Author's Note – Welcome back! You might want to grab a couple tissues before reading this chapter. It's rather emotional and tense. I had a difficult time writing it because I really wanted to get things just right. Please let me know how I did by reviewing. This chapter is super long, longer than last chapter. If you're curious, this chapter is 16 pages long and about 3,750 words.

Another Note – The chapter titles loosely means "Two Steps Back, One Step Forward," in Latin. And, yes, I'm aware that Blaise Zabini is a guy in canon. I'd forgotten that his gender was a known and made him a girl. I'm not going to change it, her roll in the fic isn't really major. Please review and let me know how you think this chapter was. I really worked hard to keep Draco and Hermione in character. I want to know if I did that.

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter, that all goes to JKR. However, the plot is mine and any thing else you don't recognize is most likely mine.

Enjoy and Review!


Chapter Nine

"Duo Vestigium Tergum, Unus Vestigium Porro"


France had been everything Hermione had expected, if not more. From visits to the Arc de Triumph and New Years Eve spent on the Champs-Elysees to eating at the top of the Eiffel Tower and shopping in Paris, she enjoyed every second there, feeling almost reluctant to return to school at the end of their short holiday. However, Hermione knew she had schoolwork waiting for her back at Hogwarts, and she dutifully returned the Sunday before classes began.

"Oi! Hermione," Ron called out that night in the common room. "I didn't know you were back."

Smiling at her friend, their minor row from before break having dissolved with time spent apart, she sat down beside him and watched as his bishop took down Harry's rook. "I just got back. How was your break?" she asked.

"It was great," he said.

"How was France, Mione?" Harry asked, peering at the chessboard, trying to make his next move.

"It was splendid," she said. "I took lots of photos."

"You did?" Ron perked up, looking semi-interested.

"Yeah," she said. "Mum's having them developed and then she's going to send them to me."

"Neat," he said, moving his pawn forward two spaces.

"Well, I'm off to the library," she said, picking up her bag.

"Now?" Ron asked.

"Yes now," she said. "I need to study."

"But the term hasn't even started yet," he said, rather confused.

"Honestly, Ronald, one doesn't have to wait until term begins to get ahead," she said, walking towards the portrait.

Ron frowned and Harry lazily waved his hand as she stepped out of the common room. "See you later, Mione."

In truth, the library wasn't Hermione's destination. True, studying was important and staying ahead was one of Hermione's goals; however, she had completed all of her holiday homework before leaving for France, and she'd done plenty of studying in the hotels they had stayed at. Harry and Ron surely didn't have to know her real destination: classroom thirty-one on the fourth floor, or know her reason: Draco. Draco was their enemy, and at one point in her life, he had been her enemy too. However, things tended to change as the years went by, and sometimes you find a friend in the most unlikely of places.

The classroom was dark when Hermione entered, vague shapes of desks warping what little light came from the window. Waving her wand, she lit the candles affixed to the wall and quietly closed the door behind her. The room appeared empty, and Hermione wandered between the desks, all of them now containing doodles in the dust covering them. Turning on her heel, she froze as she heard something shuffle in the far corner of the room behind the teacher's desk. Approaching the back of the room, she peered cautiously around the desk, hoping it was just a mouse and not something bigger. However, to her relief, it was only Draco. He sat in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his gaze glued to the wall opposite him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "God, Draco," she said, stepping closer to him. "You scared me."

He merely blinked, and Hermione knelt down in front of him.

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you all right?"

"Go away, Granger," he said morosely.

"Why?"

"I just want to be alone," he said, resting his forehead on his arms.

"Something's wrong," she deducted. "What's wrong? What's happened?" She scooted closer to him.

Draco growled, the sound muffled by his shirt sleeve. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. Just go away!" he demanded.

Hermione sat back on her heels as Draco turned his face away from her, a deep purple bruise coming into view, peeking out from the collar of his robes, marring his otherwise flawless skin. She stared at that bruise, at the painful color, and at the suspicious shape, as if someone's hand had formed the nasty mark.

A sick feeling washed over her stomach, and she reached her fingers out, the tips of which gently brushed against the blue and purple mottling of barely visible color. "Draco…"

Jerking back, Draco glowered at her darkly. "Don't touch me!" Swatting her hand away, Draco scooted further into the corner he had wedged himself into. "Just go away."

"No," she said. "Where'd you get that bruise?"

He scowled at her. "Nowhere. Now go away."

"Draco-"

"No!" he shouted, staring her in the eye. Hermione's eyes widened, noticing dried tear tracks on his face. "Just go away."

Standing her ground, Hermione looked at him seriously. "No. What is wrong?"

Hastily, he stood up and started towards the door. "Nothing," he bit out. "Nothing is wrong. You're delusional."

Hermione chased after him, catching him by the arm. "Draco-"

Draco's knees buckled, and squeezing his eyes shut, he barely muffled a cry of pain. Startled, Hermione withdrew her hand and gasped.

"Granger," Draco growled, his hands trembling. "Just go away. I don't need you right now." He started for the door again.

"You're hurt," she said, quickly moving in front of the door, blocking it. "Who did this to you?"

Clenching his jaw, Draco drew his hands into fists. "Move out of my way," he said.

"It was your father," she whispered. "Wasn't it?"

Draco took three swift steps forward, his nose nearly touching Hermione's. "You don't know anything about my father," he said, his eyes dark and swathed in coldness. "Get out of my way."

Wide-eyed, Hermione shook her head. "No. You need help."

Taking a shaky breath, Draco closed his eyes. "Don't tell me what I need. You don't know anything."

"I know enough that you need help."

"I don't need help."

"Yes, you do," she whispered.

"No, I don't," he countered, his words saying he didn't, but everything else about him screaming that he did need help, badly.

"Draco," she said softly, gesturing to his arm. "You can barely move your arm."

He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. "I'm fine," he bit out.

"You are not fine," she said, steeling up all the courage she could find.

When Draco opened his eyes, they blazed with fury. "You have no right to say what I am and what I'm not," he shouted, trembling from head to foot.

Hermione found herself shaking along with Draco, her adrenaline peaking. "You need to see Madam Pomfrey-"

"No. I don't." Draco took an unsteady step back, his eyes wild, as if he were a trapped animal. "I don't…nobody needs to know."

Hermione watched as he shook uncontrollably, his hands clenched into fists, trying to quell the tremors, her own heart beating a million beats a second. "Draco-"

"Go away," he pleaded, taking a step back.

"No," she whispered back, taking a step towards him. "I won't go away."

Draco matched her step-for-step, taking one back as she took one forward. "Leave me alone."

"I won't leave you." Hermione reached out for him, his so carefully crafted resolve quickly crumbling.

He moved out of her reach. "I…I don't need you." He stumbled over his words, tugging at his hair. "I don't…I don't."

"Draco-"

"I don't n-need anybody," he shouted, both hands gripping his hair.

"You-"

"No."

"Draco-"

"No…no." He shook his head wildly. "I can't. No." His breaths came in gasps, short and sporadic. "No."

Hermione took another cautious step towards him, her hands held up. "Calm down," she said.

"Go away."

"You need help," she pleaded.

"No," he whispered. "I don't."

"Yes, you do."

Hermione took a step towards him as Draco took a step back.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gulped. "No," he said.

"Calm down." Hermione stepped forward, slowly as if approaching a scared child.

"I…I…" Panic flashed in his eyes, redness rimming their edges. He gaped at her like a fish, his mouth opening and closing, words trying but failing to get out.

Finally reaching him, she placed a gentle hand on his uninjured arm. "Draco," she said softly. "You need help."

His eyes fearful, Draco shook his head as his hands trembled, blindly gripping the desk behind him. "No, no, no." Draco stepped backwards, and tripping over a desk, he landed on the floor with a startled cry. "I don't need help," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't…I don't."

Hermione knelt down beside him. "Draco…" she started to say, but was cut short as he scrambled to his feet, pushing Hermione out of the way.

Bolting for the door, Draco ripped it open and ran out of the room. Hermione's eyes burned and her stomach twisted into knots. Slowly, she sank to the ground, her hands bracing against the floor. The tension that had filled the room like a thick impenetrable cloud began to fade, and with the disappearing tension came the tears. They fell from Hermione's eyes as her mind finally wrapped itself around what had just happened. And she cried, not for herself, but for a fourteen year old boy who was scared and abused, a fourteen year old boy who couldn't cry for himself because his father wouldn't let him.


Draco avoided Hermione after that night in the classroom, not prepared to face her after the emotional turmoil he had unleashed on her. Malfoys were supposed to be completely emotionless, never letting the wall they learned to erect at an early age fall, exactly what had happened in front of Hermione. Emotions were a weakness, and she had seen his greatest weakness of them all: his ability to feel pain. So, in typical Slytherin fashion, he rebuilt his façade and pretended those events had never occurred. He was Draco Malfoy, the cold and calculating bully from Slytherin who tormented his fellow students. He wasn't the blubbering idiot Hermione had witnessed; that simply wasn't him.

However, once one's façade crumbled, putting it back together was near impossible. There would always be cracks and weak spots, areas he would be unable to fix no matter what he did. Hermione had seen him at his weakest. She had witnessed his emotional breakdown. And worse, she had figured out one of his deepest secrets. A secret kept under close wraps in the Malfoy family. A secret Draco was sure everybody would dismiss as deceitful lies and a pathetic plea for attention. For who would believe that Lucius Malfoy, a prominent figure in the Wizarding World and respected worker in the Ministry, would abuse his only son? Nobody, that Draco was certain of, nobody except Hermione.


Hermione knew Draco would avoid her, and avoid her he did. The first few days after his breakdown were filled with awkward glances during class and quick escapes down adjacent hallways between lessons. And for the first few days, she let him skillfully avoid her presence. Hermione needed those few days to think things over and to decide what to do next. On more than one occasion she had almost gone to Professor Dumbledore or McGonagall, needing an adult figure to help her through the mess she had gotten herself into with Draco. However, she knew the moment she confided in a teacher would be the same moment Draco would stop trusting her. It had taken her months to get him to trust her as little as he did, and she wasn't about to let that go.

So, Hermione left the matter alone, allowing Draco a few days to figure things out on his own. However, by the time Wednesday rolled around, Hermione felt she needed to step in. She needed to know if he was all right. So, at breakfast, she wrote him a short note.

Meet me in Room 31 after class today.

-HG

She never received a reply, but Hermione still made sure to be in their classroom after Charms that day. If she said she would be somewhere, then she would do everything in her power to be there, no matter any doubts or suspicions swimming about in her mind.

Sighing, she dropped her bag on the ground by the door as she entered, lighting the candles with a flick of her wand. Pacing back and forth, she ran her hands through her hair, wondering and hoping that he would show up. After a few moments, she stopped pacing and grabbed her Charms text, perched herself atop the edge of the teacher's desk, and began reading. She sat there for an hour, trying to learn the various cleaning charms they would be studying next week. However, her mind kept wandering, and her eyes kept drifting to her watch. The minutes passed one-by-one, and just as Hermione slipped her text back into her bag, readying herself to leave, the door opened.

Draco slipped into the room, his face passive and calmly composed. Watching him, Hermione set her bag back on the floor and hopped back up onto the desk.

"Hey," she said, as he sat next to her.

"Hi," he said quietly, staring at his fingers.

Hermione watched as they curled and straightened repeatedly. "Are you ok?" she asked, glancing over at him.

He nodded. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning as she gently touched his arm.

Draco scooted away from her. "I'm healed. If that's what you're asking."

Hermione nodded and fell into an awkward silence, not knowing what she should say next. However, her fears were washed away when Draco spoke first.

"I'm never good enough," he whispered. "I never have been."

"Good enough for who?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Him," he said.

"Your father?"

Draco nodded. "I've never been good enough," he said, then glanced up at Hermione. "And I don't think I'll ever be."

Hermione looked at Draco as he stared back at her.

"Father has all these expectations of me," he said. "I'm supposed to have the top marks, be the best at quidditch, associate with only the students from families Father approves of. I have no say in anything. I'm tired of it."

"And that's completely understandable," she said.

"No, it's not!" he nearly shouted, pounding his fists against his legs with each word. "I'm not supposed to be feeling like this. I can't."

Hermione frowned. "Why not?"

"Because it's a weakness."

"But everyone has weaknesses, Draco," she said.

Hermione stared at Draco, and he looked away, staring at the wall to his right.

"A Malfoy can't have any weaknesses," he said bitterly. "'Emotions are weaknesses, Draco,' he once told me."

"But you're only human," Hermione said quietly.

Draco laughed humorlessly and hopped off the desk. "Right, only human," he said, turning on his heel and staring at her. "But according to Father, Malfoys are above all other humans. We can't have any weaknesses."

Draco began pacing.

"Did you know he has my entire life planned out?" he asked, pausing and staring at Hermione incredulously.

Hermione shook her head.

"He pays no mind that this is my life," he said, resuming his pacing. "All that matters is his stupid Dark Lord."

Staring at him as if he had just grown a new head, Hermione blinked a few times, trying to wrap her mind around his words. From the moment she had met Draco back in first year, he had been an exact replica of his father. Everything from the slicked back hair to the trademark sneer seemed to come from his father. And Hermione had taken that as the truth, as had nearly everybody else in the world, paying no mind that often what you see is far from what you get. Draco glanced at her and sneered.

"And don't look at me like that," he said. "Everybody looks at me like that."

"Like what?" she whispered.

"Like I'm my father," he said. "I'm not my father, and nobody seems to realize that. I'm not him, and I don't want the same things as he does."

"Then what do you want?" she whispered.

"I want to be me," he said, staring directly into Hermione's eyes. "I want my life. Not the life Father has created for me."

"And you deserve that," she said, approaching him. "Everybody deserves to live their own life."

Collapsing into one of the desks, his arm unconsciously wiping away one of their old dust drawings as he dropped his head into his hands. "I just want to be happy."

Hermione sat down in the desk beside him. "And you deserve to be happy."

"Nobody understands that," he said. "Everybody thinks I'm this big monster. They think I'm just like my father." He turned his head and glanced at Hermione. "And I have to let them believe that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a Malfoy," he said. "I'm supposed to be this person that I'm not."

"And that doesn't make you happy," she concluded.

"No," he whispered. "It doesn't."

"What would make you happy then?" she asked.

Draco rubbed his face with his hands. "If all this would just go away. If somebody would just realize that I'm not my father, and that I'm my own person. If somebody just cared for once."

"I care," Hermione said.

Draco jerked his head around to look at her, his eyes wide.

"I do," she repeated.

He blinked and stared at his perfectly polished shoes. Everything Hermione had said to him and done for him during the past few months flashed before his eyes. And in that moment, he realized there was somebody in the world who did care for him. Glancing at her, he gave her a hesitant smile, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly. "I know," he whispered. "I know you do."

They fell into a comfortable silence, Hermione staring off into space, a million thoughts running through her head while Draco rested his head on the desk, his eyes unguarded.

"Draco?" Hermione asked after several moments.

Draco looked up, his head still resting on the desk. "Yeah?"

"Can I suggest something?"

He remained silent for a few moments before answering. "I guess," he said hesitantly.

"And promise that you'll consider what I'm going to say."

Draco frowned. "Ok."

"And that you won't get angry."

This time he lifted his head, looking at her with confusion on his face. "I'll try," he said.

Hermione nodded and sighed through her nose. "I really think you should talk to someone about all this."

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" he asked.

"No, well…" she trailed off, finding her fingers suddenly very interesting. "I think you should go to one of the teachers. I think-"

"No," he said suddenly.

"They might be able to really help you."

He shook his head. "That's not an option."

"But I think…"

"Granger," he said. "No."

"Draco…"

Reaching across their desks, he grabbed her arm. "No," he said, his stare intense and slightly intimidating. "Nobody needs to know." He let go of her arm and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nobody can know."

Hermione sighed and placed her head on her desk again. "I don't see why you have to be so difficult," she said.

"Because that's just how it has to be, Granger," he bit out.

Biting her lip, she chanced him a cautious glance. "But it doesn't have to be that way," she said meekly.

Frustrated rage passed through his eyes, and Draco lunged forward, grabbing Hermione by her arms, pulling her forward. Their desks crashed together, and Hermione winced at the noise. "Listen carefully, Granger," he said deathly quiet. "I'm going to only say this once."

Gulping, she nodded.

"Nobody needs to know," he growled. "This is just between you and me."

"Ok," she whispered.

"You're not to tell anybody," he demanded.

She shook her head. "I won't."

"And that includes teachers," he said.

"I won't tell a soul," she said. "I promise."

Draco took a couple deep breaths and Hermione chanced a look at him. His face was nearly in hers, their foreheads almost touching. Anger flashed through his eyes, though she noticed fear and desperation running a current beneath the anger.

"Promise me, Granger," he said.

Hermione looked off to the side and swallowed, nodding. "I promise."

"Look me in the eye," he demanded, "and promise."

Hermione began to tremble, the half-standing position Draco had pulled her into straining her muscles. She met his eyes, their stormy depths still swirling an angry gray. "I promise," she said. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

Draco searched her eyes, looking for any glimmers of dishonesty or unfaithfulness. He needed her to promise. He needed to know that he could trust her. Once satisfied that her promise was genuine, his gently let her go, his hands unconsciously sliding down her arms, and scooted his desk back to its original position. Hermione took a deep breath, the urge to cry suddenly swelling up inside her. She licked her lips, pushing the tears down. They sat in their classroom in silence for several long moments, neither daring to speak.

"Granger?" Draco asked after a few moments.

Hermione glanced up at him. "Yeah?"

"We've missed dinner," he said.

She nodded numbly and Draco stood from his desk. Her bag sat forgotten beside the teacher's desk, and he grabbed it, coming to stand beside her. Hermione looked up at him, and Draco handed her bag to her. Taking it, she threw it over her shoulder as she stood.

"Come on," he said, walking out of the classroom and Hermione followed.