A/N.

To prevent any confusion, I am resuming this story with the last two lines from the previous chapter. Thanks to the people who reviewed –made me very happy! The chapters will start getting pretty intense. I'm trying not to make this one too overwhelming, a sort of lull so everything doesn't come all at once. Be prepared for some heavy action in the next chapter though! If you think I'm going too fast or overloading, tell me through a review!

xxxxx

"What are you doing here, Malfoy," snarled Granger as her wand dug into his skin.

"Hermione, I-"

"Are you not finished prying into my private life? Not done torturing me?" Draco had never seen her like this before. She looked rather demented.

"Hermione…"

"Haven't had enough of looking through my most personal memories?"

"Hermione-"

"Not tired of spying?"

"Hermione!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?" she screamed.

"HERMIONE!" Fear and shock turned to anger, which lent him strength. He grabbed her wrists and forced her wand away from his throat. They grappled with each other, but Draco was still stronger. He pushed her away from him, drawing his own wand. Staring daggers at each other, they raised their wands.

"What do you want," Granger forced through her teeth, her wand trained on Draco's chest.

"Nothing!"

"Oh really?" She moved forward, suddenly, pushed him back, dug her nails into his skin.

"Calm down! I didn't come here for you!" He pushed back at her. She stumbled back, startled by his force.

"What?"

"I don't want anything from you. I came up here" –panting- "to have some time alone to think. I didn't know" –wincing, the pain of her blows finally catching up with him; he could feel a few scratches- "you would be here."

She didn't reply at first, but her wand dipped a few inches lower. She frowned at him, uncertainty written on her face. Draco kept his wand up, still scared of what she could do to him. But when she didn't hex him, he let himself really look at her. He studied her face, the warm brown eyes that were filled with tension, the slightly hollowed cheeks, the teeth biting down on her lip. He had never noticed it before, but she was actually somewhat… pretty. He flinched. No. She could not be. Not to him. Not to a Malfoy. Mercifully, he was distracted from these thoughts by movement on her face, and his eyes widened in surprise as she spoke.

"…you called me Hermione."

"…what?" Draco's mouth dropped open in shock, his wand falling to his side. He had? Oh Merlin, he had. It had slipped out. He shook his head, attempting to recover. "I most certainly did not," he said with as much disdain as he could muster.

"Why would you call me Hermione?" Her wand was almost completely lowered, her hand almost to her side. She was gazing at him, confused. His eyes met hers and he could see the fear still there, but also the confusion… and maybe some relief? He could feel his own anger fading, his arm faltering. He had scared her… no, he had terrified her. Prying into her memories, intruding upon her privacy… it must have been torture for her. And then his father's voice in his head –a Malfoy feels no compassion or pity. His arm stiffened. He bit his lip. Part of him sympathized with this girl in front of him, uncertainty in her warm brown eyes, but part of him stubbornly clung to the Malfoy maxims. He knew what it felt to be lost and confused, to want to prove something but wonder if you could ever really manage. Are we really so different? He looked at the scared and bewildered girl standing there. Is she so different from me? He knew how she felt. He knew how she was feeling. He could… he could understand her. Horrified at himself, he staggered back and Hermione (oh god, it was Hermione now, not Granger or Mudblood, but Hermione) reacted to his movement and raised her wand. Panicking, Draco shot a Disarming spell at her that missed, but served as a distraction. He didn't hear her call his name as he ran out of the room, ran to somewhere, anywhere, safe.

xxxxx

Draco ran blindly, stumbling among students, pushing some out of his way. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, pounding so loudly he was sure Hermione could still hear it. His only thought was to put as much distance between him and that… girl as was possible. He raced through the castle corridors, turning at random, tripping over steps and hurtling around corners. He chose a staircase at random and began to climb, desperately trying to think about anything but her. He tried to think of the next Potions assignment, Pansy's shrill voice, a new chess strategy to use against Blaise… anything but that expression on her face that seemed to mirror what he had felt so often. They could not be the same. They could not be. Draco tore at his hair in frustration. He could not allow that to happen. He did not, absolutely did not, understand that filthy little… no…

Draco burst through a wooden door and started as owls screeched and took to flight around him. He had ended up in the Owlery, which, luckily, was empty. Chest heaving, he sank down onto the straw scattered all over the floor. They could not be the same. All his life his father had taught him that he was to be superior, that anyone not of pureblood status was beneath him. They are not like us, Lucius had said.

"How is it possible that we feel the same way?" Draco demanded of a large, brown barn owl. The owl simply eyed him and hooted at him reproachfully.

Sighing, he drew his knees to his chest. Despite his denial, he could feel it –the small cracks starting to form in the foundations his father had set in him. Mudbloods are beneath us, Draco. They are vermin in the wizarding world. Were they?

Leaning against the Owlery wall, Draco closed his eyes. The day's events were starting to catch up with him, and he could feel the weariness settling into his bones. Absentmindedly he rubbed the place where she'd punched him and winced a little. That would definitely bruise later. His thoughts became less and less coherent as the gentle whooshing sounds of owls in flight and the warm sunlight began to lull him to sleep.

xxxxx

NOW.

The candle's dying. Already the wax has melted to less than half its original size. I know I should blow it out, preserve it, but somehow I can't bear the thought of returning to darkness. I've spent many nights in darkness, but that was when I had no other choice. Now I have this candle. I could blow it out, bring back the night. Or I could cling to it until it finally dies, goes out.

That thought makes me laugh. It's a lot like how I was, that day. I had the choice of pushing it all away, returning to the darkness of centuries of prejudice and superiority, or of clinging on to my new realization. I actually had a choice. All because of some girl I wouldn't have given two shits about before.

I'm choosing to put it out. I need sleep, at any rate. I'll keep it for tomorrow. I don't know when I'll ever get another one, if I ever will, again.

xxxxx

A/N.

I know the chapter's short, but I didn't want to throw everything at you guys. It might be a little too much. But as you can see, the Dramione's starting to creep in. Draco's already changing. Hermione's getting in through the cracks. How long before he finally stops being stubborn? Will he be able to win Hermione over? Stick around and find out!