A/N: I think you've all been waiting for this.

There was a knock at Hermione's door ten minutes later. She hastened to tidy her clothes. "What do you want?"

His voice was quiet and muffled behind the block of wood seperating the two. "Let me in."

Sighing, she surrendered. "It's open."

"You're not making any sense." He pushed it shut, but stayed facing the door. He frowned.

"What are you talking about? I think I'm making perfect sense."

He struggled to keep from shouting at her, so collapsed onto the other end of the bed and crossed his legs. "Give me a valid reason, Granger. Tell me why you don't want to be Head Girl."

"It's difficult to answer that." There was silence.

"Why? Why is it difficult? To me, it requires a simple answer."

"You're not me, Malfoy! I can't just..." she seemed to hardly cope with the internal battle. "This is exhausting. Everything is exhausting. Do you know that all we ever do is fight? You're exhausting."

"I thought we were getting better at that!"

"Clearly not!" She waved her hands between them, ignoring the splitting headache that had suddenly arisen. "I need some tablets, they're in the bathroom. Could you get them for me?"

He stared at her before rising from the bed. "Yeah, of course. They're in a blue box, aren't they?" She nodded, a hand on her forehead.

When he came back and handed her the pills, he sat closer to her. Watching her swallow them, he gingerly placed a hand on hers. She pulled back. "Malfoy." Hermione shook her head.

"Please, just tell me. I can't understand why you were going to before and then stopped."

"I had a revelation, I guess. I thought maybe by telling you, it would make me feel better when I asked McGonagall if I could resign. It doesn't matter now. I'll be leaving tonight."

"Granger," he, for some unexplainable reason, wanted her to stay for one more night. Draco had no valid reason as to why he was pushing this, but he continued. "Are you saying that my existance is why you're stepping down from your position? I genuinely had assumed our relationship was improving, believe it or not." He mumbled, playing with his fingers.

"This headache's not going, I'll go down to Pomfrey and see if she has anything stronger."

"I'll come with you."

Her response was suspended when they both spun round at the sound of a tap on her window. An owl stood, perched on the sill carrying one envelope that swung from its beak. Hermione clicked it open and let the bird through, giving it a stroke as she pryed the letter from its firm grip. Draco sat opposite her as she tore the paper open, her fingers trembling marginally as her brain continued to smart irrevocably. It was from Ginny. Shocked, Hermione was interested as to why her friend hadn't made the effort to come to her common room and had written a letter instead.

"I can't sleep at her dorm tonight, the elves are making my bed up and it won't be ready till tomorrow." Hermione grimanced at the mention of the house-elves, then, "are you going to this Bonfire Night thing tonight? Ginny says she's going. It'll be in the Clock Tower Courtyard and- ooh, George will be selling firework-themed sweets, apparently. The first time since Fred passed." Hermione wiped at her eyes, as to pathetically prevent them from watering.

Draco looked at her, unsure whether to answer her question as it seemed now, she had changed the subject. "I won't be going, no. Only negligible imbeciles make the effort to stand outside in the November weather and aimlessly watch gunpowder be ignited into the sky. It's futile. Will you?" The offensive words had languidly spilled from his mouth as if he had rehearsed them in front of a mirror. Despite completely denying himself and no admission whatsoever, Draco Malfoy was a bit of a loser. With the thoughts that everything and everyone was moronic, vapid and worthless, he made no endeavour to socialise with anyone but his few friends that - sadly - didn't think much of him either. His impervious attitude was his most dominant downfall and he made no attempt to change it. He was a Malfoy, after all.

"I think not, this time. I'll be too tired, it's best to get an early night."

"Yes." He was moving to exit. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I hope to see you later, we could maybe play Exploding Snap - I would say that's fitting, wouldn't you?"

She nodded and smiled, watching him leave via the bathroom door.

During her lunch time, Mike had invited Hermione to join him in watching fireworks with him or "at least watch from the Tower". She politely agreed, in spite of her dislike for the occasion and her recent exhaustion which had been taking a full toll on her. In the limited time that he had given her betwen the moment he had asked and the moment she had answered, the Head Girl had attempted desperately to think up a valid and supposedly ordinary excuse but all that came to mind was that she had Quidditch Tryouts. Everyone knew full well that Hermione did not fly. Ginny had nudged her in the ribs and told her to respond, because apparently she had been "gawping like a fish".

So as requested, she staggered up the stairs to the Tower and arrived on time at 7 o'clock sharp. "Hi, Mike." she said, for the boy was leaning against the wall with a mischeivous grin on his face.

"Hermione," he said with an Irish twang to his voice. The fireworks had begun to light up the sky. "They've just started. Come over here, it's a great view." She shuffled forward and sunk into him as he put a protective arm around her shoulders. Looking up, she watched as the flashes of coloured lights lit up his well-structured face, shining onto and highlighting his prominent cheekbones. "Aren't they amazing?"

"Truly." For ten minutes or so, all they did was observe the vast array of rockets and fountains illuminate the ebony heavens. Smoke was beginning to waft upwards in their direction, along with the smell of toffee apples and melting sweets that were seemingly very popular with the students down below.

"Shall we go down now, then?"

"Hmm?" Hermione was comfy right there in the crook of his arm, her exposed skin warmed by his fleece. "Are we not staying?"

"It will be much more fun down there."

She panicked. Hermione had expected to stay there for the rest of the night and as she re-thought this idea, it dawned on her how ridiculous that would have been. "Right, yes. Well it is getting late, so I might just go back to the common room."

"Hermione, it's half past seven."

"I've been really exhausted these past few days, what with Head duties and schoolwork. Thanks though, Michael. You've been really lovely."

"Lovely enough to be worthy of a second date?" The familiar smirk graced his face once again.

"Ah, that's pushing it." She smiled, the crinkles around her eyes creasing. "We'll see."

"Oh, come on. Hogsmeade, at the weekend?"

She pulled open the door. "We'll see."

She was weary. He was entirely fatigued, collapsed on the large window seat opposite the sofas. Hermione perched on the cushions as far away from him as possible, her legs outstretched. Their positions were mirrored, exactly the same. "How was it?" He questioned. There was no doubt about it, he was genuinely interested. Though she wasn't listening, her mind on other matters. She asked him if they could talk about something. Draco nodded, his expression guarded significantly, albeit he glanced out the glazed window.

"I'm ill, Malfoy."

He tore himself away from the window and swallowed; she watched his prominent Adam's apple bob up and down. "Sorry?" It seemed that he hadn't heard her, or he had and was avoiding the fact that he hadn't misheard.

She put pressure on a bruise that had formed just above her knee, a result of her fall down the stairs. Observing the yellow hues fade back into a garish purple discolouration that she disliked so very much, Hermione sighed. "I have cancer."

"You don't have cancer, Granger. That is a complete over-reaction." The screech of a firework souned in the background of their conversation, followed by a deadened applause. She looked up to see him peering at her vacantly. She also gulped, swallowing back her tears and polishing off any sort of pride or pretence she had built a wall up of in the past few months along with them. "Granger," he paused, troubled as to what to say, "You can't be serious."

She felt the all too familiar prickling sensation in her nose. "I'm afraid I am."

"Well," he made a sharp twist to look again, out of the window pane that they both leant against. Playing with his dishevelled hair, he let a lock fall over his eyes, on the side that she seemed to be facing. "And how did this come to happen?"

"I found out before September. I have a few months. Not too bad." She swung her legs over, brushing his in the process, so that they dangled from the sill and she overlooked their common room.

"Not too bad? Not too bad? Are you crazy, Granger?" He let out a strangled sigh. "You're nineteen, you're telling me you only have a handful of months left to live and that's not too bad?"

"What am I supposed to do, Malfoy?! Tell me what the hell I am supposed to do in this situation, please. I'm struggling to find an answer, maybe you can bloody tell me! Don't you dare act like I haven't thought about this over and over and fucking over! Because I have! I have. I hate it. I hate it so much, it's awful. But there's nothing I can do to change the fact that I'm going to die soon. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in eight months. I don't know. I can't do anything." Her shrieking voice combined with the squalls of the fireworks was not a sound that brought pleasure to Draco's ears but right now, he was somewhat happy that the noises were drowning out his own blaring thoughts that the Head Girl had a terminal illness and no one was doing anything about it. At least he thought.

"Just calm down. We can sort something out-"

"Don't tell me to calm down. And I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you start treating me differently because of this I will personally-"

"Magic, Granger. You're a witch. Surely, it's nothing that a potion can't fix."

"Unfortunately it is. There's no spell, no potion, nothing; I've accepted it."

And despite everything that Hermione and Draco had been through together, despite everything that the Malfoys had lived for - one action could change everything. He didn't care. He was past caring. In that single moment he forgot about the fading prejudices and the preconceived notions that his parents had forced upon him before he had was old enough to realise that they weren't morally right. Draco closed his hand over hers, causing her to look up at him in dumbfoundment. His thumb grazed her knuckles, an unsure act of reaching out to her. "We can try and fix it." A quick squeeze, and he released her hand.

"We can try."

A/N: I'd like to thank you for the amazing reviews, they make me so happy. And if I had enough time, I would reply to each and every one of them.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter :)

Eve