That entire night, Draco thought about what he'd done and worried that Granger was going to find out and hate him forever, which shouldn't have scared him like it did. It did, though, and that irrational fear crept through his veins and didn't let him sleep a single wink that night.

The next morning, thankfully, brought along the first day of break. Nearly everyone was leaving, including the Three Musketeers, which meant that Draco would more or less have the run of the place. Even better, he didn't have to worry about running into Granger and dying of guilt.

That first day, he didn't bother getting up until after noon, and once he finally did get his butt out of bed, he only strolled out to the now snowy gardens, a thick emerald cloak wrapped around his shoulders. From where he sat, he could just catch a glimpse of the icy lake peeking out from behind the castle. The sun glistened off of the frozen water, winking up at him.

He sighed. Everything was unnaturally beautiful. The lake, the sparkling snow that blanketed the ground, even the weather was nice for that time of the year. Normally, being wide out in the open with no one around and nothing to worry about helped him relax. That day, it wasn't working. He felt as though he were back at Hogwarts on the first day of school, when everyone was pushing and shoving. He could feel his claustrophobia sinking in once again, although he was so perfectly alone.

Now it wasn't people smothering him. It was feelings and fears, thoughts and regrets.

He was latching onto Hermione Granger because of her thereness. From the night that he'd saved her, she'd always been there for him, whether he pushed her away or not. Even if they didn't speak, he could feel that if he opened up to her, she'd at least attempt to listen. That made him feel something.

Whatever that something was scared him because he knew that it wasn't a bad something. Any feeling towards a Mudblood other than hate was unacceptable. No longer because of his personal beliefs, but because of his will to keep himself and his family, his mother at least, alive.

Then there were his thoughts. He thought of Dumbledore, of how he hadn't made a single move to get rid of the old wizard. He thought of his family. There was his gentle mother, who he worried for. The rest of them, whom he all loathed. His father was no doubt continuing with the work of the Dark Lord, and his aunt had always had an unnatural joy for doing Voldemort's bidding.

He thought about other things, too. Good things, things that made his heart lighten up just slightly. Like Granger's eyes, and her beautiful smiles, and the way that her laughs sounded like sleigh bells.

That got him going on his regrets. He had many. If he thought about every single one of them, he would probably have to be taken to Saint Mungo's. But most of them, he couldn't even remember. Like a true Malfoy, whenever he'd felt that slight tinge that made him feel as though he'd made a mistake, he threw whatever he'd done into the back of his mind and locked it away, never to be seen again. So, at first glance, his mind held only one real regret, and it seemed to stand in the center of everything else, shiny and gold, so that he had to take notice of it, so he couldn't forget about it.

His stupid plan that had to entail breaking stupid Granger's stupid heart.

Draco grimaced at the thought and returned to the dungeons. Stray thoughts would surface for air as he walked, and he'd squish them down again, keeping his mind distant and blank. One by one, he took everything that had been in his head and shut it away, hoping that none of the regrets would ever come back.

For Draco, the majority of the rest of the holidays were spent digging around in the library, both on a last ditch effort to find something that would help him with Dumbledore, and also because he simply liked to be surrounded by books. He could look around and feel so many answers to different questions at his fingertips. He liked being smarter than people, he liked learning, and in his opinion, books were a better alternative than lessons from his darker family members.

When he wasn't burying his face in books, he'd head outside and walk through the snowy grounds. If that got too boring, he'd take out his broomstick and soar above the castle as fast as he could, letting the cold wind blow through his hair and imagining flying away into the mountains and never coming back.

That's what he was doing the night that she came back. It was almost six, and the sky was just growing dim. It was calm and clear, one of those nights where he could see forever. Draco flew for over an hour, his eyes looking wistfully over the distant mountains as he imagined life without the Dark Lord, or his psychotic family, or thoughts of Hermione Granger plaguing him every other minute.

Then, just as he was thinking about how mental it was to be thinking about her, he looked down and saw her, staring up at him, watching him carefully. At first he was surprised, but then he realized that students would be starting to come back to the school. There were only two days of break left.

Just ride away... ignore her.

"Nice view, huh?" he called down with a smirk, unable to help himself.

Okay, that plan worked out well.

"Well, I'm trying to see the sunset, but your oversized ego is in my way," she called back. He noticed that her voice wasn't as fiery as it was before. He could almost hear the emptiness in it, and was hit with a fresh stab of guilt. He very quickly told himself that she'd be better off without Weasley in the long run.

"Don't kid yourself, Granger," he said, steering his broom towards the ground. "You know that I'm a more beautiful sight than any sunset."

Her lips curved into a small smile, but when he landed in front of her, he could see that for once, it didn't reach her eyes.

"I haven't seen you this cocky all year. You actually sound like the old Malfoy. Been drinking too much over break?"

"It's the lack of annoying little first years," he clarified for her. "I've had time to clear my head."

"Oh joy. Now I supposed that you realize that you've been speaking to me, and decided to land out here so that you could tell me off."

He smirked at her, not bothering to deny that he liked the worry in her voice. Despite her trying to cast it off in annoyance, he could see that she didn't want him to push her away.

"Actually, Granger. Now that you mention it, I have been treating you a little bit too nicely lately," said Draco in the most menacing voice he could manage. She looked up and tried to look into his eyes, but he made sure not to betray any emotion.

"And?" she wondered cautiously. He couldn't help but notice the weariness in her eyes, as if she'd already gone through enough and anything that he had to say would simply be tiring.

"And I've decided that I should have gone to the hospital wing after my concussion during the last Quidditch match. The long term effects are scaring me."

Her eyes lit up, just slightly, but at least there was something there.

"So you aren't going to turn into what you were before?" she asked. Draco shrugged.

"I haven't been acting that differently. You've just gotten thick enough to start ignoring it." She seemed to think about that for a moment, biting her lip again, before finally answering. Draco was sure that he was staring at her, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. At least she seemed to think he was doing nothing but politely paying attention to the conversation.

"You've been trying to act the same," she told him finally. "But you're different."

"Why would you say that?" he asked curiously. He wasn't daft enough to believe that she didn't notice his changed attitude towards her, even if he did still make sure to load half hearted insults into every sentence. But it seemed like she meant more than that.

"Well, you're always by yourself, you look like you never get any sleep, and you snap at random people when they do nothing wrong."

"You're observant," he told her, not sure how to react to her accusations. He supposed they were true. He just didn't like talking about them. She couldn't know that he wasn't sleeping because of Death Eater nightmares, that he was by himself because he hated everyone else, or that he snapped at people because he was taking all of his frustrations out on them instead of himself.

"There's something wrong," she notified him. "You wouldn't be tolerating me any other way."

"Granger," he said, his voice starting to go softer. His words weren't exactly comforting, in a way they were actually demeaning, but to him, they meant something. "I tolerate you because you're all I have left."

She opened her mouth to deny it, but Draco could see that she knew what he said was exactly true. Sure, he had Myrtle, and he had his mother, but Myrtle was long dead, and his mother was too broken down and nervous to be much of anything to him. He'd chased away the rest of school. So that left Granger. Stupid Mudblood Granger.

"I have to go," he told her firmly. Then he left her standing there, most likely still trying to think of an appropriate response to what he said.

He swept through the corridors, hoping that his sudden exit would be enough of a hint for her not to bring up the conversation again.

...

On the last day of break, Draco found Hermione in the back of the library, crouched behind a shelf and nervously peeking out from the edge of it. He snuck up silently behind her.

"If you're hiding from Weasley, I just saw him leave," Draco notified her. She jumped half a mile in the air, and he curled his lips into a smirk.

"You scared me," she breathed.

"I noticed," he said, coolly turning to look at the books, as if he hadn't walked over there just because he saw her.

"So you heard that we broke up?" she asked Draco, straightening up out of her crouch. Draco mentally cringed. He didn't want to talk about her breakup with Weasley.

"I'd have to be living under a rock not to have heard," he said coldly, hoping that she'd get the hint and stop discussing it. He was also annoyed. He made one little comment about tolerating her, and all of the sudden he was her relationship psychologist? It was bloody irritating.

"I still can't believe he did it," she said furiously. "I trusted him, I- I thought I loved him."

Then she looked to an extremely horrified Draco, her cheeks tingeing pink in embarrassment. Of course, she probably thought that Draco was horrified because she was treating him like a friend, and the look in her eyes made it clear that she hadn't wanted to confide that in him. Draco, however, was no longer annoyed at her confiding in him. His ears were still ringing from her saying that she thought she loved Weasley.

She had loved Weasley. Loved. Like wanted to marry and have kids with him. With him! It just wasn't right. Thinking about it made him sick.

"You didn't love him," Draco told her, but really he was trying more or less to convince himself. She looked at him in surprise. She hadn't expected a civil response.

"How would you know that?" she asked sharply.

"It just isn't right," he said. "You and Weasley? That's disgusting." He could almost imagine her hackles raising, probably because he'd gotten the picture of a tiny little dog into his head. Actually, if it would have been a different situation, the look that she was giving him would have warranted an angry Pomeranian comment.

"I know that you think Ron and I are the two most insufferable people on the planet, but you'd say that it was disgusting if either of us was in a relationship with anyone."

"Granger," he told her, looking at her, but yet through her at the same time. He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, not after what he'd done to her. "It's disgusting for Weasley to be with anyone, I'm not going to deny that. But that doesn't mean that I think the same thing about you, okay? I said what I did because, well-"

"You're a git?" she tried. He shot her a glare loaded with ice. Maybe he didn't hate her anymore, but it was just infuriating when he was trying to be nice, and she insisted on acting like, well, like the Hermione Granger from all of their previous years.

"I'm trying to be nice," he snapped at her. "Just trust me on this. Your relationship with Weasley didn't mean as much as you thought it did." As the words came out of his mouth, he could feel that they were true.

"Just go away," she mumbled. So he did. He wanted to say more, to get the miserable look off of her face, but he had remind himself that he needed her miserable. If she was convinced that she didn't love Ron, then she wouldn't retaliate by finding someone else, and she'd still be with Harry.

But she's miserable. Help her.

And he wanted to, with everything he had, he wanted to help her. He just couldn't, though. His life depended on it.

The day they returned to school, Draco was nervous about DADA. He didn't know where he stood with Hermione, and that bothered him. But he was also somewhat eager to restart the bickering and awkward conversations that they'd started having.

Unfortunately, both of them arrived at class to late to talk very much at all. They'd been held after in transfiguration to clean up after an incident involving a rabbit and a tea cup, and Draco had barely taken his quill out before Snape began talking about dementors again, due to a sharp rise in the number of attacks. Draco, who hadn't the slightest interest in repeating a subject they'd already covered, turned to look at Hermione. She was looking at Ron with tears in her eyes.

This did not make Draco happy. Actually, it made him both regretful and pissed off at the same time. But mostly pissed off because she really shouldn't be so torn apart over a stupid prat.

"That waste of human life cheated on you," Draco reminded her none too kindly. "So why are you checking him out?"

"I can't help it," she muttered. Draco smirked, giving Snape a quick glance to make sure he wasn't near the two of them.

"So you think he's a hunk?" he wondered. "I guess the pot belly is coming back into style." She gave him an incredulous look. "What? Does he have a six pack hidden under all those butt ugly sweaters he wears? I just figured he was fat because whenever I see him he's feeding his face. But enlighten me. I'm sure that you know the answer."

She was blushing bright red, looking at Draco like he was crazy.

"I- Ron- Did you just ask me about Ronald Weasley's stomach muscles?" Draco's eyes flashed with amusement.

"I'm not serious, Granger. That was supposed to make you laugh." Then, just a little bit too late, her face broke out into a dazzling smile. Sure, it still didn't go deep enough, but Draco couldn't help but congratulate himself.

"I would have," she assured him. "I just didn't think that you'd do something like that."

"Don't flatter yourself. This is because I enjoy laughing at Weasley. I'm not doing it for you." But he was.

He wanted her to really smile again as much as he wanted her to just get over the stupid boy. He thought of how she couldn't get over Weasley too early, because then she wouldn't feel the need for revenge, and his plan would fall apart. But that no longer mattered to him. He just wanted her to smile at him and hate Weasley, and not because of any stupid plan.

Then he noticed the redhead giving him a nasty glare, his eyes going to the smiling Hermione when he saw Draco catch him looking. He saw the unmistakable anger there. Weasley was mad at Draco for making Hermione laugh when he had supposedly made her cry. Granger was starting to trust him, and Draco was definitely doing a little more than simply tolerating her, no matter if he was willing to admit it or not.

So was there anything wrong with getting Granger on his side, with letting himself be nice to her- for the sake of the plan, of course- so that she'd start trusting him over her two friends? Just from looking at Weasley and Potter, he could see that the two weren't getting along at that moment. If he could get Hermione to come to him over Potter, and give Weasley a little help to ensure that he stayed away from his two friends, then everything would still work out.

Thinking of that made him relax. He could get her to quit sniveling over Weasley without compromising the plan. It was perfect.

"Great, so now you're checking Ron out," Granger said. Draco jumped and look at her. Apparently she'd been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Since you're too slow to tell me what kind of gut he had, I was trying to see for myself," he told her. That time, she laughed. It was an actual laugh, not sad, not hollow, but real. Her chocolate colored eyes seemed to shine more, and her lips curved up into her usual sweet smile. God, she's beautiful, he thought unwillingly.

"Liking what you see?" she asked him, and he started to panic before he remembered that they were talking about Weasley. He quickly looked over at Ron so he had time to recompose his face.

"Nah, I think I'll stick with Goyle. He has a better body." She started laughing again, and it actually took effort for him not to start as well.

"Do you find something amusing, Ms. Granger?" Snape spat in her direction. Both her and Draco jumped. He'd kind of forgotten that they were having class. Usually, if Draco was involved, Snape would ignore whispering and quiet conversations. Up until then, they'd been fine. He'd just made her laugh too loud.

"My apologies, Professor," Draco said quickly. "It is my fault. I'm sure that you've heard the rumors about Granger and Weasley, and I was simply curious to whether they'd ever slept together." He shrugged innocently. "I guess that's her answer."

Draco easily pulled the whole thing off with a completely straight face, his eyes dead serious, which made the whole thing even more hilarious to the rest of the class, all of who burst into laughter. Well, other than Snape, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione, because she was so embarrassed that she couldn't even look up. Harry because he hated Draco, and he probably wasn't comfortable hearing about his friends' sex lives. Ron for obvious reasons. And then Snape because, in addition to the inappropriate comment, had been seemingly born without a sense of humor.

"Mr. Malfoy. I should give you detention for that."

"You asked. I was only being honest," he said, giving him his best 'aren't I a sweet little Death Eater' look. He knew that intimidation didn't work with Snape. Sucking up, however, usually did. And it didn't fail him on that occasion.

"Save personal talk for time outside of class," he said. Then he turned to the rest of the classroom, who was still laughing.

"Silence!" he growled.

With that, their lesson continued.