A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. (And the "word vomit" is from the movie Mean Girls.)

Chapter Ten: Choices

Draco swore that he could feel his heart swell with happiness so much so that the fact that his happiness would be very short lived never crossed his mind. He pulled Hermione into his arms and just held her.

"I don't see why you're so surprised." She smiled up at him with a tinge of melancholy in her eyes. She understood the situation all too well. "I couldn't be with you if I didn't love you."

He arched an eyebrow in question. "Are you saying that you've always loved me? I mean, since we've been together?"

"Upon some deep introspection…yeah. I mean, there's no gray area for us. We either hate each other, or we love each other; I don't think we will ever just like each other."

He nodded. "That's unfortunately very true." Only, Draco had the sinking that it wouldn't be very long before she started hating him again. But as he looked in to her eyes and tenderly pressed his lips to hers, he let the dark thought slip from his mind and just focused on the woman he loved.

They both felt a sweetness in that kiss that they'd never before felt. The outward expression of Hermione's love for him made it different from any other kiss that they'd shared. It possessed an element that made them forget that there was anyone else in the world who'd tell them it was wrong.

* * * *

Hermione was happy that everything went back to normal, or as normal as could be attained in the current state of the world. Two weeks after they'd made up, Hermione left her Arithmacy class with huge smile on her face. She'd just earned thirty points for Gryffindor in one class. Her smile widened as she remembered when Draco had told her that if she had been in Slytherin they'd actually win the House Cup.

But then the smile fell from her face. Walking toward her in the corridor were Draco and Pansy Parkinson, arm in arm. Rage and jealousy boiled up in her as they passed. Pansy smiled at her maliciously, but Draco didn't seem to notice her presence. Part of her wanted to yell out every profanity that came to mind, another told her that there must be a rational explanation, but the part that ultimately won out was the one that urged her to run to the Gryffindor Tower and cry into her pillow until dinner.

Trying her hardest to cover her agitation, Hermione went to their private room the next day as they had arranged. The facade apparently worked because Draco enfolded her in his arms on the settee without noticing that she was perturbed. She took advantage of this and posed her subtle accusation. "I saw you with Pansy the other day,"

Hermione couldn't see Draco as he rolled his gray eyes. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell her that I'm counting down the years until I never have to see her again, she just won't get that point."

"So there's nothing going on between you?"

"No!" Leaning around so he could see her face, Draco looked at her seriously. "Merlin, Hermione, I love you. If there was one good quality that Salazar Slytherin prized it was loyalty. I'm loyal to you."

And then it happened before she could stop it; word vomit. "I bet you're loyal to Voldemort, too."

His whole body went rigid. There was a turbulent mixture of emotions in his eyes making him look more ferocious than she could remember him ever being. She immediately got to her feet and moved some meters away from him. She didn't think he'd grow violent, but she could never be absolutely sure.

"Don't say his name!" he yelled, causing Hermione to flinch.

"I don't fear him like you do," she retorted.

He seemed to regain some of his calm. "You should," he admonished after awhile.

Hermione shook her head. "You can't be loyal to him and to me. It just doesn't work."

He approached her, taking her by the shoulders and looking at her desperately. "Damn it, Hermione, don't you get it? I didn't want to follow in my father's footsteps; I didn't want a become a Death Eater, but if I don't complete the impossible task he's given me, he'll kill me and my family—"

"If you do he'll kill me."

Her solemn statement knocked the breath from his chest. He'd never thought of it in that context before, but it was likely true. If he fulfilled his task, and then Harry was defeated, Hermione would most likely die. He didn't even know what the Dark Lord planned to do with the Mudbloods when—if he defeated Potter. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy wished for the victory of his archenemy, Harry Potter.

He was amazed how one person could so drastically change his views on life. Hermione looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears and he felt tears of his own collect in his eyes. He'd known for weeks now that he was seemingly forever stuck between a rock and a hard place, but that he'd eventually have to make a decision. He couldn't work in the room for all of eternity, dreading the day that the cabinet might work and allow the Death Eaters to infiltrate the school. Hell, Hermione could die then for all he knew.

"Dumbledore can protect you, if you just let him," she suggested desperately.

He closed his eyes at the agonizing irony of her suggestion. Pulling her into his arms, he let his tears fall freely. He wanted to be with her for eternity and that was it. He wanted to forget that anyone in the world would tell him it was wrong, that anyone existed at all. He cursed the day that the former Tom Riddle ever left his mother's womb; he cursed the day that Professor Dumbledore told the same man that he was a wizard, and, most of all, he cursed his father for ever getting in with the likes of the Death Eaters and taking the Dark Mark.

* * * *

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room two weeks later. Harry and Ginny were getting cozy not too far away and Ron was futilely trying to write a perfect essay for Snape. To someone looking on, it seemed that she was concentrating sternly on the words on the pages in front of her, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, she couldn't have told you what was on those pages to save her life. Instead, she was attempting to piece together a puzzle of necromancy.

What was Draco up to in that room? Harry had often posed the question after looking at the map and only gaining nugatory facts. "What is he doing!" he'd mutter angrily. Sometimes Hermione would smile and think, "Half of the time he's in there he's doing me." Not now though. She wanted to know for herself. She realized that if she just asked Draco he'd probably tell her, just to share some of the burden, but then she'd have a burden of her own. If he told her straight out, she'd feel obligated to turn him in, but if she figured it out on her own, she wouldn't so much.

She knew that he was behind the 'attacks' on Ron and Katie, but she also knew that they weren't his targets. He had a target, a task as he called it, an impossible one. That means someone else has tried and failed, she thought. She had already decided that he was supposed to kill someone, but whom? Harry was out of the question; Voldemort had to face Harry. So who did that leave? Then it began to come together.

Voldemort tried to kill him and failed, the poisoned wine was sent for him, and the Katie was probably told to give the necklace to him, she thought rapidly, it makes complete sense. "Oh, shit."

* * * *

Draco sat on the floor and stared up at the cabinet as he had many times before. He'd done everything imaginable to the stupid contraption, and it still refused to work. Maybe it's because I don't want it to, he mused.

In truth, Draco dreaded the day it did work. But then he noticed something on the inside that he hadn't noticed before all year. That's it, his mind yelled at him. Jumping to his feet, he tightened the object and began to hear an almost imperceptible whistle. It worked!

It's unfortunate that Draco was one of those people who really can't compute more than one or two things at once. At this point he was relieved that the cabinet worked and that he wasn't as good as dead anymore. He was too busy thinking about these things that he completely forgot about the fact that the woman he loved was as good as dead now.

* * * *

Hermione stood just outside Snape's office in the dark corridor with Luna. She'd taken a small sip of the Felix Felicis just like everyone else, but she still felt uneasy. Draco was going to try to complete his task tonight, she knew it. She only hoped that he didn't go through with it.

Snape's office was silent; there was nothing going on there. She signaled to Luna that she was going to check the rest of the corridor to see if anything was happening, and she silently moved down the stone hallway.

Then she saw him, his white-blonde head looking around anxiously. For some reason, she didn't think twice about stepping out from her hiding spot and he noticed her instantly. "Hermione?" Approaching her slowly, Draco continued to look around. "Hermione, you shouldn't be here, it's not safe." There was true concern in his voice.

Tears began to sting her eyes before she could stop them. It wasn't safe there because of him, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't hate him. At least, not yet. "You don't have to do this," she reminded him desperately. "Dumbledore can protect you from Voldemort, but not if you kill him."

"How did you—?"

"Nevermind! Just don't do this!" she begged.

Draco could practically see her heart breaking in her eyes. "I'm not brave like you, Hermione. I can't just stand up to the Dark Lord." He violently pulled up his sleeve to remind her of his brand. "I can't go back now."

Steamy tears began to flow down Hermione's cheeks. "You could, you just won't."

He tried to wipe her tears, but she turned away. "Don't do this," he whispered in pure agony. "Hermione, please, I love you."

She shook her head. "No, obviously you don't. If you kill him, I'm dead."

"I'm sorry, I have to do this, and hope that someday you can forgive me." He tried to kiss her one last time but failed.

"I'm sorry, too," she spat viperously. "I'm sorry that I ever thought that you were capable of loving anyone other than yourself." Hanging his head in what Hermione hoped was shame, Draco turned from her and walked away. "I can never forgive you."