Days passed like this. Hermione felt Harry deteriorating, the life being sucked out of. They were all seventeen, so they were initiated into the Order of Phoenix the previous summer. Lupin occasionally sent tiny morsels of information to Harry. These were the letters Harry lived for. Since Dumbledore's death, Harry did not have a confident in the castle and Lupin served as his only communicant from the outside world.

Recently, Ginny decided to move on. She had started seeing Dean Thomas again, whether or not she had genuine feeling for him or not Hermione did not know, but Hermione could see that it irked Harry. She hadn't forgotten about Malfoy. She found herself staring at him every now and then, when no one else was looking. He met her eye once, it was brief but even from across the hall Hermione could see how emotionally void and blank his eyes were.

Hermione was sitting in the library working on her Arithmancy essay. It was nearly midnight, but she wanted to finish it before going to bed. It was Hogsmeade Saturday tomorrow and Hermione wanted to spend the entire day shopping for Christmas gifts for everyone, as well as buying a dress for the 7th year Christmas Ball.

Finishing off a sentence, she looked up just in time to see a tall figure slinking into the library and heading straight towards the shelves. Hermione didn't usually see people in the library after ten, so she was immediately curious. She slowly stood up, but slid her chair with a loud scrape so the stranger was aware that someone was in the library, so as not to startle them. She approached the shelves just as the stranger pulled down the hood of his cloak. It was Malfoy.

"Granger" he said, with a nod.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Hermione very nearly snapped. Malfoy looked worn out as he slowly turned away from her and back to the shelf. "I'm looking for a book" he replied blandly.

"O" she sounded pathetic, even to herself. She tried again "On what?"

"Arithmancy, the essay for Vector."

"Need help?" What! What! What am I asking, Hermione thought.

Malfoy turned to look at her, eyebrows high "No" he replied with a look of puzzled annoyance.

Hermione blushed, and quickly hurried back to her table. She put her head down and started working in her essay again. She violently dragged her hand across her parchment, not daring to look.

Draco watched her retreating back, shaking his head. The interaction left him baffled. He turned around and scanned the shelves. He was looking for a particular book, but could not seem to locate him. His search lasted two more minutes until he realised that Granger must have the book. Sighing, he made him way towards her table. As he approached she looked up, startled.

"Are you done with that book, I need it". Realisation replaced shock as she replied "Er no, I need it for a few more paragraphs, but you're welcome to use it with me."

Draco sneered and said "No thank you, I'd rather wait until you're done." And with that turned on his heel and deposited his bag on a table a distance away from Hermione's. He took his cloak off and arranged it on the seat before sitting down. He got some other work done as he waited for the book.

He didn't look at her as he pondered about Granger's strange behaviour. He always thought her a bit weird but now he was starting to think she was downright loony, because if he was not mistaken, she was being nice to him! But he knew what had brought this on. He had been looking as wrung out and broken on the outside as he felt on the inside. Pity! Her pity, he thought, his face displaying utmost disgust. He did not need a Mudblood's pity. He finally looked up at her. The filthy Mudblood was writing and was nowhere near done with the book by the looks of it.

He began writing and completing his other pieces of work. He turned, too quickly, to his bag and felt a sharp, deep pain in his left shoulder. A present. From his master. He was covered in these 'presents' which he was force to carry on his person as a mark of his loyalty to his master. Along with the dark tattoo that marked his smooth white skin on his left forearm. Subconsciously, he started to rub his arm, where the mark was. He was seventeen years old, born into evil. But what made him think was the fact that he hadn't minded this burden, till recently. The Dark Lord had begun to feel restless. Dumbledore's death had not felt like a triumph. Snape had lost his cover and they were no closer to killing Potter than they were before the old bastard's death. The Dark Lord had begun taking his frustrations out on his followers, particularly his mother. With his father in Azkaban, there was nothing stopping him and his followers, who were residing in Malfoy Manor, from raping his mother from time to time.

"Malfoy…" he turned sharply "I'm done with the book" she said holding it out for him. He grabbed it from her with a snarl.

Hermione blinked. He snatched the book and turned away from her, already flicking through the pages. She quickly walked back to her table collected her things and left the library. She rushed down the corridors, she did not like the dark very much. When she reached the Gryffindor tower she didn't bother showering, it was too cold for that, brushed her teeth and changed in to her night clothing and quickly stuffed herself into her plush queen-sized bed. A perk of being Head-Girl, her own room and a bigger bed.

She sighed as she contemplated over the events in library. She did not know what prompted her to act the way she did. Yes, she was a compassionate woman, but Malfoy did not deserve that compassion. He was a Death-Eater, he did not deserve anything. It was his eyes, she thought to herself, those sad, helpless, tortured eyes. But slowly her compassion melted away. When he snarled, snatched and snapped at her. He was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Nothing had changed, even if his eyes had.