Chapter One

An Unexpected Discovery

She sat alone in the Room, her warm, moist breath fogging the glass of the window by which she sat.

Her chest rose and descended softly against her bent knees, rhythmically, as though following the silent beating of the rain on the window. Her shoes and socks were off, and her feet seemed naked and frozen to a pale, milky color against the blaring red nail polish that was smeared on her toenails. The Gryffindor crimson and canary yellow scarf was wound around her neck, bringing her little warmth compared to the searing tears that were now flowing stealthily down her ruby cheeks.

Her dark eyes closed in painful reverie, her head slid sideways against the window, the cool of the glass warming against her.

She could almost hear the silence downstairs.

She felt like she should have been down there when the fight had still been raging, felt like Lupin and Tonks and Kingsley and McGonagall could have used an extra hand or two in keeping them at bay.

But this had been inevitable, hadn't it? What indeed had they expected?

Surely they didn't honestly believe we stood a chance?

No Dumbledore, no Harry, no Ron – this invasion had been inevitable. Who were they fighting for, anyway?

Who could she fight for?

"Who is in here?"

She heard that distinct drawling voice emerge all of a sudden, and a cavernous fear grew within her. How had the Room betrayed her after all these hours?

Well, she had always underrated their Side, simply placing her hope in the belief that life would surely always have a happy ending - and it was not as though that turned out to be completely untrue and blasphemous.

The belief simply neglected to specify just who would be happy in the end.

"Who's in here? Show yourself!"

Her eyes closed again, her shoulders turned limp as though she had turned completely to liquid from her frozen statue.

It was a nice change.

"Granger?"

The inescapable exclamation came, and she felt her eyes open despite herself.

He stood there clothed in jet-black velvet robes, his wand perched at a perfect forty-five degree angle toward her, his blonde hair tousled and grey eyes wide in disbelief. He looked so gapingly large to her at that moment that she was reminded distinctly of how little she had seen of him in the course of that year.

It left little to the imagination as to what he had been up to in that time.

His feet seemed rooted to the kaleidoscopic carpet underneath them that she was almost tempted to laugh coldly.

"What - what are you doing here?" he spluttered when she didn't say anything.

"I thought it would be obvious that I am sitting."

He very nearly smirked, but seemed to remember just who it was that he was talking to, and caught himself just in time.

"Evidently the idle do seem to find ways to pass the time," he mocked.

She sighed and looked back at the window.

"I'm in no mood for your petty banter, Malfoy."

He lowered his wand.

"Well, what else shall we do to pass the time in here then?"

She looked quickly back at him then, the fire suddenly blazing in her chest, and regarded him icily.

"I don't know what you will be doing, but I was enjoying the scenery before I was somewhat rudely interrupted, so I'll just continue with that."

"Granger, you're no fun."

"Well-spotted."

She closed her eyes tightly then, feeling another bout of tears coming on. She saw faintly from the corner of her eye that Malfoy was sitting down all of a sudden, and his eyes were roaming her form with an amused expression on his face.

She met his gaze with her own steely one.

"The wandering eye soon gets caught Malfoy, and you wish to risk that?" she said, suddenly very pissed off.

"Have you not thought that it may be worth the risk in this case? Or thought that I'm not afraid of what you will do to me if I get caught?"

He smirked at long last, and she felt a pang in her stomach at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think about you that much Malfoy," she muttered quickly, rather unnecessarily she realised later.

"Touché," he responded, his eyebrow raised questioningly at her.

She tied the scarf around her neck tighter, wondering how long it would be until he finally hexed her into oblivion and that would be the end of that. She voiced this to him, and saw that he shook his head at her.

"Granger, Granger, Granger," he said mock pityingly. "Here I was enjoying our little discussion, and you wish to end it so soon?"

"Just eager to know when to prepare for the inevitable," she replied sourly. "I want to be fixed in my favourite pose, you see, when the time comes."

"I shall oblige a notification then," he nodded, and she felt a dip in her stomach at the sudden gravity of her situation.

She half expected him to deny that he was indeed going to kill her but – this was Malfoy! Of course she could expect no mercy.

Nor did she really want it from him, anyway.

"Granger, I've always wanted to ask you a couple of questions, but we've never found the time to have a proper chit chat, have we?"

She couldn't tell whether he was joking or not.

"No, our chit chats usually consist of several ingenious hexes and a bloody nose or two. Hardly genial, nor an environment that could spur discussion."

He nodded his assent.

"I take it that's a yes from you that I may ask my questions?"

Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips, but a feeling of unease swept her. Why did she feel like she knew Malfoy all of a sudden? She steeled herself.

"Why was Potter so stupid enough to rock up to the Department of Mysteries two years ago? Surely he would have known it was a trap? Or was it on your counsel? Because after an incident like that, we can stop wondering why the Hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor."

She felt a searing hatred erupt in her body. How could he dare to speak of Harry that way, while he was in his grave right now? He evidently had little respect for anyone or anything, the chiding smirk on his face a tell tale sign of his arrogance and conceit. But to speak so brashly about a thing he knew nothing about – what was he playing at?

"Screw you, Malfoy," she muttered before she could stop herself, loathing him with every fibre of her being.

"Why, thank you Granger, don't mind if I do."

And he suddenly got up and she felt fear erupt in her body all of a sudden. He was walking towards her now, and she felt all of a sudden that he was not above the prospect of forceful contact, not at all.

But he merely sat on the pane next to her feet, his grey eyes holding dark storms within them that she found momentarily startling.

"Don't look so shocked, Granger," he spoke, his grave face suddenly breaking into amusement. "Someone just might think you can't take a joke."

She drew her knees even closer, suddenly wishing that she had been wearing a pair of socks as Malfoy regarded her feet.

"Red doesn't suit you, Granger. A bit scandalous, one might think. But then again here you are in Gryffindor, eh? But still, it doesn't suit you."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"What would you know about me, anyway?"

"Try me," he said mysteriously, looking back up into her eyes. "I know more about you then you might think."

"Okay," she said slowly, not knowing what he meant or where the conversation was going.

"I know that you have brown hair," he began, and her confusion only grew more. "It used to be bushy, but now it's more wavy. You have really brown eyes, and freckles on your nose, which become obvious when your skin is really pale like it is now. You're quite tall, and a bit too skinny if you ask me."

He paused, and she was very tempted to say "is that it".

"But these are all very superficial," he said slowly, as though he were dragging the conversation out for his own sake, and she was embarrassed to note that she wanted him to do so as well. "You want to achieve something in your life, but your resolve has been dampened now since you feel you don't have a purpose anymore. You lost yourself when Potter and Weasley died, but you're stronger than you think. And of course,"

He stopped briefly, noting the slight sparkle in her eyes,

"of course, right now, you are dying for me to kiss you."

Her face was in awe until she finally realised what he had said, and she drew her head back in shock.

"W-what!" she managed to splutter, and Malfoy laughed.

"You looked like you were in a trance, Granger! I just wanted to wake you up."

She shook her head slightly, her cheeks a flushed scarlet. What was wrong with him today?

What was wrong with her?

She suddenly felt very uneasy as he ruffled his hair.

"You know, I am supposed to kill you," he said softly, so softly that she almost missed it.

She felt a pit in her stomach, and swallowed. His gaze was on the patch of carpet in front of his knees.

He looked at her suddenly, and she half expected to see a maniacal glint in his eye, and felt slightly uneasier when she didn't see anything even slightly maniacal in them at all.

He just looked downright depressed.

"I don't care, Malfoy," she assured him rather matter-of-factly. "I don't care if you kill me. I have nothing left to live for, and at least you'll be in Voldemort's good books if you do kill me."

He winced slightly.

"Do you think that's all that matters, Granger? Being in Voldemort's – good books?"

"Well, at least that's all that matters to you," she said, before she could stop herself.

He looked at her coldly, and the sadness had disappeared from his eyes.

"It's nice to see your opinion of me at long last… Mudblood," he said ruthlessly, and she was the one to wince this time.

"You've never given me any reason to believe otherwise, Malfoy!" she retorted, recovering from her moment of disbelief.

He rose from the pane and took his wand from his robes pocket. She felt her heart dip slightly all of a sudden.

This was it, then.

"Go," he whispered, facing away from her.

She didn't hear him.

"What?"

"Go!" he said, more loudly. "GO!"

She rose from the pane, alarmed at his sudden vehemence.

"Malfoy, what do you –"

"Get out of my sight, and don't stop running until you get to Hogsmeade – and keep that damn hood on your face the whole time."

She gasped at him, looking into his painfully neutral eyes with her own tear-filled ones.

"Malfoy, how am I - "

"Don't worry about that," he said, more softly, "I'll make sure no one stops you."

She made her way mechanically towards the door of the room, too scared to look back and see his expression behind her.

"Granger?"

Her hand stopped on the iced doorknob.

"I was wrong."

She looked back at him, knowing at that moment that he would not hex her into oblivion at all. His features seemed softer, his eyes sparkled very slightly.

"What do you mean?"

He looked out the window briefly before turning back to answer.

"Red does actually suit you."

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