Yours

Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes. She had just finished healing Ron, and now there was nothing to distract her from her thoughts.

Hermione opened her eyes and met Harry's emerald green ones. His eyes were evaluating her, wondering whether to bring it up now or later.

Hermione made the choice for him. "Look, Harry, I'm really sorry about what happened back ther-"

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "Don't be. You were just in a bit of shock. It's understandable, so don't worry. The important thing is that you snapped out of it and helped get us out."

Hermione knew that his words were supposed to be comforting but all she felt was even more guilt rising in her stomach. She could not look in Harry's eyes anymore. They were too trusting. Hermione, staring at the floor, said, "No. Harry that wasn't why I froze. It's just that ... I've been talking to this guy since the beginning of the summer and we became really close, only I didn't know who he was. And then, he was the one who sent the warning and ... and I knew that voice."

Harry looked at her questioningly but Hermione did not even notice. She looked up, startled, when he said, "Who was it?"

Hermione shook her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. Saying the name out loud would be forcing herself to admit that it was him. The thought was horrible, but Hermione knew that she could not be wrong. She just knew. Everything fit, as much as Hermione hated that it did.

"Hermione, you can tell me anything," Harry said in a softer tone.

Hermione glanced up for a second before returning her gaze to the floor. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall behind her as she whispered the name.

"Draco Malfoy."

Silence filled the room. Hermione knew that Harry would be staring at her in complete shock and could not bear to stay near him any longer. Without looking at him, Hermione walked out of the room and down the hall, walking into her bedroom.

When they apparated, Hermione had brought the three of them to her home in muggle London. It seemed like a place that no one would expect and she hoped that it would be safe. Not even stopping to glance at the room, Hermione flopped down on the bed.

She felt ashamed of herself. How did she not see it coming? It had been obvious. Anyone would have realized that it was Draco Malfoy that she was talking to. How could someone not recognize a boy they went to school with for six years?

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Hermione thought to herself. But there was a part of her mind that objected, the part that was logical and took everything into account.

I may have known him, but I didn't really know him.

Hermione frowned. He had said that no one knew the real him. Yours, she shook her head, Dra-Malfoy, said that he was pressured into things he did not want to do and that it was not the kind of pressure that came from peers. It was a pressure that had consequences if not obeyed, consequences that hurt others as well as you.

Hermione was confused. A new feeling for her that she had not felt since she was seven years old and had used magic for the first time. But this was different. That confusion had been there because the experience was new and exciting. This experience, was just confusing. Heart-wrenchingly, utterly, and horribly confusing.

But he had seemed so ... perfect. Hermione could not help but remember how he had been so thoughtful, understanding, witty, clever, smart, outgoing, funny, and nice. He was amazing. But Hermione thought that she should have known better, no one like that is ever real.

He was brave too, she could not help but add to the list. Sending her that howler could cost him his life if Voldemort or any death eaters found out. Hermione could not help but admire him for that.

Not fully registering what she was doing, Hermione walked over to her desk and, grabbing some parchment and ink, wrote a short message to him.

Thanks for the warning

Hermione had nothing else to say. All other thoughts were too confusing to put into words. She quickly sent the letter off and, much to her surprise, there was a reply on the owl. Hermione took the parchment from Hedwig, since she had borrowed Harry's owl not having one of her own. He seemed slightly sad and Hermione read the note quickly.

You've found out who I am. I told you that you didn't want to know.

Hermione wrote back immediately.

And you were right. I really was much better off not knowing. But I do, I recognized your voice.

I thought you might, he wrote back to her. But I figured that a Howler was the most urgent thing I could send, and it guaranteed that you would get the message instantly. I was willing to take the risk.

Hermione was slightly touched. He had been so determined to keep his identity a secret and he threw that all away, just so that she would be safe.

Thanks again, I guess. How did you know that I figured it out?

Because you write differently based on your mood. Whenever you're upset, like now, you press down harder on the page and you write in black ink.

Hermione stared at the sentences for a while. It was so ... thoughtful. How did he notice that? she asked herself. I didn't even notice that.

Oh, I didn't know I did that.

Hermione did not know what else to say. What could she say? How would she be able to write anything, when she did not even know what she was feeling?

I am sorry, Hermione. Please remember what I told you before. This is me. Not what you knew of me in school. Please remember that. I wanted to tell you who I was, but I knew how you would react. You completely detested me in school, and I'm sure you still do. That is, if not more now than you did back then. I would not blame you. I still want to explain though. He was going to kill my mother. If I didn't kill Dumbledore, then You Know Who was going to kill her. He would even torture her right in front of me to make his point clearer. And he would do so whenever he was unhappy with something that I did. Please understand that I did not think I had a choice. I had to chose between my mother's life and Dumbledore's life. How was I supposed to make a decision like that? Either way, I was condemning someone to death. I don't want to be a murdurer, and I never have. But I am still selfish. I can admit it. I know what I am and I could never do something as brave as what you seem to do every day. I have never claimed to be good or nice, I am what I am. And I am selfish. I had chosen my mother, the only person to ever truly love me and care for me, over Dumbledore, the only man who could ever scare the greatest dark wizard of all time. I chose my own mother, over someone who could help the light win. Or at least, that is what I planned to do. But then I couldn't. And while I knew who I would choose, I also knew that I couldn't be a murderer. I could not bring myself to say the words that would end our headmaster's life. I even began to lower my wand. To be honest though, I will never know if i would have gone through with it. You Know Who thinks I am completely loyal, despite what my father has done. He believes that on that tower, I was stopped by Snape and that I would have gone through with it. He thinks that I can only think of power and of him. But he is wrong. I think of you.

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Draco felt like crying. For the first time in over ten years, he wanted to let just one tear drop down his face. Draco wanted to make an exception to a Malfoy rule that never seemed to be broken, do not ever cry.

Because she had never replied.

Draco knew that it was a long shot. But he had still hoped that she would understand somehow. Hermione was the most forgiving person he knew, but apparently his actions were not worth forgiving.

He should have felt angry. That's how he was supposed to act. But Draco wasn't, all he felt was sadness. Just an empty hopelessness that only she could fill up. But she would never do that, Draco was sure of it. She could never be happy with someone like him. She was too good. And he was too cowardly.

Draco half expected his father to barge into his room and punish him, because at that moment, unable to bear it any longer, he gave in.

A single tear, that was all it took, and Draco gave up.

A/N: Good? ... it better have been. I really hate going back and editing everything. I'm too lazy.

review?