Draco waited for her after class that day. As usual, it was their last of the day, and he had an entire night open in front of him. Telling himself that he needed Hermione to get close to him in order for his plan to work, he decided that they were going for a walk.
"Granger," Draco said, falling into step next to her as she started to walk off.
"Yeah?" Hermione asked absentmindedly, pausing in midstride without really turning to face him. She was probably expecting a quick homework question.
"I was just wondering if you'd care to go for a walk with me," said Draco nonchalantly, as if it was completely normal for him to ask a Mudblood to go on a random walk around the grounds.
Hermione's head jerked around.
"What?"
"You haven't gone deaf, have you Granger?" Draco asked cockily, even though he was actually rather worried. He didn't want her to say no for some reason, even though he hadn't quite figured out what that reason could be.
"But-"
"Yes or no."
"Uh, I don't know. Sure?"
Draco shook his head at her.
"There was no yes or no in that sentence."
"Oh, shut it Malfoy," Hermione tried to snap, but she was laughing again. "Yes, I will go."
Draco smiled and began ambling away from the classroom, and Hermione followed, walking close enough that he could feel her body heat, but just far enough away from each other that they weren't quite touching. Neither of them said anything as Draco led Hermione out of the school and onto the cool grounds, but when Hermione tried to head to the lake, Draco gently grabbed her elbow and steered her in the direction of the gardens.
"You still have Harry's invisibility cloak, don't you?" Hermione asked as they picked their way through the thick snow. Draco shrugged, even though he really didn't want to talk about it with her. There was no way he was going to give that thing back.
"So he told you I stole it?" he asked like he didn't care. To his surprise, instead of lecturing him, Hermione laughed. Draco looked at her in surprise, but Hermione didn't seem to see anything out of place with her reaction. Instead she continued walking forward with a bright smile on her face, her brown eyes lit up like she was enjoying herself, and her usually pale cheeks pink from the snow.
"I think everyone in Gryffindor tower heard him yelling about it. He hates you for that. It was his father's," Hermione explained, her tone only going serious towards the end. Draco probably should have felt guilty, but he didn't. Hermione and Myrtle both possessed the inane talent to make him feal guilty, but there was no way in hell that he'd ever feel anything of the sort towards Saint Potter.
"Well, he sent my father to prison. I'd say we're even," Draco said bitterly. They walked forward a little further.
"Did it really even bother you, your father getting sent to Azkaban? I thought that you didn't like him," said Hermione. She wasn't looking at him, but Draco could hear the concern in her voice. Unwarranted concern, of course. Draco snorted.
"I don't," he answered. He could feel her giving him another one of her questioning looks, and he knew that he should keep his eyes forward, but he looked at her anyway. As he'd expected, her breathtaking brown eyes made him want to spill everything. Instead, he looked away and said, "But my father's failure did more than get him sent to Azkaban."
"Wait," Granger said, furrowing her brow. "His failure?"
"That prophecy that you and your baby heroes went to retrieve. There was a reason he was there, and it sure as hell wasn't to watch you take it," said Draco, his eyes down. He was saying too much, being too honest, and he knew that Hermione would figure something out soon, but he couldn't bring himself to stop talking.
"For You-Know-Who?"
"Yes." Hermione wasn't daft, Draco had to admit that. He could basically see the gears in her mind working as she figured out exactly what that entailed.
"And Volde- You-know-who- wasn't happy about that?"
"Granger, are you that thick?" he asked her, actually laughing a little. He really doubted that there was a time when Voldemort was happy.
"I guess I can figure that out. But if he wasn't happy with your father, would that mean..." Hermione started.
"He's not happy with the rest of my family either," finished Draco.
"And you're being punished? That's why you were mad enough to steal the cloak."
"I hate Potter for other reasons, but at that moment, I was thinking of my current predicament," said Draco. He was starting to become almost suspicious, the way that she was getting him to talk. It didn't make sense that he'd so freely tell her these things that he had kept from everyone else.
"I helped with that battle, you know that, right?" she wondered. Draco smirked at her, shaking his head a little.
"It's harder to hate someone when they refuse to hate you back."
"I suppose," said Hermione. They went a few more feet in silence. Draco noticed her shiver. He resisted the impulse to ask if she wanted to use his cloak.
"Why do you refuse to hate me?" he asked to break the silence. He wasn't sure she'd even be able to answer that quesiton, that there was an actual reason for it at all. He couldn't think of very many reasons not to hate himself.
"Because, I could see that you weren't bad," said Hermione, like it was a fact and not a mistaken, terriblely misinformed opinion.
"I am," he told her firmly.
"I don't think-" Hermione started. Draco shook his head, his voice now filled with warning.
"You don't know the things that I've done," he informed her. Then she looked at him with those sweet brown eyes, and Draco felt his heart stop.
"I don't believe you," Hermione said.
Draco took a deep breath. He knew there were things that he couldn't tell her, but he had something that he could.
"Granger, at the start of the year, when I found out that Parkinson was cheating on me, I laid into her badly enough that she worried I was going to kill her. Pansy Parkinson was huddled into a ball, balling her eyes out, begging for me to spare her life. And I didn't feel any guilt. Nothing. Actually, it almost made me feel good, to see how I could completely break someone down like that."
"She's paranoid," Hermione told him. "I doubt you were that bad. Besides, she hurt you."
"She didn't hurt me," Draco confessed. "I hated her. She was an annoying whore, and I was glad she'd broken up with me. I only did that to her because she'd taken advantage of a Malfoy."
Hermione fixed him with an unflinching look.
"Whatever you have done, you are not a bad person. I can feel it." Forcing his own eyes to stay hard and unreadable, Draco looked into hers. They were sincere and earnest. Already the sadness from the Weasel was gone, and Draco reassured himself with the fact that they'd never loved each other in the first place.
"Granger, I believe that you can look the Dark Lord in the eye and tell him that somehow, some way, he's a good person."
Suddenly, Hermione tore her eyes away from his.
"You called him the Dark Lord," she said softly. Draco felt his stomach give a little squeeze. How would she have caught that? No one else would have noticed.
"You do know who's in my family, don't you?" asked Draco, hiding behind biting sarcasm. He felt a little guilty when he saw her swallow at his shifting tone, but ignored her reaction for the most part, doing his best not to care. "It's a habit, Granger. I'm not one of his servants."
"Of course," Hermione said, her cheeks tinting pink, as though she were embarrassed for accusing him of supporting Voldemort.
After that, there was more walking, more silence.
"I have a potions essay to finish," she said finally, shattering the stiff quiet. Draco let out a sigh of almost relief. They headed back to the school without saying another word.
...
It was three days later when Professor Slughorn instructed his potions class to choose partners. They were supposed to brew amortentia, which would take two weeks or so to finish. It was an extremely advanced potion, and Slughorn said that because of its difficulty level, he would let them work together.
Hermione started to turn to Harry, but Draco rushed in grabbed her arm, sending a smirk in Potter's direction.
"I need a smart partner, Granger," Draco said, trying to ignore how warm her arm was and how he couldn't quite make himself let go. He shot Hermione a blinding smile. "And Zabini scares me, so...?"
Harry glared at Draco.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, obvioulsy not thrilled that someone as 'dangerous' as him would want to spend any time at all with Hermione. He'd been getting even more possessive lately, especially since he'd quite talking with Ron.
"In case you haven't noticed, I haven't been doing anything wrong for a very long time, Potter," Draco said smoothly.
"Yeah, not since you stole my father's cloak-" Harry started to mutter, but Draco cut him off with a bitter laugh.
"And you stole my father, so I'd say that we're even."
"You got your father back when he escaped," Harry snapped. The entire class was looking at them by that point, but neither of them noticed. Draco started to reach for his wand, but at that moment, Hermione decided to latch herself onto his arm with both of her own, grabbing it and holding it to her so that he probably couldn't have yanked it free if he tried.
Not that Draco wanted to get away. He could feel her heat, soaking into that arm and radiating throughout his entire body. Suddenly, Potter seemed like nothing more than a minor annoyance.
"Malfoy, please don't fight-" Hermione started.
"Don't worry, Granger, I won't," he said with a smirk. "Now let's go." Then Draco pulled her away. Harry and the rest of the class stared at them in shock, but Hermione didn't say anything about it for the rest of the class period, and neither did Draco.
...
That weekend Draco took her to see the thestrals.
"Have you seen someone die?" Draco asked as they entered the forest.
"Last year," Hermione said sadly. Then she looked at him. "I supposed you have."
Draco laughed humorlessly.
"More times than I would have liked," he sighed. They continued on in silence, walking far enough away from each other to ensure that not even their elbows brushed. That was Hermione, not Draco. Draco, since she'd kept him from hexing Potter, was having more trouble keeping his thoughts in places that they should have been. At that moment, with her arms swinging harmlessly by her sides, he was extremely tempted to grab one of her hands firmly in his own. But he knew Hermione would freak out. She would be disgusted. And he would be devastated.
"Are you sure they're here?" she asked after another half mile. Draco smiled.
"Almost."
Moments later, Hermione and Draco stepped through the trees and into the little clearing where the thestrals were sleeping, or kicking around snow, or eating tiny little forest animals.
"We're here," Draco smirked, even though it was kind of obvious. She smiled, taking a step forward and petting one on its nose.
"They're so gentle," she said.
"They are."
She continued to stroke the thestral, smiling softly and beautifully. At that moment, Draco had an idea.
"Do you want to fly one?" Draco asked offhandedly, like he didn't actually care whether or not she accepted his offer.
"What?" Hermione said. He nodded towards the winged horses.
"I'm getting bored around here. We should fly one."
"Are you sure? I don't know if that's-"
Hermione shut her mouth when Draco picked her up and threw her over the back of the thestral she'd been petting. The creature didn't seem to mind at all. Draco, once he'd gotten Hermione onto the creature's back, hopped on in front of her.
"Hold on tight," he warned. He could feel her stiffen nervously, looking back at her. "Granger? Did you hear me?" She was still looking at him as though he'd just told her to strip naked. He snorted. Then, with the usual Malfoy confidence, he reached back and took her hands, putting them on either side of his waist. As soon as he'd moved her hands for her, Hermione's grip tightened and Draco felt her nuzzle her face into his back. That warmth returned again, and his heart started beating so quickly that he was sure she could hear it.
"Ready?" Draco asked her, his voice still smooth despite the way that butterflies seemed to have invaded his stomach. He had no idea what was going on. Malfoys did not get butterflies.
"Yes," Hermione said. Draco could feel her warm breath on his neck, and there was no way he could have suppressed the shiver that went down his spine. There was no doubt that she felt it, because she seemed to scoot closer to him.
I'm going to pureblood hell for this, he thought, but he couldn't make himself care anymore. He coaxed the thestral into flight, and the winged horse slowly rose through a break in the trees, then took off as it got into the open air.
"This is amazing," Granger breathed as the cool air surrounded them.
"I suppose," Draco said with as much indifference as he could manage. Hermione only laughed, holding onto him even more tightly.
They flew until the sun started to set, and Draco gently coaxed the thestral to the ground.
"I don't want to go back yet," Hermione said when Draco helped her off it's back.
"We don't have to," Draco told her, not wanting to leave either. Not really thinking about it, he grabbed her elbow again and took her through the snow, back to the gardens. Instead of walking, he sat down on a narrow wooden bench, and after a moment's hesitation, she sat beside him.
At first, they didn't touch. Then Granger shivered, and Draco couldn't help himself. He moved closer and put his arm around her. From that close, he could smell her hair. Lavender, like always. She looked up at him with wary eyes. It was weird, that she could go and bury her face in his back and everything was fine, but he couldn't keep her warm without raising suspicion.
"What are you doing?" she wondered nervously.
"Sharing body heat," Draco said sharply, like his heart wasn't thudding against his ribcage or like he didn't find any significance in this at all. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Um-" Hermione hesitated.
"You're supposed to say no," Draco supplied quickly, hoping that she wasn't going to pull away.
She didn't.
"I was getting around to it," Hermione laughed, snuggling closer. Draco chuckled into her hair, and that time he felt her shiver.
"Cold?" Draco asked, even though he knew that wasn't it. He also knew the effect that he'd had on girls in the past, and he wasn't going to let himself hope that any of this meant anything at all.
"A little," Hermione said too quickly. Her cheeks were flaming red.
"Well, then I suppose I'm not doing my job well enough," he murmured, pulling her a little closer. He thought about what his father would think, about what Voldemort himself would do if he found out about this. But Draco had his foolproof excuse. No, not an excuse. He had a good, solid reason. This was all part of his plan. He had to get her to trust him for the stupid plan.
Except with her so close and smelling so good, Draco knew it wasn't true. His genius idea was nothing but an excuse to get close to her without getting in trouble with the Dark Lord.
Thinking about that, realizing that he did have a foolproof excuse, Draco let himself grab her hand.
"Malfoy," Hermione complained. Draco sighed, smiling at the way her eyes glazed over when his breath danced across her face.
"I'm just keeping you warm," he lied, wondering if she knew the kind of effect that she was starting to have on him. He almost hoped that she did.
"Fine," Hermione said. He smirked. Peaceful quiet ensued. It wasn't awkward or nervous like it had been before, but it felt right. Actually, in that second, it felt more than right. With her so close, every breath tickling his face, Draco only wanted to get closer. He wanted to kiss her. Just as he was making up his mind to lean in, to press his lips to hers, Hermione interrupted his thoughts.
"You should tell me about your family," she said. "I want to know about your past."
Way to ruin the moment, Draco thought with a grimace.
"My father is a prick, my mother cares about me, but she's too guilty about letting my father be a prick. Good enough?" Draco's words were terse. Hermione didn't need to know about his family. It'd probably make him look even worse than he already did.
"You have other family too. Your aunt-" Hermione started.
"My aunt is insane," Draco cut in. "And that's all you need to know."
"What would they do if they saw this, right now?" she wondered. Draco groaned.
"You ask too many questions," Draco notified her.
"Malfoy-"
"My mother would disapprove, but would allow it. My father would disown me," he answered honestly. "My aunt would literally kill me. You were close to Sirius Black, you know how she feels about family members who don't feel the way that they should about Muggle-borns."
Hermione swallowed, looking at him in horror.
"Then why are you even here? With me?"
"I don't care about my father, I hate my aunt. I care about you, and that's what matters," Draco answered quietly, sincerely.
Hermione's eyes widened at this, like she hadn't expected him to actually say it. For a long time, she was quiet, looking down at her hands and thinking hard, but then she looked up at him sweetly and softly asked, "How did that happen?"
"You were there," Draco answered softly, "when no one else was. That means something."
Hermione smiled, snuggling closer to him.
"You aren't so bad, Malfoy," Hermione told him. "That was actually… sweet."
Draco pretended to gag, when really her words meant a lot more to him than they should have.
"That's pushing it," Draco said. Her smile suddenly turned teasing.
"Okay, Malfoy. You aren't sweet. You're cruel, and terrible. Happy?"
"Yeah," Draco said, burying his face in her hair. "I am."
...
A week after that, after more walks through the snow and holding hands and being happier than he had in a very long time, that happiness vanished. Draco was heading back to the dungeons from his DADA class when someone grabbed his arm as he was turning a shadowy corner.
He didn't know how he knew that it was his father. The Death Eater's face was masked. But he could feel it.
"How'd you get in here?" was Draco's first nervous question. The figure raised his mask, confirming Draco's suspicions. Lucius Malfoy.
"Snape has found a way to get Death Eaters into the school," Lucius said stiffly. Then he proceeded to put several charms around the corner in which they were standing. Draco wondered if he could smell Hermione on him. Somehow, he wouldn't doubt it.
"What are you doing here?" asked Draco darkly.
"Dumbledore is still alive."
The boy ignored the statement as best as he could.
"Look at Potter's friends, though. Weasley is acting like they don't exist, and Granger has been spending most of her time groveling at my feet."
It felt wrong, saying something like that. Something that so obviously wasn't true.
"Getting one task complete isn't good enough, Draco," his father spat. His eyes had gotten darker than they had been before, a little less controlled. Angrier. Azkaban hadn't been good for him, and the knowledge made Draco's heartbeat quicken with fear. "You need to finish them both. Now, what have you done about Dumbledore?"
"I've been researching ways to kill him, but he's one of the greatest wizards in history. I haven't found anything that will work."
That was somewhat true. Sure, Draco had found several good ideas and had to force himself to shoot them down, but he didn't think he needed to mention that.
"Draco," his father hissed, saliva hitting Draco in the face. "You have to do better. In case you need a reminder, the punishment for failing to finish him is death."
"What do you insist that I do?" Draco growled at him.
"If you're too weak to barge into his office and kill him, why won't you poison him? Do something. Snape is worried about your lack of progress, and it's concerning me as well."
"But-"
"No buts Draco. You've failed me enough times, this is your chance to prove you're more than just a disappointment. You haven't even attempted to kill the man once. If you are going to try, notify Snape-"
"That bloody traitor would just warn-"
"Draco," his father shouted. "Do as I say. If Severus does not contact me within two weeks, then I will pay you another visit. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Father," Draco muttered. Then Lucius tapped his head with his wand and disappeared.
Draco immediately turned around and went to Myrtle's bathroom.
There, he stared into the mirror, looking at his reflection and picking apart what he saw, finding disgust with everything. He had his father's hair, his father's face, his father's eyes. He had the same tattoo on the same place on the same arm. They were so much alike. Too much alike.
But then why did he suddenly like a Mudblood so much? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Why had he wanted to kiss her? And if he was so much like his father, why did the thought of killing Dumbledore make him break down like it was the end of the world?
"Are you okay?" he heard Myrtle ask tentatively. He opened his mouth to answer, but then he saw another face in the mirror. There was no mistaking the shock of black hair and round glasses that were peeking through the door.
Draco turned as he pulled out his wand, starting his spell before he was even facing him. "Expelliarmus!"
Potter ducked out of the way, then fired one of his own. It hit the sinks, and water started spraying everywhere, soaking Draco to the bone.
"Cruc-" he started, planning on casting the curse that his father had tortured him with. But Potter was quicker.
"Sectumsempra!" he shouted. For one second, nothing happened. Then it was as if an invisible enemy had started slicing away at him. Draco felt swords slicing through his back, his chest, his arms. He wanted to cry out, but the pain left him in shock. He could smell the blood, and the edges of his vision were blackening.
He heard Potter scream before he collapsed to the ground and blacked out.
...
When Draco woke up, his chest was tight, but other than that he felt fine. Someone had apparently administered the counter curse.
In a rush, everything that had led up to his getting cursed flooded into his head, and he jolted up, ignoring the way that his head started swimming. Madam Pomfrey, seeing her patient making sudden movements, rushed over to him.
"Mr. Malfoy, I wouldn't recommend sitting up."
"How long has it been since I was out?" Draco asked her, only laying his head back down when her famous glare darkened her features.
"Just over a week," she said. "The curse was very powerful, and despite Professor Snape's quick action, it did dangerous internal damage that was very difficult to repair. I still suggest that you stay in bed for at least two more days."
Over a week. Stay in bed for two more days. That would leave him almost no time to make even a halfhearted attempt to kill Dumbledore. Suddenly, just on a whim, he thought of a stupid and faulty plan that he didn't think would ever work. All that he wanted was to be able to tell Snape he'd made an effort. So, he did the easiest thing he could think of. When Madam Pomfrey had turned around, Draco slipped his wand off of the table beside his bed and held it up.
"Imperio," he whispered. The old witch turned to him with blank eyes, waiting for her commands.
"Find Dumbledore something to drink. Anything. Then spike it with whatever poison you can find, as long as it's deadly enough to kill. Don't be obvious, and do not notify anyone of your intentions."
Then the witch left him alone.
A day later, she was sent of to Saint Mungo's to help recover from the curse. Dumbledore, not being an idiot, had caught her.
The day after that, Draco was released from the hospital wing. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was met by Severus Snape.
"That was pathetic," the older wizard growled at him.
"I tried," Draco argued. "If you have any better ideas, then tell me."
"This is your job," Snape said darkly.
"I'm trying," Draco lied insistently. The other Death Eater gave him a look of pure disgust.
"You don't know where your loyalties lie. You can't be thick enough to think that the entire school hasn't noticed your infatuation with the Mudblood. You've been flaunting it with everyone. I am in a mind to turn you over to the Dark Lord at this moment for treason."
Because Draco was a Malfoy, his face didn't show a speck of the terror he was feeling. Instead, he told Snape the lie that he'd attempted to feed himself.
"I'm disgusted that you think I would actually fall for a creature like that," Draco said smoothly, looking directly into Snape's eyes as he spoke. He knew the other man could read his thoughts, but he brought old ones to the front of his mind, thoughts of disgust and hate and wanting to kill Hermione Granger. Snape would no doubt be satisfied with those. "If you remember, I do have another task that I'm required to complete."
"To separate Weasley, Granger, and Potter. I do not think that entails forming bonds with any of them."
"Bond," Draco scoffed. "Your opinion of me must be terribly low if you really think I've ever had a bond with that girl. I've been working at this since the start of the year.
"First, I made her fall in love with Weasley, and they started to alienate Potter. Then I cursed the Weasel to make him cheat on her, knowing that he'd be caught. They broke it off and she was devastated. Potter was infuriated at the Weasel for cheating, and that got rid of him. That left Granger. For the past month I've been going to extreme, rather disturbing, measures to get her to fall for me." Draco smirked. "And it's working. Why do you think the scar-faced git pulled that curse on me? She's leaving him for me, and pretty soon, he's going to be all alone."
Draco watched the professor nervously as he seemed to chew over everything he'd been told. Then, Snape started clapping.
"I am very impressed. As you can see, even I was fooled. Your plan is brilliant. The Dark Lord has always been captivated with your problem solving ability, and that is why he chose you for this task. I was doubtful, but now I can see that he has made the right choice. When the battle starts, no one will interfere with Potter, and that is all the Dark Lord has asked of you. Very good, Draco."
"May I go?"
"There is one more thing which I must tell you."
"And that is?"
"I have made an unbreakable vow with your mother," he told him severely. "Your problems with killing the old man are becoming obvious. If you fail, I will finish him for you. Therefore, I order you to focus only at your other task, and wait until the moment comes to worry about the headmaster. If you continue with what you're doing now, you will only cause problems for yourself."
Although knowing his mother didn't have confidence in him wasn't very inspiring, Draco was relived by the words that came out of his professor's mouth.
"Thank you Professor," said Draco quickly, bowing his head.
"It will be my pleasure," Snape said darkly. Then he waved the boy away. "Now go. I'm sure that your Mudblood is waiting for you."
And oh, was she waiting for him.
Draco hadn't so much as turned the corner to leave the hospital wing when Hermione stepped out from the shadows. Suddenly, her glare didn't seem like it belonged on a Pomeranian anymore.
Maybe a Doberman, something that would rip his throat out.
It was even scarier because there were no tears. Just anger. Raw anger.
It was pretty safe to say that Hermione had overheard him.
"I hate you," Hermione snarled, speaking before Draco had the chance to explain anything.
For once, he didn't bother to hide his emotions. He let his fear and hurt show plainly on his face.
"Granger, listen," Draco pleaded. But she'd heard enough of what he had to say. Raising her wand, Hermione fired a nonverbal spell at him. This time, he wasn't expecting it, and it hit him straight in the chest, causing him to fly backwards, his entire body erupting into white hot pain.
Draco didn't yell or scream. He just sat there and let himself feel it, revel in it. Because that pain was so much better than what he felt when he happened to wonder what Hermione Granger's current opinion of him was.
The pain faded away. It was nothing permanent. The second he stopped feeling it, Draco hurried to Myrtle's bathroom and sunk to the ground, holding his face in his hands and shaking. Myrtle came to him almost instantly, and he stayed in the bathrooms that night, curled in a ball, letting a dead ghost comfort him.
...
The next days drug on.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts conversations stopped. So did the walks. Oh, Draco tried to get Hermione to talk to him. It just didn't work.
"Granger-" he'd start. And Hermione would shoot him a glare. Then Ron and Harry, whom she'd apparently spilled everything to, would glare at him as well. Draco, not having the heart to glare back for something he so rightly deserved, would take to glaring at his professor instead, because if Snape hadn't talked to him, then he wouldn't have to worry about anything.
During that week, Draco got no sleep. He turned into a zombie. His skin was an unhealthy gray. His eyes started sagging.
They hadn't even been going out, he hadn't kissed her or anything. But it didn't make a difference to him. Without her, he had no one. Maybe if he'd had a friend to turn to, a parent who would comfort him, or even just a smiling face, it wouldn't have been so bad.
But he had no one.
He continued going to Myrtle's bathroom on a daily basis, and she'd sit with him the whole time. It was better there. No one looked at him like he was a piece of shit.
Then, one day, the bathroom wasn't empty when he walked in.
There, sitting on the floor, her eyes bloodshot and filled with tears, was Hermione Granger. Myrtle kept giving her vicious looks, but was peeking out of her stall and didn't seem to be bothering her.
Draco stopped and stared at Hermione, not sure of what he should do. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just turn away, but most of him knew that he had to stay. And so he did.
"Granger," Draco whispered, stepping all the way into the bathroom so that she could see him.
Hermione leapt to her feet, the sadness in her eyes turning to burning hate. Her wand was out of her pocket in an instant. Luckily, Draco had anticipated that welcoming, and got his wand up just as quickly. It was shaking in his hand.
"Let me explain," Draco said as calmly as he could, "or I will make you." She gave him a purely disgusted look that he hadn't seen for a very long time. Outside, his face remained impassive, but it completely shredded away his insides.
"Will you put me under the Imperius like you did to Ron?" she asked calmly, but that didn't mask the slight edge of hysteria.
"I wouldn't do that to you-"
"Of course you wouldn't," she said. "Because you're obviously too-"
"Would you just listen to me?" Draco shouted, taking another step closer to her. Hermione glowered at him.
"No, I won't. I know what you're going to say. You'll tell me that you lied to Snape, that none of it was true. You'll say that you do actually like me, that it has nothing to do with saving your pathetic arse. And all of it will be a lie." As Hermione finished, tears started forming in her eyes. Draco forced himself to look directly at her.
"I'm not going to lie," Draco spat. "I admit it, I got you and Weasley together, and I broke you up. I felt guilty as all hell afterwards, but I did it." He stepped even closer to her, his voice rising. "Then I was supposed to persuade you to go with Zabini, to make Potter angry. Only I couldn't. You were mad about Weasley, and it pissed me off."
"Malfoy, I don't want to hear-"
"Listen to me," Draco demanded. Hermione backed up, and even though the fear in her eyes almost killed him, he continued speaking. "I made myself take his place. I told myself that it would be easier, more convenient, that it was just all part of the plan."
"Please, stop-"
"But it wasn't," Draco finished over her protests. "It never was. That was my excuse, my cover-up. If you'd just think about it, then you'd know."
"You're lying," Hermione snapped at him, but her voice was getting weaker.
"This year, arguing and fighting with you, talking with you and making you laugh, it's the only time I've ever thought that my life actually meant something to someone."
"You're crazy," Hermione said, her voice lowering to a whisper.
"Yes," Draco agreed. "I am crazy. Because there's no way that I should like you as much as I do."
Hermione knelt to the ground in what looked like defeat, tears coming to her eyes.
"Through Ron, you've already broken my heart once," she whispered. "At least be decent enough to stop before you do it again."
Draco knelt down beside her and tried to put his fingers under her chin to make her look at him, but Hermione flinched out of the way.
"Hermione," he said softly, the name rolling unfamiliarly off his lips for the first time even though he'd been calling her that to himself for months, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You already have."
"If I'm such a horrible git, then why didn't I just off you and Weasley? Or why didn't I ship you off to my father? Why didn't I just give you to Zabini and let him have you. There are so many things that I could have done, but I picked the choice that would let me be with you. If I hadn't truly liked you, why would I have done that?"
"Because you're cruel," Hermione said. Draco cupped her cheek in his hand, and this time, she didn't have the energy to pull away.
"Even you can't be dense enough to think that. Hermione, it's because for some fucked up reason, I can't stay away from you."
Draco leaned in and tried to kiss her. She stiffened and turned her head away.
"No."
"Damnit, Hermione. I love you. Now let me kiss you, or I'll make you," Draco snarled, then leaned forward again and roughly caught her lips in his own. This time, Hermione didn't push him away. Draco's gut twisted uncomfortably as she stiffened at first, fearing that she'd throw him off. Instead, she started kissing him back.
It tasted like tears, and Draco could feel desperation in the way that Hermione's mouth frantically started moving with his, in the way that her arms held onto him like she thought he was going to be torn from her forever. It was desperate and bittersweet, but to Draco it was enough. He forgot about being a Death Eater. He forgot about his mission, and Snape, and his family. All that existed was the stupid Mudblood that he'd grown to love.
He wanted to stay like that forever. He never wanted it to be anyone other than just the two of them.
But he knew that it would stop too soon, and it did. Hermione pulled away first, still crying.
"Do you really love me?" she panted. Draco sighed.
"God Granger, you really do have to get your hearing checked."
Hermione didn't answer. Instead, she sat up and reached for his left arm. Draco watched in horror, his heart beating faster and faster as she pushed the sleeve of his robes up. He wanted to move, he wanted to jerk his arm away, but he couldn't. He couldn't think at all until she'd pushed away that fabric and revealed his ugly Dark Mark.
"I'm not a Death Eater," Draco told her sharply. She looked at it nervously, like she was worried that the snake would bite her.
"When Snape was talking to you, I figured that he'd probably marked you. It would only make sense."
"I'm not a Death Eater," he insisted again. "Just because I have a stupid tattoo doesn't change anything."
Then, to his immense surprise, she kissed him again.
"I know," she whispered. Then he pulled her close and held her tightly against him, wishing that he'd never have to let go.
