione questioned.

“Yes,� Snape answered again, clearly seething under her presence.

“So- so now the rest of Voldemort’s ranks know it was all some sort of plan? They’ve- they’ve come out of hiding then?�

The room (with the usual exception of Dumbledore, Harry and Lupin) experienced a collective gasp and shuddering at his name. Several witches and wizards eyed Hermione fearfully.

“Yes, it seems they have,� Snape whispered.


“Well- well that means- that means- � Hermione cut herself short. Horror and dread pulsed through her blood, feeding on her newfound panic.

He’s not hiding anymore, she thought frantically. Lucius could be after Draco right now! He could be in danger! If his dad shows up, he’ll surely know he’s been with me! He’ll- he’ll kill him!

And with that frightening thought, Hermione shot up from her chair and raced out of the room, ignoring Harry’s perplexed face and Ron’s summoning her name. Heart beating a tattoo in her chest, she ran as if being chased, too afraid and worried about Malfoy to think that if Lucius was there, she’d die as well.

A/N: Many are going to think this chapter is quite cheesy, and not up to par with past ones. However, it has been my plan from the beginning to devote at least one full chapter to pure emotional drama. I think it makes for solid development. Please forgive; the plot will return next update.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. This includes the song lyrics, which belong to the Goo Goo Dolls.



IRIS



And I’d give up forever to touch you
Because I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t want to go home right now…



“Malfoy!� she yelled, out of breath, as she banged on the entrance to Slytherin common room. “Malfoy, are you there?�

Then a horrific thought caught in her throat: What if Lucius had already come? What if Malfoy was lying in there right now, blood trickling down his cheek, black bruises emerging from his ivory skin…

The visual gave Hermione chills, and she instinctively grabbed her wand from inside her robes. Panic was pulsating through her- she had to get inside. Her mind searched frantically for what the password might be…

Closing her eyes, she heard a distant voice in her head… a faint memory flickered…


“Oooo, Harry’s a Parselmouth…�

“Yes, I think the world found that out second year, Granger.�


“Parselmouth!� she screamed, flinging open her eyes. And the stone door swung wide.

Hermione burst through, still gasping for air as her eyes anxiously searched the common room. She took another couple steps in and heard the door swing shut behind her.

He has to be here. Her nerves were on fire. He has to be here! But if he wasn’t… if he were gone…

“Malfoy?� she called. But there was no answer.

Then, she suddenly heard a muffled ruffling sound coming from behind her to the right. Whirling around, she saw Malfoy, legs crossed and hunched over beside the fireplace.

Hermione gasped in relief.

Rushing to collapse beside him, she asked, “Are you alright?�

Malfoy stared into the flames. He seemed completely paralyzed. He wondered dully what had made Hermione rush to him, but ignored his question as he shoved it, along with everything else, into the back of his mind.


His hair was disheveled; it was obvious he’d run his fingers through it countless times. He was shaking slightly, despite being so near the fire that its sparkling reflection was trapped in his eyes. Deep frown lines, the sort that seventeen-year-old boys ought not have, swam into view. They sunk down his cheeks and came to a rest upon his soft pink lips, which were quivering so lightly that Hermione hadn’t noticed.


And I don’t want the world to see me


Sitting on the deep green rug, Hermione shifted so that her face was less than a foot from his. She stuffed her wand back in hes robes and eyed him worriedly. A moment passed- then two- all the while Malfoy sat and stared, taking no heed that a frightened girl was sitting beside him, waiting with bated breath for him to speak.

She grasped his hand. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he strengthen his grip; his hand hung loosely, like a dead limb, in her own.

“Malfoy… please… say something,� she whispered in his ear.

Malfoy heard the intense concern in her voice, and his heart gave a small stir.

He blinked. Turning ever so slightly to meet her gaze, he moved his hand to intertwine his fingers with hers. Hermione’s eyes lifted and a small, relieved smile stretched across her face.

Malfoy gazed into her bright, round eyes, and immediately knew he wouldn’t be able to suppress his feelings for her. He wasn’t strong enough. No man was strong enough to ignore such powerful emotion. He felt a twinge of gratitude and devotion towards her, until it was washed away by his next paralyzing thought-

Lucius. If he found out… if he ever learned of any of this… he wouldn’t just kill him. He’d kill her.

Malfoy let his hand fall limp again.


“No!� Hermione whispered, “Come back! Don’t go off in another daze, oh please don’t…� her voice was agonized with pain.


Because I don't think that they'd understand


She could hardly stand it anymore. Everything- the war, Voldemort, Harry, the Weasleys, now Malfoy- it all avalanched into her heart, creating an icy grip that wouldn’t allow for more than a shred of hope, a shred of faith. She couldn’t lose that shred now.

Malfoy knew what he had to do. His eyes stung at just the thought of it, but he was smart enough to know that Hermione would never listen, would never take his advice and leave him. She’d try to be strong and bear the burden and the threat. But she had enough to manage without him. He had to sacrifice the only person he’d ever really loved… but it was for her. If he didn’t, she would die. He had to let her go…


When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am


Meeting her gaze for a second time, he took a deep breath. Her eyes lifted again in happiness, but quickly dissolved in another frown when she saw the tormented look on his face. He closed his eyes one last time to savor what she looked like without tears streaming down her soft cheeks. He wanted to remember her that way.

“Go,� he whispered softly.


Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion.

“W- what?�

“Go,� he whispered again, his voice shaking.

The common room seemed to darken with Malfoy’s heart. It had never appeared so dank and despondent. All light seemed to be drained from it, all sense of optimism rinsed into black void.

“I- w- well… no! I won’t go… Malfoy, please… tell me what’s wrong. Is- is it your father? Did he- did he come tonight?� she asked with wide eyes.

Malfoy closed his own in anguish.

Please just leave, he thought miserably. Don’t make this harder than it already is…

He now understood why so many Slytherin guys didn’t date girls, but used them; it was much easier to avoid love, much easier to stay invulnerable and hide from it. After all, it only caused pain. Love only worked out in fairy tales; and Malfoy’s life was far from one.

His heart wrenched open as he allowed himself to believe, for the first time, that she could love him back- how excruciatingly unfair. He’d been deprived of so many things his whole life, and not once did he pity himself. Not once did he ask for anything, not once did he want or need help.

But that day in Hogsmeade he’d understood why people believe in miracles; he was so certain he’d found one in her. He felt like an idiot for trying to suppress it, but that was only natural for him at the time. If he had known then that he’d have to give it up… he would have allowed himself a moment of happiness; one moment to sustain him the rest of his life.

But as he watched the familiar gold flicker once more in her lovely gentle eyes, and his heart swelled with passion, he couldn’t help but feel that he was currently the center joke of all the universe.


When everything feels like the movies
You bleed just to know you’re alive


“Go,� he said once more.

“Malfoy,� Hermione cried, “Please stop telling me to go! Please… please, talk to me…�

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Malfoy breathed her sweet scent once more, and locked it into his memory forever. He wanted to remember that too.

With the heaviest heart he’d ever felt, he whispered one last time…

“Please… go…�

Hermione looked up at him. She saw the hurt embedded in his soul; it peered at her through his glassy eyes. She shook her head.

Malfoy restrained the hard lump in his throat and stifled the whimper that was longing to be released. He couldn’t believe it… she knew. She knew about his father, knew he was still alive. She must know the danger she’s putting herself in by being with him. She rushed through the door to save him… she rushed through the door to her own doom… and now she wouldn’t go. She wouldn’t leave his side.

A lone tear trickled down Malfoy’s cheek. He turned his head so Hermione couldn’t see.


And I don’t want the world to see me…


Gathering all his strength, Malfoy stood and released himself from her embrace. He immediately felt the absence of her warmth, and became slightly nauseous with the knowledge that he’d never feel it again.

“Go. Now!� he yelled. His hurt was turning to anger… he needed her to leave before he lost his nerve.

“W- why?� she asked with trembling lips.

“I said go, Mudblood! And don’t ever talk to me again!� he shouted.


Because I don’t think that they’d understand…


The look on Hermione face succeeded in shattering Malfoy’s heart into a thousand splintered pieces.

He had to get away. He took off up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory and slammed the door shut behind him. His breathing was quick and heavy, his eyes red and glistening.

He heard Hermione’s stifled cries below. He felt as if his chest had split in two as he sunk heavily against the wall for the second time that night.

Give me her pain, he thought wretchedly… I can handle it! Give it to me! She doesn’t need more…


When everything’s made to be broken,


But when he heard the soft thump of the common room’s door shutting behind her, shutting her away from him forever, he felt that there was no pain greater than his own.


…I just want you to know who I am.

---

Hermione didn’t sleep at all that night. She watched with detached emotion as the dawn’s rays played on the curtains in her dormitory. She hadn’t cried; she’d been too shocked to cry. She merely gazed at the ceiling with wide, sparkling eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

She could hear a soft pattering sound growing louder in the distance… what was that? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. It was barely noticeable. But then she heard a familiar swooooosh, a loud thump, and a cry. What was that? She asked herself, without really caring about the answer.


“Hermione! Hermione, we know you’re up there!� Ron had tried to get to the girl’s dormitory again. “Blasted thing turned into a slide again,� he could be heard saying to Harry.

Hermione narrowed her gaze on her bedpost. She slowly came out of her reverie… the room came into focus… she received a mild surprise at seeing her bedroom illuminated by the soft sun…

“Hermione?� came Harry’s slightly uncertain voice.

She rolled over. She wouldn’t go down today. She didn’t need to eat, didn’t need anything… she’d lay in bed… knowing exactly where she was… but ever so lost…

“Hermione, it’s Christmas!� Ron called.

She stirred. Looking at the clock as if it would suddenly scream “Happy Christmas!� in consent, she slowly, and without fully realizing, climbed out from under her covers and heaved a deep, defeated sigh.

She washed her face and combed her hair in a daze, her eyes never focusing. Climbing down the stairs, she was met by Harry’s wrinkled forehead and Ron’s frown.

“Hermione, what happened last night? Are you ok?� Ron asked.

“I- I…� she stammered. The common room seemed much smaller than usual. She felt as if the walls were closing in around her… suffocating her… she couldn’t breathe…

“Hermione?� Harry asked worriedly.

She fell to the floor.

“Hermione!� Harry exclaimed. “Hermione, what’s wrong?!�

He flung himself to catch her, and just barely caught her head before it crashed with the hard stone floor. Ron rushed to her face and felt her forehead.

“She’s pale… and freezing. Harry, get a blanket,� he said.

Harry grabbed a deep red throw from the sofa and wrapped it securely around Hermione’s shoulders before lifting her to one of the chintz chairs by the fire.

Her eyes were struggling to keep open. She hadn’t slept in two full nights out of anxiety for one circumstance or another, but that wasn’t what caused her to faint. She had felt her heart breaking… felt it so painfully, so unexpectedly as she stood swaying on the spot… she felt it as a normal person felt their leg snap in two.


“Hermione, look at me…� Harry commanded. “Tell me what’s going on.�

She managed to peer through a small slit between her two glowing red eyelids.

“H- Harry…� her voice fell at the end.

“Maybe I should go get Madam Pomfrey, Harry…�

“No,� Hermione whimpered.

Both boys stared at her.

“Hermione-�

“It- last night… it was- I had to go… Malfoy…� she stumbled.

“Malfoy? What about him? Did he hurt you?� Ron asked furiously.

Hermione nodded wildly, answering truthfully, but not really knowing what she had just agreed to, or what she’d just sparked in the eyes of her two best friends.

Harry swore loudly.

Ron stood to leave, intentions set on smashing Malfoy’s head into the nearest sharp object.

“Wait- we need to make sure she’s ok first,� Harry forced his mind to think rationally. Ron nodded.

“Where are you hurt?� Harry continued to ask.

Hermione, still completely unaware of her own actions, pointed to her heart in a haze.

“Did he hex you?� Ron asked fiercely.

“W- what?� Hermione questioned. Hex? Hex me? No… what’s Ron thinking? Hermione’s mind was clearing a bit.

“What did he do?� Harry prodded with a shaky voice.

Hermione looked into his eyes. The gentle, bright green seemed on fire, ablaze with a different kind of fury she’d never seen…

She sat upright in the couch and shook off her trance. Taking a deep breath, she mumbled, “It’s not like that.�

Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks.

She felt too drained to speak, let alone tell them her whole story of coming to be friends with Malfoy… of coming to feel for him… of coming to lo-

“Tell us, Hermione… come on,� Ron pried impatiently.

Brow furrowed, eyes alight with hurt, Hermione began telling them the whole story, front to finish. She began with his first visit with her potion, their argument, then how she fell down the staircase after her nightmare. When she ended her tale with the previous night’s occurrences, she didn’t dare look Harry or Ron in the face. She knew they’d be understanding and compassionate, but they would never grasp her misery- they couldn’t understand what it was like to fall in love, and not know it until it’s too late.


She let her mind race a circle of memories. She remembered back to Hogsmeade’s edge. She’d seen the love there. Buried far below, but not out of reach, she’d seen him… then she caught a distant glimpse of his face, so confused yet content, happiness radiating from his rapidly beating heart… she remembered how beautiful it sounded. She remembered him giving her a brief window to his soul… she’d peeked through enough to see truth; truth that was covered in false layers, like an invaluable gift that still encompassed insurmountable beauty, but had just been dusty with time, as if sitting idly on a shelf.

She remembered his sparkling eyes, resembling a storm of passion with winds that swept her heart off the ground… she remembered being curled next to him in soft blankets, sleeping soundlessly for the night. She remembered his gentle touch on her bare back, and how astonished she was with his soothing strokes and tender nature… she hadn’t know those things existed in him…

Then she remembered how she’d ignored it all, pushed it all away thinking their relationship was far too underdeveloped and tentative to be anything other than platonic. She remembered the look in his eyes when she had been sure he was going to kiss her… she remembered pretending as if that moment hadn’t happened an hour later. She remembered being so adamant on helping him, on taking some of his anguish and storing it in her own body for him.

She remembered she’d never see that love in his eyes again. She’d never have the opportunity to take his pain…

But as she looked to the fire with pleading, desperate eyes, she felt that there was no pain greater than her own.



I would give up forever to touch you.

Author's Note: Long chapter, but it's well worth the time to read, as it's a critical one in the plot. And, the next one is already in the works! I must admit, I positively love the title I chose. Being Korean, it's very sentimental to me. Enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!



Han



Hermione had calmly explained to Ron and Harry that she wanted to be alone, and while hesitant, they understood and let her solemnly drag her feet to the girls’ dormitory.

Hermione heard their muffled conversation from below, but couldn’t make out the words. Their tones, however, were clearly filled with mingled confusion and concern. Hermione briefly took notice how wonderful it was of Ron to be concerned for her when his brother had just died, before she finally allowed herself to stumble restlessly to sleep, silent tears still welled in her eyes.

Christmas day had completely passed by the time she had awoken at 7:20 that night. Sitting up, she felt the cold rush of a migraine pinching behind her eyes. Some part of her sleeping mind had agreed to try putting the previous night’s events out of her head for the time being. She grazed over the topic, but as if keeping to a strict contract, shoved it quickly aside as best she could.


Stumbling out of the shower twenty minutes later, she thought it best to open her presents so that she could properly thank people. She sat on her four-poster and began tearing away at the first brightly wrapped package, the sparkling silver bow glistening in the room’s soft light. It was from her parents.

They’d bought her a four-volume black leather-bound book set on Transfiguration and Charms spells; Hermione gave a very dim smile, knowing Mrs. Weasley must have helped pick them out. They had also sent along three new jumpers, a gorgeous gold locket necklace with a picture of her family intact, along with some homemade pudding. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent along the usual mince pies and Ginny had bought her a large quantity of candies from Honeydukes.

Ron had given her a miniature Wizard’s Chess set with a note reading, “Thought you could use this for practice- you need it!� She would have smiled at the banter, but her thoughts instantly swept her to a haze of memories once more, where she visualized Malfoy teaching her to play. She didn’t need practice anymore… she was quite good… thanks to… him…


No! she thought determinedly. And with the one solitary word, the memory was sucked from her mind like a vacuum.

Hermione reached for the second to last parcel and knew it was from Harry. Picking away at the tape, she finally undid the wrapping; instant tears formed in her eyes. It was quite probably the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone had given her. It was a small replica of the Mirror of Erised, complete with intricate engravings. Except, instead of a mirror in the center, there was a picture of her, Harry, and Ron. The three waved enthusiastically up at her, Harry occasionally thumping Ron on the back and giving Hermione a tight squeeze with his right arm.

Somehow, Harry had managed to make a picture frame resembling the magical mirror… She remembered how Harry saw his family in it…

The message his gift sent was gorgeously stunning and heartfelt; she’d never received such a personal, emotional present before.

Ignoring the last parcel on the bed, Hermione rushed from her room and down the dormitory stairs with a lifted heart.

She found Harry and Ron staring hard at a piece of parchment on the table in front of the fireplace, solemn lines painting their every expression. Not bothering to notice, she raced over to them and pushed her way between the chairs.

“Ron! Thank you for the chess set, it’s lovely! I’ll play you later, right?� She hammered on quickly.

Taken aback by her sudden appearance and uplifted spirits, Ron merely smiled and nodded.

Then, as fast as wind, Hermione changed direction and looked at Harry. Her expression of hurriedness transformed into deepest warmth. He was standing now, facing her with a worried expression plastered across his face. His patented emerald eyes bore softly into Hermione’s, and without another thought, she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

“Thank you Harry,� she whispered in his ear. “It was- that was- the most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten… thank you so much,� she continued.

Harry, rightfully surprised, wrapped his arms around her nonetheless and patted her back gently. He gave Ron a slightly nervous glance, but breathed a sigh of relief.

“Err… you’re welcome, Hermione,� he whispered back.

She slowly pulled away but kept her face close.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. And Ron,� she added as she turned to face him. “I’m sorry for- for sort of exploding earlier… the whole Malfoy thing… it just happened out of the blue, I didn’t see it coming… it was- I don’t know…�

“Errr…� Ron began tentatively.

Hermione looked to him with a question in her eyes.

“Well,� he continued. “We were… we were sort of wondering… I mean- well, what happened between you two?�

Hermione looked puzzled. “I told you earlier,� she replied.

“Yeah, but…� Harry chimed in.

“But?�

“What Harry means,� Harry shot Ron a disgruntled look. “Alright alright, what we mean, is… did you… do anything with him?�


“Ronald!� Hermione sounded utterly aghast. “You- you two of all people should know I’m not that kind-�

“We know, we know!� Ron went on. “Just… nothing serious… just- did you kiss him?�

Hermione stared. The truth about that hurt her. How could she feel so strongly about him and not have kissed him? How could she? She felt her heart sink to her lower stomach region again as she answered,


“No.�


Hermione narrowed her gaze menacingly as she saw a relieved exchange take place between the two boys.

“What, I can’t kiss someone now, is that it?� she spat.

Harry sighed as if he knew this was coming.

“No, we were just wonder-�

“Well why so relieved then? Why would it matter?�

Neither answered her; they merely locked eyes with one another in a knowing stare that clearly indicated not to respond. Hermione suppressed her anger only because she forced herself to imagine her own confusion if she’d suddenly learned that Harry had fallen for Pansy Parkinson.

Then a familiar, scrolling handwriting caught her attention from the table nearest them. Moving a step closer, she looked down to finally notice the parchment Harry and Ron had been eyeing when she entered: it was a message from Dumbledore.

“What’s this?� she questioned.

Ron coughed somewhat uneasily.

“It’s nothing, really… just Dumbledore asking Harry to, uhh… to come to his office…� he mumbled.

Hermione’s heart had jumped to her throat. What could Dumbledore possibly want with Harry this time of night? And on Christmas, no less? Oh, what could happen now? she wondered miserably, not really wanting to know the answer.

Granting voice to thought, Hermione asked, “What could it possibly be at this hour?�

“That’s just what me and Ron were wondering,� Harry spoke, looking Hermione directly in the eyes.

“Come to any conclusions?�

“Not really… we don’t know,� Ron piped. “Could be anything, can’t it? Though I reckon it’s something bad, else he wouldn’t be bothering Harry with these messages going on nine on Christmas,� he finished.


“Thanks, Ron,� Harry said with mocked appreciation.

Ron shrugged anxiously.

“Well, I wouldn’t look at it like that,� Hermione picked up with a professional air about her.

“Course you wouldn’t. Anything to argue my point, right?� Ron seethed.

“No,� she said matter-of-factly. “I just think Dumbledore is too peculiar and unconventional to be pinned down by circumstance. It could very well be something nice… perhaps he just wants a word, even, to make sure you’re alright?�

“Maybe,� Harry answered skeptically.

Hermione stared at him concernedly, and knew that no matter what her fake naivety spoke, she felt it was indeed something bad.

“Well, it’s best to go find out,� she spoke softly as she began tugging him towards the portrait hole. “No wandering off afterwards, ok? If it is something bad, I mean. You shouldn’t be alone. Come straight back and let us know,� she whispered soothingly.

Harry nodded before stepping into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

---

Hermione was back in her room ten minutes later, having been thoroughly drained of emotion. She felt bad for leaving Ron by himself in the common room, but she knew how valuable it was to have time alone in the normally bustling girls’ dormitory.

What was she to do now? She felt as if her purpose, if she had any, was gone. With the war on the rise, there was only so much she could do for Harry; in the end, it was he who had to face the perils of conquering Voldemort, not she. All she could offer now was her friendship to him and her wits to the Order; the latter running dry under recent circumstances.

But she had found a beckon of light in Malfoy, for he’d offered the opportunity to not only do something worthwhile, but to ease her own mind as well. She’d found their conversations immensely gratifying because she had the answers and the wisdom to help him. She did not posses this power in other areas of her life.

And, to top it off, she had found something hidden beneath her mission… below her ideas of needing to reach out to him, though prat he certainly was, lied something else: her own need for him to reach out to her.

These thoughts jumbled through her psyche in huge leaps and bounds as she sat staring at the ceiling once more, on her four-poster.

Well, no use pitying myself to death… mine as well try to sleep so I’m properly functioning again tomorrow, she thought determinedly.

But these thoughts were broken by her sudden realization that one more parcel was left at the foot of her bed.

Heaving a quizzical look on her face, she reached out her hand and pulled it towards her. It felt light as air, and she was convinced it was only some spare wrapping paper; until she saw writing on one side.



Hermione Granger- Gryffindor Tower



A wave of curiosity broke her depressed mood as she tore it open. The contents revealed why it had been so weightless. It was merely a piece of parchment, perhaps six inches long at the most. Turning it over, she began reading a handwriting she had never seen before.

But there were only three words:



I’m so sorry.



Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. Who sent this?!

But she knew the answer. There’s only one person who would be apologizing to her today.

She looked around the dormitory in a frenzy as she decided how to handle this. Was he apologizing for hurting her feelings? Was he apologizing for leading her on? Or- could it be- he was apologizing for conditions beyond his control?

A very tiny, diffused light of hope coursed through her. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself for throwing her little pity-parties. She should have been taking action, learning why he had randomly reacted the way he did. She should have known not even Malfoy could conceivably go from the person he was this morning to the person he’d portrayed earlier tonight.

She made up her mind. She couldn’t just let it go.

Swiftly grabbing her school cloak from the nightstand, she tumbled frantically down the staircase, past Ron’s baffled stares, and hastily pushed her way out the portrait hole.

---

Once again, and in a similar state of panic and fear (though for a different reason this time), Hermione found herself outside the Slytherin common room, panting from her hurried journey.

Not bothering with formalities, she muttered the password and stepped briskly inside. Her mind struggled to catch up with how quickly her eyes were darting about the room, which was darker than she had ever seen it. After three or four full scans and no sign of him, she raced purposefully towards the boys’ dormitory.

“Malfoy?� she called up the stairs.

There was no answer, but she was sure she’d heard a soft thump issue from just above, almost as if he’d tripped or fallen in shock.

“I know you’re there! Come down here!� she hollered. Her voice echoed the pain and confusion that had recently morphed to frustration and anger.

But no response echoed back.

Without further ado, Hermione heaved an indignant breath and thumped up the stone stairs dramatically so as to give Malfoy plenty of time to panic himself. She reached the dark polished door, swung it wide, and marched to the center of the room as the door slammed shut once more.

There he was, standing firm as ice on the opposite side of the dorm next to his dark green and black four-poster. His eyes were red and drained, reflecting the soul within. Hair slightly disheveled, posture slack and dead, he gazed into her eyes for the briefest of moments before turning away.

The sight of him looking so worn nearly succeeded in causing Hermione to back down off her intended tirade. But as soon as she stopped in the middle of the dorm, Malfoy stiffened in an almost professional manner, as if about to debate an official enemy.

This only infuriated the girl.

“Malfoy, I-� she began. Her voice, as it had so often done that night, caught in her throat on a large lump that seemed to be steadily on the rise. The corners of her eyes began to sting, but she held them back like her life- or pride, rather- depended on it.

“W- what do you think- I mean, how…� she stumbled forward. “why?� she asked exasperatedly.

Malfoy kept his heavy stare fixated just to the right of her body, refusing to look her in the face. Truth be known, he couldn’t look her in the face without his lungs feeling restricted and his chest growing cold.

Hermione read the sad expression in his eyes, though they were unfocused, and cowered under the weight of them.

“Malfoy,� she whispered with a partial, sorrow-filled sigh as she took a tentative step closer. They were still ages apart, but she could feel his heart beating rapidly, just as she had that one night when she fell asleep on his chest.

Malfoy closed his eyes in anguish. Don’t say my name like that, he thought miserably. It’ll break my will…

Hermione let a small whimper escape her lips, and covered her hand over her mouth immediately afterwards as though she’d just said a terrible curse.

It made Malfoy look up at her longingly, like he wanted nothing more than to reach out his arms and pull her towards him in a comforting embrace.

But he held back.

“D- Draco?� she sighed again in tones of questioning despair.

Malfoy look into her with wide eyes and a pulsing heart.

Why did you do that? Why did you say my name?!

“Did… are you the one who sent me that note?� she finally asked.

Malfoy’s reverie was caught off guard as he forced his mind back onto the situation at hand. But, he only nodded slowly in response.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. It was from him; she’d confirmed it. And with that security, the small light of hope grew enough to cast its glow on the darkest corners of her mind.

Letting out a tiny, stifled laugh of relief, she plummeted forward.

“Well… umm… what- what are you sorry about?�

Malfoy looked hurt, as if to say, you couldn’t guess? But a part of him felt grateful that his message wasn’t obvious. Now he could pretend he was sorry for leading her on, making her think they could be friends.

“Well?� she pried impatiently.

“I- I’m sorry for… I’m sorry for hurting you,� he mumbled quickly.

Hermione looked puzzled. “Hurting me? Is that all?�

“Well what else have I to be sorry for?� he asked more forcefully than he’d intended.

Hermione’s light of hope drastically dimmed. Her balloon of optimism was burst so thoroughly, she could almost hear it popping.

“I- I don’t know…� her voice trailed.

“Me either.� He stated firmly.

Hermione flushed scarlet. What was I thinking? Optimism be damned, she thought wretchedly.

She was just on her way to leaving, broke-hearted and suffocating of her own loss, when the old Hermione kicked in full gear.

She wasn’t going to leave without giving him a piece of her mind. She wasn’t going to leave without some answers.

“Explain this to me, Malfoy,� she began heatedly. “Tell me: Why have you been so- so ambiguous? I can never read you!�


No, you can read me too well, that’s the problem, he thought sadly.


“When we first started talking, you were nasty like usual. But then something in there-� she motioned to his head, “…Or something in there, rather-� she motioned to his heart, “-changed. I couldn’t place it, exactly, so I pawned it off on our new-found bond, so to speak,� she declared. But Malfoy gave her an incredulous look.

“Oh, don’t give me that rubbish! You know well enough that we were getting rather close, considering the fact I- I severely disliked you prior! And the feeling was mutual, I know. But we were sort of forced together through my injuries, and next thing I know I’ve fallen asleep next to you in the bloody Slytherin common room!� she screamed, clearly indicating that the situation described was something she’d never expected to happen.


“From then on things were a bit different, weren’t they?� she stated, rather than asked. “Then there was Hogsmeade- and were you or weren’t you going to kiss me there?�

It was Malfoy’s turn to blush. But he still remained silent, so afraid that if he spoke his voice would betray him and tell her what he could not.

“You’ve been so difficult, Malfoy! But I cared about you!� she yelled pleadingly. “Couldn’t- couldn’t you see that?� She asked, eyes stinging madly with oncoming tears.

Malfoy didn’t answer, but sighed and closed his eyes once more. He was barely holding onto his emotions; he felt like he was grasping his heart with both hands, struggling with it- begging it- willing it to remain calm and collected.

I can’t give in… I can’t let on… she must believe I never cared. She must believe that I’m the same person she thought I was before all this, his mind reeled painfully.


“I guess not,� Hermione answered herself after an extended moment. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I really am. I- I thought it was obvious. I mean, I didn’t realize I cared until just tonight… but… I guess… I had hoped you’d be smarter. I’d hoped you’d be able to tell.�

Malfoy felt his body sway ominously on the spot. His head was feeling dizzy and his eyes dazed. He really needed a lie down… the past week had incorporated far too much dread, far too much loss, in more ways than one. Far too much emotion.

And Hermione’s words had stung him vindictively. They were like weapons to him, far worse than daggers or even the unforgivables… her words were like hot, surging pain coursing through his blood stream that stopped his very heart from pumping oxygen to his brain.

He felt so close to death.

Heart seemingly stopped, his chest felt as if it were caving in around it. His eyes were just begging to release their own manifestations of pain, but his stubborn pride clung to his consciousness for dear life and refused their pleads.

Hermione shook her head slightly as a minuscule, single, glistening tear made its sad way down the path to her chin.

“You never really cared at all…� she said in a daze, now looking past Malfoy. “You- were using me… maybe that’s a bit harsh,� she rationalized with herself. “But… you certainly didn’t want me… like I… like I wanted you," she continued, the incredible hurt vibrating her voice.

"It kills me to say it, Malfoy,� she said softly, in a tone that showed it really was killing her. “…but maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe- perhaps you’re not the person I thought you were… the person I was so sure you could be.�

He had succeeded. He had won the battle against her wits, and moreover against himself. He’d triumphed in making her believe exactly what he’d wanted her to.

But he could never recall a moment before when winning had felt so much more like dying.

And ironically, he found himself painstakingly disappointed, in everything: the world, his life, himself, Love...

Hermione’s eyes flashed across his face. She looked completely, utterly helpless and alone.

“It- none of it… meant anything to you, did it?� she barely whispered.

Malfoy’s breathing began to hurt. It took everything in him to keep inhaling and exhaling, much less keep a straight, dignified face.

“Just… just so you know,� she continued in a quiet voice, “It meant something to me… you meant something to me.�

And she turned slowly, achingly away as one trembling hand reached out for the door.





But the sight of Hermione walking out- for a second time, leaving him forever, it seemed- stirred his senses into fully awakening. His mouth was dry and his stormy gray eyes swam in tears that carried their own silent voice of anguish.

He tried to say something- utter just one word! But his plummeting heart and state of mixed fright and torment were making it so complicated.

His breathing quickened as her outstretched hand touched the doorknob. It was now or never.

Let her go! his practical, logical mind screamed. You must let her go! Your father will kill her if you don’t! You’ll be putting her in danger! What sort of love deceives the loved? What sort of love would have you risk her life?


But what sort of love would lie, and let her walk out believing no love ever even existed?


“Wait,� he said firmly.

Hermione stopped, wonderment and uncertainty beyond compare visible in every soft line of her tired face.

And she turned around to face him.

Author's Note: Yet again another very long chapter. If you don't have the time to read it thoroughly, I advise you not read it at all for the time being, as each sentence builds up to the next. I hope you like it!



These Frail Words



When she turned to face him, stomach churning with anticipation, she was startled at how close he had come. For the first time in hours, she allowed her glassy eyes to fully explore his face, reading it how she once did.

He was raging inside, as a personal war of wills fought yet another battle within the strained capsule of his heart.

Hermione could see it; she could see it like someone sees the comings of rain in the distant clouds, so clearly yet mysteriously. She could feel it radiating from his oh so lightly trembling body, like his very soul was a torrent of earthquakes.

Inside, Malfoy’s blood was tingling with fear. If one could imagine the horror of being forced to keep your own being locked inside the confines of a shattered, abused mind by your own father, then suddenly, abruptly set free to travel down every emotional pathway- only to find those emotions tormented, broken, and confounded- then one could possibly begin to comprehend the dominant pain that had become Draco Malfoy’s essence.


The confusion was overwhelming. The emotional turmoil of coming to grips with the reality of love and war was simple and unproblematic compared to the terror of learning you’d once again have to suppress your feelings because father dearest had returned.


Or, really, had never left.


And yet, Malfoy knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. What of Hermione? This whole ordeal affected her most, affected his ability and simultaneous inability to be truthful with even himself.

He gazed into her trouble-lit eyes and felt an immediate need to collapse. The longer he looked at her the weaker he felt… it was as if he’d been physically pushed to the brink of exhaustion.

He’d seen too much. He’d experienced too much hate, too much pessimism, and far too much evil. Pushed- shoved- knocked down- scraped- bruised- hurt- scarred: for life. His family: degrading, like a parasite that eats at your character from the inside out. His father: the ringleader. Crashing to reality harder than a fallen sky: inconceivably detrimental to one’s inner core.

His breathing quickened. His heart was pumping madly now, small beads of sweat lined his ivory face, and gave a soft glisten in the dim light of the room.

He’d been deceived his whole life; tortured, torn, used, abandoned, abused, discarded at will. And none of it- none of it- mattered now.

The ache of flashing memories and sorrow-filled remembrances coiled into a heap, utterly cowering under this new challenge; this new, fascinatingly beautiful, potentially destructive possibility: hope.

And who was hope? How had hope come? Why had it hidden from him for seventeen years, locked away like a gift far too precious and valuable for his tainted hands? Was it because he had been undeserving? While Malfoy’s heart beat a tattoo into his chest, he knew deep down the answer lied right in front of him: Hermione.


She was Hope. She was the embodiment of everything he never knew he’d wanted- needed.

She was the transcending light at the end of a very long, dark, and brutal tunnel of despair. She was honestly that he’d never before received, she was beauty that he’d never before witnessed, she was compassion that he’d never before knew existed, and she was the Hope that he’d long since lost given up.


If his heart was pumping before, it was racing furiously now. His mind couldn’t keep up with it.

Yet after all of it, he was still left alone. If he loved Hermione- if he really loved her as deeply and intricately as he now believed- he’d let her go.


Yes, his inner rationale spoke menacingly. If you love her, you’ll let her walk away… you’ll only hurt her, and your father will only kill her… if you love her… if…


I do, his other mind cried, I do! Don’t tell me I don’t! Tell me I’m a liar, tell me I’m worthless, tell me I’m a waste of a person, but do not ever presume to tell me I can’t love! That I don’t love her, it finished with a shout.


“M- Malfoy?� Hermione’s voice rang circles around the silent room, which seemed to be waiting on delicate breaths. The glow emitting from the blue flames did not crackle, as if too afraid to break the moment- the opportunity- of a lifetime.

And it all came down to now. He knew it. Everything in his life had climaxed to this moment, this point in space where he had the chance to tell Hermione the truth about himself, the truth about everything. But would he? Could he?

He willed his heart to slow. He needed it to back him up before he fell crashing to the hard ground beneath. Daring to heave a sigh, and not knowing how- or even if- he was going to tell her, Malfoy muttered, with soft easing lips,

“Hermione…�

Hermione’s airway closed in upon itself. She’d never heard her name sound so… beautiful. Amazing, she thought inwardly, how the sound of a name can bring one to their knees.


Don’t break your will… he’s hurt you, treated you badly with his refusal to offer any explanation for your pain, she told herself.


But she knew he wanted to say something; what, exactly, she wasn’t sure. But she was sure she needed to hear it, and decided to open the door for him to start.

“Draco… y- you’ve really…� she sighed. “…You’ve really hurt me. And, all I want to know is why,� she asked achingly.

He shook his head in disbelief. What was he to say? The truth would literally destroy her, though he craved to see a smile reach those lips again. And so he gave the only answer he felt comfortable giving:

“I don’t know."

Hermione’s disappointment flourished. She couldn’t help but feel a bit angry. Little did she know, Malfoy was angry beyond compare. He was tottering on the cliff of ruin, and if he fell, he’d never be able to climb out.

And the toiled Slytherin had never been so frustrated in his life. He felt that each path he followed would only lead to more trauma. His sadness never ceased, but it slowly ebbed away into anger with himself and with his whole situation as his eyes traced Hermione’s neck.

“Draco?�

He hissed like the sound of his name on her lips caused him a searing shock of pain.

“What?� Hermione asked concernedly.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair. He’d never felt so vulnerable before. His subconscious was pondering where the false Draco had gone. Though false indeed, it was stronger and far less susceptible to hurt. His body felt like it needed that shield, that protection. With an ambiance of foreboding, his mind called upon his smirk- his arrogance- his façade. He needed to play the role yet again, but this time for far more important reasons: her.


And though he knew it, he was growing aware of how much harder it was becoming to lie. Every breath he took felt borrowed.

Half his mind danced with half his heart, as they battled to determine which would win. Standing here before her, feeling naked under the intense gaze of those hazelnut eyes, his heart was winning out; but how much? For how long?

“Draco? What is it?� came Hermione’s familiar voice.

“Just- don’t say my name,� he managed to mumble.

Hermione was stock-still.

“What? Well… what else should I call you?� she inquired half-heartedly. She wanted to skip these theatrical things. She wanted to talk- to understand.

But could she ever?

“Malfoy… call me Malfoy, like you’ve been doing for the past six years,� he nearly spat. It was hard keeping his emotions under control. At any given moment they could burst and turn into rage.

But that moment had already come for Hermione.

She too had been through more than enough, far more than she cared to remember. It was dramatic irony, in a sense, that two identical souls stood before one another; both betrayed by the different masks they wore. Vanity had never seen such glory.

And Hermione had never felt such intense frustration and confusion. She huffed with indignity as her patience exploded within.

“Oh, sod off Malfoy! Merlin, I’m so disgusted with you! After all this, the only thing you have to say to me is a command? Is to call you by your last name?! What sort of- what kind- who are you?!� she sputtered.

“I really thought I was beginning to know that answer,� she continued in gripping tones. “But all you’ve done today is prove that wrong! Just answer me one question and I’ll leave you alone: was there anything growing between us? Friendship, at the least? Could you feel it, or was it just my mind making it up?�

And his breathing ceased.

Malfoy has to strengthen the grip on his heart to keep it from floating away with happiness. Though with an angry air, she had just admitted for the first time aloud that she had developed feelings for Malfoy, and this significance was not lost on him. Through the haze of pessimism, he found something to be pleased about, tainted as it may be.


In this shocked astonishment, Malfoy couldn’t help but to chuckle.

Hermione glared daggers at him.

“What’s funny?� she asked spitefully.

“Nothing…� he said. “Not a damned thing,� he answered honestly, and yet his chuckle grew more defined.

“I swear, you’d better start explaining yourself, or I’ll-�

“You’ll what?� Malfoy asked incredulously, with a hint of arrogance he hadn’t displayed in days. “What’ll you do, Granger? Hex me into oblivion?� he chortled as he stepped even closer to her. The bliss he’d received from Hermione’s words temporarily carried his fears and inhibitions away, to be replaced by the always-slightly-conceitedness that would never be fully washed out of him.

“Perhaps I will,� she answered with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you dare doubt my intentions, Malfoy, because for all that you’ve done to me in the past, this is by far the worst.�

He merely smirked and took three steps backwards before turning around and plopping his body on his bed.

“Well, don’t know what you’re waiting for then. Go on,� he mused.

Hermione was flushing again, but out of increased rage.

“You’re- you… ugh!� she yelled.

Malfoy’s mind was still attached to the beautiful, full realization that Hermione really cared about him, but he managed to respond,

“Bit off the wagon tonight, aren’t we? Have I antagonized you?� He leered.

His words, though certainly not meant to be remotely hurtful, were doused with insensitivity. Hermione’s eyes watered, and she shook her head in defeat. Tears spilled down her cheeks again and she did nothing to hide them.

She was finished. She was giving up. All that she could think to do, she’d done.

Malfoy sat up on his bed and watched her with regretful eyes.

Idiot! he shot at himself. Why had he been so tactless? Why? His fingers tingled with the need to wipe her tears away. His heart had sunk back to the pit of his stomach as quickly as it had inflated.

Smearing her salty droplets on the back of her hand, Hermione whispered, “I can’t look at you anymore.�

And she turned to leave, sniffing madly with hopelessness.
Malfoy jumped up from his bed and rushed in front of the door, hands pressed firmly against it behind him.

“Wait,� he said. “Don’t go.�

“And why not? Why s- should I stay? W- what reason is there?� she choked.

“I… I don’t know,� he sighed. And he really didn’t. Why was he keeping her there? What did he have to offer? He didn’t have answers, he didn’t have hope. He just felt that her presence would give him some answers, tell him where to go from here.

Very luckily for him, Hermione saw a mirror of her own feelings in his sparkling silver eyes.

“Just tell me, Malfoy! Just tell me what’s going on!�

“I can’t! I can’t, alright!?� he screamed suddenly. Hermione took a few protective steps back, and though it crushed Malfoy to see the fear in her eyes, he couldn’t suppress any more.

“Why? Why can’t you tell me? Don’t you- don’t you trust me?� she pleaded.

“It’s not about trust! It’s about protection!� he yelled at the top of his voice. His heart began pumping furiously again.

“Damn it, Hermione, can’t you see!? Use that intelligence, I need you to understand!�

“Protection? Argh!� she fumed, “I can’t understand on my own!� she was yelling back now, wringing her arms through the air. “Help me, Draco! I need your help to understand!�

“Well I can’t give you my help! You’re alone- how does it feel?!�


Hermione blinked.

“How… how does it feel?! It feels the same this time as it did the first hundred times!�


“That’s all you’ve done, isn’t it?! All you’ve done is confuse me, made me second guess everything I’ve known- why can’t you accept how I am?! Why am I not good enough?�

Hermione’s brow furrowed.

“What?! Draco, I- I never said you weren’t-�

“So typical,� he spat. “Can’t fess up to anything, can you? Ever since we’ve agreed on- on this blasted… civility between us, it’s been nothing but you confusing the bloody hell out of me!�

“And how have I done that?!�

“I’m not sure of anything anymore! I had it all figured until you, I knew who I was and-�

“Oh, that’s rubbish!� Hermione screamed. “Don’t you dare pull that on me! You were far more confused then than now! You wore this awful, nasty mask every day- tell me that didn’t confuse you!�

Malfoy secretly knew she was right. But it didn’t matter… he was angry now. Angry for them both; and few people are rational when they’re enraged.

His eyes darkened as he watched her face.


“Answer me, Granger- were you looking to help me?�

Hermione looked at him hard in the eyes.

“Of course...�

“Then you’ve said it yourself, right there!� he steamed.


“Said what?!�

“Why would you want to help me if you didn’t think I needed it? Why would you be so keen to help if you weren’t trying to change me?!�


thump.thump.thump.thump., went his aching heart.


“Your father had just been given the Kiss! Well we thought so at least… I- I was worried, that’s all! And since we did agree to be civil, and since we were the only ones at school, I figured-�

“Don’t lie to yourself, Granger,� he sneered. He was taking quick, deep breaths… his chest rising on each… his voice rising with it… “You were alone, you didn’t have Potter or Weasel around to save you from your own depression, so you needed something to occupy yourself, and I happened to be around! You didn’t care for me at all!�


Malfoy’s eyes were swelled with tears, and his mind raced curiously at the sensation he hadn’t felt in ages. His blonde hair was strewned recklessly across his forehead, his bright, silver eyes piercing through it. Cheeks rosy red in aggravation, they contrasted brilliantly against his ivory skin that seemed alight now with the reflection of a nearby flame.

And all his frustration, all his anger swooped through his system and spilled out, unleashing the most hurtful words he could find; whether he believed in them or not.

“It was always about your sympathy, your need to have a purpose! And I told you then I was a lost cause! I told you I didn’t want your pity, but you sugar coated everything, twisted words to make me trust that you weren’t going to use me! 'Oh, it’s not sympathy, it’s something or another!' But in the end, I was to you the same thing I am to everyone else in this damned school- a good bloody laugh! Because no one ever cares to understand,� he plummeted onward, never once revealing the raw truth behind the tirade; never once dropping a hint that he didn’t really, truly mean it.

Hermione’s heart cracked. She was so fragile at this moment, like a tottering porcelain doll high upon a shelf.

How… how could he think that? she wondered excruciatingly.


“You know that’s not true,� she whispered beneath her tears.

Malfoy did know.


But, “Do I?� is all he answered.


Hermione’s heart rate rivaled Malfoy’s. She needed him to understand; if only she knew that he already did. If only she knew what laid underneath, so close to the surface.

She wanted him to believe her, to trust that her intentions were always sincere. How could she prove it? How could she prove herself? Nothing she said seemed to do any good… no words she could say would help, for he’d only counter them. How could she prove it?

“Kiss me.�

Both their hearts froze in a dead stop. Both pairs of eyes bore into the other.

“W- what?� he stumbled.

Hermione was trembling from fear.

“I- I said, kiss me…�


Malfoy’s eyes widened just slightly, and he felt his hands grow cold with beads of sweat. Dizzy, hazed vision seemed to be blocking his direct eye contact with Hermione’s round spheres. For the second time that night, he found it unnecessarily and ridiculously difficult to remain standing.

But that was nothing compared to how he felt when Hermione took a small step closer, her gaze moving down the length of his jaw and resting on his lips.


thump.thump.thump.thump.thump.thump.
went his heart, more forcefully this time. Any minute now it would tear out of his heaving chest.


“W- why?� he questioned stupidly. Though he really didn’t need any reason beyond his own want. His stomach was suddenly teeming with a thousand butterflies. And yet, even now, his façade held firmly in place. He still had to protect her. He could not falter. He could not kiss her…

“Draco,� she whispered… no other answer was required…

Chills. Fierce chills ran up his arms and sweepingly crawled down his spine.


He closed his eyes.


Don’t, his mind forced. Don’t… not now… you’re so close to making it through this… tell her to leave, or have her blood on your hands…

“I can’t,� he whispered back painfully, turning his face away from her. Those tears were so close to spilling now…

“Why?� it was her turn to question. The hurt in her voice was so obvious, so pleading, it could have shook the room.

Malfoy lightly shook his head and squeezed his eyes, restricting the tears behind his stinging lids. Rubbing his hands over them, he mumbled, “Because I have to protect you.�

Utterly puzzled, Hermione’s expression lingered on pain.
“I don’t understand… protect me? From what? From who?�

Memories of that night swept through her mind. She envisioned herself at the meeting… she was running to the Slytherin common room in a panic… why was she panicking? She saw Malfoy on the floor, tormented… why?


And then it hit her. Lucius…


“Draco…� she whispered, flinging open her eyes. “Your father. He came tonight, didn’t he?�

Malfoy didn’t speak. He couldn’t let Hermione know too much. And he couldn’t allow his voice the opportunity to betray him. He merely stood, swaying with exhaustion on the spot, swiping his hands through his messy hair.

“Listen, you can tell me… the Order already knows, I found out about your father at the meeting. He was never given the kiss,� she said softly, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Malfoy didn’t turn to face her, but leaned on one hand against the nearest bed, eyes still shut tight.

“Look, I already know, you don’t have to prote-�

“You don’t know,� he mumbled.

Hermione couldn’t quite hear him.

“What?�

“I said you don’t know!" he yelled. "You think Dumbledore could ever possibly describe to you what it’s like? The feeling of constant danger from Lord V- V- Voldemort himself?! My father…� he was so flustered he had to regain control of his voice. He’d finally turned to meet Hermione’s eyes with his own cold, dark ones. “My father is a Death Eater, Granger! What about that hasn’t sunk in?!�


“I’m a big girl, Malfoy, I’ve done loads more than you! I can protect myself! I don’t need you to hold my hand and b-�

“Sure, maybe you’ve had more experience! But I’ve fought differently! I’ve done things- I’ve taken measures that would have me tortured and killed by Lord V- Voldemort if he knew! Do you know what it’s like to psychologically battle against him?! All the damned time?! Against my own father, who’s supposed to be protecting me?! He’d throw me to Voldemort without a second thought if he found out! But I’ve done it! I had myself fooled for so long that my father wasn’t a bad person, I wanted to believe none of those rumors were true… I even convinced myself at times that I was right and everyone else was wrong! But it was a mask, as you put it, and I knew… deep down in places I didn’t talk about, I’ve always known! Secretly, even when your precious Order hasn’t known, I’ve separated myself from the Death Eaters!� his voice rose with each line, his chest still heaving in quick breaths.


Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump,Thump, his heart raced.


“…All this while living with one! So excuse me, but I think I know better than anyone about who needs protection- because I’ve never had any! I know what’s involved, what risks there are! You haven’t lived with that risk every day! You-don’t-know!�

Shallow breaths. Hard glares.

Hermione’s eyes glistened with tears. She wanted to know. Shaking her head a little and blinking heavily, she murmured,

“And what have you done, Draco?�

Malfoy’s eyes softened, but just slightly… though his breathing was still hurried and strained.

“Potter got a note tonight, didn’t he?� It wasn’t a question. It was a proclamation.


Hermione’s confusion- and now worry- escalated. She stopped all movement and narrowed her watery eyes on his face.

“How did you know that?�

Malfoy let out a snort of laughter, indicating there was nothing funny.

“Dumbledore sent it, isn’t that right?�

“Stop messing with me and tell me about that note!� she yelled.

“I told Dumbledore!�

“Told Dumbledore what?!�

“About my father! He did come tonight, alright?! And you know what he told me? He told me they’re planning an attack, one with Death Eaters and dementors!� he shouted, finally letting go of his hope to keep her sheltered.

Hermione’s eyes widened in terror. She felt the familiar fear pulsating through her veins… her first thought: Harry…

Her anger turned toward Dumbledore now. Why does he need to tell Harry?! What can he possibly do? Why does he need to know now? she wondered achingly. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach for her friend. The pressure was beyond her comprehension.


She took a deep breath, trying to maintain a logical mind.

“Where? When?� she asked.

“I don’t know exactly when,� he said roughly. “Soon. Within the next few weeks. He said Hogsmeade… and London.�

Hermione immediately thought of all the defenseless Muggles, perfectly ignorant to the incredible danger they were in. She thought of her parents, and if it were possible, her heart fell deeper. She had to warn them as soon as she could.

And through her fears, she couldn’t help but gain respect- and love- for Malfoy’s courage. Whether he believed her or not, she knew how perilous it was for him to leak this sort of information to Dumbledore. He’d put himself right in the line of fire.

“Thank you,� she whispered. “That was… very… brave and… compassionate of you...�

Malfoy put his hands in his robe pockets and turned to face her. They were maybe three feet apart.

“I didn’t do it for the Muggles. Or for Dumbledore,� he spoke with a painful look of concentration.

Hermione stared at him.


“I did it for you.�


Wave upon wave of emotion swept over her with tidal forces. Her heart was breaking again, and yet it felt fused together by the look her was giving her; that throbbing, pleading look of despair and desperation. He seemed stunned to the spot, so completely lost in his unavoidable misery and dread. He was so afraid now… they were both so vulnerable… and Hermione watched with blurred vision as his own solitary tear crumbled down his cheek with a silvery glow, as if the color had literally drained from his eyes.


Now it was Hermione’s heart that was thumping a cacophony of sound deep in her ears.

He does care about me, she thought with a sigh of relief. He had never meant for any of this… he was sorry for putting her in this position, for dragging her feelings through the mud with his own. He was sorry for not being able to help her, for having to turn her away without offering an explanation as to why. Hermione was realizing this now… and she couldn’t control her feeling of blissful release.

She felt a rise in her throat, but moreover… an urge… a need… to reach out and touch him…

She slowly stepped up to him and placed her trembling hand on his chest. She felt it beating…harder than that one night that seemed so far away. She moved her head up to look him in the eyes. He was staring back down at her longingly.

“Do you believe me that- that I all I’ve thought about… all I’ve wanted to do was be there for you?� she whispered, sending more chills down Malfoy’s body.

He did believe her. He always had… it was a little disappointing that she hadn’t seen through his tirade better.

He wanted to prove that he knew… that he understood everything.

But he still didn’t respond. Her sweet scent was all her could think about, it was engulfing him from every angle. He could almost feel her soft skin… and the butterflies in his stomach churned wildly when he remembered the visual of her bare back as he rubbed it, soothing it better.

“Draco?� she questioned.

He turned his face from her and closed his eyes again.
Hermione slowly eased in closer, her mouth gently grazing across his soft cheek and resting beside his ear.


“Kiss me,� she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin.


THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,THUMP,


Hermione felt his chest pulsing against her own… it was rising and falling at a brutal pace. She wanted him to kiss her… she wanted him to feel her sincerity, she wanted him to feel her passion. It couldn’t be described in words, and she needed him to know. She needed him to kiss her.


More tears finally escaped his eyes as they slid down his worn, tired face. He’d never wanted to do something more in his life… he imagined her warm lips parting for him, imagined the sensation of holding her face so intimately close to his…

And it killed his soul to know he couldn’t.

“I can’t,� he choked; and walked away.

Hermione could no longer restrict her own silent tears from spilling out.

“Why? Please, just tell me why!�

“I already have!� Malfoy cried. His cheeks were wet as tears fell with easeful grace, flowing steadily downward. His hands were quivering. Taking two steps away from her, he continued, “I’ve told you why! Were you not listening?! Why do you have to make this so much harder-�


“Oh yes, that’s right, you have to protect me,� she mocked. “You were the one not listening, Draco! I don’t need your protection! I don’t want it! I want you!�

His essence was shattered. Hermione wanted him… and he wanted her so badly, he could still smell her hair… but he couldn’t give himself to her… he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

He felt ready to fall to the ground on his knees.

“I’m sorry,� he choked through his tears. “I’m so sorry… you- you have no idea…�

“Then show me! Show me, damn it!� She was still crying, small drops staining the white blouse beneath her robes.

“I can’t show you! I’ve had to choose, don’t you get that?! I’ve had to choose between my happiness and your life!�

“It’s not just your happiness! It’s mine too! It’s mine, and I want it! I’m so sick of feeling uncertain and fearful, and I want some contentment! And I know you don’t believe me, but I want it for you too! You deserve it just as much!�

“But I can’t!� he screamed.


“Why?! I’m right here, Draco! I’m right here in front of you!�

“But I can’t have you!!� he shouted loudly.

“STOP! Stop with that rubbish! Stop being so noble and righteous! I need you to stop thinking and start feeling!�

“I am feeling! And I’m feeling like I’d rather sacrifice an opportunity so that I don’t have to wake up one morning to hear you’re DEAD!�


“STOP!�


“Stop what?!�

“Stop talking about that! You’re thinking too much, using it as an excuse!�

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a reality! Must be nice not having to live with it!�

Intense anger such as he’d never felt was building inside him… he had to make her understand! He had to make her believe him, but he also had to make her walk away.

“I said STOP!�

“Would you stop shouting?!�

“NO!�

“You’re not making this better, you’re only making this harder than it has to be!�

How would he make her understand?


THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP-


“I’m not! You are, because you’re only thinking about yourself! Has it occurred to you I’d rather risk my life?! It’s not as if it’d be the first time! I can handle it! But all you care about-�


At that moment, Malfoy took three fast steps across the room, placed both his hands on her shoulders, shoved her flat against the stone wall, and swiftly met her lips with his own.

Catching Hermione completely off guard, it took a moment for her body to respond. But soon her soft lips were moving with his, crashing hungrily together. His hands snaked up along her neck and tangled themselves in her softly sweet hair. Hermione gasped for air, but found she was content without it. She could feel his chest rubbing against her as his lips released their yearning for more.

His mind was so unfocused on the consequences, all he could notice was the heap of butterflies that had finally released themselves in his abdomen.

But just as abruptly as he began, he pulled himself away.
They stared at each other, panting from the intensity of it.

Malfoy looked slightly fearful. It had been so unexpected; yet it had finally happened.

All those years of hating each other, all those moments of recent confusion and pain melted away and reformed into a passion greater than what either had anticipated.

Still breathing heavily, Malfoy whispered, “I- I’m sorry...�

Hermione had never felt such mixed sentiments. What was she to think? What had he just done?

“Draco, I…� but she sighed in defeat, not sure what to say herself.

A moment passed as they watched each other. In a haze, Hermione slowly brought her finger to her lips and remembered the warm pressure of his own melting with hers.

Malfoy watched her with a pained expression, feeling so guilty over what he’d just done.

You shouldn’t have done that… it was a mistake…

But the electricity he’d felt as he finally kissed her didn’t leave much room for doubt. If ever there was a mistake, it certainly wasn’t that.

Not knowing what to do now, he moved to his bed and leaned his full weight against one of the posts. He opened his wet eyes to look at Hermione and found she had come much closer.

“Don’t…please, don’t be sorry… it- I…�

But she didn’t know what to say either.

Malfoy watched the soft blue light cast shadows on her face, illuminating her glassy eyes. Oh, how he wanted to reach out and hold her… guilt was an understatement. He’d never felt so terrible in his life.


Her bright, round eyes were lined with dark lashes. He could still feel them tickling his cheek, and he sighed in remembrance. Yet he couldn’t peel his eyes away. She was beautiful…

Hermione watched him closely for any sign as to what to do now.

She had felt it, as soon as their mouths crashed, that feeling of finality, of deep desire. His hair was more disheveled now that ever, but Hermione thought it suited him under the circumstances. His eyes seemed to stare a lifetime into hers…

Instinctively, without being fully aware of what she was doing, Hermione moved closer still so that she could feel his heat. Malfoy’s heart rate was steadily on the rise again… he had finally stopped thinking, and was beginning to feel… just as Hermione had asked.

She placed her shaking hand on his cheek; a hot rush of anticipation coursed through her fingers, into her arm, and nearly stopped her heart. Malfoy lifted his body away from the post and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her even closer. They could feel the other’s tingling longing...

Lifting her chin so that their gazes met in a frenzy of eagerness- of hope, Malfoy took an extra half a step so that no air could pass between their bodies.

His eyes questioned, Are you sure?… for he was still so terrified of putting her in danger, of committing the ultimate mistake. But there was no mistake about the answer her own eyes were giving back.

He leaned in so gradually, so delicately… Hermione could feel his breathing against her cheek. He leaned in more… she gave a quiet, stifled gasp as their lips met, his very slowly, gentling caressed her own.

The electricity was blinding.

He moved his mouth so softly, so little by little… Hermione moved in harmony with him while she allowed herself to stoke through his soft hair with her hands. Malfoy placed one hand on her rosy cheek, the other rested at the base of her neck as his thumb moved along the length of it.

His gentle, tender kiss became just slightly more aggressive as he moved his lips, seeking entry to her affectionate mouth that was begging to grant it. Hermione released the softest of moans as she fully parted her lips and felt their kiss deepen, the heights of their wants finally met. Malfoy tasted her sweet warmth and gasped. Hermione's hands were out of her control as they tentatively, gently ran down his neck.

After a long moment, he broke apart and saw a fearful question in Hermione’s eyes. He tried to give a look that said she had nothing to worry about as he lightly shifted Hermione onto the bed. He laid her down, soft brown hair fanning out on his emerald pillow. Hermione’s breathing increased… she felt his weight overtop of her.

Reaching his right hand to her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her again, more passionately, and her mouth was ready to part for him. Their kisses grew deeper and the intensity of their heat caused both to pant for breath.

Malfoy released her lips, all thought thoroughly washed out of him. He slowly traced her neck with his mouth, coming to rest as he gently swirled his tongue around her collarbone. He grabbed both her hands with his own, intertwining their fingers above Hermione’s head.

She flung open her eyes and moaned, breathing more heavily than ever before that night. Malfoy was having a hard time keeping up with his own breathing… he’d never known such bliss existed...

Hermione’s hand reached under his shirt and caressed his stomach and chest. Tingles raced through her again when she heard him give soft gasps of pleasure. Malfoy began kissing up her neck, feeling her Goosebumps emerge. He would have smiled slyly if he weren’t so enthralled by her touch, by her soft skin that made his own feel on fire when he touched it.

Their breathing quickened to its fullest extent as Malfoy’s shirt and robes fell to the floor. He swooped down and kissed Hermione deeply, hungrily, as if the world depended on it. Their arms searched each other frantically; Hermione’s blouse had the top three buttons undone.

Not wanting to violate her, or to put her in an awkward position, Malfoy very hesitantly began to slow down, returning to his tender kisses. Beads of sweat had built up on his forehead, and he pushed his face into a cool pillow to help ease his breathing. But when he shifted off Hermione and to the other side of the bed, he laid bare-chested and heaving nonetheless.

Malfoy turned his head to look at her. She had her eyes closed, and small strands of hair clung to her neck.

“Hermione,� he whispered.

She turned to look at him. Surprisingly, her eyes seemed watered with tears but a smile lingered on her lips. She felt fulfilled, and couldn’t help but allow a tear to trail her cheek in happiness.

Malfoy could tell by the loving look on her face that it was a happy cry, one to be looked back on fondly. He stretched out his arm and pulled her to him. Wrapping her arms around his chest, her hand rest sweetly beside his neck. They continued to look each other in the eyes for an extended moment, before Hermione leaned closer to kiss him once more, their mouths melting yet again with their heat. Small gasps could he heard as Malfoy swept his hands underneath the back of her shirt.

When they forced themselves to break apart, Draco felt whole and completely at ease for the first time since he could remember.


The shadows of light danced happily across the bed sheets as a light breeze crept through a slightly opened window. The moon was in perfect view from their position, as it hung brightly in the dark, speckled firmament above. Only the rustling of trees and the pair’s slowing breaths echoed in the dim dormitory, as Malfoy silently ran his fingers through Hermione’s hair.

And the only words that pierced their heaven came as soft whispers, confirming what the observing souls already knew.

“Hermione…� came the first voice, in a low, soothing tone that was still traced with uncertainty.

“…I love you.�

Malfoy felt her smile into his neck as she pulled herself closer.

“I love you, too…� the second voice answered with a content sigh, before trailing away into the night… along with all their inhibitions.



Thump... Thump... Thump... Thump... went both their hearts, pressed together in the dark, finally united by their unequivocal love.

Broken



A chilly morning breeze burst through the black and green-trimmed curtains, ruffling the bed sheets and creaking the windows. Streaks of light grazed the high ceiling and slowly crept down Draco’s four-poster, landing gently on Hermione’s closed lids.

Shifting away from her partner, Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and hazily scanned the room. It looked much more welcoming by day, though she thought that perhaps its air of foreboding last night had stemmed from their heated emotions.

Lazily standing, she dragged her feet to the nearest mirror and gazed intently at her reflection. What a mess you’ve gotten yourself in, she thought. Now what’re you to do? Harry and Ron are will go mad when you tell them…

Her thoughts were sincere, though she felt no regret for her feelings for Malfoy- not for a moment.

In fact, sense of peace had tenderly settled in her heart over the night, and she couldn’t help but smile broadly as she turned to watch Draco sleep. Walking over to him, she took in the sight of his serene features, lying quietly in shadow.

Hermione heaved a deep breath and turned around. She leaned against the mattress, arms hung loosely to her sides, and wondered what to do next. If she left, Draco would think she’d had second thoughts about him. If she stayed, Ron and Harry would come looking; and she did not want a confrontation between them and Draco.

Though, she thought miserably, I suppose that’s inevitable…

Then, Hermione felt a warm, soft hand gently grasp her own. She turned her head and saw Draco sitting up slightly, propped on his other arm. His brow was furrowed, his eyes full of concern and uncertainty.

“You alright?� he questioned sincerely. Their confessed love had provided a collective sentiment of relief, a temporary haven… but now that the embracing night had gone, he feared their sanctuary had as well.

Hermione offered a weak smile. “Course,� she said.


Draco nodded, looking around the room. Sitting upright, he let Hermione’s hand fall as he ran his own through his hair, then crossed his arms with a sigh.

“Well… umm…� he mumbled. “Some night.�

Hermione giggled nervously, and merely nodded her consent. Turning away, she fixed her eyes on the dark wooden floor.
Draco’s own eyes were shifting in an uneasy manner, from Hermione to his comforter.

“Err, listen, Hermione…� he took a deep breath and found himself no better at articulation during the day than at night. “It’s- we’re just… what’re we going to do?� he asked somewhat helplessly.

Hermione’s gaze didn’t wonder. She slowly shook her head and shrugged her shoulders with a distinct mingled feeling of love and doom. But desperately not wanting to lose him again, she heaved herself on the bed and fixed him with anxious eyes.

“You’re not… well, are you feeling unsure?� she asked hesitantly, hoping that he hadn’t changed his mind overnight.

“Unsure about...?� There was a question in his eyes.

Hermione lowered her head and blushed. “Us,� she murmured.

Draco’s heart fell; he didn’t want Hermione to think he would have spent the night holding her so intimately if he wasn’t sure of his feelings. Stretching out his arm and lifting her chin, he leaned in and placed a soft, delicate kiss on her lips.

Then he sat back with a smirk and watched the affect it had on her.

He couldn’t have answered her better. The corners of her mouth lifted in a shy smile, and though Draco was happy to see it, he was still very worried.

“Look, there’s still my father. He’s going to come after us when he finds out I’ve betrayed Voldemort.�

“How would he find out?� Hermione asked, still recovering from his tender kiss.

Draco snorted. “They have their ways. Not to mention Voldemort is probably using Potter as his little window into Dumbledore’s ranks.�

“But Harry’s gotten loads better with Occlumency, he can deflect-�

“To a certain extent, maybe. But he’s not on his guard twenty-four seven. Voldemort’ll break into his thoughts and learn that I’ve leaked information.�

Hermione shook her head, confused, yet inwardly marveling over the lack of fear in his voice. “But who’s to say Harry even knows?�

“Dumbledore will have told him last night,� he stated matter-of-factly.


Hermione sighed. She took in the scene one last time, savoring the image: Draco, the dormitory, the feeling of contentment she’d felt lying next to him, listening to him breathe… his softly thumping heart…

Standing up, she walked briskly to the door but turned to face him before opening it.

“I have to go talk to Harry," she announced. "He’s going to be very- well, he won’t be happy. And who’s to blame him?� she asked, clenching her fists. “It’s early… breakfast won’t be for an hour. Meet me in the Entrance Hall then?�

Draco nodded. Hermione, giving him a small smile, looked quickly to the floor and muttered nervously, “Love you,� and swooped through the door before he had a chance to reply.

---

“Harry?� Hermione had reached the Gryffindor common room in lightening speed; all her recent running through the halls in a panic had really helped quicken her pace.

“Harry, wake up before I come up there,� she yelled to the boys’ dormitory, her neck craned.

No answer.

Figuring it was probably a bit insensitive to be screaming for him while he rested from what was sure to be a horrible conversation with Dumbledore, she climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

The thick wooden door creaked a little as she pushed it open. Her eyes immediately fell upon a tuft of messy black hair, and she made her way over.

Slowly sitting beside him, Hermione gently nudged his shoulder and whispered, “Harry, wake up…�

Harry stirred under his covers, but didn’t wake.

Hermione leaned in closer, her mouth an inch away from his ear, and whispered again, “Harry, get up…�

Startled, Harry shot up and his head made contact with Hermione’s.

“Ouch!� she shouted.

“Sorry, sorry!� he stammered groggily. Trying to focus his hazy eyes on her, Harry asked, “H- Hermione? What’re you doing?�

“I came to talk to you,� she responded, wincing as she rubbed her forehead.

Sitting up a little straighter, Harry questioned, “Why? About what? Is something wrong?�

“Well, that’s what I came to ask you,� she spoke softly as she took notice of Ron’s red hair in the next bed.

Harry gave her a quizzical (and tired) look.

“Actually… I already know the answer,� her head dropped.

But when Harry continued to look confused, she said, “Oh, you are so useless in the morning. I’m talking about what Dumbledore had to say to you last night.�

Harry’s expression immediately darkened. If he had looked tired and worn before, he looked dead now. Growing more attentive, he sat up and stared fixedly, sadly at his hands.

“How’d you hear?� he asked in a low, uncertain voice.

“Dr- Malfoy,� she answered, still unwilling to add insult to injury and tell Harry about them. “I went to see him last night…�

“Well,� Harry sighed, “I’m not sure what to think of him. All I’m able to say is… that was… decent of him, to tell Dumbledore.�

“It was more than decent, Harry. It was brave, and you know it,� she said.

Harry, looking up from his hands, nodded. Then he looked intently into her eyes with an expression of sorrow that was so intense, Hermione felt compelled to take his hand gently in her own.

“What is it?�

“Hermione…� his voice trailed away. “We- I have to leave…�


“What?!� she practically yelled, roughly dropping Harry’s hand. Ron jolted out of bed and looked around the room frantically, eyes fighting to remain wide.

“What is it? The spiders? I told them to go, they won’t go,� Ron mumbled.

Hermione, ignoring him and trusting he’d snap out of it soon, asked again, “What do you mean leave?�

Harry sighed and looked away, fixing his stare on the window opposite.


“I have to go soon. Dumbledore… the Order is going to need me with them in London, when the Death Eaters attack. I need to practice… and…�

“Practice?!� Hermione shrieked. “Practice?! Harry, you’ve had more practice than any wizard your age! Dumbledore’s going to send you out in the middle of London to battle a horde of Death Easters and dementors?! Harry that’s- that’s suicidal! You can’t-�

“And in case Voldemort shows up,� Harry said.

Hermione stopped talking at once. She looked at him, tears filling her eyes once more. Oh, how sick she had become of the feeling of welting tears.

“But- but he won’t… he can’t… Voldemort wouldn’t just waltz around Lond-�

“He would now,� Harry whispered out of exhaustion.


“Why?� Hermione questioned, tears brimming her lashes.

“Me,� he said deadpan. Hermione stared at him.

“He’ll be close by all the battles now. In the first war, he always fought himself. There’s no Auror out there capable of killing him, he has nothing to fear. But… he expects me to be near the battles as well. He expects Dumbledore will have set it up so that if Voldemort does begin to fight, I’ll be there as well… to… to stop him,� his voice faltered at the end, leaving it plainly clear how ridiculous Harry thought it was that he- of all people- could stop Voldemort.

“If he’s there, I’ve got to be as well. No one else can kill him, Hermione… it has to be me.�

Stunned- utterly stunned at the perpetual misfortunes that laced their lives.

“Why London?!� she cried. “Why not Hogsmeade? It’s closer, and-�

“Voldemort wouldn’t be in Hogsmeade. London is more important… more people… more muggles.�

Tears were on the verge of spilled down Hermione’s cheeks. Ron was standing beside Harry’s bed now, looking at the floor. Hermione nodded in understanding before flinging her arms around Harry. She held him tight and spoke her confidence in his ear.

“You’re wrong about one thing,� she whispered. “He does you something to fear… you.�

Hermione could feel Harry’s pain emitting from his body. His body was tense and strained, and she could tell her embrace was taking all his effort.

Letting him go, she said, “Let’s not think about it right yet… there’s another week at least until we should worry. And even then, who’s to say Voldemort will even be there?� she tried to sound optimistic, and rubbed her tears away on the back of her hand.

Ron walked over and placed his own on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Let’s just- let’s get some breakfast, alright?� she smiled weakly. Harry didn’t seem to be buying her cheerfulness.

She couldn’t let him do this alone. He was her best friends… but she also knew what being a best friend to Harry now meant in terms of her relationship with Draco.


Tears finally streamed down her face, dropping on her robes.

It’s not fair, she thought miserably. Saying her next words would be an oath that would break her away from the gift- the person- she’d finally obtained last night.

With the distant, fading sound of Malfoy’s beating heart lingering in her ears, she spoke.

“Listen… we won’t let you do this alone,� she said softly, blinking heavily. “Me and Ron… we’ll go with you, we’ll always be there.�

With that, Hermione felt a heavy, burdening weight of guilt engulf her. She’d fought so hard to sort things with Draco… so hard… now she was leaving.

Harry turned his head.

“No, I can’t risk you getting hurt. It’ll distract me, and I-�

“Don’t pull that,� Ron said loudly. “We’re coming with you mate, whether you like it or not.�

Hermione managed another smile, despite her twisted emotions. “You think we’d honestly let you face this alone?�

Nodding in defeat, Harry climbed out of bed and mumbled something about breakfast.

And though her face would never show it, Hermione’s newly repaired heart shattered all over again with the horrible realization that following Harry would mean leaving Draco.

---

Her heart felt heavy as lead. None of them spoke as they traveled slowly down the Grand Staircase, barely capable of putting one foot in front of the other. Ron was still bleary with sleep, Harry much to distracted by the prospect of dueling with Voldemort, and Hermione… well, Hermione wanted nothing more than to snatch that time turner from McGonagall’s office and lie in bed forever, cuddled under the warm sheets beside Draco…

But she knew it didn’t work that way.

Her brief spell of euphoria had been snatched right from under her. Her body was trembling, shaking with cold fury-

IT’S NOT FAIR! her mind screamed. All of that confusion and turmoil, all her struggling- was for nothing? For one night, a few mere hours of happiness? Sniffling, Hermione wondered whether Draco had been right all along. For surely love could not feel so awful; maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they were a mistake.

Shaking her head fiercely, she said aloud, “No, don’t think like that.

“What?� Ron questioned.

Flinging her hand through the air as if swatting a fly, she mumbled, “Nothing, nothing…�


Her mind was racing, her heart was aching. Suddenly she found herself ashamed of her thoughts- she should be concentrating on Harry. If anyone had the right to be depressed and angry, it was him. Thousands- potentially millions- of innocent lives were at stake, and they all rested on his shoulders. This boy- her best friend- had to, in the end, do it alone.

And here I am, whining over a boy! Draco Malfoy, no less! she tried convincing herself.

But as soon as she saw him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, she knew… this was more than a boy. This was more than a crush.

Her bright eyes gleamed and shimmered in the faint morning light that pierced the Hall from the high, colored windows. Harry’s face remained blank as he walked straight past Draco and made his way to the Great Hall. Ron, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his sneer. Draco, remembering Percy’s death, was able to keep his retaliating look of hatred off his face.
Then, noticing Hermione, his eyes widened and his body stiffened.

“H- hi,� he said.

“Hi,� Hermione answered. Draco was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. “What’re you staring at?� she asked bluntly.

Turning red, Draco avoided her gaze and turned his face. “Oh, nothing…�

“What?� she pushed. She wanted anything to help her delay the inevitable conversation that was going to ensue.

“You- you just look… errm... nice, is all,� he fumbled.

Hermione smiled sadly. “Thank you,� she spoke. “It’s just the lighting though… sort of dim out right now.�

“No,� Draco said firmly. “It’s nothing to do with the lighting.�
Hermione looked into his crystal-clear eyes, taking in every hue of soft silver she could find. She studied his lashes, his brows, his hair… anything to help her remember his features; for deep down, she feared that after the battle, she may never see them again.

Unknowing to her, a silent tear fell from her eye.

“Hey, what’s wrong?� Draco asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

Hermione shook her head. She couldn’t tell him now… not now…

“N- nothing, just being silly…�

“You’re lying,� he said, looking intently in her eyes. “I can tell.�

Indignant, Hermione spat, “You’re calling me a liar?�

“No, I’m saying you’re lying right now. Not that you make a habit of it,� he replied calmly.

Avoiding having to tell him at all costs, she mumbled, “Let’s just get some breakfast, alright?�

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.�

“Not now, please not now,� she cried. Her hands were trembling worse than ever. She thought that if she didn’t speak it out loud, it wouldn’t be true.

A stern expression plastered to his face, Draco grabbed Hermione’s arm and lead her down a corridor, his legs carrying him quickly past a long line of moving pictures.

“Draco, what-�

“In here,� he said, quickly pushing her in an empty classroom and shutting the door behind him more forcefully than intended.

His grip was growing almost painful as he dragged Hermione to the back of the class. Draco pushed her into a wooden seat in a corner, hovered menacingly above her, and folded his arms.

Hermione stared at the floor. It’s not fair! was all she could manage to think coherently. All that energy… all the pain… just to leave…


“Well?� Draco prodded impatiently.

When she looked up, he was startled to see her eyes red and bright. Her lashes were smudged together with salty tears, make them appear darker and longer. He was entranced and perplexed by her turmoil.

His gray-silver eyes narrowed in concern as little lines of concentration crept between them. What could make her so upset? he wondered in earnest.

“Hermio-�

“Please, can we save it for later?� she begged uncontrollably. “Please Draco! Just one day, I just want one more day…� she added under her breath, reminiscing on her quiet happiness that was eluding her yet again.

Draco heavily considered just going to breakfast; this- whatever “this� meant- was clearly upsetting her beyond articulation.

But the stubborn Draco- the one that silently lived on in his soul’s shadow- wouldn’t let it go.

“No, I want to know now,� he spoke clearly, as he lightly shook his head. “How can I help if I don’t know?�

“You won’t be able to help when you do,� she murmured.

“What?�

“There’s nothing you can d-�

“Oh yeah? Try me!� he nearly shouted.

His arms had been released from his chest and were now hung in front of him impatiently. His arrogance convinced him that he could solve nearly anything. Unless it had to do with his father or Voldemort, he’d easily survived every disheartening situation life had spat at him.


If only he knew…


Hermione took a deep, shaky sigh, her eyes still unfocused on the hardwood floor glistening neatly in the muted light. She wasn’t prepared for his reaction. She wasn’t even prepared for her own.

“W- we’re leaving…� she mumbled tentatively. And just those words- those two words alone- had crumpled her heart further. She’d said it. It was final.

“…what?� he asked, utterly confused. Leaving? he wondered. What’s she mean by leaving?

Whatever she’d meant, it wasn’t the response Draco had been expecting.

“We’re leaving… to London…� she answered solemnly.
Draco was confused.


“What? Why? When’re you leaving?� he pried.
Hermione shook her head.

“I don’t know.�

Draco kneeled down in front of her. Hermione, her shoulders quivering, gently lifted her heavy head to face him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?� he asked.

“Draco…� she sighed. Her eyes were still red and swollen. Her hair seemed to fizz with electricity, as if it too felt indignant towards the world. Hermione’s usually rosy cheeks were damp, pale, and glistening. She could feel the heavens falling on top of her.

A moment passed as she just looked around Draco’s face- anywhere but his eyes.

“I’m leaving with Harry when he goes to London,� she finally finished.


His heart plummeted. The room felt suddenly cold, like an icebox, and Draco tilted his head and focused his eyes as if not quite hearing her properly.

“And why is Potter going to London?� he asked stupidly.
He knew. He felt it now. He was just grasping on to hope… hope that she’d relieve his worries.


But she didn’t.


“You know why, Draco,� she whispered.

His eyes widened and his teeth clenched. Standing up, he threw one hand to his hair while the other held him steady against a desk. It wasn’t cold now; it was freezing.


His anger was on the rise. His breathing became strained, forced, and his eyes darted quickly around the room.

There was nothing for it. He swore loudly, his curse echoing around the empty classroom and vibrating the aged, rickety windows.

Hermione whimpered, more tears escaping their confines.
“Why do you have to go?!� he yelled crossly.

“You know that answer too,� she mumbled.

“Oh, but I’d so love to hear it from your lips,� he spat sarcastically. “Tell me, is it because you love him?! Because he’s more important than everything you have here?!�

Hermione shot up from her chair and stood to full height.

“Of course I love him!� she shouted. He’d crossed the line with his tone. He was being insensitive and selfish, not caring for Hermione’s pain or Harry’s troubles.

But Draco had taken it the wrong way, as those who are in love so often do. His eyes were as round as saucers, his mouth hung slightly open.

“Y- you love him?!� he cried. The sorrow in his eyes killed Hermione, though she thought he was being inexplicably dense.


“Oh, don’t be stupid!� she yelled. “You know damned well what I mean!�

“Do I?! Hey, if it’s been him all along, go on, I’m not stopping y-�

“Oh, shut up! Of course I love Harry, he’s my best friend! MERLIN you’re such a prat sometimes!� she stormed. “You know I’m in love with you, so don’t try pulling this rubbish!�


If Hermione’s words hadn’t made his pale face flush, he would have remained angry. Instead, his heart only melted at the pained expression on her tear-stained face. Eyes scrunched, Draco heaved a half-sigh half-whimper, then threw himself into the nearest seat. His elbows rested on his knees, his head buried in his hands.

Hermione’s insides tingled with guilt and fury; her watery eyes stared longingly, hopelessly at the bruised and battered man before her. She’d felt so certain she could help him… heal him… love him.

But she was leaving. She had fought for his trust, and she’d only shattered it to bits like a useless glass. She had worked, struggled, and suffered to discover the truth- the man behind the veil; and when she finally did, she’d found a man nearly too broken to ever love…


Nearly.


She’d helped him feel again, helped him tear away from his guilt-ridden life. But now? Now she’d only broken him further, and that “nearly� no longer existed- he was broken, through and through, and there was no more room- no more savior- to help piece him back together.

Hermione hesitantly kneeled down in front of him, ever so slowly for fear she’d anger him through her sympathy. But Draco did not reject it this time, did not protest against her affection. He merely sat, his face still lost in his hands.

Reaching out, Hermione pulled him into a tight embrace and cried into his white-blonde hair.

I’m sorry, she thought painfully. I’m so sorry, Draco…

She felt as though she’d betrayed him. But she knew, in the depths of her tormented soul, that if she didn’t go- if she left Harry’s side for Draco- she’d never forgive herself.

Harry was her best friend; and she did love him dearly.


Choosing between two different types of love is a matter so horrendously agonizing, that often times there are no words to ease the matter; nothing spoken nor written can describe the terrible assault this dilemma plays on one’s heart. It's an unbearable variety of hurt, of gutted pain, and it's effect is so intense, everything around you becomes hazed by the sickening fog of emotional wounds.

It's a beautiful mystery, love is... so beautiful, it's terrifying; and it often leaves you broken. This isn't to say the love is in any way insincere or imagined; in fact, the worse if hurts, the more true it is. But the possible consequences of offering one's heart on his or her sleeve are never granted full force of impact. Only unspoken, unconditional affection can even begin the healing process, when it seeps through our vain exteriors and merges with the core essence of the loved.



And even then- even then- you are still left broken.

Author's Note: Well, this is it: the end. I can't possibly begin to express how wonderful of an experience writing this story was. I'd like to personally thank ALL my lovely, enthusiastic, and supportive reviewers. I wrote this story for each of you, hoping that I'd give you a temporary escape from the real world and maybe- just maybe- inspire. For you've all certainly been my inspiration. There's no way I could have written this without you. You all have my eternal thanks.

When you finish this chapter, I'm sure some of you will be shouting "sequel!" For the record, I'm unsure as to whether I'll write one. Chances are slim, but not nonexistent. I do have a number of one-shots in mind, as well as some full-length fictions. I hope you'll stick by me and check out my new stories when they're posted.

Really, from the bottom of my heart, thanks again guys. And without further delay... I give you the final chapter of:


Civility





An hour ticked away any remnants of peace in the otherwise empty, dank classroom off the Entrance Hall. The two afflicted teenagers huddled in remote silence, desperately attempting to forget what reality lay outside them. The muffled beams of light streaming through the high glass windows subdued to near-darkness, engulfing the atmosphere in the same tone that had crept and thrived in their chilly hearts.


Small, cold droplets of rain began to patter against the worn windows, sounding like forceful little projectiles against a tin roof. Pat… pat… pat… went the tiny beads, slowly yet steadily, softly, gently breaking the eerie quiet.


Only, no one in that room could hear them.


Head perched loosely in exhaustion between his neck and chest, Hermione Granger was enthralled as she sat intently, listening to something else…


Thump… thump… thump…

---

“Where the hell is she?!� Ron inquired brutally. He and Harry had finished breakfast over thirty minutes ago, and had spent the subsequent time searching everywhere for Hermione. She’d seemed so enigmatically downtrodden on their way to the Great Hall, then she’d vanished right underneath their noses.


They were worried, and Harry had a good feeling who she was with; which did nothing to relieve his concern- and slight tinge of anger.


“I don’t know…� Harry mumbled, as his dejected body carried his expressionless being down one corridor, then another.


“Not in the Library, not in the common room, not in the Hospital wing…� Ron continued in scandalized tones.


“HERMIONE!� Ron yelled. Harry immediately flung violently around and set him with a hard glare.


“What the hell are you doing?�


“What’s it sound like? I’m calling for Hermione, since we obviously can’t find her oursel-�


“Well don’t scream in my ear like that,� Harry retorted irritatingly. His mood was beyond what anyone else could ever comprehend: on the brink of total combustion. Nearly everything was annoying him, and though he wouldn’t even admit it to himself, it was simply his fear taking hold.

---

"Hermione!"


Draco raised his head and stared hard at the door. Hermione was still immersed in his softly warm heartbeat, completely detached from the world around her- the world she just wished would leave her alone.


“Do you hear that?� asked Draco, sitting up straighter in his chair.


“Hmm?� Hermione didn’t even open her eyes.


“Someone was calling you,� he sighed in defeat, knowing their moment was over. “Sounded like Weasley.�


Her chocolate, liquid eyes finally fluttered open, coming to rest on Draco’s neck. It was so warm there, so safe…


A heavy sigh also escaped her lips as she straightened, then hesitantly stood against her own will. She cast a saddened, dark expression at Draco and found his eyes were mirrors, reflecting the same pain she was feeling.


“I’d better go find out what he wants, then,� she murmured beneath her breath, her voice hardly audible.


Standing beside her, the two walked solemnly towards the closed door, as if walking to their death.

---

“Ron? Ron!� Hermione yelled once out in the hallway.


A moment passed with no answer. Hermione turned to Draco, slight confusion worn into her face.


“You sure you heard him?�


But before he could validate, a jolt of bright red hair was teeming towards her from the other end of the hall.


“Hermione!� Ron panted as he ran. “Where’ve you been?!�


“In here, why?� Hermione answered distractedly as she motioned her head towards the classroom; though her eyes and heart were still focused on Draco, as his tall frame loomed just beside her.


“Me and Harry… we’ve been looking for you,� Ron managed to sputter. Folding over, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he muttered, “Where is he anyway?�


“Honestly, Ron, I don’t have to be trekking around the school with you every minute, do I?� she spat. She couldn’t believe she’d given up her solitary peace with Draco so that Ron could babble on about Merlin only knows what.


Ignoring her, Ron turned his head as approaching footsteps could be heard echoing about the corridor.


“Harry! Over here, she’s over here!� Ron called.


A tall shadow stretched along the red-carpeted floor, creeping, growing larger. The strides of the one casting it were broad and methodical. The black smudge of shadow felt foreboding as Hermione finally took notice of the rain down pouring outside. It edged along the side of the wall, until finally, an equally dark figure appeared around the corner.


“Snape?� Ron stammered.


Draco stood stock-still, vision centered on his Head of House. Hermione glanced somewhat nervously around, feeling utterly helpless; for surely Snape wandering the halls in search of them was not exactly a sign of good fortune.


Reaching their location, Snape stepped almost defiantly up to the group, his lip curling, his eyes flashing dangerously at each in turn.


Hermione was sure he was about to blame them for something; perhaps loitering, or being too noisy. Either way, it was bound to end up in a loss of House points or a week’s worth of grueling, monotonous detentions. When Snape finally moved his sneering mouth to speak, she only hoped that Draco’s presence would help deflect the blow.


Except no blow came.


“Follow me,� he said abruptly.


And with a swish of his long cloak, retraced his footsteps in a descent back down the hall.

---

With Ron looking utterly bemused and casting nervous glances at Hermione (until he saw Draco, at which point his glances turned malicious), the three students hurried along in Snape’s wake, scuttling to keep up with him.



A minute later, they were all riding a spiral, moving staircase. Stepping off, Hermione noticed a large, grand looking door with a gold knocker; apparently, it was not necessary. For at just that moment, a familiar voice echoed from the other side.


“Come in,� it said gravely.


Draco heaved a deep breath. Hermione watched him from the corner of her eyes as they all stepped inside, their gaze curiously piercing Dumbledore’s office.


“Close the door,� Snape demanded of Hermione. She did so, then turned back to face the others- and Draco was standing completely motionless, staring a cold, hard glare directly in front of him. What’s he looking at? she wondered inquisitively.


Moving around Ron and squeezing between Draco and Snape, Hermione came to an immediate halt when she saw what Draco had been staring at.


Harry.


But not just Harry… this was deathly Harry. Pale would have been an understatement. He gave a whole new meaning to the color white. It appeared as though he’d been submerged in arctic water for hours: blue, trembling lips, white complexion, and stone-cold eyes. Only, his eyes were diverted. Harry seemed adamant on ignoring the existence of all the others in the room.


Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She made a sudden jerk, as if snapping out of a fantasy, and moved toward him with wide arms, preparing to embrace his seemingly lifeless body.


But Dumbledore cut her off, stepping solemnly in front of her and fixing his concentration on her worried face.


“Please, Ms. Granger… follow me,� he said.


“But Ha-�


Hermione’s indignant retort was stifled by Draco elbowing her arm. She turned her head to face him, and he set her with a “For Merlin’s sake, don’t argue, just follow so we can figure out what this is all about� look.


Dumbledore led them past Harry, who was now sitting with his face in his hands, and up to a small balcony overlooking his office. Crowded together, Hermione could feel Snape lingering just behind her. She felt blood rushing to her head. Her anticipation and horror must have been evident, because Draco allowed his hand to lightly brush against her own, as if saying, “I’m here.�


Dumbledore glanced at each in turn, reading their expressions, relating to their fears.


“Professor Snape has just received inside information,� he began slowly, “that the attack on London will be transpiring tonight.�


Hermione’s jaw dropped.


“What?!� she yelled. “But I thought- Draco said-�


“That is exactly it, Ms. Granger,� Dumbledore continued calmly. “Draco said. Somehow…� his voice trailed off, but his sparkling, sad eyes were resting on Draco.


“It appears that Lucius learned of Draco’s leaking information,� he continued. “He passed this on to Voldemort, and the decision was made to attack as soon as possible, in hopes of us being unsuspecting.�


Draco’s stomach fell to the floor. His eyes grew slightly wider, and small beads of sweat began formulating on his forehead. Hermione jolted her head in his direction, her eyes as wide as they would go. Doing away with secrecy, she clutched his hand and moved closer.


“This means… we must leave immediately. Harry assured me you two would want to know,� Dumbledore spoke softly, finally averting his gaze from Draco and motioning towards Ron and Hermione.


Hermione gave Draco a knowing look. She sadly let his hand fall, and stepped away from him. And that small, insignificant movement felt like leaving him forever.


“We’re going with him,� she stated firmly. She could sense Snape staring a hole into the back of her head, but now that the time had come, her grief was not lost, but rather replaced by innate courage and a feeling of loyalty to Harry. Behind her, Ron nodded in a haze.


Surprisingly, Dumbledore made no argument. In fact, Hermione felt sure that she had witnessed a whisper of a smile cross his old, worn face. And without another word, he stepped between Hermione and Ron and rushed down the stairs. Suddenly, his tone transformed from sorrowful to certain… almost business-like.


“Harry, are you alright?� Dumbledore leaned over the chair and asked.


Harry made no movement, gave no inclination that he was, indeed, “alright�, but Dumbledore seemed convinced nonetheless.


“Very well,� he said. Then, turning towards Ron, Hermione, and Draco- all of whom were currently stumbling down the stairs from the balcony- he said, “Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger- please escort Harry to the Entrance Hall. There you’ll find a number of Order members waiting. You’ll be taking a portkey to London… it should transport you to a side alley, where you’ll all wait for me. Do you understand?�


Hermione and Ron nodded nervously before walking over to Harry. While they were easing his lightly trembling body out of the chair, Malfoy boldly stepped toward Dumbledore and announced,


“I’m going with them.�


Hermione nearly dropped Harry’s arm. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Draco, utterly lost in his presence. He didn’t turn to meet her gaze, but instead kept his own fixed dramatically on Dumbledore’s face. She couldn’t believe it- he was going to risk it all… risk his life… for her.


But Dumbledore faced Draco slowly, and his tired wrinkles gave him a distinctly sad expression.


“I was afraid you’d say that, Draco,� he spoke softly. Harry had snapped up his head at Draco’s words, and was presently looking at him as if he’d never seen him before. Ron’s mouth was agape like Hermione’s. The three friends- and Snape, Hermione noticed- were watching Draco and Dumbledore as if through a television screen. It was like they were actors in an intensely captivating movie, and a plot twist had just grabbed their attention with both gripping hands.


“I’m sorry,� Dumbledore continued on. “But I cannot allow you to go.�


Draco’s mouth contoured in rage. “Why not?� he asked louder than he intended.


“Because it is not your pla-�


“Not my place, is it? And why is that? Because I’m not a Gryffindor, is that it? You’ve always showed favoritism-�


“Mr. Malfoy, that is enough!� Snape yelled.


“No! It isn’t!� Unbeknownst to Draco, Dumbledore motioned to Snape to allow him to talk, though time was running increasingly short.


“I’ve done more- I’ve put up with- I’ve seen more than anyone here cares to believe! NO ONE HAD TO GO HOME TO IT!� he shouted. This was it. This was his breaking point. “Everyone here has a sanctuary! No one knows- no one watched it living in their father, in their mother, every fucking day!� he cried. “For seventeen years I’ve had bloody front row seats to Voldemort’s power! I’ve had to understand- to witness- how much destruction he can cause, without ever fully letting myself realize it! Because if I did, if I let my thoughts or actions wander, I’d be killed! Do you really think, Headmaster that it’s not my place?!�


Hermione was looking on fearfully, torn between awe and terror. She was still slightly bent over, still grasping Harry’s arm- even though he was standing now.


“Draco,� Dumbledore sighed. “That is not what I meant.�


Ron was shooting awkward glances between Harry and Hermione. Both, however, were transfixed on Dumbledore’s reaction. Snape lingered just behind Malfoy, his black cloak pulled ominously around his shoulders. Everyone was stiff. No one dared to exhale.



“You have every right to feel the way you do. And it is your place to want to fight. It is your place to try and stand up against the nightmare that has plagued you for so long. I merely meant- Draco… this is not about you. This is about Hermione.�


Draco’s eyes narrowed. He shot his cold stare at Hermione, but only briefly, before turning back to Dumbledore.


“What?� he asked impatiently.


“It is your right, and place, to risk your own life. I do not doubt that I myself would feel the same self-righteous anger if raised under such conditions. But you cannot place Ms. Granger in any more danger than she’ll already be exposed to,� he continued. Seeing Draco’s confused face, he sighed and went on. “Your father knows what you’ve done in assisting our cause. By now, I’m sure he’s also aware of your friendship with Ms. Granger. And of course, he would have told Voldemort all of this. It is, in effect, the reason why his plans for the ambush were moved to tonight. You said it yourself, Draco… you’ve seen the evil and vengeance that resides in Voldemort. You’ve watched what it could destroy every day of your life, for it destroyed you. Do you truly believe that, if given the opportunity, they would not use Hermione against you? Do you not believe that they would kill her?�


“They’d- they’d kill her anyway,� he stumbled. The visual of a lifeless, pale Hermione froze in his mind. It caused chills to run down his arms. It felt odd, talking about her as if she weren’t there. Looking over, he saw her wide, anxious eyes boring into his.


“They would kill her anyway, yes… but if you came, not before using her as a weapon. Without you, they would kill her as they kill all their victims. With you there, they would capture her, and torture her until you became the weapon.�


“Weapon? But I can’t-�


“Yes, you can. You have had insight into both Voldemort’s world and ours,� he said. “What do you know of Harry’s first year at Hogwarts?�


Befuddled, Draco answered, “Err… he saved the Philosopher’s Stone and-�


“And what of his second year?�


“He- he went into the Chamber of Secrets… he met Voldemort, only… only it was Tom Riddle, and-�


“What about his fifth year?�


“He saw images- scenes inside his head, and Voldemort placed one there… he went to the Department of Mysteries to save that Sirius bloke and-�


“Yes. He did,� Dumbledore interrupted again. “And you know this because Ms. Granger told you.� It was not a question. It was a statement.


Hermione looked nervously at Harry. He was watching her, but she couldn’t read his expression. She was about to say she was sorry for telling him everything, when-


“Do not be angry, Harry. She did not tell of the more personal things. She did not tell about the Prophecy.�


At this, Harry nodded and offered Hermione a very weak smile. Relieved, Hermione hugged his arm and smiled back.


“Prophecy? What Prophecy?� Draco asked, looking at each person in the room hoping that one of them would tell.


“It does not matter. You know enough.�


“But I don’t see how my knowing Harry’s bloody life history could be used as a weapon!�


“No, I imagine you wouldn’t,� Dumbledore frowned. “Suffice it to say that Voldemort is many things… cunning is among them. I’m certain you know something he does not. I’m even more certain he would find a way to use it against Harry.�


An extended pause ensued, until the Headmaster broke the eerie silence. “Voldemort would not hesitate to use Hermione as your undoing.�


Draco blinked. The thought of watching Hermione squirm and scream in pain under Crucio made him weak in the knees. But… Why me? he thought. He could use anyone…


“But Voldemort could do that to anyone!� he shouted. “He could use Potter or Weasley to make Hermione talk!�


“He could, yes. But he wouldn’t. He would know that to attempt that would be futile. While Ms. Granger would certainly have her feelings of hesitation, she would never give in.�


“Neither would I!� Draco bellowed indignantly.


“Draco,� Dumbledore whispered softly as he kneeled down in front of him. “Do you think that you could ever describe what it was like living in your father’s shadow? Could you ever make anyone understand how it felt?�


Air was caught in Draco’s throat. He shook his head.


“In the same sense, no one here could describe to you what it’s been like protecting and loving Harry. The difference is, Hermione would not tell because she understands the consequences. She’s seen them first hand, as you have in a different circumstance. Hermione or Ron would not tell because they love Harry. You would, because you do not.�


Draco frowned and lowered his head. His eyes were growing bright with frustrated tears. “But…� he protested weakly.


“You love Hermione, Draco. And you would sacrifice your own life, as well as Harry’s, to save hers. Love leaves no room for logic. It would not occur to you that by telling Voldemort what you know, you would be putting the world in danger. And if it did, it would not matter. You would do anything in that moment to relieve her pain… anything to stop her from screaming, anything to help her… even if that meant endangering everyone else.� Dumbledore paused, and watched Draco’s heavy eyes as they struggled to suppress his emotions.


“And that, Draco, is not your place.�

---

Snape led the four students down the staircase in a frantic whirl. Ron was the only one who seemed capable of keeping up with him as he ushered on the others. Harry was falling behind, tripping over trick steps like he’d never heard of them before, while Hermione was watching her feet as she solemnly persevered downward. Draco’s eyes remained slightly narrowed, as if searching for something, or as if lost in his own world. When Hermione chanced a glance up at him, she thought he looked deep within some hidden corner of his mind, and envied that she wasn’t able to do the same.


Just as Hermione looked away, Draco once again brushed his fingers against her hand. Hoping that some part of her face wasn’t obscured by her hair, she smiled, though still unwilling to lift her head and face what now lay in front of her.


Severus, where have you been?! Hermione heard a distant voice echo. With the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, she thought she heard a distinctly cold voice drawl in reply.


Alrigh’ Harry? Hermione heard. She was sure she was hearing Hagrid… sure there were people around her… why couldn’t she see them?


Hermione? She knew that voice too… for some reason, it filled her with warm determination. Who was that?


“Hermione, are you ok?� Draco asked. She shook out of her daze and slowly lifted her head.


“W- What?� she stammered.


“Are you ok?� Draco repeated. His voice was trembling. He sounded… scared. For the first time, Draco Malfoy sounded terrified.


Hermione nodded at him, as she dryly contemplated exactly what she was agreeing to. As she peered around the Entrance Hall, she maintained that it had never in all her years looked so sinister and despondent. The usually glimmering suits of armor seemed to slump, their posture almost representing the tone of the Hall. The high windows appeared looming and intimidating, like great eyes watching her defeat from afar. The whole Hall was dark. And when she finally took notice of those around her, she reckoned they didn’t look much better.


McGonagall was busying herself with Harry, apparently doing all the talking. Hagrid was behind Harry, and Professor Sprout next to him. Snape was standing off to the side eyeing the scene, as Flitwick was whispering something to Ron. She managed the strength to strain her ears, and heard…


“Your parents and siblings will be waiting for us in London… they asked me to assure you they’d be there.�


Turning to look at Ron, she watched as he nodded and straightened a little taller on the spot. “What about Professor Lupin? Have you heard from him?� Ron croaked.


“Yes yes, he’ll be there as well. We’ve contact over thirty members, and they all-�


But exactly what they all had said or done was never learned, for at that moment McGonagall came bustling to the middle of the crowd and said, “Alright, we’re ready! Everyone, gather around the portkey…�



Hermione stopped breathing. This was it. This is what they’d all be waiting for. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the portkey sitting in the middle of the room- a small teakettle that she immediately recognized from Dumbledore’s office. She felt a strong hand grab her left arm and turn her around. Everything was so surreal… this wasn’t actually happening… was it?


“Hermione… you’re coming, right?� Ron asked tentatively.



Blinking heavily, she mumbled, “Yeah… right, I- I’m coming…�


But when she looked away and met Draco’s enthralling stare, she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore. A picture of Harry imbedded in her mind was all that kept her from running away… had it not been for her love of he and Ron, giving in would have been so much easier.


“Draco,� she whispered. Looking deeply into his eyes, she couldn’t believe- she wouldn’t believe- that this would be the last time she saw him. His brow was furrowed, and those silvery eyes she’d learned to drown herself in were glossy and glistening. “I- I guess it’s time,� she whispered.


Nodding, all Draco could do was stifle his cry. She smiled sadly up at him, and he returned it with a light kiss on the cheek. “Be careful,� his breath softly tickled against her ear. He backed only inches away, and Hermione leaned into him so that their foreheads met.


“I don’t want to leave you,� Hermione cried. Her tears were silent and unstoppable. She sniffed almost inaudibly, but he could feel her fear and worry shaking through her body.


“You have to,� he said.


Hermione knew there was no argument. “Come-� Draco stammered over the lump in his throat. “Come back, alright?�


She nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She could hear McGonagall calling for her, and could feel everyone’s stare. Leaning back, she looked at him once more. “I’ve been carrying this around,� she said softly. “I- I got it for you, for Christmas… but… well… it wasn’t the best time, if you remember…�


She reached inside her cloak and pulled out a long black box as she simultaneously wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Handing it to Draco, Hermione tugged on his robe’s collar. “Don’t open it now,� she whispered. “Wait till I’m gone. I put my favorite memory in there already.� Then she leaned in, closed her eyes, and gently met his lips. Instinctively, Draco raised one hand to her face and slowly returned her kiss.


“I love you,� she whispered as she pulled away. Taking a few backwards steps toward the crowd of on-lookers waiting for her, she watched him as a single bright tear crumbled down his cheek. She knew it meant I love you too.


Far off in the distance, Draco heard McGonagall instructing everyone to touch the portkey on the count of three. Hermione had turned away from Draco, and was standing between Harry and Ron. One… he heard her say. Two seconds left, and she would be gone… Two… he heard as the taste of Hermione’s kiss lingered on his lips. Another tear fell from his eye, landing with a soft thud on the floor below. And then, looking over her shoulder with her arm outstretched toward the portkey, Hermione gave him one last cheerless smile, before- Three-


And she was gone.

---

Draco was lying on the sofa in the Slytherin common room watching the shadows play on the wall overhead. And though his face was blank of all expression, his heart was fit to burst with every emotion known to man.


His breathing was shallow as he half-heartedly reached into his pocket to retrieve the box Hermione had handed him before departing. He turned it around in his hand, eyeing it like it was the last part of her he had to remember. Though she’d only left ten minutes ago, it felt like eternity, and he was already having a difficult time recalling the beautiful details of her features.


Unwrapping the silver satin bow that bound the lid to its counterpart, Draco slowly sat up and felt the cold tears that had been gathering in his lids slide down his checks and neck. He took off the lid and was met by delicate, silver paper enveloping a small object inside.


When he pushed it back, a note fell from the paper. Ignoring it for a moment, he placed his attention on the gift within.


It was a long, simple chain necklace with an oval pendant hanging from it. Draco lifted it up and admired it in the dim light of the fire. It sparkled and cast a white glare on the wall opposite. Inadvertently smiling, he placed it around his neck before bending down for the escaped note. He unfolded it carefully, and read,



Draco,

I know this may seem a bit awkward, but I wanted you to have something to open on Christmas. The pendant acts as a sort of Pensieve, holding some of your memories. I put one in there already… I thought it was one you needed to remember. Happy Christmas!

-Hermione



Draco was a little taken aback by such a present. He’d never seen anything like this before. When he looked at the pendant more closely, he noticed small little hinges on one side. He sat back against the sofa, using his fingers to pry the locket open.


Finally succeeding, he looked inside. Swirls of silver-gray mist were circling around. Draco squinted his eyes in concentration, unsure as to how, exactly, these things work. On sheer impulse, he prodded the mist with his finger, and received a jolt of surprise when it whirled around violently before coming to an abrupt halt.


It was slowly manifesting itself into a picture… it looked so real. What is this place? he thought as he observed a cluster of wooden tables and chairs materialize in the necklace. And then it hit him- The Three Broomsticks.


Suddenly, the memory in the pendant whisked to a small table in the corner of the room- and he saw her. Draco’s heart stopped. There she was… her picture… and he had it saved, forever. He was just coming to appreciate how beautiful the gift really was when he watched the scene magnify. Hermione had her head lowered next to his. And suddenly, like an echo through time, he heard her words… those words that nurtured him…


“It’ll be alright, you know…� he heard her speak. The memory was playing like a movie in the small oval... “It never feels like it will at these points in your life. But the fact that you’ve made it to another one is proof that you’ll live to endure yet another… which, I know doesn’t sound reassuring, but it should.�


Draco was having trouble breathing. He could never have forgotten those words if he’d wanted to, but to see them- hear them again was overwhelming.


“You’re not your father, Malfoy. You’re not doomed to his fate. And… and I know you despise everything right now… and you have every right to- but, I’ve noticed… I’ve noticed that through everything you’ve learned about your father and this war, there’s still… you. There will always be you, there will always be… how YOU turned out, how great of a wizard you are, regardless of your tribulations and upbringing… you still managed to turn out magnificently…� Draco watched mournfully as she leaned in further and whispered her words. “And whether you believe it or not, that prospect demonstrates a bit of hope to me… and makes our circumstance seem much more tolerable. That’s saying something, Malfoy. That’s saying that someone derived hope, patience, and faith… just from you.�


And the memory collapsed into a silvery mist once more.


He smiled at the locket, as if convinced that Hermione could see him through it. He wanted to put in every memory he had of her in the pendant. Reaching for the black box, he found what he was looking for: a sheet with instructions. Following them precisely, he lifted his wand to his head, and recalled everything he could. When he broke the wand away, Draco watched in silent amazement as several tiny strand of light danced around the tip. He pushed it in the silvery mist of the pendant, removed his wand, and waited.


A moment passed. Then two. Then-


Another scene emerged from the oval. He saw himself inside it, looking deathly pale in his common room as Hermione prodded him to talk to her. Go, he heard the memory speak. Wincing, Draco poked the pendant to move to the next memory. He didn’t want to relive that night.


The next one appeared, and it was a much better memory. It began with a picture of Hermione’s bare back… it was slightly bruised as he carefully applied ointment to it. He heard his memory-self gasp at her beauty.


“What? What is it?� Draco heard Hermione ask through the pendant. “Noth- nothing, it’s just, err, really bruised, is all.�


Draco smiled to himself. He’d give anything to be back to that night again. But before he could finish his reminiscing thoughts, a new scene emerged.


“BECAUSE!� he heard himself scream. YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’VE GONE THROUGH MY WHOLE LIFE! AND YOU HAVEN’T THE FAINTEST CLUE! AND YOU’RE TRYING TO CHANGE WHO I AM! WELL YOU CAN’T! SORRY IF I’M NOT UP TO YOUR STANDARDS, BUT THIS IS ME, WICKED AND EVIL, SO DROP THE SYMPATHY ACT! I’M A LOST CAUSE, ALRIGHT?!�


Tears built up in the corners of Draco’s eyes as he watched Hermione pleading for him to come back. He shook his head in shame, mesmerized at his blatant stupidity. And she never gave up, he thought to himself. She never thought I was a lost cause… He quickly shook the pendant before his tears escaped him.


But the memory that appeared next hit Malfoy the hardest.


He watched the swirl of color transform into the Gryffindor common room. This was the first night, he thought. Draco noticed the roaring fireplace before it was obscured by Hermione’s worry-filled face.


“Well then come off it, Draco heard his own voice emitting from the locket. “Fill me in, Mudblood, since you know everything. I’m sure you’ve loads to say to me, and if I were you, I’d take this precious time in my company to spat it out.


Draco cringed as his heart sank to unknown depths. He continued to be astonished by her ability to befriend him after he’d been so cruel to her. His thoughts were once again cut off as he watched Hermione retaliate.


“I’ll start with you’re a no good, evil, dirty, insensitive, nasty little prat, and I’ve severely disliked you from the very moment I laid eyes on that cocky, sneering face of yours!�


Draco could almost laugh aloud at the irony of it all.


“You’re so arrogant, so caught up in your own little world as if you’re the only one who matters. You don’t give a rat’s ass about Crabbe and Goyle, you just like the convenience they offer of doing your dirty work! You have no idea what it’s like to be Harry, to have to live in a shadow of a legend that hasn’t even developed yet, to be known for some stupid scar on your forehead, as if that’s more important than all the things he’s done! And he didn’t save Ginny or stop Voldemort countless times because his name is Harry Potter, he did it because that’s his character, because that’s what’s right, whether your names Potter or not! And you don’t care! You don’t care about anything other than yourself! You tease him like it’s a hobby, you mock his parents and their sacrifice while your own are out there murdering innocent people! Muggles and Wizards alike! You think he’s the conceited one, but he didn’t ask for his fame! You think he consciously planned on being an orphan, living with miserable Muggles, and having his Godfather die?! That’s why he’s famous, Malfoy! A stupid scar that got him nothing but turmoil, nothing but a giant pattern of death in his life… and you call him conceited?! And you think you’re so clever because you pick on Ron’s clothes, as if that’s less superficial than picking on Harry’s scar! You’ve no idea what it’s like to live like him! Constantly one less than everybody else, because you’ve so many siblings that you’re only a small slice of it all! His best friend is the most famous wizard of our age, and he’s smart enough to know that wasn’t his choice! But it still gets hard to not get any attention, because all you’re considered is a poor little Weasley. You’re stuck too far up your own ass to see anything, anything at all Malfoy- you can’t see tragedy when it’s walking right down the hall next to you, you can’t see opportunity when it’s banging it’s fist off at your door, you can’t see beauty when it’s staring you in the face, you can’t see evil when it’s your own father, you can’t see good when it’s your own Headmaster, and you can’t see ignorance when it’s yourself, staring at you through a mirror!�


Draco could no longer evade his tears. They seeped down, one by one, in lonely silence. He shut the pendant with a loud snap before tucking it away under his robes. Her words had stung him then, but they killed him now. He remembered one line in particular… You can’t see beauty when it’s staring you in the face!


But I can, he thought to himself, still convinced that Hermione could hear him. And I see you.


And that was all it took to push him over the edge.


He wasn’t going to sit there feeling sorry for himself any more. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by anyone, whether it be his father or his Headmaster. He didn’t care what Dumbledore said- there’s nothing right about letting the only person you care about risk her life without you, he thought determinedly.


Draco clasped his robes, stood with a jolt, and ran to his dormitory. He was going after her.

---

It didn’t take more than three full minutes for him to find his broomstick and rush onto Hogwarts’ grounds. The rain had subsided, but the clouds overhead made it as dark as night. Draco glanced at the castle one last time. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see it again. But the thought of never again seeing Hermione was far worse.


With a sort of grateful nod towards the castle, Draco kicked off from the ground.


He wasted no time, and had quickly soared over the Quidditch Pitch. Unsheathing his wand from his cloak, he placed it in the palm of his hand. He spoke to it: “Point me!�


He watched at his wand whirled around and jerked to a stop. Turning his broom in the pointed direction, Draco pushed his broom to go as fast as possible.


He ascended over the tallest trees and then higher. He forced his mind to relive other, happier memories, in hopes of propelling his body onward. For he was frozen solid now, and his breathing was abnormally shallow.


He remembered lying in bed next to Hermione, feeling her warmth embrace him like a blanket. He remembered waking up with her there, and taking in her sweet scent. He remembered how she never backed down. How, in the most unlikely of times, she befriended him despite everything he’d said and done. He remembered exactly why he loved her in the first place.


But one last memory played in his mind... he remembered those lethal words that sparked it all...

So… we can try to be friends, can’t we?� she'd asked.

“I don’t know about friends... I might settle on civility.


Civility. It had all began with mere civility. If only he had known how dangerous a thing it really was.





His thoughts must have taken longer than realized. Draco snapped out of his fantasy and felt the outside cold pummeling him senseless. But what he saw just ahead of him nearly knocked him off his broom.


Lights. A web of lights were streaking in every direction: blue, red, gold, green, yellow, silver, orange, purple. It was so far below him it looked like one giant mass, pulsating together. He knew what it was- it was London. It was Hermione. It was Harry. It was Lucius. It was Macnair, and Goyle, and Snape, and Dumbledore. It was the battle.


Draco pushed his broom onward, spiraling him toward the fight. He could feel the heat releasing from the spells’ lights already. His heart was trembling… Please don’t be dead, he thought achingly. Don’t be dead Hermione- I’m coming…


As the scene grew larger before him, he dismally admitted that didn’t know how she could not be. The spells, the curses, the unforgivables were being thrown left and right. Men in black cloaks were dodging offensive spells, other wizards could just be seen chasing after them. He was just close enough now to see properly… but he wasn’t there yet.



He cursed his broom for not moving faster. “GO, DAMN YOU!� he shouted at it. But all he could think was, Don’t be dead… please don’t be dead...


But then a sound resonated in his ears. The loud cries and screams coming from below were drowned out- was it coming from him? Was this sound his own? No, he thought. For his own was beating much too fast… this was slightly slower…


And as soon as he realized what the sound was, he knew-


She was alive.


For in his ears, he heard her life beating on… fighting… and it came in the most comforting sound he could remember...


Thump… Thump… Thump…