A/N: I know it's been waaaay too long, and I'm sorry for that. But getting a couple reviews recently has really made me want to continue this story!! So thanks to you! Here's the next chapter. It's finally getting into the parts that I was most excited about writing, so I hope to have the inspiration to keep up with it. Of course, your reviews help me keep in the spirit. =) So I hope you like the chapter. Please let me know what you think about the direction this is going. I know it's a little different.

OOOOOOOOOO

June 2, 2005

"Father, I need to speak with you."

Lucius was in the middle of a meeting with a former Death Eater, and didn't look too pleased about being disturbed. "I'm busy at the moment, Draco. It will have to wait."

"It can't wait. I must speak with you now. Privately." He threw a glance to the man in the corner, whose face was all but hidden from view behind a mane of gray, wiry hair.

Lucius sighed but dismissed the man, inviting Draco to sit across the desk from him. "What is so bloody important that it couldn't wait an hour? Do you have any idea who that man is?"

"I don't care who he is. He can't possibly be of any help to us."

"He just so happens to be very powerful."

"He's weak."

"He is old. He is not weak."

"He's a liability."

"I assure you, Draco – "

"Enough Father." Draco held a hand up to silence him. "I didn't come here to discuss business."

Lucius looked at the features of his son's face – so similar to his own – and sighed. "What is it?"

Draco, trying to choose the best plan of action, looked at his left hand resting on the arm of the chair. His fingers were tapping nervously on the black velvet. He shifted his gaze to his right hand, doing the same on the opposite arm. "I want to talk to you about Hermione Granger."

Lucius's indifferent expression faltered; he was a bit taken aback. "I thought this wasn't about business."

Anger briefly flashed in Draco's eyes. His father saw Hermione as business. He would never see her as anything else. But Draco had to try. "It's not."

Lucius stared, curiously, at his son. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"She's off the list."

"The list?"

"Yes."

Lucius worked hard to keep his expression vague. "What list are you – "

"Oh Father, come off it. I know there's a list and I know her name is at the top of it."

Lucius didn't know what expression to wear. He was surprised by Draco's request, confused as to why, and disappointed that he was going to have to follow the order. "Why do this?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, taking a defensive position and preparing to defend himself and Hermione. "She's not a threat."

"She's the second biggest threat we face! She's in league with Potter, Draco. She's trying to destroy us!"

"Actually, it's us that's trying to destroy people. And she's not with Potter anymore."

"And how do you know?"

"I just know."

"Draco – " Lucius let out an exasperated sigh. "You can't trust rumor. I know you heard that Mudblood was working in Knockturn Alley, but I assure you it's not the case. It was made up to defer us, Draco; to make us think the Order has broken apart. Don't you understand? It's all a trick."

"It's not a trick."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I've spoken with her."

"You've spoken with her?"

"Yes."

"And she's still alive?"

"Of course." What did he think? That Draco would just kill Hermione on the spot?

"Listen, I don't know how you talked to her, or why, but you can't trust whatever she's told you. The entire operation can be blown if we don't execute her."

Draco had to calm his temper with a few deep breaths during the conversation. All this talk of killing Hermione was angering him far beyond what was safe in front of his father. "Father – I don't take orders from you when it comes to this…" he searched for the right word, "business. I make the calls, remember? That's the way you wanted it."

"Yes, only because I thought you could handle it. If I had thought you'd be thinking with your sexual urges, I'd never had – "

"Dad! Stop! That's not what this is about. She doesn't deserve to die because she believes in something different than you."

"Different than I?" Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Us. Different than us." Draco tried to smooth his mistake over as a slip of the tongue, but he was sure it didn't go unnoticed.

Lucius was thoroughly curious. It was unlike Draco to defend Mudbloods, especially this particular Mudblood. And at a time like this? They were merely months away from executing their attack. Draco was becoming more and more of a Dark Lord every day. He had a long way to go yet, but still he was well on his way. Lucius didn't understand what could have happened to change his attitude. Draco was just getting back to normal after months of obvious peculiarity. When he was sneaking around with that girl (Lucius had later gotten Draco to admit that it was someone from the stocks department of the firm), Draco was not himself. In a matter of a day, he seemed to have slipped right back into the same attitude. "What exactly did the Mudblood say to you?"

Draco sighed to keep himself from exploding on his father. He really wished Lucius would stop with the name-calling. "It doesn't matter. Just take her off the list." He stood to leave. It wasn't all he came to discuss, but it would have to do for now. He could tell that his father wouldn't be willing to accept any other news today

"Fine, I'll take her off. But I can't help it if she's killed by…accident." He smirked as he watched Draco turn around on the spot.

"She will not die by accident." He narrowed his eyes. "That's an order."

Lucius stuck his chin out defiantly. Why had he ever had the bright idea to put his stubborn, stupid son in charge? "I can't control that. If she gets in the way – "

"She won't get in the way."

"You can't know that! She could – "

"She won't be in the way. She's not going to know about this war."

"Draco, how do you know she isn't with Potter right now, telling him all about your little reunion?"

"Because she's upstairs!" Draco blurted out.

Lucius's eyes flashed with anger and his face drained of the little color it held. "What did you say?"

Oh shit. He'd hoped to break this news a little more gently. "Hermione is upstairs."

"In this house?"

"Yes."

"The hell she is." Lucius stormed out of his office, with Draco on his heels.

"Father!"

Lucius turned sharply up the staircase. "Of all the stupid things you've ever done, Draco, I cannot believe you brought a Mudblood into this house!"

Draco angrily threw a curse in front of his father, causing the staircase to shake.

Lucius turned to look at his son in shock. He had never seen Draco look so angry, so harsh, so much like himself.

"Do not call her a Mudblood."

Lucius drew his wand and pointed it to Draco's throat. "Never attempt to curse me again."

Draco scoffed. "I didn't try to curse you. If I had, I would have succeeded."

"Draco Malfoy, I don't know what to do with you. You're obviously delusional if you're protecting a Mudblood."

Draco started forward, but was held back by a jab of the wand at his neck.

"What is going on here?"

Both men turned their heads to the foot of the stairs. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the nearest archway, wearing all black with her bright blonde hair pulled into a low, long ponytail. She had an apple in her hand and look of disgust on her face. "Lucius, put your bloody wand away. Whatever he's done, it's not enough to die for."

"You may disagree. He's brought a Mudblood into our home."

"It's not the first time, and don't call her that." Draco suddenly felt much braver – safer – with his mother there. At least his father wouldn't lose his temper so easily.

Lucius did a double take and widened his eyes angrily. So this had been going on for a while, then. Perhaps Hermione Granger had been Draco's little love interest this whole time. This angered him further, to know that not only was his only son sticking up for Mudbloods, but he was sleeping with one, too. He'd thought Draco had better taste.

Narcissa stared at her boys, from one pale face to the other, unsure of how to react. She registered her husband's murderous glare, but her son's pained expression took precedent. "The Granger girl," she guessed.

They both looked at her, surprised.

"Mum, how did you know?"

She winked. "Mothers know everything, Draco."

Draco smirked. Of course she knew. She was the one from whom Draco got his intelligence, after all.

"Lucius, why don't we go have a cup of tea in the garden, hmm?"

"Because there's a Mudblood in my house, that's why!"

Draco raised his wand to his father. "I told you – "

Lucius mimicked the movement.

"Boys!"

They both took a deep breath and forced themselves to lower their wands.

"Come, Lucius."

"But – " he looked between his wife and son. "Didn't you hear what he's done?"

"Yes, Dear. I'm sure everyone in Britain heard. Now, come along. You can talk to your son later."

Lucius gave in with a glare to Draco, who tried to hide his relief.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get back to your guest?"

Draco was surprised at how calm his mother was. Had she really known about he and Hermione the whole time? Was she expecting this, then?

Narcissa linked her arm around her husband's and began to walk through the foyer. "Draco – there's some breakfast in the kitchen for you two." She winked again as Lucius threw one last glare, and the couple disappeared through the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

Hermione felt warm when she woke. John must have turned the heat up for some reason. She wiggled in her bed, finding her tattered quilt strangely soft. The flat mattress was also unusually comfortable, seeming not to be lumpy at all.

Slowly beginning to wake from sleep, Hermione furrowed her brow. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be this warm, this pleasant, in the morning. Something was off.

Regrettably lifting her head from the bed, her eyes met a dark room, but she was able to recognize shapes of some of the furniture. She was sitting smack in the middle of a very large four-poster bed. In the corner was a desk, piled high with books. A lamp stood near it, and a waste can sat in front, overflowing with papers. To her right, a wall stood bare, with a glowing box all around it. It took a moment, but she recognized this as a curtained window, with light seeping in around the edges.

She stood from the bed in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants she didn't think belonged to her, and approached the thick curtains. She located the center, and with a quick jerk, pulled the panels open. She had to squint her eyes as the bright sunlight flooded the room. After giving her eyes a while to adjust, she was able to look out across the grand countryside in front of her. The morning sun shone brightly behind the mountains, creating a shadow on the green grass below. Where the sun was touching the grass, it glistened with dew; and the river in the distance sparkled as it flowed swiftly by. There were people outside, dressed in white, working with the many flowers, plants and trees. When Hermione saw two stunningly beautiful white peacocks strut across the lawn, she knew exactly where she was.

With a gasp, she turned to face the bedroom. In the light, the shapes of the room made more sense to her now. She'd been here before. She'd slept in the silver poster bed, cuddled in the green velvet linens, and showered in the adjoining bathroom. She'd read the titles of the books on the desk; she'd put that waste can on her head once while she was drunk. She'd twice stubbed her toe on the trunk at the foot of the bed. And she'd only been here once before. It was the last truly happy experience of her life. The only thing missing from the scene was the person she shared it all with.

Realizing with a stab of fear that she was alone, she began to think it was an illusion. After all, rum had once made her believe she was a vampire in an Ancient Egyptian temple. Who knew what vodka was capable of?

Wanting to leave the room to explore, but fearing what waited on the other side, she decided to just wash up instead. If it was really a dream, there couldn't be any harm in showering, right?

OOOOOOOOOO

Outside the bathroom, Hermione heard a soft sound. Recognizing it as the door closing, she froze. There were the sounds of footsteps, followed by a pause, and a somewhat alarmed voice. "Hermione?"

Hermione sucked in a breath. This wasn't a dream. And he wasn't a dream. It was all very real. She was in Draco Malfoy's bathtub, in his room, in his house. And he was outside the door looking for her. She jumped from the tub, splashing water on the floor, grabbed a towel, and dashed out the door.

He was standing in a beam of brilliant sunlight. The highlights in his hair reflected the sun as brightly as his gray eyes. The look of relief that hit the features of his face made Hermione's heart melt. She knew then that she had finally found her home.

OOOOOOOOOO

The look on his face didn't say it all. But it said enough. There was no mistaking how I felt for him in that moment. He looked like he felt the same for me. And if I hadn't have known better, I would have believed that he did. But knowing Draco Malfoy as I did, I knew it wasn't what it seemed. He was caring and loving. And he cared for me. But he didn't love me. And at that moment – I couldn't bring myself to care whether he loved me or not. All I knew was that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I was with him. And that's all I needed.

After making love right there on his bedroom floor, we had a lot to sort out. I was clearly unwelcome in his house, by his father's standards, at least. Draco's mother was very kind, surprisingly. I'd never imagined she could be so…nice. But Draco had to learn that little bit of compassion he had from somewhere. And I knew it wasn't from Lucius.

I refused to leave the safety of Draco's bedroom for days. I didn't trust what his father would do to me. Draco assured me that his father had calmed down, and Narcissa had gotten him to see reason. But I still couldn't face that man. He scared the living daylights out of me before I was an unwanted guest in his home, before I'd clearly been marked for death – I could only imagine what coming face to face with him would have been like. But when Draco finally did coax me out of the room for a family dinner, I got to see the full extent of Lucius's hatred for me.

It was the most uncomfortable formal situation I'd ever been in. For one, I hadn't eaten at a dining room table in months. I had forgotten many manners of correct etiquette. For another thing, I was being served by house-elves. I didn't like that the Malfoy's had these servants. I was very against it, but I never saw them mistreated in my presence, so I kept my mouth shut. Lastly, and most importantly, I was a Mudblood sitting at a Pureblood table. It was one of the first things Lucius mentioned as we sat for dinner. That there had never been anyone other than the pure of blood to sit at his father's table, and now it was all ruined. Narcissa had laid into him well for that one, and Draco threw some dirty looks while squeezing my hand under the table. I decided then that Lucius would never accept me. I tried to get Draco to let me leave. Oh, I could have gone any time I wanted, if that's what I really wanted. He wasn't physically keeping me in the house. But he wanted me to stay, and I wanted to stay. But I also wanted away from Lucius. And I wanted Draco to want me to leave, too. It would give me an excuse to get out. But as long as Draco wanted me there – I was there, like he was there for me.

Months passed in this awkward little arrangement. I tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. I rarely ventured downstairs, and when I did, it was when Lucius and Draco were both at work. I somehow managed to form a bond with Narcissa. She stayed home as well, and I often found myself talking to her during the day while we were alone. She was nothing like I thought she would be, and yet she was much like Draco. I expected her to be very serious and cold, but she was actually warm and friendly. It amazed me at first, honestly. But then I got used to it. Draco started to notice how Narcissa and I got along. I couldn't really understand his reaction to it. All I know is that he wasn't angry. I was getting better at remembering how to read his expressions, but I still wasn't up to par.

I think a lot of it attributed to the alcohol that I continued to drink nightly. Draco and I slipped back into our old routine. Booze and sex. Over and over again. Night after night. The only difference now was that I wasn't writing letters anymore. I was just thinking and feeling. And the freedom was wonderful. I realized that Lucius wasn't around as often as I'd assumed. And to my surprise, neither was Draco. They often went missing at the same time. I was already suspicious of those two, and their frequent disappearances furthered my curiosity.

Freedom was actually something that I had a lot of in Malfoy Manor, once I'd gotten over my cowardliness and taken advantage of it. It was so large that I could actually go 'exploring.' I had found all kinds of amazing things in the house. Ancient figurines, rousing books, and mysterious hidden passageways were among the things I came across daily. It was one night, though, that changed everything. I was wandering through the Manor, when I came to Lucius's study. I should have known better than to go in, but there was this mysterious, sort of thumping sound coming from the otherwise empty room. I let my curiosity get the better of me; and soon discovered what Draco and Lucius were really up to. What I found chilled my blood, but enlivened me at the same time.

OOOOOOOOOO

September 20, 2005

Where was that banging coming from? There was nobody in this room, but the noise sounded so close. Hermione followed the next crash to a bookcase on the wall. She noticed there was a strange draft coming from the edges. "What in the world?"

Hermione examined the shelves and found something unusual. She was momentarily distracted by the familiar names of the books on the shelf. She smiled, knowing that they were some of Draco's favorites. She turned her attention back to a lever underneath the shelf. She checked the room to make sure she wasn't being watched, and pulled the lever. The draft turned to a gust of wind as the bookcase opened with a shudder to reveal a descending staircase. Hermione took a moment to muster her courage as she stared at the colorful glow at the foot of the stairs. It reminded her of a television show she used to watch – one about a mad scientist.

She hesitated, thinking that maybe she should ask Draco about this first, but took a step down anyway. As she continued, the sounds became more distinct. She could hear something boiling. A potion, maybe? It would explain the laboratory feel of the space. She also heard things moving. And grunting. Not things – people. They sounded tired, and stressed – like they were fighting. Every so often there would be a bang or crash. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped off the last step and turned to the left where the noise originated. She couldn't help but let a gasp escape.

Standing across the large room from here were two tall, slender blond men. Lucius was clad in his usual black, but had shed his heavy cloak. Draco was unusually clothed in only a pair of black athletic pants. Where did he even get those? Hermione wondered. They were both drenched in sweat. Lucius's hair was looking greasier than normal, and Draco's dripped when he moved his head. His chest was glistening through what little blond chest hair he had, and Hermione took the time to appreciate his body. She'd seen it many times in the past several months, but had never been sober enough to fully understand his beauty. Her eyes, however, were quickly averted to the rapid movements his right arm was making. There, he held his wand, and across from him, Lucius did the same. They were dueling. And Draco was losing.

Hermione fought the urge to whip out her wand and help him. Instead, she just watched intensely, as the battle heated. She could tell by the expression on Draco's face that he wasn't in any real danger. They were only doing this for practice – for reasons that Hermione couldn't fathom. She slowly became mesmerized by their precision and grace – and by their strength. She had seen them both in battle before, but this time was different. Maybe it was because she was an onlooker, and not the opposing team that made their skillful dueling so interesting to observe.

It took her a while to even notice that she hadn't heard the names of the curses they were using. Lucius didn't have to say many of his curses – he was so skilled that he could perform them silently. And Draco, even, only had to speak a few of them aloud. The ones Hermione could hear, however, were unfamiliar, and she had a strange feeling that they spawned form dark magic.

The duel continued until Draco finally surrendered. Lucius was happy that he had won, but disappointed in his son's concession. The look on his face changed from satisfaction, to disgust, to pure shock when he turned and saw Hermione at the bottom of the staircase.

Oh Merlin.

He was going to kill her – she knew it. He was going to throw one of those curses in her direction, and she'd have no idea what to try and defend herself from. It was all about to be over. She looked to Draco one last time – so that she would always remember his face as the last thing she would ever see in this life. But his expression shook her up so much that she forgot all about dying. He looked surprised, yes, but she thought she picked up a trace of relief on his face. It was as if he'd been glad she found out their dirty little secret – glad that she knew the truth about whom he was. He was a Death Eater. Still. They both were. Hermione thought they were all dead or converted. But here stood two of them. And from what she just witnessed, two of the most deadly.

It was strange what she was feeling at the moment. She was appalled by what they were doing – especially Draco. The last time someone had started something like this, Draco had lost two loved ones. She couldn't understand why he would risk going through all that again. Because he doesn't have anybody left to lose, she thought. She also felt pity. Draco didn't look like he wanted to be standing there, dueling with his father and thinking of a way to explain this all to her. He looked like this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. But the surprising thing was that she felt…intrigued. She was enthralled by what they were doing. They seemed so graceful, skillful, powerful…

OOOOOOOOOO

I didn't know what to think. I was against dark magic, but somehow I didn't fight Draco on the matter. I got the feeling that he was only doing it for his father. It had been a long time since I'd heard Draco speak ill of his father, but I could still tell how he felt. I knew how pressured he was, and I knew how important it was for him to impress Lucius. And even if I didn't agree with it, I wasn't about to refute it.

I just let them go about training, trying to mind my own business. I can't say that I did a very good job at it, though. I found myself sneaking down to the basement to look through all their supplies. The spell books, potions, and weapons were some of the most elaborate I'd seen in the wizarding world. I couldn't believe how smart the wizards that wrote them had to be. They were amazing.

Eventually, Draco found me snooping around and confronted me about it. The conversation was tense. I didn't know how I felt about it, and neither did he. But he explained the importance of what they were doing – what he was doing. He was training to become the next Dark Lord. The news was more than shocking to me. It was almost impossible to accept. But after talking with Draco, and learning his reasons and beliefs, I decided that if this was what he needed to do, then I wasn't going to fight him on it. After all, I was in no position to be deciding what was right and wrong anymore. So as they continued to train, I began to watch. And learn a little bit on my own.

OOOOOOOOOO

October 10, 2005

"Draco, could you come in here please?"

As he passed by the library, his mother called out to him. He put a smile on his face and opened the slightly ajar door. "Yes, Mum?"

"Sweetheart, come have a seat." She put down her book and patted the sofa beside her, moving her slender, outstretched legs to make room for him.

Draco gave a fake smile. He was a little nervous about this talk. His mother didn't do this kind of thing often, but when she did want to have a serious talk, it was either bad or embarrassing. He sat down with grace, forcing himself to turn toward her so his body language didn't give away his discomfort.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what, Mother?" He took on his professional voice.

Narcissa chuckled. "Calm down, Boy. There's nothing to be so serious about. I just wanted to talk about Hermione."

Draco noticeably tensed. He tried to think of anything that he and Hermione might have done to bring attention to themselves, but other than drinking and having sex in his parents' house, he was coming up blank.

"Draco, I'm concerned."

So was it the drinking? Or the sex? Oh God, please don't let her want to talk about the sex. Please.

"I've been talking to Hermione a lot lately, as I'm sure you know."

Draco was appalled. My God! Could she have really been talking to his mother about their sex life?

"I've noticed some things about the two of you that worry me."

Draco couldn't take it anymore. "Look, Mum, please don't, okay? Can we please not talk about this?"

"Narcissa was confused by the disgusted look on Draco's face. "What?"

"Yes, Mum, Hermione and I are um…" he searched for the most appropriate word to use in front of his mother, "intimate. But I really don't want to talk about it and there's no need for you to be worried."

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, I wasn't talking about…" she, too, searched for the right word, "that."

"Y – you weren't?"

"No! I haven't the slightest interest in your…well, you know." She gave a disgusted shiver of her own.

Draco cocked his head to the side. On the one hand, he was interested. Because if that's not what she was so worried about, then what was? And on the other hand, he was mortified and angry with himself, for bringing the subject up unnecessarily.

"Oh, well, you know that if you ever need to talk about…anything, you can always come to me." She quickly made that clear.

Draco nodded his head, eager to get on to the real subject and forget this whole conversation ever happened. "Yeah, I know. Now what did you really want to talk about?"

"Well – I've noticed things about you, Draco." She softened her voice, trying to be delicate. "You've changed."

"Changed?" Draco wasn't quite sure where she was going with this.

"Grown. You've grown up so much, my baby." She lovingly ran her hand through his chin-length hair, tucking it just behind his ear. "And I know that a lot of it has been the fault of your father and myself. We made you grown up entirely too fast. And I'm so sorry for that – for dragging you into our mistakes."

Draco frowned. He never knew that his mother thought that way. He hadn't made the choice to grow up so fast, but neither had she. As for his father…yeah, okay, he might be partly to blame. But even though it wasn't her fault, Draco still thought it was nice of somebody to apologize.

"Honey, I don't want you to miss out on anything else. You missed being a child. You've always been like a miniature adult." She smirked. It was very similar to Lucius's and Draco's, but different coming from her feminine lips. It was much more like Hermione's.

"Mum, it's – "

"Don't say it's okay. It isn't."

Draco smiled. She could always read him so well. He didn't know why he even tried to hide things from her sometimes.

"You've had to deal with things that no one should ever have to. You've seen things that children should never see. You've had to give up so many things."

"But I've gained a lot, too, Mum. You just don't see it like I do." He was referring to Hermione. He didn't want to regret anything that's happened to him. Because it brought them together. And even if he was the only person in the world to ever know that, it was all right, because it's what kept him going.

"I know. I do see it. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I can see what a difference Hermione has made in your life. She's a lovely girl, Draco, and you're lucky to have each other. I just wanted to make sure you understand that it's okay to tell her."

Draco laughed uncomfortably. "Tell her what?"

Narcissa looked at him accusingly. He didn't fool her. Why would he even try? "You know what."

Draco looked to his lap – somewhat embarrassed, and somewhat saddened, because the truth was that he couldn't tell her.

"She should know."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't feel the same way."

"I think she does."

"She told you?" He looked up hopefully.

"She didn't have to. I can see it in her eyes when she talks about you."

Draco lowered his gaze again, downhearted. "You can never tell with Hermione."

"I can. And I could tell it in yours if you'd look at me." She lightly lifted Draco's chin.

Draco hated it, but his eyes started to water. "I don't know what to do."

"Just tell her."

"You don't understand! I can't do it! I'm not strong enough."

"Draco, you can. I promise you that you have the strength. You're the strongest person I know. You've got incredible resilience, Son; and a beautiful heart that you should share with her. I assure you that you can."

Draco was silent. He was toying with the idea that his mother might be right about Hermione – the she might just feel the same way. But she was so in love with Weasley back then. Draco didn't see how she could love anyone else – much less him.

"What is it?" Narcissa frowned at her son's painful expression. "Are you afraid?"

Draco suddenly stood, somewhat angrily, and paced in front of the sofa. "Of course I'm afraid!" he shouted. "The last person that I – " he stopped, taking a deep breath and counting to ten to calm down. "Sorry." He apologized for having a temper with his mother.

She merely smiled sadly. "Darling, it's okay to be afraid. But you can't be so scared that you don't follow your heart. I understand your reluctance to feel that way about anyone again – especially after your heart took such a big blow. But you can't help it. You've already fallen in love with her."

Draco looked up at his mother. For a moment, their eyes locked, and the force of her words came down on him. He did love Hermione. He'd flirted with the idea of it for a long time, he had even tried to admit it to himself a couple times; but he'd never actually thought that anyone else could ever know. But now his mother was fully aware. And she was supportive, unlike Draco thought anyone would ever be. Having just one person to know he loved Hermione made it seem so much more real. He could only imagine how it would feel if she knew the truth. He made up his mind, then, that he was going to tell her. He had to. He owed it to her to tell her how he really felt.

But what if she doesn't feel the same way?

It didn't matter. No matter how Hermione felt about him, he needed her to know.

With a deep breath and an affirming nod of his head, he kissed his mother on the cheek. "Thanks, Mum." He exited the library and checked his watch. It was nearly ten o'clock, and he knew where Hermione would be – out on the terrace, drinking the pain of the night away.

OOOOOOOOOO

They were words that would have been better left unspoken. But he had to say them. He felt compelled to tell her the truth. She deserved to know.

Though they shouldn't surprise her, he would be surprised by however she reacted. He didn't have any idea where she stood, and was both looking forward to and dreading her response. For if she loved him back, he could revel in the fact that they felt the same way, but it would make for some complications in his current…career tract. And if she didn't love him, it would make things so much simpler, but he had to admit to himself that he would be close to devastated.

He walked out of his bedroom and onto the terrace where Hermione was sitting in a cushioned chair. She had her hand wrapped loosely around a bottle of Jack Daniels, which was resting on her folded knee. Her head was resting against the chair, and her eyes were closed. She was wrapped in a blue blanket and had on jeans, a read sweater, and fuzzy house slippers. It was cold, and the hot breath hitting the crisp air showed her even breathing. Draco knew she was close to passing out. She looked so peaceful.

"Hermione?"

Her name arose a stir from her otherwise still body.

"Hermione." He knelt down on the ground in front of her.

She drowsily fluttered her teary eyes open – her eyelashes close to freezing together.

Draco assessed her tears, though he was used to her crying as she drank late at night. "You okay?'

She smiled and nodded her head, leaning it back and closing her eyes again.

Draco sighed. She was so pitiful. "Can we talk?"

It took a minute, but she replied, "mmm-hmm."

"Hermione, I need you to ay attention."

She took a deep, exhausted breath and opened her heavy eyelids. "I am paying attention," she slurred; and she took a drink of whiskey.

He smiled sadly. "To me, Honey. I need you to pay attention to me."

She smiled. "Okay." She reached out for him and planted a long, simple kiss on his lips.

Draco's heart raced at her touch, and kissed her for a moment before breaking it off. "That's not what I meant, Love." He surprised himself. He'd called her that before, but not since realizing his real feelings for her.

"Hmm, okay." She lazily slumped back into her original position, keeping her eyes closed. She reached for the bottle again, but this time it was gently pulled from her grasp.

"Why don't we put this away for tonight?"

She whined, but shifted in the seat, preparing for the sleep that was creeping up on her.

"Hermione, are you listening?"

"Yeah." She managed to form a word rather that just a sound, so Draco took it as a good enough confirmation that she was.

"Okay." He paused to collect his thought. "Do you remember when you came here a year ago, and told me that we had to stop blaming ourselves for everything that had happened? That we needed to get it together and move on?"

Hermione's thoughts were fuzzy. She could hear Draco's muffled voice. Was he covering his mouth? She couldn't tell – her eyes wouldn't open on their own and she didn't have the strength to force them. She was close to falling asleep, but she could still process Draco's voice. Of course she remembered that – how could she forget? That was the day she fell in love with him. She tried to speak, but was so sleepy that it only sounded like a grunt.

"Well, I think you're right. We do need to move on. Together."

Hermione couldn't tell if he had stopped talking or if it was just her. But she couldn't hear him anymore. She was slipping into unconsciousness. She could feel herself being pulled away from reality – into the darkness.

"…And that's why I have to tell you this. I know it might not be the right time, but if I don't say it now, I never will." Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I love you, Hermione Granger. And I want you to stay with me – forever."

The silence didn't shock him. He'd expected her to be speechless for a moment. But the fact that it lingered did draw his attention. He finally pulled his gaze to her face, which was peaceful and still. She showed no emotion. Her body hadn't shifted in the slightest.

He sighed.

She hadn't heard him.

Draco shook his head, feeling sadder because she didn't know than he could have felt towards any reaction she gave. He said it, finally, and she was too wasted to hear it. With a sigh, he picked up her seemingly lifeless body and carried her to bed. Tucking her in, he gave one last regretful sigh. She was so beautiful. He loved her so much. And he didn't think he'd ever have the strength to say it again.

OOOOOOOOOO

I wasn't sure what brought it on, but I noticed that, there for a while, Draco became more distant from me. He wasn't as affectionate (not that he was ever a big cuddly teddy bear or anything), and he spent more and more time with his father. Training.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about the whole ordeal. Especially after Draco started keeping his distance from me. He became grouchy and borderline mean at times. He seemed so bitter. I didn't know what I'd done to bring on the hatefulness, so I attributed it to his increased obsession with Death Eater Training.

I took to watching him quite often. Lucius didn't like it – he still wasn't convinced I wasn't just a spy or something. But a spy for who? The Order of the Phoenix? Please. I knew the Order wasn't assembled. There was no need. You-Know-Who was dead and gone. Nobody saw any need for the Order. They didn't have any idea that a new Dark Lord was coming closer to power, and that if he had a little bit of proper guidance, he would be very strong.

OOOOOOOOOO

November 2, 2005

"Avada Kedavra!"

The sack of flour in the corner of the Malfoy's dark basement didn't budge. It merely sat there, mocking its competitor.

"You have to mean it, Draco. Try it a little louder." Lucius Malfoy carried an armful of potion ingredients from one room to the next.

Draco sighed. "It's no use. If I can't curse a bloody sack of flour, I can't curse a wizard."

"Well," Lucius condescendingly put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "It should be easier to curse a good wizard. They're arguably dumber than that old sack." He laughed, and peered out of the corner of his eyes at Hermione, who was across the room examining some spell books.

But she wasn't bothered by his petty little comments anymore. She'd gotten used to them by now.

Draco wasn't amused, and shook off Lucius's hand. "They're not stupid."

Lucius was a little surprised. "Defending them, now, are you, Draco?"

"I'm not defending anyone. We're the ones attacking, remember, Dad? They're on the defense."

"They don't even know what's coming."

"Which is why this is so unfair!

"Fair!"

Even Hermione looked up from her book when Lucius raised his voice. She was used to him being angry, but he didn't usually yell.

"Has any part of your life been fair, Draco? These wizards you defend – has anything they have done been out of fairness? They pretend to be selfless and charitable, but they only do it for their own credibility. They kill our kind, because they think we're so much worse. It's nothing if a dark wizard is killed. Not to them. The consequences for murder only exist for those of us who didn't invent them."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, quizzically. As she thought about his abnormally insightful statement, she realized that he might be right. Maybe it wasn't the Death Eaters who were always wrong. Perhaps some of the blame for the constant strife lied with good wizards, as well.

"This is why, Draco, you must be strong. You have to fight the unfairness and rise above it. You have to give one hundred percent if you want to succeed."

Draco sighed. He knew his father was right. If he was going to go through with this, he had to do it completely. Either give it all or back out. "And what if I don't want to succeed? What if I change my mind and decide not to do this?"

"Not to become the Dark Lord?" Lucius was baffled by such preposterous news.

"Yes."

Lucius took a deep breath, while Hermione watched on attentively. "Then tell me now. And I'll find a replacement."

"Does the same apply if I can't do it?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Then we shall find a way to handle the situation in a discreet and appropriate manner."

Hermione knew what that meant. She had spent enough time around Lucius to know what his subtle death threats sounded like. She could tell that Draco was about to respond to the threat, and knew that nothing good would come of it. She'd witnessed a heated duel between the two the last time they'd been angry. Draco swore he was all right, but Hermione didn't believe him. He knew Lucius had hurt him, whether it was intentional or not. She couldn't let him hurt Draco again.

"I want to try." She jumped from her seat without thinking. She needed something to distract them both so that they didn't start fighting. And to be honest, she was a bit curious.

Lucius laughed. Yeah right, like she was going to be able to do anything.

"Are you mad, Hermione?" Draco immediately tore his attention away from his father.

"No, Draco. I really want to try."

"But – but it's an Unforgivable Curse."

"I've done a lot of unforgivable things. I can't imagine that one more would hurt." She stepped up to Draco's position and gently pushed him out of the way. "Besides, it's only a sack of flour, right?"

Draco, mouth hanging open, backed out of the way; he was at a loss for anything else to do.

Lucius found the whole situation very entertaining. He was in a mood for a little laughter, anyway. Why not let her try it? It wasn't like Draco was actually getting anywhere. "All right, Mudblood, let's see what you've got."

Hermione narrowed her eyes to him and drew her wand. The name-calling only made her that much more determined. She reverted her attention back to the inanimate object. She stared at it with as much hatred as she could muster. She thought about Draco's stupid friends, starting a fire in the Room of Requirement. She thought about Snape, murdering Dumbledore. She thought about Ginny, kicking her out of the Burrow. She thought about ProfessorTrelawney, pissing her off in her third year. She thought about John firing her, Lord Voldemort wreaking havoc on the wizarding world, Wormtail causing Sirius and Harry not to be together, Lavender Brown always flirting with Ron, Rita Skeeter printing false news about her in the Daily Prophet, and Lucius, always treating her like the scum of the earth and never giving her a chance to prove herself.

Well now was her chance. She raised her wand, and thought lastly of herself, and how she had wasted so much time fighting for things that would never happen. Fighting for good – which would never exist in this world.

With a sudden surge of conviction, she narrowed her eyes and brought all this pent up anger to her lips, to make them say the words that, until now, she'd been terrified of and sure that she would never say. "Avada Kedavra!"

The room echoed with the sounds of the blast. White powder fell like snow all around the three wizards. They were covered head to toe; Lucius and Draco's pale hair barely showed through the flour on their heads. Hermione breathed hard, not taking her eyes off the corner where the bag had just been destroyed, and not caring that she was breathing in flour. The power she felt when saying the Killing Curse made her shiver with excitement. She stared in disbelief at what had just happened; but she also stared with a hint of superiority. She had been able to blast the sack. And Draco hadn't.

It didn't go unnoticed by either Draco or Lucius, who were just as quiet and motionless as Hermione for a moment. When Lucius had accepted what just happened, he approached Hermione from the back and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Good hit – Miss Granger."

Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about her.