Disclaimer: JKR owns the HP universe, I'm just happy to be able to tread.

A/N: Kind readers! Thank you again for your reviews. I hope you like this chapter. I think some of you will be surprised.

Hermione slowly crept back to Gryffindor tower. Somehow, she didn't even care if she were caught. It all seemed so pointless now. Before knowing that Draco had anything to do with this, Hermione could pretend that it was all imaginary, but now, she knew that it was real. And inadvertently, she had managed to alienate him. Alienate him to the point that he was going to die, simply to make her happy. She had never been loved that much by anyone. While Harry was willing to save the Wizarding World, no one was willing to sacrifice themselves for her apparent happiness.

Once she reached the Gryffindor tower, she softly took off the invisibility cloak and tapped the Fat Lady gently on the shoulder. The Fat Lady snorted awake.

"Dear, don't you think it's a little late to be wandering these halls?" The Fat Lady barked. Hermione looked up at the woman in the portrait with tear stained eyes.

"Dear? Are you alright?" The portrait asked concerned.

"No, and there isn't anything that will fix it, at least not tonight." She sighed. "I suppose I might as well try to get some sleep."

The fat lady smiled at her and opened the door. "In you go, dear."

Hermione stepped through the door and quietly sat on a couch in the common room. She buried her head in her hands and cried…hard. She wished that Draco wasn't so hard to get to know. She wished that Draco hadn't misinterpreted the hug. She pulled the pendant out from under her shirt and cried harder. Why her?

The next morning, Draco made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. While the hurt lingered, pain was nothing that he wasn't used to. He'd been bottling up the emotional pain for years. Somehow, physical pain paled in comparison. Slowly, and perhaps unconsciously, he had decided that he would be better off to bury his feelings for the "traitor," as he had begun to call her in his mind.

Once he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, he placed the mask he'd been using for years upon his face before he entered. No one need know how he felt. To show weakness would simply make him vulnerable.

As he walked, he felt eyes pass over him from all edges of the Hall. The feeling of their eyes on him made him feel good. It was a feeling he had not felt in a long while… at least not since he had killed his father.

His eyes fell upon a first year Ravenclaw, he threw his classic sneer, and he almost felt giddy when she looked heartbroken. It was good to be back.

Hermione watched from across the hall. At first, she was happy that he seemed to be on the mend, but as soon as she saw him sneer at a first year, she knew that if she didn't act soon, he would possibly be lost to them forever. She knew that she had to do something, but at this point, she couldn't do much except to put her own neck on the line. And all the while, hope that he did not know that she had been in his rooms the previous evening.

Before she knew it, time had passed quickly, and it was time to get to class. Everyone was a bit nervous as these were the first classes since the war. Harry was doing a bit better, but he would not be joining them until the following week.

The halls seemed so much more distant to Hermione now. Before the war, Hogwarts still felt like a safe place. And the days leading up to the war, she had been receiving Draco's letters to keep her going. She wished that she would have known he had sent them in the first place. She might have even been happy by now. But the fact remained, that fantasy was going to get her nowhere. His display in the Great Hall chilled her. His mild tormenting of that first year reminded her of the git she had grown to hate…the slave of Lucius Malfoy. How can someone who looks like an angel when asleep become the force of cruelty? She had to save him, but at this point, she had no idea how.

Draco smiled to himself as the blood welled up from the cut he had made on his arm. He swiftly held his wrist over a silver goblet, allowing precisely 7 drops to fall into the murky liquid. Once the drops fell, he healed his wrist with his wand and watched at the potion changed to a rich cerulean blue. He had always loved blood magic.

Slowly he placed the goblet to his lips and slowly allowed the potion to roll across his tongue, finally landing in the pit of his stomach. He knew that the effects would be quick, and he was hoping for that. After a few moments, Draco felt the blessed numbness creep into his mind. The goblet fell from his grasp as his muscles relaxed and he slumped to the floor in bliss. The colors seemed to swirl inside his mind, and from the colors, a strange clarity began to form. He focused on that clarity and found himself in a room he had never seen before. The walls were old, carved with various symbols. In places where the moisture had crept in, the symbols were stained with mold.

He slowly got up and glanced around the room. In the center of the room was a large black casket bearing the Malfoy crest. Quietly, Draco crept to the casket. The lid seemed to disappear the closer he got to the casket. He took a deep breath and looked inside. There, withered and mummified, was a corpse dressed in elegant dress robes. In a skeletal hand was a single piece of rolled parchment.

Draco carefully pried the corpse's fingers open to release the roll. He slowly unrolled it. The handwriting looked frighteningly familiar.

I have lost everything. I can only hope that my death made the lives of others a bit easier. I know that suicide notes are supposed to mean something, but those who know the story don't care to be involved, so my point would be moot. At least Potter got the girl.

D. Malfoy

Draco backed away from the casket in horror. He didn't know what was going on anymore. He felt himself shake and crumble to the floor. The room drifted away, and Draco could only hope that he was somehow having a bad trip. He felt hands shaking him. Slowly, his vision began to return, and he was faced with the worried countenance of his godfather.

"Draco! Wake up! Don't leave me!"

Draco coughed and sputtered. "What happened?"

"Draco, I never would have thought that you would have been so ignorant as to do something like this. These are the actions of a Gryffindor! How could you make such a stupid mistake?"

"Severus, what are you talking about?" Severus levitated the boy and placed him on his bed.

"How dare you concoct narcotics under this roof! I thought more of you than that, Draco."

"Severus, I-"

"Do not say another word, Draco. I am deducting 100 points from Slytherin house."

"Severus…I never knew you would get this upset."

"Draco, how dare you! Of course I was going to be upset when I found my godson passed out on the floor of his room overdosing on narcotics!"

Severus paused to roughly open Draco's mouth and poured a potion inside. "There was a reason Dragon's Blood was banned by the Ministry. I cannot believe that you would be so idiotic!"

"Severus, I wanted to forget. Is that too much to ask? At least I felt better for awhile…"

"Yes, until you got to the dream. Not only is this drug highly addictive, but you endangered your life by adding your own blood to the mix. Leave the potion experimentations to the Potion's Master, Draco. How could you be so careless?"

"Severus…I'm sorry."

"You are to stay in that bed for the rest of the evening. I will keep this to myself, for now. If I find you brewing narcotics again, I will not hesitate to alert the headmaster, am I perfectly clear?"

"Crystal."

Draco curled up in his bed, silently wishing that Snape had never found him. Part of him wished that he had more of the drug just to see if the strange room would appear again, but part of him hoped that he would never see it again. He thought that artificial happiness would be better than none, but he couldn't even do that right. Quietly, he drifted off to sleep.

Hermione knocked on the portrait covering Draco's door. The man in the portrait was gone…probably getting drunk, Hermione thought. She waited a few moments and knocked again. Finally, she heard stumbling.

"Who is it?" Draco barked.

"It's Hermione."

"Leave me alone, Mudblood! You are not wanted here."

"Draco, open this door now. How dare you call me that!"

Draco swung open the door and glared at Hermione. "I can call you whatever I feel like. You are nothing but a little mudblood. My father was right about that."

Hermione winced at the hurtful words. "Why are you doing this, Draco?"

Draco sneered. His eyes looked colder than she had ever seen them. "Some of us know when to respect another's privacy. How many times do I have to express that I have no desire to have you in my chambers, Granger. Go back to Potter and your little friends."

Hermione looked up at him, tears threatening to fall. "What about the letters then?"

Draco looked shocked. "Letters?" He coughed. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Granger."

Hermione saw through that lie almost immediately. "You know exactly what I am talking about, Malfoy. I saw the ribbon."

Draco seemed to swell in anger. The air around him flexed convulsively. "Listen, mudblood, and listen well. Don't you ever sneak into my rooms again. I must have been completely insane. You are a worthless retching little mudblood. And I should have known better than to bother with the low-class likes of you."

Hermione felt the anger creep up her spine. "I wish I could kill you. I really do."

Draco quickly grabbed her hand, stuffed his other hand down inside her robes and grabbed her wand and placed it in her hand. He then arranged her arm so that the tip of her wand was aimed at his heart. "Then, do it."