Disclaimer: I own nothing.

And THAT was the big twist! I know alot of you wanted to have Lucius AND Narcissa slowly accepting Hermione, but, unfortunately, Narcissa was unable to meet Hermione outside of Bellatrix's little torture session. But, don't fear! We will get Lucius's reaction in future chapters.

This chapter is the morning after a very eventful day.

So sit back and relax.

Love always,

Avoline

Draco slowly opened his eyes. He was wondering when his bed had been covered in leather, and why his pillow was so hard. The gears in his mind started turning, running through the events of the previous day.

I got a letter from Father. Check.

I found out that Mother passed away. Check.

I tried to kill myself again. Check.

Hermione saved me. Check.

We admitted that we have feelings for one another. Check.

I faced the fact that Mother is dead.

He covered his face with his hands and let the silent tears fall. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. Narcissa had been the rock of the Malfoy family. The two Malfoy men probably wouldn't be alive if not for her. They needed her more than she would ever know.

Now, she was gone.

A choked sob passed Draco's lips. This wasn't fair. He was so eager to formaly introduce Hermione to Narcissa, considering the first time the older witch had ever seen the brunette was when his crazed aunt was torturing the young woman. He knew his mother would have loved Hermione, despite her blood status.

He felt a gentle touch on his arm.

"Hermione," he croaked.

"Yeah, it's me," she answered, rubbing his arm soothingly. He moved his hands and met her gaze.

"How do you do it," he questioned, his voice choked. "How do you live every day knowing you won't see them again?" He could see the tears in her eyes, but he knew she would be able to help him. She was the only one he knew of that was in the same position as him.

"It wasn't easy," she began. "I spent quite a few days doing just what you're doing. After a while, though, I finally made myself think about what they would want me to do, and I realized that they were probably better off." A tear fell down her perfect cheek. "I wish I could have at least gotten the chance to restore their memories, but at least they're not in danger anymore." She rubbed a thumb across his cheek, wiping away the stream of tears. "She's not suffering anymore, Draco. I know it hurts, but at least she's not sick anymore." He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Good point," he stated. "I wish you could have met her, Hermione. Now that everything is back to some form of normal, I think you and her would have gotten along so well." He felt her fingers comb through his hair.

"If you need to, you know you can stay here for the day," she reminded him. He nodded, and she got up to go get ready for classes.

How was he going to deal with this alone? The only thing he had ever dealt with alone with his task of killing Dumbledor, and he had failed misserably. He was terrified that he would never get over his mother's death. She would want him to move on, but it hurt so much to accept that she was gone. He felt like a hole had been punched through his chest, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He heard Hermione coming down the stairs behind him, and he jumped up just in time to grab her wrist.

"Hermione, don't go," he pleaded. "Please, I need you here." She shook her head sadly.

"I can't, Draco," she answered.

"Please, don't leave me here," he half sobbed. "Talk to McGonagall, see if she'll let you stay. Please, I'm begging you, I can't go through this alone."

He was crying again. His mother's passing had tore down the last of his emotinal wall, and he wasn't sure how to deal with any of the emotions he was feeling. He just knew that he nedded Hermione by his side right now. She was the only one who knew how to help him, the only one he could trust.

"I'll try," she reassured, "but I'm not sure if she'll understand." He nodded and let go of her arm, his eyes watching as she left the room.

He paced. He laid down and cried. He sat down and counted the bricks in the wall. Anything to take his mind off of how alone he felt. He felt like she had been gone for hours. His chest ached. He needed her near him. He couldn't stand to be alone. He knew he hald to hold it together for her, but his emotional state was so unstable that he wasn't sure how long he could stand it.

He finally got up and walked into the bathroom. Maybe, if he could handle ten senconds in his own company, it would help ease the pain. But as soon as he looked in the mirror, he felt the self-loathing build.

Worthless.

Empty.

Useless.

Unloved.

Waste of air.

Disgrace.

Nothing.

He conjured a knife. If she wasn't back now, then she wouldn't return until classes were over. Hermione never missed a class if she could avoid it. Maybe he wasn't a good enough excuse for her to blow off a day of classes. He pressed the knife to his wrist. No one would notice if he was gone. No one would care. He dragged the blade across his pale skin, drawing small streams of blood to the surface.

"Draco!"

He jumped and dropped the knife in the sink.

"Hermione," he squeaked. She grabbed a towel and pressed it to his arm.

"Merlin, Draco, what were you doing," she demanded. He looked away as tears pricked his eyes.

"I thought you wouldn't come back," he admitted. "I couldn't take it anymore." She lead him back into the main sitting room and sat him on the couch.

"McGonagall asked me if I would stay," she replied. "She knew you would need some company. Draco, what were you thinking?" A small drop of sorrow slipped down his face.

"That no one would notice if I was gone," he whispered. "That it would all end if I died right now. The pain, the loathing, the sorrow. It's too much." Her gentle fingers touched his cheek, turning his face to meet her gaze.

"I would notice," she soothed. "I would care. I know it's hard to deal with, trust me. But it won't make anything easier for those of us that are left. Your father would notice."

"But would he care," he argued.

"I would like to think he would," she countered. "You're his son. You're the last of the Malfoy line. If he doesn't care, then he's got some serious issues." She combed a stray strand of hair out of his face. "And if he doesn't, then I do. That should amount to something, right?" He sighed.

"I just," he started, but faltered. "I can't... If there was..." He took a deep, shakey breath, and did the only thing he could at that moment: let go of his pride, let his self control shatter, and weep.

Her feelings did amount to something to him. She was the girl he loved, the girl he tried to drive out of his head, the girl who gave him a reason to try. She was so much like his mother, yet just different enough to still be her. He didn't want to hurt her, not anymore. He needed to learn how to deal with his emotions, before he did something stupid and left her alone in the worst possible way.

The rest of the day was spent in her arms, crying harder than he had ever cried in a long time.