A/N: thanks as always for reviews, favorites, & alerts :D longest chapter yet today!

Several days had passed, and Hermione hadn't seen a single sign of Draco anywhere in the castle. This may have been due to a lack of classes with the Slytherins during those days, but he also was nowhere to be found at meals either. Instead, Hermione noticed Blaise Zabini gathering an armful of food at each meal and disappearing, but not before shooting her some very odd looks. The boy had never even noticed Hermione existed before, even when they were sitting at the same table during Slug Club dinners- why was he now almost grinning all weirdly at her all the time?

Without Draco as a distraction, Hermione had begun to refocus on her schoolwork and was starting to fear that it was slipping into dangerously mediocre territory, so before dinner she had sought out her Arithmancy professor to express her concerns that her last essay had contained a large number of terrible mistakes and would be the end of her academic career. He had assured her that the essay was more than satisfactory, and encouraged her to go to the Great Hall and join her fellow students for dinner. She reluctantly agreed, and when she left his office she was greeted by the eerie sound of students and portraits babbling quietly, gathered together in groups, whispering with excited looks on their faces, the way it always was when something terrible had happened. She began to make her way through the students and heard small, horrifying portions of what they were saying.

"...Potter covered in blood..."

"... Moaning Myrtle screaming 'Murder in the bathroom', I heard it all the way from here..."

"... do you think Malfoy will make it? I wonder what happened to make Potter try to kill him..."

Her heart had already sank at the first comment about Harry being covered in blood, but now she was sure that it had stopped beating entirely. She had frozen in horror and was trying to listen to the rest of the murmurs when she was grabbed from behind.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed when Hermione jumped violently at her touch. "Hermione, come with me."

"What happened?" Hermione asked frantically, bring dragged by Ginny in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

"Not sure, but I have an idea. Can't tell you here," Ginny said.

Hermione feared the worst.

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, forcing herself to stay seated and not run to the hospital wing as fast as her legs could take her. Harry was there, and had just told his friends the entire story of how he had just nearly killed Draco, and the room had grown quiet. The truth was remarkably similar to what Ginny had guessed at after stringing together the rumors she had heard in the corridors. Harry had been spying on Draco, who was crying in one of the boys' bathrooms, and Draco caught him. They had exchanged curses, and Harry had used a spell he found scribbled in his Advanced Potions book by the "Half Blood Prince" marked "for enemies", and the spell had slashed open Malfoy's face and chest like a sword. Harry and Hermione hadn't told anybody but Dumbledore the truth about Malfoy and what he had become, as they had agreed to keep it to themselves, but Hermione knew Harry must be regretting that decision now. Perhaps his rash use on an unknown spell would be better understood if everyone realized Malfoy was a Death Eater. But if he disclosed that detail, he would also have to disclose how Hermione found out, and he was not willing to do that to his friend.

"I think he's going to be okay, though," Harry said after a few long, uncomfortable moments of silence. He gave Hermione a subtle look as he said this. "Snape was telling him that they might be able to avoid scarring... I reckon that means there wasn't any lasting damage. But if Snape hadn't gotten there when he did and healed him..."

Harry shuddered and Hermione bit down on her lip so hard to keep from letting out a pained wail that she drew blood. Her stomach was in sickening knots, her heart was aching, and her feet were desperate to take her to the hospital wing, to see for herself that Draco was okay. She looked to Harry and his eyes were boring into hers as if pleading, and Hermione knew this was his silent apology. Her eyes filled with tears that she couldn't shed, and she gave him the slightest of nods.

But despite this, Hermione still felt Harry needed to recognize that this never would have happened if he had turned that blasted book in when she had told him too. Yet her mind was so preoccupied that she had barely registered that any words at all had left her mouth until Ginny had snapped her head off.

Hermione felt more like she was watching herself argue with the youngest Weasley, like her body was on autopilot but her mind was already racing out of the tower and to the place she really wanted to be. By the time she and Ginny had ceased their bickering, the room had fallen quiet again, and Hermione glanced at Harry. He gave the smallest jerk of his head towards the door, a if giving her permission to go to Draco's side. She gave him a grateful look and got to her feet, placing a hand on his shoulder briefly before leaving the room.

"Where's she going?" Ginny asked, an annoyed tone to her voice.

"Probably the library," Ron guessed. "Way to chase her off, huh, Ginny."

Ginny glared at her brother and he quickly quieted down.

Madam Pomfrey had just left the hospital wing, to Hermione's relief, and she found all but two of the beds empty when she arrived. One was filled by a first year who had been half transfigured into a guinea pig, and the other was occupied by a sleeping blonde boy.

She crept towards Draco's bed, ignoring the groans coming from the half-guinea pig from down the room, and her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the full view of him.

His face was red and the gashes Harry caused were visible, ghastly so, and the rest of his visible skin was even paler than usual from the loss of blood. The tears that Hermione had been holding back finally overpowered her, and they erupted from her eyes with a strangled cry from the depths of her throat.

Draco jerked at the sound, and he shot up from the bed so quickly Hermione nearly screamed in shock. He was reaching for his wand but it was on the stand next to his bed, and there was panic in his dazed eyes.

"Draco it's me, it's just me," Hermione whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders and trying to move him back down to the bed. His eyes found her at last, and the panic in them dissolved as he remembered where he was. She removed her hands and he looked around for a bit, steadying his breath and running his fingers through his hair before appearing to have regained his full bearings.

"You can't be here long," said Draco finally, laying back down with a groan. "Pomfrey has to come and apply dittany every thirty minutes."

Hermione wiped her eyes, falling into a chair at his bedside. "Are you in pain?"

He grimaced. "Not really...I just feel a bit sore. And weak."

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Hermione said in a watery voice. "Harry had no idea what that spell did. He would have never done this to you on purpose."

"Is that why you came here? To apologize Potter?" said Draco angrily.

"No, I came here to make sure you were okay," said Hermione. "I've been thinking the worst this whole time!"

Draco looked away to his feet and muttered coldly, "Well, like I said, you can't stay long."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and fought the urge to cry some more. She had been on the verge of vomiting for the last hour and a half, counting the seconds until she could rush to Draco's side, and this was how he greeted her?

But Draco, she realized, hadn't made eye contact with her once since he had woken, and her mind flickered back to a few days prior. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had slapped him in front of his friends and that he had called her a mudblood - so much seemed so trivial now, seeing the boy she had come to love lying in the hospital wing, having been nearly killed by her best friend not even two hours ago.

"Draco, look at me," said Hermione, so quietly she wasn't sure that he would hear her at first. But his eyes fluttered briefly, and he reluctantly glanced at her.

Then they heard footsteps, and Hermione jumped up and vanished behind the curtain of an empty bed.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, did I not tell you to sleep? I was not joking when I said I would pour sleeping draught down your throat if you don't do as I say!" came the shrill voice of Madam Pomfrey. "Teenaged boys, always doing as they please, never listening... turn to me, boy, time for the dittany."

Malfoy grumbled as the healer spread the essence on his skin, not enjoying the burning sting that spread wherever it touched. It hurt especially on the larger gashes on his chest, but it was a mere beesting compared to the searing pain that he had experienced when he received the injuries.

Draco's mind involuntarily revisited the attack, recalling the shock and the excruciating pain of the curse he had taken, and of the hazy moments that followed. He had remembered Snape picking him up and telling him something about taking him to Madam Pomfrey, but then he had slipped into a terrible unconsciousness.

Whether it had been a dream or a hallucination, or even a vision, he had no idea, but after he had blacked out, he found himself inside of Malfoy Manor, in the vast drawing room. The room was darkened and cold, and he stood in the center of the room but was not alone. Lord Voldemort was there, and to his undying horror, a high pitched scream of pain and terror pierced his ears, and his eyes fell on a small, curled figure on the floor, belonging to Hermione.

She was shaking uncontrollably and crying in between Voldemort's shrieks of "Crucio!", but refusing to beg for mercy or death. She would surely go mad if pushed much further, or her heart would give out.

Then a cold, high voice spoke in his ear. "She is filth, Draco. She deserves this. You know she deserves this."

He could feel tears streaking down his face as he listened to the terrible voice, and his terror amplified when Hermione's glazed eyes found his. Then the voice spoke once more. "Finish her."

Draco stopped breathing, though the tears continued falling from his eyes as the world crashed down around him. His eyes were still locked with Hermione's when the voice spoke again.

"Finish her!"

He shook his head and dropped his wand, falling to his knees and waiting for death to come. He didn't want to live anymore, not after what he had just seen, and surely not after witnessing what he knew was coming next. His soul had shattered, he was sure of it, and death now seemed a pleasant escape, a welcome rescue from the clutches of this demon he had pledged so foolishly to serve...

And then there was a blinding flash of green light, and Draco had awoken to Madam Pomfrey fussing over him.

Similarly, her voice was what brought his mind back to the present this time and away from the sickening memory of his dream.

"... And if you're still not asleep the next time I come back, you will be taking that sleeping draught!"

Draco never wanted to sleep again. When the exhaustion had taken over before Hermione had shown up at his bedside, he had relived the nightmare twice. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, contorted in agony, limbs twisting and skin paling, eyes clouding as the light in them faded further with each inch she came closer to death.

This was what he was condemning her to. Somebody would find out about them, eventually - somebody always did. And when it happened, Voldemort would find her, take her, and kill her in the slowest way possible. He would make an example out of both of them, so that nobody in his command ever dared to touch such mudblood filth ever again. Draco had only one option.

When Pomfrey was gone and Hermione reemerged from the curtain she had been hiding behind, she quietly sat back down in the chair beside his bed. She looked at Draco tentatively and noticed the marks on his face had faded more with the freshly applied dittany.

Draco glanced at Hermione and felt his heart wrench as realization dawned on him. The thought of what he was about to do made him feel as if he were tearing himself in two, and that could only mean one thing - that he had truly fallen in love with this girl.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "I shouldn't have slapped you."

Draco stared at her, dumbfounded. He had called her filth, less than the dirt under his shoe - and she was the one who was apologizing?

"I had to tell Harry, he knew something was up. He took it better than I thought he would," Hermione said. Draco's eyes flashed at the sound of Harry's name. "But I did tell him... everything."

"Explains why he tried to kill me earlier, then," said Draco coldly.

"No, I told you - he had no idea what that spell was going to do! He would never try to hurt you that badly, even if you are a -"

Hermione stopped herself, and Draco laughed humorlessly. "I hope you've finally learned your lesson from this, Granger."

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked, brows lowering.

"It means that we're done - and I mean it. I don't want you coming near me ever again."

"Why are you saying this?" Hermione whispered. "You can't possibly mean it -"

"Oh, I mean it," Draco replied. "And I don't care what you say."

Hermione felt like screaming in frustration. She'd gone from terror, to paralyzing worry, to relief, and now to this, all in less than two hours. "If this is because of what Harry did -"

Draco growled in annoyance and sat up fully in his bed. "Would you use your brain, Granger? Think!"

She said nothing, only stared at him.

"Potter knows, and so does Blaise Zabini. People are starting to find out."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "That's why you're saying this? Because two people know and you can't bear the thought of anyone knowing that you're with a mud-"

"No! Would you use your head for one minute!" Draco exclaimed, and the half-guinea pig down the way stirred and lifted his head. Draco grabbed his wand and stunned the child.

"Draco!" hissed Hermione reproachfully, but he ignored her.

"The point is, people are finding out. What do you think will happen when the Dark Lord finds out?"

"He won't," said Hermione quietly.

"It's only a matter of time," contended Draco. "And I'm not going to let it happen."

Draco's eyes became misty and he turned away from her, closing his eyes tightly against the dream that was inching to the forefront of his mind. He could see Hermione on the floor of his house, writhing in pain, silently longing for death...

"I'm willing to take the risk," said Hermione confidently.

"I'm not!" Draco roared. "You have no idea what you're talking about! Don't you know what he'll do to you?"

Hermione's heart ached at the broken, defeated look in Draco's eyes. She knew that he was right, but Voldemort already wanted her dead. What was so unthinkable about giving him one more reason to kill her, if he ever did find out?

"You would be a target," said Draco, seeing the images playing over and over again in his mind as he spoke. "He would make examples out of us. He's a Legilimens, and I know Occlumency but I don't know if I could keep it from him. If I let my guard down just once... I can't let that happen."

Draco looked tortured and desperate. He was also holding back tears, and all Hermione could think to say was, "What happened to make you think this?"

He pushed the hair out of his eyes with his left hand and and replied, "It doesn't matter."

Hermione sighed and then drew in a deep breath. "Honestly, Voldemort would kill me the first chance he gets no matter what. You must know that."

"It's different," replied Draco. "You're not a target like Potter, or Dumbledore. But this, this would make you one."

"But I told you, I'm willing to take that chance!"

"And I told you that I'm not! Bloody Gryffindors and your reckless bravery, never even stopping to actually think for one second..."

"Well forgive me, but being Harry Potter's best friend sort of brings with it enough danger and life-threatening situations to get you a bit used to these kinds of things, so I'm rather sure I could also handle being Draco Malfoy's girlfriend!"

"I'm a Death Eater! I'm not the bloody Boy Who Lived, I don't have a small army of people who would risk their lives to protect mine - I'm not arguing with you anymore, Granger. I'm not changing my mind."

Now anger was surging up in Hermione. So much for Dumbledore's words about love and change - this boy clearly did love her enough to do probably the only unselfish thing he had ever done in his life, which was to let her go for her own protection, but he had no intention of changing, or of seeking redemption. He was going to stay on the wrong side of the war, despite how deeply he wanted to be on the right one.

"You're a coward," Hermione said, standing. "And a fool. You're ruining your life. You've hurt innocent people. You're hurting me. And you're only going to hurt yourself if you don't swallow your pride for once in your life and admit that everything you were raised to believe is wrong, that your father is wrong, and that you were wrong to not take your mother and come to us the second Voldemort made you take that Mark. If you survive this war, you will look back one day and see how stupid you're being. But it will be too late by then. And you will have lost everything."

Draco stared at her, his mouth open just a bit, wanting to argue, but finding himself utterly speechless. Hermione then bent down, and pressed her lips to his, one last time.

Her lips seemed to burn like the dittany, as if they were too pure, or too good to touch his. Draco couldn't bear the thought of this being the last time he ever kissed this girl, but he knew this was it. This had to be it.

When Hermione pulled away, she left a trail of moisture on his cheek where a tear had fallen from her eye and on to his skin. She blinked several times and took a steadying breath as she said, "Goodbye, Draco."

Then, with her head held high and shoulders squared, Hermione walked away, leaving the boy she loved alone in his bed. She kept her posture perfect and her emotions in check until she was in the corridor and out of Draco's sight, which is when she slumped, began to cry nearly hysterically, and broke into a run.

Meanwhile, Draco lay flat on his back, his mouth set in a hard, thin line, and stared at the ceiling until, for the second time that day, he cried.