Disclaimer: All hail J.K. Rowling.

Summary: The one-shot that turned into something longer. Draco's side of the story comes out.

Draco Malfoy paces the floor, his expensive shoes clicking on the marble. Each step reverberates throughout the room, the noise nearly as deafening as the silence he has grown accustomed to. Only one sound is lonelier than his echoing footsteps, and that sound follows him everywhere.

He's heard it since she left him.

After their last kiss, the sound filled his ears, sharply, clearly-the bitter sound of his heart breaking.

Reparo doesn't fix a broken heart.

Tears fall so quickly, so easily.

This is what his life has become. A shadow. A remnant of what he had been, what he could have been.

Hermione Granger was a dementor.

That last kiss sucked the soul out of him.

The plan had been so simple, so deceptively easy.

Meet the Mudblood.

Seduce her.

Get information for Lord Voldemort.

Run like hell.

But he had fallen into the trap so easily.

"The best laid plans of mice and men, Draco," she told him after their first night together.

"Gang aft agley-Robert Burns," he responded automatically, caressing her hair.

She had been impressed. "Could it be that even Purebloods have a bit of culture?" she teased.

It had been a warning. He understood that now. She might has well have told him that it wouldn't last, that nothing could last between them.

The net of lies (and lust) they were caught up in would eventually unravel.

It had been easy, at the beginning.

An owl flew into Draco's window.

"Aren't you a pretty thing," he said, kissing its beak. The owl changed shape, golden feathers turning into a mane of curly golden brown hair.

"I know," Hermione answered.

They knew it was dangerous. They excused themselves, blamed it on the craziness of the war, the hormones, the pent up frustration, the chance of getting information for their respective sides. Neither admitted anything beyond loyalty and a mutual physical attraction.

Draco Malfoy was a fool. He had allowed the love of his life to escape. Yet he could remember a time when he hadn't wanted to see her face ever again.

"Draco, don't!" she screamed as he threw an expensive vase against the wall.

"Don't what?!" His voice was low, menacing. "You're a spy, admit it. This is all a game to you. Crabbe and Goyle almost died because of you, you filthy mudblood whore."

"Fine. I'll admit it." Tears were pouring down her face. "I work for the Order. I have been since graduating from Hogwarts. I slept with you with the intent of getting information to pass to the Order. I used you, shamelessly. I am a whore. I sold myself to you, slept with you, so that others can sleep, safe from Voldemort. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

He stared at the wall silently. His eyes traveled down to the small prisms of glass that had landed on the floor, each broken piece of vase catching the light.

"You thought you were smart, didn't you," she taunted. "You thought you would be rewarded. Bragged to all your friends that you had seduced me and gotten information from me, didn't you. It didn't even click, immediately, that the information I passed on to you was worthless. And you didn't think that I would realize everything you told me was also worthless. You should be more careful where you hide your papers, Malfoy."

He slapped her.

She punched him in the face.

He cursed and grabbed her, cradling her in his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It doesn't matter, any of it. You're you. I'm me. We can't change any of it, but we can be together, can't we?"

"For now. Just know this-I slept with you to help the Order. I never expected to actually like it."

Their lips met, the kiss two parts passion, one part despair, and a hint of something neither of them were willing to admit existed.

Love.

He could admit that now. She still couldn't.

His owls always flew back to him, hungry and still carrying the letters he sent to her. She had disappeared without a trace. Yet something connected their hearts, something that couldn't be broken. But that chain could only be felt-he couldn't follow it to find her at the other end. There was no end. They're love was like a rainbow. No matter how hard he searched for the pot of gold that was Hermione, he wouldn't find her.

"Change sides," she didn't say it pleadingly. She was resigned-She knew Draco would never switch sides.

"I can't." His eyes were hollow all the time now-except when he looked at her.

"The Order needs you, Draco."

"My family needs me, Hermione." He couldn't bear becoming a blood traitor. Even if it meant betraying his heart.

"I need you more."

"And if I stay on Voldemort's side, it will be easier to keep you safe. I'm a trusted follower. I'll know if he's planning to hurt you, and I can protect you." He kissed her forehead.

"I don't want to be protected! I don't want to be coddled and cradled and babied! I'm a grown woman, Draco-or haven't you noticed?"

"Trust me, I've noticed," he muttered under his breath.

She was gone.

If only he had gone to her side. But he couldn't help it being a Death Eater, could he? He couldn't help it any more than Hermione could help being muggle born.

Damn his pureblood integrity.

A/N: So this story was supposed to be a one-shot, but I decided to continue. What do you guys think-should I add more?