Hey, I know it's been a while, but here's the new chapter, please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! Thx

Chapter 4: And The Clock Struck Twelve

Draco Malfoy wasn't quite sure why he had done that. Just as he was gathering up his things, he had slipped the drawing in amongst her papers. She had laughed. Draco missed laughter. Ever since he had been branded a Death Eater and assigned this mission, having fun and laughing were very rare, and lately, there had been none, so to see someone laugh was good for him. It made him forget his mission, forget the stress, the worry, the consequences if he were to fail; in short, it made him feel normal again. The Slytheryn common room - which was where he was now - was full of laughter, but he always felt apart from it. It was all around him, and yet he could not join in. He used to be right in the middle of it, always the center of attention, Draco Malfoy, arrogant, sautering around like Hogwarts was his own. Now, he sat in an armchair in a corner, looking around. His fellow Housemates were all joking, their futures theirs to make, his was set out for him.

Unable to take it anymore, he got up and went to the Room of Requirement. No one followed him. This was normal behaviour for him now, just randomly getting up and leaving the common room. He was fed up with that room, with its seaweed-green light from the lake, the constant insults being thrown back and forth. He had other things to worry about.

Once inside the room, he went straight to the cabinet he had been working on for a few months now. Still, it sat there, broken, mocking him. He snarled at it. Why wouldn't it work? He calmed himself and started his project.

Hours later, he was sitting against the wall of the Room of Requirement, his head in his hands. He was failing and he knew it. The stunt he had pulled with the necklace was reckless and Dumbledore would surely get suspicious if he kept doing stunts like that. Why had his father forced him? He knew why; because he had failed. This was the punishment, his father had to watch as he, Draco, struggled to fulfill the task he had been given. He knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named expected him to fail, but Draco was determined to prove him wrong, he would succeed, nothing would get in the way of him killing Dumbledore.

"I can do this. I can do this!" He told himself. He knew it was a lie; he couldn't do it. He was not a killer. He never will be. It was then that he started to cry, hatred for his father, for his 'fellow' Death Eaters, for the Dark Lord, and most of all, the envy he felt, he was jealous of every one outside of this room, all of his classmates. They were not set out on a path they knew they would not survive, they were not tortured into killing someone. He hated hiding out here, like a mouse in a hole. He was trapped. He could not go anyway, he could not turn back. He thought of Hermione Granger, that mudblood. How was it that her life was so much better than his? How can she have the best grades in the year, better than him? She was below him! Her life should be that of serving Purebloods. And yet, he was the one who was curled up on the floor with no real friends, with a family who, instead of protecting him, had handed him over to the danger, to death. He got to his feet and wiped his tears away ferociously. No! He would not have it.

After what seemed like years, Draco decided that he had been in the room long enough. He opened the door slowly. There was no one in sight. He slipped out, closing the door behind him, and his eyes met someone else's. It was Granger.

"What-"

"You?"

"How?"

"What are you doing here?" whispered Draco.

"I - I could ask you the same question." Hermione replied. They glared at each other, Draco still halfway through the door to the Room. Suddenly, Mrs Norris appeared around the corner, staring at them. The two teenagers stared at the cat before realising the danger.

"Quick!" And Draco dragged the girl by the arm, looking round to see, to his relief, that the Room of Requirement had reappeared behind him, and dragged Granger in with him. Once through, he shut the door firmly, and looked round. They were standing in a small room, not unlike a common room, with a fire, what looked like a grand piano and a brown sofa. They stood there for a second or two, listening intently, but they heard nothing. The room was utterly silent, only the sound of their breathing could be heard.

"Uh, Malfoy, you can let go of my arm now." He looked down and saw that he was, indeed, still holding onto her arm. He let go.

"Just be glad I save you, Granger, or would you have prefered being caught and being in detention?" He sneered. She looked at him.

"Thank you." She said finally. She then turned her attention to the piano, looking at it with an air of curiosity, and walked slowly towards it. She sat on the stool and ran her fingers along the keys.

"Do you play?" Draco asked.

"A bit. I used to, I haven't in a while." She looked longingly at the black and white keys. Draco walked towards her.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the instrument. Hermione nodded and stood up. Draco took her place and stared at the keys. Slowly, he placed his fingers on the piano and started playing a piece that he had learned recently. It was a soft tune, a melancholic one, heartbreaking. It was one of his mother's favorite. As he played, Hermione looked on in awe, as Draco's fingers glided effortlessly over the keys. He stopped abruptly and stood up, startling the girl.

"Are you alright?" she asked timidly. Draco stared at the instrument. What was he doing? He was playing piano in front of a mudblood! A clock struck twelve somewhere in the grounds, the chimes echoing around them, so quiet, but still pressing against their eardrums.

"I should go." He growled, anger pulsing through his veins, he didn't know why.

"Where will you go? It's midnight, way past our curfew, Filch knows we're out of bed and somewhere around here, don't you think you're more likely to be caught?" He glared at her, but could not fight with her logic. He knew they were more likely to be caught than anything else. He turned his eyes towards the fire and stared into the flames. He then heard a few plonks from the piano and turned to find Hermione sitting in front of the instrument, playing a soft tune. She was concentrating hard, hitting quite a few wrong notes, her brow creasing. Draco walked slowly towards her. She noticed the movement and looked up.

"Sorry, I can't play that well, school takes up a lot of my time now, I just can't find the time to play." She looked apologetic. Draco grabbed another stool that the room had provided and sat down next to her.

"Do you want to learn?" He asked. She smiled hesitantly back at him and nodded. "It may take a while."

"I have all night." He smiled back, before turning towards the keyboard. "Now, this is a simple melody, it's one of the first I learned."

He didn't know what it was, but sitting there by the piano with Hermione Granger, Draco felt, for the first time in months, that there was still some hope, some light in the dark. For the first time in a long time, he was enjoying himself.