AN: Hello Everyone! This is my first fanfic. After some restless nights once this idea came to me I decided it was time to put my thoughts to the keyboard and let you guys judge!

This is a oneshot based around the song Awake by Secondhand Serenade. Originally this was a song fic but I received several reviews stating that song fics were technically not allowed. Having a degree in English and a MLIS, I completely understand copyright and plagiarism but figured if I cited the work it would be fine (I was never trying to take the words and use them as my own). I ended up editing to remove the perfect lyrics from the storyline, which I fear has messed up the flow but you gotta do what you gotta do. Please listen to the song as you read this piece, it will make the experience 100 times better.

Also, a little clarification - Originally the song lyrics were the separation between his and hers POVs. So since I took out the lyrics I kept horizontal lines hoping (not to cause choppiness) but to maintain this little bit of separation. I wanted to use something other than the solid horizontal line that fanfiction creates because the story flows just between persons but everything I tried would just disappear when I saved - if anyone has any ideas please let me know.

LASTLY, I don't own the Harry Potter universe, no matter how much I wish (along with everyone else on fanfiction typing away our ideas behind a screen!)

Please read and review! Let me know if you like, because if I don't feel the love I may not write more.

He stood with his back to the door, staring out at the moon's reflections in the blackened waters of the North Sea. His white t-shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders but fell loose further down his torso. Solitary was doing him good, even if he didn't want to admit it. Even in this dreary setting with tomorrow looming just behind the moon, his comfort was obvious. He held his head high, as he would until his body crumpled lifeless to the floor, until his upbringing could no longer influence how he held himself, until death met him, until tomorrow.

"Draco…" she whispered. Her voice broke and she took a deep shaky breath, trying to hold back the inevitable tears.

He didn't respond but his body gave away that he'd indeed heard her soft voice across the cell; the muscles in his back tightened immediately and he turned slightly, taking a deep breath as if sucking in the last little bit of hope he had. The new angle gave her a view of right side of his face; the moonlight left barred shadows across his features, shadows that darkened everything but his grey eyes. His blonde hair fell down like a blanket trying to cover the pain that her shaky breath invoked in those eyes. Reaching up to run his hand through his greasy mane, her eyes fell to the faded mark on his forearm, the only remaining proof of the horrid things he'd done in his past. Well that and the black numbers jotted across his strained neck, proving that time in Azkaban was something you'd carry with you the rest of your life, if you were lucky enough to see the outside of the prison walls again.

"They didn't listen, did they?" His voice was deep and scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken in months, which he probably hadn't.

Her hands fumbled with the keys in her hands. She wanted to enter but nerves were getting the best of her. This space, while unwanted, was his space, his only sole possession, the only thing he could control. She dared a glance back up and her eyes met his; tears began to cloud her vision as she started blinking rapidly, trying her best to hold them in. She felt the scene before her was like an old motion picture, choppy with each blink; every time her eyes opened he was a step closer. When she opened her eyes to find his inches away she gasped, dropping the keys to the cold stone floor. She bit her lip, wary that moving would cause the tears she was holding back to spill over. He stooped to gather the keys, obviously ignoring the electrifying magic that reaching through the bars produced. When his hands found hers, she felt the chilling metal key in her hand but the look in his eyes was what sent shivers up her spine. He knew; his eyes told her that much as they dropped to the floor.

She quickly entered the cell, jumping as the bars slammed tight behind her. She'd be damned if she would leave him now. Crossing to the small bed against the wall, she grabbed his hand along the way. So many times when she was imprisoned in his basement, those hands had soothed her. Quietly she whispered the words that he so many times had murmured to her, "It will all be okay."

He was so quiet and still that she swore he didn't hear her. Perhaps the words were just in her head, as she knew he'd know they were empty promises. Until she heard his reply, the one she had so often pleaded when she was the one alone in a dark, damp cell, "Stay."

She nodded knowing there was nowhere she would rather be tonight than with her arms around the person she knew saved her life, her angel.

Like usual, the silence settled between them. He pulled her as close as possible - all he wanted right now was to feel her heartbeat. He needed to know that while his would stop, hers would beat on. He breathed deeply, the scent of parchment and roses filled him, instantly calming his nerves. She jumped as his fingers skimmed the scarred letters on her arm.

"Are you -" she froze as if second guessing the question he was about to voice.

"Scared?" he finished. He felt her nod and tightened his arms around her, as if he were capable of pulling her so close that their bodies would dissolve into one. "Not of dying." He felt her breath tremble as she moved to look up at his face. He stared at the ceiling, not wanting to meet her beautiful eyes, knowing they would see through his facade, straight to the lies.

He held his breath knowing the question that was coming. "Of what then." He knew the answer, had thought about it a million times over the past 5 years - 60 months, 260 weeks, 1,820 days, 43,680 hours, 2,620,800 sleepless minutes- the one thing he was scared of in life, was losing the one thing that gave him hope. He ran his hand through his hair again, as if trying to push his thoughts out. She was staring, waiting patiently for an answer he might never be able to voice. He could feel her eyes on the bloody mark and wished that he had a sleeve to cover it up.

"Why are you here?" The question escaped his lips before he knew he wanted to ask. While he was curious, he didn't want to hear her answer, afraid it would break his heart - or hers.

"Why did you care for me?" She answered with a question; were they doomed to just asking each other questions, never hearing the answers that they seeked.

"When?" He knew when so why did he even bother to ask. He couldn't get it out of his head, that moment when his sadistic aunt told him she caught him a present; Bellatrix practically giggled with excitement. Seeing Hermione Granger chained in his basement broke him, though his family never even realized; the second his eyes fell onto her unconscious form his heart had shattered. Looking back he couldn't decide what unsettled him - was it because he was witnessing the true horrors of his upbringing and the dark side, or because he couldn't comprehend how someone so tortured could still be so beautiful. He had snuck down to the basement that night and tried to revive her, wanting nothing more than to break the protective spells his aunt and father had placed around her and steal her away into safety. He healed her as best as he could, without giving away to the evil lurking upstairs that he cared; he cared for the witch before him, more than he could even comprehend. If they knew they would not only torture her to within inches of her death but would make him watch, or possibly join in on the madness; hell they would probably force him to deliver her to death's door under the Imperius curse.

He looked down to see a tear trail down her cheek. Catching it with his thumb, she sighed and closed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and he placed his fingers over her lips, silencing her. He wanted nothing more than to answer her question, but with tomorrow looming just behind the moon he knew the answers he'd give would only hurt her. He'd snuck into the dungeons of Malfoy Manor to hold her every night after a day of torture or starvation just to give her some hope that not everything under that roof was pure evil. Every time he fell to his knees and felt her pulse he would immediately calm knowing that, while in pain, she was at least still alive, that he could pull her into his arms and watch her sleep. While she wanted to know why, he would never be able to explain to her the feelings that possessed him to sneak food from his plate down to her, or the thoughts running through his head when the house was starting to quiet down and he was only moments away from seeing her. He couldn't tell her any of this because it would break her heart knowing that tomorrow was inevitable; one broken heart was more than enough.

He wanted to remember everything about her, every scent that filled him when she was near, every sound that escaped her lips, every beat of her heart. He'd do anything to ensure that the last thing that crossed his mind before death was the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, or how her chocolate curls felt as they brushed across his chest. Draco watched as another tear slipped down her cheek. This time he didn't stop it, couldn't stop it, wanting to remember the detail of that shimmer cascading down her face and falling onto his shirt. Her lips parted and she sucked in a shaky breath and his emotions surged to the front as if she were a dementor about to plant a fated kiss upon him.

Hermione froze, waiting for his eyes to roam back to hers. While the Veritaserum had long since worn off, she felt the need to be truthful with him as she had the Ministry. Nobody wanted to be locked away and tortured senseless, but she was glad that at least he had been there during that time. He was a ray of sunlight everyday in a room that had no windows.

She could show the Ministry her memories of how his touch was caring, how he'd sneak her food and make sure that at least some of her scars were healed but they needed to hear it from him. The Ministry needed him to explain why he would put his life in danger for a prisoner of the Dark Lord; he was the only thing that could save himself. But he wouldn't speak. He wouldn't share his memories and emotions, not even with her.

Deep down she knew that he was holding back, knowing that whatever he had to say would shatter her world. Even outside the walls of the Malfoy's dungeon, he was trying to save her.

When grey eyes found hers again, she took a trembling breath and decided that, no matter what he told her, she would be heartbroken within 24 hours.

"I -"

"Please, don't speak." He interrupted her and the gentleness of his request shocked her.

She felt the rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he took. She closed her eyes and could almost imagine being back in the dungeon, wrapped in his arms, fearing the sun rising when he'd be forced to leave her lying alone on the cold stone floor. She sat up on the thin mattress unable to stop the questions. She needed to know. She needed to save him. She still could if he would just let go.

"What went through your mind?"

His brow creased with confusion as he inquired, "When?"

"Every morning when you left." Her voice came out innocent and quiet. She watched as he ran his hands across his face, trying unsuccessfully to hide a sigh. After a few moments of silence, she knew he wasn't going to answer without some probing. "I just want to prepare."

"For what?" He sat up then, perhaps wondering where she was going with her questions.

"For tomorrow. When I leave you. Knowing that perhaps it will be the last time I ever see you."

As she pulled away from him, he could feel the room getting colder. He eased closer to her, needing to feel her warmth as her breath tickled his skin, needing to erase the space between them and mold his body back around her.

"That was different -"

"But was it?" Before he knew what was happening, her fingers found his face. "Tell me." He watched as the words formed on her lips, oblivious to any sound above the tiniest whisper.

"This is different. You need not worry like I did."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to die tomorrow." He'd do anything to take back his harsh words. She withdrew her hand, and he could see her visibly recoil, pulling her body away from his and with it the warmth.

"I -" He could see the wheels in her head turning, trying to best form the sentence she wanted to verbalize. "I meant why did you worry…" Her words fell off at the end of the question, forcing him to strain to hear. He stood, walking towards the window; unsure of how much time passed, he watched the waves violently crashing around the island that Azkaban stood secretly upon. His thoughts were in turmoil much like the ocean outside. Would telling her really be that damning?

She sighed from somewhere behind him and he felt as if she was miles away in that moment; the distance suiting him fine as he realized he couldn't look her in the eyes as he answered her questions.

"I worried -" He could hear her suck in a large breath, as if holding in oxygen would allow him more space in the small cell to fill with his words. "I worried about what they'd do to me." The sob that escaped her was enough to cause him to turn, causing him to see her inching towards the cell door. She couldn't leave, just as he couldn't stop. "I worried they would force torture upon you by my hand. I worried they'd force me to rape you if they caught me sneaking away from you each morning. I worried -" she froze with her back to him, trembling. "I worried they would force me to kill you, just to kill me."

"Why would they?" Her voice was barely a whisper, closer to a whimper. He closed the distance between them but paused behind her back, refusing to wrap his arms around her as he delivered the final blow to her heart.

"Because -" His voice was weak so he cleared his throat, needing to say these words clearly. "Because the greatest torture one can endure is being forced to kill the one that you love."

Love. With that one simple word, tingling sensations burst from her chest. She was afraid to move, worried that it would stir her from a deep slumber. All those hours, days, months locked up in the dungeon, she had started dreaming of happiness each night with his arms wrapped tight around her to ward of the nightmares. How many mornings she had awoken, as he untangled himself from her, from dreams where he'd whisper his feelings. This had to be another such dream; there was no way she was getting the happy ending she had dreamt so often of.

She could feel her shoulders begin to tremble and the breeze sent shivers down her as it hit her tear streaked cheeks. Strong arms snaked around her waist, as he gently pulled her into him. "Draco -"

She felt herself being lifted, as if floating on a cloud. When she dared open her eyes, they were again intertwined and she could feel his heart beating so strongly and rapidly that it felt as if it were coming from inside of her very own chest. She closed her eyes, fearing that keeping them open would cause her dream world to come crashing down. Was this really happening or was she still locked in the cold dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Perhaps Bellatrix had discovered during a torture session the feelings that Hermione felt for the witches nephew and had doomed her to a nightmare. She held her breath, trying to decide if she wanted to wake up and find herself alone on the cold stone floor or if she wanted to remain in this dream until the smirk returned to Draco's features and he chuckled something about "gotcha Mudblood."

This was just a dream. It had to be. He couldn't return the feelings.

"I love you, Hermione, and will until the day that I die."

Lips brushed against her forehead, as her name caused her to come crashing back into reality. Tomorrow. Until tomorrow. This isn't a dream. But a living nightmare.

It was all out there now. She hadn't spoken since he answered all her questions in one statement; hell, she had barely breathed. He searched her face for some clue of what was going on inside her brilliant mind, but all he could see was tears and her teeth nibbling nervously on her bottom lip. While he thought his love for her was all he'd been holding back, after her silence filled the room, he found himself breaking it - much like he figured he was breaking her heart.

"I think I loved you the moment I met you. My father always insisted that Muggleborns were stupid and undeserving of magic, but even before the first day of classes began our first year at Hogwarts you were proving him wrong." Trembling, that is all he felt and he wasn't quite sure if it was coming from him or her.

"I was scared, you were proving every ideal I had grown up with wrong. You were not only the most brilliant witch of our age but beautiful. You worked hard to know everything and be the best while the purebloods who thought they were the only ones worthy of magic misused and mistreated it and everyone around them." He paused hoping she would say something, anything. Her body was rigid as if the thought of him loving her was disgusting and vile.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry!" Her eyes snapped open at those four words, disbelievingly. She started to open her mouth and as much as he wanted to hear her voice, he wanted to get out everything first. "I treated you like scum because I thought it was how I was supposed to treat you. Honestly, I think I treated you like that, called you awful names -" his eyes fled from hers to the crooked letters carved deep into her arm, he slowly brought her wrist towards him and planted soft kisses over the name he would never mutter again, even if he lived past tomorrow - "because I wanted you to hate me, as much as I hate myself."

She was staring at his chest as if she could see through him straight to his heart. "You failed." Her voice was so quiet that he barely heard her; did she say that, or did he imagine it. He craved her eyes in that moment, knowing that they were the key to her soul; they would tell him whether the words had truly came from her or his head.

His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. She craved him but she needed some more answers. As grey met brown she took control of the situation, flipping on top of him, her curls cascading down to block out the rest of the world around them; it was just him and her there in those moments. "If you truly loved me, why did you do it then? Why did you take the mark? Why did you fight for the Dark Lord, Draco?"

He tried to turn his head, to shield himself from the questions, but she was having none of it anymore. She placed her hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to look deep into her eyes, eyes she knew was filled with tears and love.

"To save you, Hermione." Confusion must have shown across her face because he continued. "I wanted to make sure that if you were captured, you wouldn't be killed. I wanted to make sure that if the war ended in the Dark Lord's favor, you would be spared. I could only do that from the dark side. So I risked my life to save the woman I loved."

She was unsure whether she was being pulled towards him or whether she was seeking him out but she was completely aware of their lips colliding. The salty taste of tears invaded her tastebuds but she was unsure whether they were hers or his. Magic tingled between them and she knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, tonight she was going to spend it in the arms of a man that would do anything for her, a man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life kissing just like this. "Draco -"

"Shhhh, just let me forget tomorrow is coming." He trailed kisses down her neck with need and desire that Hermione had never felt. Reluctantly she tried to push herself from his arms; she needed to talk, needed to let him know that he owned her heart. He tightened his hold, finding the spot behind her ear that send shivers down to the tips of her toes and sucking gently; she knew that would leave a small bruise, a mark that tomorrow would prove to everyone his feelings, feelings that he spilled to her in his last hours.

"Draco -" She pushed her hands hard into his chest. He grunted slightly as his hold on her released. Sitting on him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath counting down to his last, she fingered the bottom of her t-shirt, nerves wondering what he would do. Then Hermione let her heart take over, ripping her shirt over her head and tossing it off the bed. "I love you too." His lips collided with her as he pulled her down to the bed next to him.

Hope filled her, even as the tears still tumbled down her cheeks; she would stay awake through the night, savoring every private moment with him. Tomorrow she would spill this night that she would cherish into a tear, a tear filled with memories that when shown to the Ministry would save his life.

AN: Again - I beg you to review. I didn't have a BETA (but I do have a degree) so hopefully the grammar isn't too horrendous and that the story makes sense even without the lyrics within.

Perhaps since this is no longer a song fic I will also continue it...Follow and you may see!

Two quick questions for my readers:

1) Does the title still work? I'm thinking about changing it (and I'm open for suggestions) now that the lyrics aren't weaved throughout.

2) Did it make sense even though it changed perspectives? Was everything clear?