I was aware that I was kissing back as I felt Draco's hands holding my face gently, his thumbs stroking my still damp, tear-streaked cheeks. I let him kiss me, though I was still very doubtful of his words. "I love you," He had said. It was so, so hard to believe anyone could...I felt the tip of his tongue touching my lower lip slightly in a shy manner. The Sex God of Slytherin acting shy? How the hell had that happened?

His thumb brushed against the place Harry had hit me and an unceremonious whimper escaped my lips, blowing air across his mouth, and I pulled back from the kiss. A sudden terror filled my eyes as I looked up at him, and he immediately pulled his hands and face away from me. He knew why I was scared; knew what I was scared about. I bit my lower lip where his tongue had touched, averting my eyes. He seemed so…so openly worried. So frightened for me. Could it be? Could Draco Malfoy really love a Weasley—and a Gryffindor, none the less—like me?

He put his hand under my chin, and when I didn't blanch he proceeded to tip my face up towards him some, stepping closer to me carefully, and turning my head to the side gently to inspect the place where he assumed I was hurt. When he saw the dark bruise adorning my pale skin, his gorgeous grey eyes widened. I'd always thought the older boy was gorgeous; but what always took away from his looks was his asinine, cruel behavior. I desperately hoped these sweet gestures and words weren't all part of some sweet façade, and at the same time, I couldn't help but pray that this wasn't going to change my views on him. I didn't really want to become involved with someone romantically…not after what Harry had done; being cheated on for two years and then being broken up with was one thing. Being raped, though, went to a whole 'nother level.

"Does it hurt?" Draco asked suddenly, his voice quietly. My eyes, which I had directed somewhere else, flit back towards him.

I assumed that he meant my cheek. I let him hold my chin up and brush his fingers against the bruise. That didn't hurt, just pressure. I shrugged. "I'm sore everywhere," I mumbled quietly, my eyes downcast once more. When I looked up at him, he was nibbling on his lower lip, seemingly in thought. I wondered, as I had many times earlier, if I could trust him. When I thought about trust, I thought about Harry.

When I thought about Harry, I burst into tears. Again.

Draco was immediately pulled from his thoughts, surprised by my fresh tears, and I found myself horrified as he wrapped his arms around me, leaning against the window sill to hold me close to his firm chest. I let myself bury my head in his chest, my tears spilling against his Slytherin uniform, and he made soft, comforting cooing sounds, trying to help me stop crying. It felt so, so good to be held; to be comforted! Was I giving in to what I thought were Draco's lies? Was I starting to believe he did love me?

Thinking about it, maybe it wasn't so far-fetched. As my tears slowed, I realized maybe he had always been cruel to me because he was afraid of what his judgmental Slytherin peers would think if he admitted to crushing on a Weasley, and a Gryffindor and so-called blood traitor at that. We certainly did have a relationship; not a normal one, not a healthy one and not a compatible one—up until now, that is--, but it was a relationship. A five-year long relationship, actually…

He started rubbing my back, and another 'theory' came into mind. Maybe he'd said it because he felt pity for me. Pity for the girl who had just gotten raped, abused. This could all be a trap, a trick, some stupid façade.

So many times today I'd thought that. I pushed him away, my fingers twisting into his shirt as I kept him an arm's length away and looked up at him with bloodshot, clouded eyes. "You better not be lying to me," I said weakly. "I'll fucking kill you if you're lying. If you're trying to trick me or make fun of me or, even more important, are just trying to get into my goddamned pants, I'll kill you in slowly. Painfully."

I couldn't believe he actually cracked a smile at my words. He seemed amused by this, but at the same time, incredulous that I'd say such a thing. He shook his head, that pale, shaggy blond hair tickling his cheeks. "I'd never lie about loving someone, and I'd never make fun of someone who had already gone through enough hell," he said softly, and somehow I knew that these words were only applicable to me. He sighed, looking past me out the window, and I let him sit beside me on the sill. He grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together and, despite all I'd gone through previously, I felt my heart jump at this simple, sweet gesture. The Slytherin prince…he'd been a death eater—not willingly, but he had been one…being sweet; being caring. Who the hell would've ever thought? "I guess I can't really blame you for not trusting me," Draco said quietly, leaning his head back against the icy window. "I've been nothing but a bloody bastard to you and your family. I'm not going to give you any excuses about that, I know you probably don't want to hear them, although the ones I would tell you are completely true. But I just hope you can come to trust me."

Draco was blushing. The softest, loveliest red tint spread over his porcelain cheeks, and my heart jumped again. I rubbed my eyes as I looked up at him, and he reached over to swipe at a tear I'd missed. Despite his new shyness, embarrassment, whatever it was, he continued explaining himself. "And I'll never tease your or anything—I'm going to take your words seriously, and not risk being beheaded by some angry chick," he winked at me, and to my surprise, I smiled.

Draco Malfoy, one of few enemies I'd ever had in this school, was making me happy.

I couldn't believe it.

a href"http://s156. target"blank" img src"http://i156. border"0" alt"Snow" /a