Author's Note – Hi. I know, this is about a week late. I've been sick and haven't felt like writing much. I hope you enjoy this chapter and make sure to review when you reach the end. This chapter is the longest one yet at 19 pages and about 5,200 words.

Another Note – The title loosely means "When Want Surpasses Need" in Latin.

Disclaimer – I don't own anything associated with Harry Potter.

Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

"Ut Egeo Praesto Desiderium"

Days passed and turmoil began to brew among the students of Hogwarts, the second task nearing as each day came to a close. The rumors began to fly as they did with the first task, the corridors of Hogwarts once again filled with murmurs and whispers of a much more hushed and controversial matter than typically heard. While turmoil surged and whispers silenced the hallways, where two individuals were concerned, a much deeper set tension had formed. Hermione and Draco were not talking; or rather, Hermione refused to give Draco the time of day while Draco drifted throughout the school not sure whether he cared either way.

Monday morning, a week and a half before the second task was scheduled to occur, the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered out in the cold mist surrounding Hagrid's hut that February day. Students shivered, breaths puffed into nearly opaque clouds before dispersing, and weak rays of sun barely managed to illuminate the grounds.

Hermione stood between Harry and Ron, tuning out their quidditch blabber as she did everyday. While she was wrapped in her warmest cloak, her insides seemed to quiver as the chill passed through the thick material as if it were made of gauze. Arms wrapped around herself in a meager attempt to stay warm, she stared off into space. When Draco Malfoy entered the small paddock, flanked by Blaise and a myriad of other Slytherins, she watched as he swaggered towards the grouping of students, his trademark smirk plastered upon his face.

Beside her, Ron grumbled as he too saw Draco's entrance. "Bloody Malfoy," he muttered, glowering at the Slytherin.

Harry agreed with Ron, and their usual back and forth game of Who Can Insult Malfoy The Most commenced. Hermione ignored them, her attention too focused on the blond boy and what had transpired the other week. Her heart panged as she remembered the malice that had inhabited his voice when he called her a Mudblood, and she scolded herself and the bloody muscle that forever beat within her chest.

She was a fool; that was simple. Draco Malfoy was and will always be a cruel and conniving monster. How had she been pulled in by him? Why had she entrusted him with her emotions? Never trust a Malfoy; anybody in the world would be smart enough to know that. Malfoys were dishonorable and untrustworthy, and she had learned her lesson. Never against would she trust Draco Malfoy.

Glowering, she sneered in his general direction as Hagrid exited his hut, bundled up to his neck in a fur cloak.

Draco stood among his Slytherin peers as the oaf he was forced to address as a professor arrived. Blaise stood next to him, her usual leers and slanderous comments towards the half-giant professor coursing through her lips as if it were a stream of water.

"Honestly, the stupid oaf belongs in one of those Muggle zoos," she said as Hagrid lead them around the back of his hut and along a path through the forest.

Draco smirked, finding he had to force the action more than he usually did. "And everybody would gawk at him," he said, "because, really, a creature like him deserves to be gawked at."

Blaise laughed. "Seriously, look at the bush he calls a beard. What sort of vermin do you think live in there?"

"Fleas," Draco said with a smirk, "and probably lice."

"Ugh," Blaise said as they arrived in a small clearing, an assortment of caged creatures spaced out around the edge.

Both quieted down as Hagrid began to speak, Draco not bothering to listen. Hermione stood across the way, the wind blowing her brown hair into knots and tangles that he could spot from where he stood. Blinking once, Draco shook his head, throwing any thoughts of the brown-haired girl from his mind. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on the buck-toothed Mudblood. As the thought crossed his mind, a cold sweep of emotion seeped into his skin, soaking his spine and freezing his brain. Sighing, Draco shifted on his feet.

"Draco?"

Blinking again, Draco stared at a spot to the left of his polished shoes. Why couldn't he get her out of his mind?

"Um…Draco?"

However, even as the question formulated in his brain, the answer poked at his resolve. Regret. Easy as that.

"DRACO!"

Jumping as Blaise smacked him in the back of the head, he spun around, wand out, and sent her one of his coldest glares, his eyes frosting over.

"What in the name of Merlin is wrong with you?" Blaise demanded. "And point that elsewhere." She batted the tip of his wand away as if it were an annoying insect.

Draco frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, his wand still pointing in Blaise's general direction, decidedly looking away from her. "There is nothing wrong with me," he said as if it were a cemented fact. "And it would do you good to keep your sodding mouth shut."

"You know," she began, "you may think you're fooling everybody…but you're not fooling me. You, Draco Malfoy, are as transparent as the air in which we breathe."

Growling, he tightened his grasp on his wand. Blaise watched with not an ounce of fear in her eyes as her own hand gravitated to her wand. The Slytherins surrounding them watched them with a certain degree of hidden apprehension, each and every one of them knowing to which extents Draco and Blaise's fights have reached. The two were notorious for arguments and rows that escalated to hexes and curses. And respectfully, for no Slytherin would admit they would do something out of fear, they edged away from the pair.

As the bitter remarks grew in volume, not only the Slytherins watched as the Gryffindors stopped feeding which ever creature Hagid had given them that week and adjusted their gaze to the two engaged in a rapidly heated fight across the clearing. Hermione straightened up, a few pellets of food in her hand, and watched as Draco thrust his wand towards Blaise at the exact same time Blaise pointed hers at Draco. Her eyes followed the argument, her exterior personifying her indifference and slight pleasure, while her insides swam with worry. And it was this sensation and caused her to remove her eyes in consternation as the first hex was cast.

The rest of the week passed in similar regards as both Hermione and Draco struggled with the emotions and truths that plagued their minds. They needed each other, one more than the other, and because of past actions, neither wanted to admit that. Hermione went about her days as if nothing were wrong. Classes, studying, essay writing, and library pursuits were what filled her days, as every student at Hogwarts would expect.

And expect that they did Saturday morning as those few students who chose to spend their time in the library found her studying away in one of the back corners of the library, her bushy head nearly obscured by stacks of books piled up on her table.

Hermione scribbled ream after ream of notes, one hand clutching the quill while her other turned the pages at a steady rate. Her attention remained glued to the enormous book on the theory behind complicated transfigurations, and her quill never strayed from the scroll of parchment before her. That is, until Draco Malfoy wandered into the library. Eyes flicked to his form as he sunk into a chair at a vacant table not too far from Hermione's, many students having heard of his and Blaise's row earlier that week that had landed them both in the infirmary. They had remained wary of him, his leers and taunts having been exceptionally cruel this past week.

However, as nature permitted, their interest in the blond boy disappeared as the importance of their homework took priority. Only one person in the entire library kept her eyes on Draco, the brownness of their depths wavering with caution and anxiety. Hermione's opinions of Draco that had surfaced the Monday before had not changed. He still was the arrogant and self-absorbed Slytherin that had tormented her throughout her years at Hogwarts. Nothing had changed. What had caused her to sway from her opinion, Hermione did not know; however, she promised herself that she would never let Draco Malfoy take control of her emotions again.

Draco sank further into the hard-backed library chair, his silver eyes sending threats to the students still gawking at him. Crossing his arms, he once again questioned himself as to why he was in the library when Blaise and a handful of Slytherins had decided to search out a group of Hufflepuffs to torment. Yet, by some unforeseen force of nature, he had ended up in the library instead of stalking the halls of Hogwarts, something he would have much rather done.

The library buzzed with silence, the absence of noise almost deafening to his ears. He needed a distraction, something he had realized he had come to need often in the past several days. Granger seemed to hang around the fringes of his mind like an old cobweb, and it drove him mad. He needed to forget her, put her pathetic excuse of an existence into the back of his mind, where it had been in the first place. Draco didn't need her, and he didn't need anybody to tell him that. Malfoys didn't need anybody in life, only the occasional victim to torture.

Like a jolt of lightening, his train of thought came to a crashing halt, his brain beginning to switch over to hyperdrive as he became aware of who his eyes were transfixed upon. Damn Granger, he cursed to himself. Ripping his eyes away from her, he growled, shoving a stray book that had been on his table to the ground. The resulting thud of the thick tomb on the floor resounded through the silence of the library. Students jumped and sent Draco glares and wide-eyed stares. In retaliation, he returned their glares, turning up the heat to those who regarded him like fearful deer in a forest. Once order restored itself in the library, Draco ignoring Madam Pince's annoying throat clearings, he returned to his glowering and pouting.

Hermione watched Draco out of the corner of her eye, a deep set pool of hate bubbling within her stomach. Why did he have to disrupt everything everywhere he went? He always had to create trouble. Shaking her head, she returned to her book, the words pulling her in, and the information serving as a long awaited dose of an addictive drug.

And as the afternoon wore on, Hermione focused on her schoolwork, all thoughts of Draco pushed out of her mind, as facts and theories took up residence. All the while, Draco fumed in the library chair just a few tables away from the girl he wished he'd never befriended.

Hermione hated herself, she realized Wednesday morning as the grains of sleep fell from her mind. How could she have forgotten Harry and the second task? Forgetfulness and neglect simply weren't in her personality, and she wondered where she had gone wrong. Yet, just as that question entered her mind, the answer presented itself as a memory of a certain blond Slytherin yelling at her and calling her a Mudblood. Shaking her head, she hauled herself out of bed, quickly dressed, and headed on down to the Great Hall for breakfast before following the masses of people outside to watch the second task.

However, just as she hopped off of a staircase that was bent on switching itself as she arrived on the first floor, Professor Dumbledore stopped her.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger," he said, walking towards her, his deep purple robes brushing against the stone floor, "if I may have a few words with you in my office."

Draco sat at the Slytherin table, picking at a lemon-poppyseed muffin as Blaise rattled off next to him about the students she had tormented the previous day. He half-listened as she dove into an account of the leers and hexes she had thrown, and he offered her a nod of his head as she revealed the nature of their injuries that had earned them an overnight stay in the hospital wing. Then, Draco humored her by suggesting his own series of hexes and jinxes he fancied using on a day-to-day basis.

However, his apparent interest in Blaise's discussion only ran skindeep; for beneath the snickering, he wasn't interested at all in planning an ambush on the Gryffindors that afternoon. And as he popped a chunk of muffin into his mouth, he pondered the reasoning behind his apparent lack of enthusiasm when pranking and cruelty came into question. Then, he shook his head, watching as Potter and Weasel wandered into the Great Hall, a tiny section of his brain sending off an alarm when Granger wasn't spotted with him. However, he easily silenced the wailing of that siren for he reminded himself, as he did several times a day, that he didn't need a sodding Mudblood; he could function on his own, as all Malfoys did.

The post arrived at precisely the same time a large group of students appeared in the Great Hall, almost as if the timing of the owls coincided with the timing of the majority of students arriving in the hall. Draco shrugged the thought off as a black owl settled itself next to his plate, a letter in its mouth. He took the folded sheet of parchment, turned it over to open it, and froze.

The seal of the Malfoy family always was created using black wax, an elaborately designed M intertwining with a snake: the exact replica of the seal glueing the letter shut. Draco regarded the letter warily and hesitantly slid his finger under the parchment flap, breaking the seal and opening the letter.

Dear Draco,

It found me most unpleased to hear from your Head of House that your grades have been slipping. A Malfoy strives for honor in all instances possible, grades included. You have dishonored the Malfoy name and brought disgrace to this family. As expected, you are to bring your marks up by the end of the term. If you are unable to do so, the consequences will be dire. I will keep in touch with both you and your Head of House, and I expect only words of progress.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

P.S. I am taking time out of my busy day to come speak with you on Saturday. Be ready at 8 am sharp.

"Draco?" Blaise asked beside him. "What did your father want?"

Crumpling the letter, Draco cursed himself. Then, with a quick glance up to the Head Table, and a glare directed towards an oblivious Severus Snape, Draco cursed his Head of House.

"Nothing," he mumbled, grabbing his school bag.

"Where are you going," she asked, grabbing her things as Draco began quickly walking away.

"Nowhere," he said, turning to face her, "and don't follow me."

Blaise frowned. "Jeez, you don't have to be such a bloody prat about everything!"

Drawing his wand, Draco glared at her as the entire student body in the Great Hall turned their eyes towards Draco and Blaise. "I dare you to say that again," he threatened.

Holding her hands up, Blaise shook her head. "Ok, ok," she said, sitting back down. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

With one last sneer to his friend, or rather ally, Draco stalked out of the Great Hall, his father's letter crumpled in his hand. Once he reached the Entrance Hall, he let the cold demeanor he had cast upon himself fall as the true realizations of what his father's letter meant settled in.

Yes, his grades had been falling, little by little. Draco found it hard to focus on schoolwork, everything in his life pushing against him, seemingly wanting him to implode in on himself. He wanted to blame Granger, as he wanted to blame her for everything, but he knew the drop in his marks was solely his problem. The blame only went upon himself for this one. Yet, a small part of him settled some of the blame on Professor Snape, for surely his Head of House didn't have to tell his father that his marks in Potions had dropped drastically over the past few months.

Brooding, Draco wandered aimlessly throughout the corridors. Having convinced himself that his paths were purely random, he failed to realize that his true intentions were to find Granger. And as this tiny fact made itself known in Draco's mind, the realization that he had feared for the past week or two came into the truths of simply being. He needed her in that moment when he wished he didn't need anybody in the entire world. Draco wished he could be a solitary being, never needing to depend on another person for as long as he lived. However, the tugging and churning in his stomach interacted with the coldness that his father's words had left on him, and he found himself heading towards all the usual places he knew she would frequent.

As the second task began, Draco paced the halls of Hogwarts, not finding Granger in any of the places he knew she would be. If she wasn't in the Great Hall, the library or their classroom, then where could she be? The obvious answer would be the lake watching the second task, but something in Draco told himself if she hadn't been at breakfast then she wouldn't be at the second task. However, he took a chance and humored his irrational side of his personality, checking the lake anyways, only to find nearly every student at Hogwarts present except Granger.

Aggrivated and slightly put-out, he made his way back to the castle, the cheering from the lake echoing in his ears. Sighing, starting to feel distraught, Draco found himself heading towards the fourth floor, figuring if he couldn't find Granger, then spending the day by himself seemed the next best thing.

Draco perched himself upon the wide window ledge once he entered the empty classroom. From his viewpoint, he could see the lake and the second task coming to a close, sodden heads emerging on the surface of the lake and spectators jumping up and down, cheering for those exiting the water. Looking away, he rested his head against the wall. Never had he felt this lost before: all the problems that his life had picked up, and no one there to reassure him that everything would turn out alright. And that was what he needed at that moment. Draco was scared, though he would never admit that to anyone. He was scared of his father and what Saturday would bring. As those raw emotions began swirling in the murky depression already present in his stomach, Draco's thought process branched off, revisiting topics he had dwelled upon more times than he cared to think about over the past several months. However, he seemed to have no control over his thoughts as they ran their course, despite his protests.

He felt divided, no longer knowing who he truly was anymore. All his life, his father had drilled into him the sort of person he should be. And he had taken that as the truth at such an early age that Draco didn't know how to be anybody other than the monster his father wanted him to be. To be anything other than that which he was expected to be would be blasphemy in his father's eyes. And no matter how much he despised and hated his father, he knew there could be no other choice. Fear did a lot to a person. Not only did it break someone down, but it forced obedience upon a person in the worst way imaginable. Draco had no choice when it came to being who he wanted to be. Either he became who his father wanted him to become, or he wouldn't become anyone at all.

Yet, Hermione had showed him another part of life that he had always been aware of, but never thought he'd experience in his life. She showed him hope and happiness. Being around her allowed Draco to see the light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dimly it shone. With her, the light existed, and that was all that mattered. The small glimpse of the life he wanted, or the life he could build, seemed to stick to him like glue. It only took a miniscule contact with it before it seemed to stay with him. He couldn't just forget that. This he realized, and that scared him. Draco saw something he wanted, something he knew he couldn't have, but something he needed so badly he imagined he would kill for it.

Sighing, Draco shifted upon the wide window sill in the classroom. Part of him wished she would walk through the door, her bag, heavy with books, slung over her shoulder, and a bright smile on her face. Yet again, another part of him wished she would never walk through the door. And he knew she wouldn't walk through that door. She hated him, he knew this. Being her friend wouldn't take persistence or determination, it would take a miracle. Yet, Draco wasn't even sure if he wanted to be her friend; although, he somehow knew he needed to be her friend. The trouble he was sure he would go through to simply be her friend seemed almost too much.

He was tired. Scoffing, Draco shook his head. Tired, at fourteen. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes, pushing down the bulge of self-pity that had begun to swell up within himself. Malfoys were never supposed to feel self-pity, or any pity at all as a matter of fact. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he rested his forehead upon them, turning his face until he stared out the window, several locks of his hair falling in his eyes. He didn't bother brushing them away.

Draco watched as clouds shifted and swirled in the windy sky, the grayness seemingly matching his current state of mind. And as the sorrow seeped into his pores, the despair and melancholy that had threatened to take over his life crashed down upon him. His chest tightened, as if someone had sat down upon him, as a too-big bulge formed in his throat, a dull pain forming and traveling up his head, pounding upon his brain. Hugging his knees, Draco held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of anything but the dreary state his life existed in. However, his efforts to control his emotions failed, as they had that day after the Winter Holidays, and tears began falling from his eyes.

The door opened to the classroom, shutting quietly, and Draco continued to stare out the window, tear after tear falling from his eyelashes, as feet shuffled around for a moment and then paused.

"What are you doing in here?" Hermione demanded.

Draco stayed silent, choosing not to answer for he was sure if he spoke his voice would betray the emotions he feared would kill him.

Hermione glared at him, wishing she could hex him for simply existing. She figured her day couldn't get any worse. First, Viktor bloody Krum just had to choose her for the second task, his thought process behind the choice rubbing against her growing dislike for the young man. She certainly hadn't wanted to spend a morning under water. Then this. All she wanted was to spend time alone, to forget the morning, to banish all thoughts of Viktor Krum from her mind. But, no, Draco Malfoy had to screw that up, just as he screwed everything else up in her life.

Huffing in annoyance, she folded her arms and glared at him. "You're insufferable. You know that?"

Wiping his face with one hand, he silently agreed with her. Lead filled his aching stomach, and he wished she would just go away.

Hermione strode towards him, her shoes pounding upon the stone floor. "You can't even answer me," she said, barely a meter away from Draco. "You're pathetic, an absolute disgrace to wizard-kind, not to mention humankind." She waited for him to answer, to say anything. However, he just sat there, taking in her words as if they were words written within a book. Shaking her head, she turned and started for the door. "I was right about you," she said, reaching the door.

Draco looked up at those words and stared at her. He held her eyes for several moments. "I know," he said quietly, his voice croaking at the very end.

Hermione stared at him, one hand on the door handle. "What is wrong with you," she said. "Because, honestly, I'd like to know." Taking her hand off of the doorknob, she took a few steps towards him. "I never know what to expect from you."

Sighing, Draco looked away from her. "I…I can't…" he tried to say, but words sliped from his grasp as if they were water.

Sighing, Hermione stared at the ceiling and ran a hand through her damp hair. Her anger still raged within herself, but she recognized the signs of someone in distress. By sheer force of will, she returned her gaze to Draco, approaching him. He watched her approach out of the corner of his eye. Reaching the window, Hermione perched herself on top of it beside Draco.

"You really need to understand something," she said. Looking down at her hands, Hermione continued, "It's obvious that you need somebody. However, if I'm going to be that person, you have to realize that the things you say to me affect me."

Shamefully, Draco glanced away, his Mudblood comment revolving in his mind. He never meant that comment with malice, only with aggravated realization of the direction his life was headed in, and of course, a heaping dose of fear.

"I'm willing to be your friend," she said. "Everybody needs a friend in this world."

Draco stared at her, resting his chin on his knees.

"But friends don't treat each other like that," she said.

Hermione paused, and watched him, waiting for an answer.

Draco opened his mouth and tried to force words out. "I…I know that," he said.

"Then why did you call me a…a…Mudblood?" she asked, having trouble saying the word herself.

Draco looked away. "I'm not sure," he lied.

"Don't lie," she said. "It'll get you nowhere."

Sighing, Draco looked at his knees. He felt pressure build in his chest, Hermione's eyes bearing into him. Words stuck to his throat like bees to honey.

"Answer me," she demanded softly.

"I…" he started, glancing at her warily. "I…was scared."

"Of what?"

Draco blew a soft puff of air out of his mouth. "What do you think?" he asked, really not wanting to have this conversation.

Hermione leveled her gaze. "I'm not sure what to think when it comes to you," she said.

Draco looked away and swallowed hard. "I'm not sure either," he said.

Frowning, Hermione scooted closer to him. "What do you mean?"

Closing his eyes, he sighed. Then, like a dam breaking, the words just flowed from his mouth. "Everything is so screwed up," he said, staring at the far wall. "I don't know who I am nor do I know who I'm supposed to be. My father wants me to be a certain person, but that's the last thing I want. I hate my life, and I hate who I've become. I wish I could just start over. I wish I could have a new life," he said, glancing at Hermione, his eyes wide. "Have…have you ever wanted to just…stop?"

Hermione frowned, a sick sensation coating her stomach. "What do you mean?" she fearfully asked.

Draco sighed. "I just…I'm…I'm tired. I'm tired of this life."

"Draco, don't say that," Hermione whispered.

"Why not?" he asked, staring at her intently. "It's how I feel."

"That's not the answer," she said.

"Then what is?"

Her brow crinkled and she swallowed. "I'm not sure, but that isn't it."

Draco looked away. "I don't know what else to do," he said sadly.

"You just need to live your life the way you want to," she said.

"But you don't understand," he said. "I can't do that. My father won't let me."

"Draco," she said, and he looked up. "Don't let him."

Simply put, it would be easy. However, Hermione didn't truly know Lucius Malfoy and the ways he could get Draco to behave. Draco shuddered at the memories surrounding that thought.

"It'll be too hard," he said, starting to search for excuses, finding far too few.

"Nothing in life is easy," Hermione told him.

Sighing, Draco turned and let his legs dangle off the edge of the window ledge. Shoulders hunched, he stared at his hands and the crumpled parchment encased in his fingers.

"But he already has ways to control me," he said, opening his fingers, revealing the parchment.

"How?"

Draco handed her the parchment. Taking it, Hermione quickly read it over, her face paling as she reached the end. Folding it into a neat square, she set it on the ledge between them.

She opened her mouth, her voice straining for words. "Draco, you…you need to tell someone."

Draco shook his head. "We've already been over this, Granger. Nobody can know."

"But this is about your own safety."

"My safety," he said, laughing harshly. "Nobody would give a hippogriff's arse about my safety."

Hermione grabbed his arm, tugging on it. "Draco," she said as he glanced at her, his eyes sorrowfull and lacking their usual glint. "Draco, people would care. Trust me."

He returned his gaze to his hands. "If people do care about me, Granger, then tell me…" He looked up at her. "Who does?"

Hermione stared him directly in the eye. "I do," she said with confidence. "And I'm sure…no, positive that Professor Dumbledore will care."

Draco snorted. "Dumbledore?"

She nodded. "He could help you."

"No he can't."

"Why?"

"Because nobody can help me."

Hopping down off the window ledge, Draco walked out of the room. Hermione sighed, closing her eyes, trying to push down the strong emotions welling up inside of her, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. Staring at the ceiling, her eyes welled with unshed tears.

"What do I do?" she asked nobody in particular, her voice desperate and her heart throbbing painfully in her chest.

Then, her fingers brushed up against a folded piece of parchment. Looking down, she realized exactly what she would have to do. And she knew beyond reason that Draco wouldn't like it.