Sorry for the late update; I was trying to update it sooner but the login screen had trouble loading...something about the server that I have no idea about. And then I tried to get it up, but I had to leave for Florida and went to Universal Studios (which, btw, rocked). Sorry!

I don't own!

Chapter Twenty-One-Sleep Talking

Lies.

They were fun things to tell, and sometimes you even got away with it. But it wasn't fun to be lied to.

Hermione had told him that she would be civil with him even after their fight. She'd lied. Every time Draco made eye contact with her she glared, anger trying to conceal the hurt.

He hated it. She was so annoying. Why couldn't she just be like other girls who'd he'd offended? He would send them a box of chocolates and a flower, and they would be either snogging him or ignoring him by the end of it. Either way, he didn't care. But with the stupid, bushy haired Gryffindor, she didn't ignore him or forgive him. And he couldn't stand it.

Sensitive idiot, Draco thought as he climbed into bed. She'd be fine by tomorrow, right? He hadn't meant to go that far, and she was the smartest witch he knew. She'd figure it out and forgive him. If it took her all night, she'd know.

Well, he got one thing right. Hermione Granger didn't sleep a wink that night, and neither did Draco.

NOTTDEADYETWRITESABREAKLINEHEYOWHATSUPPEEPS

He was screwed.

He'd completely forgotten what happened the next day, and when he woke up to his mother frantically stroking his hair and telling him to get up, he knew. She only woke him up in a state like that on his lessons with his father.

They were usually lessons with the family wand; it was harder to detect his magic in the Manor since magic literally surrounded his home. They were dark spells, of all kind, that his father had been teaching him since he was eight, telling him he needed to get them right before he became a Death Eater.

And now she'd attend them too.

"Get dressed, Draco," Mrs. Malfoy gave him a soft smile and hurried out the room, already calling Hermione's name.

He didn't want to. But it was never about what he wanted, it was about what he had to do. So he got dressed.

After a glare-filled breakfast without Mr. Malfoy, Draco trudged to the drawing room where his father was waiting. Hermione walked next to him, stiff and angry.

"What are we doing?" Hermione said, her eyes straight ahead.

Draco copied her movements. "We have lessons with Father."

As soon as they were inside and the doors shut, Lucius Malfoy turned to Draco. "Unforgivable curse," he demanded.

"Avada Kedavra," Draco said quickly.

His father pointed at a rat in a cage, and handed Draco the family wand. Draco ignored Hermione's soft gasp, pointed the wand at the rat, and snapped, "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a snuff of a green flash.

"Useless," his father sneered, and Draco clenched his teeth. "A Death Eater to be who can't kill."

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco snapped again, and this time the green light hit the rat before snuffing out, and the rat shook itself before getting back on its feet.

"We will stand here all day if we have to," his father snarled. "But you will cast the killing curse successfully today."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, trying not to sound sarcastic. He never hated his father-but at times like this, when he acted like all Draco was good for was to be a Death Eater, he did.

"Avada Kedavra!" And again, and again, until finally Draco built up enough stoic hate in himself to cause the rat to still itself, toppling to its side in its death.

Next to him, Hermione bit her lip. She was horrified, and tears started to well. She took several deep breaths, pinched her nose, and forced the tears away. If Lucius Malfoy saw her crying over a rat...

"Finally," Mr. Malfoy sneered. He turned to Hermione. "Next?"

"Uhm-Imperious Curse." Hermione couldn't bring herself to cast Crucio.

Draco's father jerked his head at the next caged rat, and Hermione swallowed. She took the family wand in Draco's grasp and pointed it at the rat. "Imperio!"

Open the cage. Open the cage. Open the cage. Hermione suddenly felt a connection to the rat, and as the rat rose and opened the cage with its two hands, she sighed in relief and looked at Draco's father. Her wand was still trained at the rat, who stood stock-still, waiting for the next command.

"Kill it, you stupid girl!"

Hermione paled. She turned to the rat. "But-"

"I know," Draco snapped suddenly, his eyes pleading with her not to speak up. Hermione bristled, furious that he of all people thought he could tell her what to do. "I know we've done this before. But just go."

She hesitated, and looked around the room for the best way to kill the rat painlessly. There were knives, probably dipped in poison on the wall, decorative. Take the knife. Stab your heart quickly. The rat did as it was told, and she looked away, choking silently on her sobs.

"Good," she heard, and Mr. Malfoy's voice sounded distinctly satisfied. "Both of you will soon be ready to take the Dark Mark." Hermione's eyes widened. "Draco, you will be a fine heir. Astoria Greengrass will be a fine wife for you."

"Aren't you dating Pansy?" Hermione said suddenly, confused.

The air in the room grew thick and dark. Draco's father narrowed his eyes. "What have I told you about dating other girls?"

Draco froze. He cast a furtive glance at Hermione, and turned back to his father smoothly. "I plan to break things off, Father. She simply serves as a distraction."

"The Parkinsons are a wealthy family, Draco," Mr. Malfoy hissed. "It would not do well to treat their daughter unmindfully. You are to marry Astoria Greengrass, and I instructed you not to get distracted. Your sister has been able to mind my instructions."

He swallowed and didn't look at Hermione, who he was sure was probably smirking.

"Last Unforgivable!"

Oh, he isn't serious. Draco hesitated. "Cruciatus, sir."

"Now," Mr. Malfoy smirked darkly at his son. "I suppose I should demonstrate." With a wave the rats were gone, and he trained his wand at Draco, who stood still and stiff as a board. He heard Hermione gasp again, but didn't have time to register anything else before the curse hit him.

He was dimly aware he was screaming and arching his back on the ground, but the...pain...breathe Draco breathe...it felt as if knives were digging into his skull, his back, his throat-

"There," there was a satisfied note in his father's voice as he pocketed his wand. "Break things off with Parkinson as soon as you go back, Draco." The door closed behind him.

He lay on the ground, his muscles screaming as he shook. He heard footsteps, and then a thump.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped quietly, horrified. "I-I didn't-"

"You got what you wanted," Draco snapped, and he turned his head though his neck screamed in agonizing protest. "Just leave me alone, Granger."

She flinched. "I didn't know he would..do that. I was just curious, I didn't-"

He forced himself to his feet and pushed off her hand, offered to help. "Once this whole project is over, we're done, aren't we? Isn't that what you said? Well, I get it now. Just leave me alone, mudblood. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"That's not fair," Hermione (no it's Granger again-it felt hard to resort back to last names, but he never should have gone to first names) said softly.

"Not fair?" Draco said shortly, pulling away from her. "I've just been Crucio'd because of you, and that's not fair? Besides, it's my father's orders that I shouldn't talk to filth-and now you know all about my father's orders, don't you?"

Her eyes were bright and welled with tears, and she wiped her eyes helplessly. Draco pulled open the door, his muscles slowly working themselves back into ease, and left.

It was oddly deja vu.

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So maybe he shouldn't have gone on that rant about the ball with her. The potion might skip over the days anyway. But he was furious with her for the Crucio.
She should have known-wasn't she supposed to be the smartest witch?
He lay in his bed at night, pondering.
There was a knock at his door, tentative and soft. It sounded like his mother when she was scared. Draco pulled open the door.
"What do you want?" He asked, but couldn't quite bring the malice in his voice. It was late and he was tired.
Plus, she looked tired and upset as well. It was still primped-up Granger, of course, but she had her hair in a braid and her eyes were red from regret and tears.
Merlin, had he done that? He'd made her cry and feel so guilty about hurting him.
"Come in, Granger," he sighed and waved her in.
"Hermione," she corrected. But she stepped in and took a seat on his bed.
"Why are you crying?" He demanded.
Hermione shrugged, loose hair falling into her face. "I'm really sorry," she said quietly. "I really didn't know."
"Go to sleep, Granger." Draco snapped, turning to the window.
"Okay." She didn't move. "But I really thought we were doing okay and then you said those things yesterday."
"I apologize for that, then." He drew out the words stiffly.
He could hear her smile. "You know, I don't think you're sincere."
Draco turned around and pushed back a strand of hair the gel didn't hold down. "And what do you want from me? Flowers?"
She laughed. "That would be nice. But I don't expect that from you."
"I will have you know I can be unpredictable when I want, Granger!"
"If you say so, Draco."
"Fine!" He grabbed a flower in the case next to the window, and stormed over to her. Girls! "Here you go, Hermione. For your smelling pleasure."
Hermione took the flower in her hand. "This looks expensive." It was a rose, but the petals looked like beautiful shimmery scales.
"Dragonsnap roses." Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't care much for them, but Mother likes them."
Hermione sniffed the flower. "Smells like a regular rose."
"Yes, and who would send you roses?"
She bristled, affronted. "I will have you know that Viktor sent them to me every week last year!"
"Oh, did he think you were growing a garden?"
A laugh escaped her before she glared at him. "No! He sent me roses in the most beautiful red shade, with little notes tucked in between the petals!"
Draco shook his head. "What an idiot; I bet he read the idea off of the Valentine Weekly section of the Daily Prophet's page four." He hated Krum with a passion. Lately more than usual.
Hermione pounced, grinning. "And you know so much about that section how?"
"Oh believe me, all my ideas are original. I gave Pansy-"
"I'm sure it wasn't that wonderful if she just comes by for snogs." Hermione rolled her eyes, finding herself hating the pug faced Parkinson more than the usual. She stood. "Do you know where I can get some water?"
Draco sighed. "Really, Hermione, this is a manor. House elf!" And like that, it was back to Hermione. Annoying as it was, Draco couldn't stay with Granger.
A house elf appeared to take orders, and though Hermione began talking about house elf rights, he managed to get them both hot tea.
She sipped it and yawned, playing with the rose. Draco turned back to the window with his tea.
"Draco," she said suddenly, her voice soft and curious. "Remember Auror Aldrich? Why was he so interested in you?" There was a clink as she set her tea down on the drawer next to her.
His fingers tightened on the window sill, and the blonde boy pressed his lips into a thin line. This was a conversation he did not want to be having, Draco concluded, his eyes darkening.
He looked at the silvery moon. His mother had always said that his eyes looked like the moon when he was happiest.
"That is unimportant and none of your business, know it all," he said quietly. When there was no response, he whipped his head around.
Hermione was sprawled atop his bed, her braid so loose and useless it tied a tuft of badly braided brownness, and the rest spread in curly chocolate brown on his pillow. Or rather, his pillow out of his twenty pillows.
"Hermione," he tried. "Get up."
She didn't even stir.
He shook her shoulder. She snored.
Draco glared at her sleeping form, and finally grabbed a pillow and a blanket. Thankfully he had three on his bed. He settled on the floor, glad the carpeting was done so well and the enchantments made sure the ground was soft and clean.
"Harry and Ron are very well, Mum," Hermione said.
Draco sat up and looked to the girl, who was still fast asleep.
"Yes, I know, I've tried to get them to study! But it's a lost hope, Mum. I'll just let them be idiots." Hermione said aloud, before letting out a snore. Draco clapped a hand to his mouth to stop his laugh.
"Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked incredulously, her monologue just getting started. "He's horrid! Absolutely horrible, the prat, always making fun of me-"
Draco smirked. She was talking about him in her sleep. He should cast a recording charm.
"But actually," Hermione said softer. "He's been okay these few days. He's still an egotistical moron, but he's kind of been nice. But I hurt him, and I feel horrible about it."
He frowned. He didn't want to listen to this. Where was the juicy stuff? The revealed secrets of her love for Potter?
Okay, so he didn't particularly want to listen to that either, no matter how great the blackmail was. In fact, it gave him a roaring sensation in his stomach that twisted his insides and made him feel sick.
Weird; a few days ago he'd have given anything to have something to hold against her. And maybe he still did, but not this.
"His father Crucio'd him because of me. And I know how much it hurts-it's makes me feel like I'd do almost anything to make it stop." Hermione tossed and turned, miserable.
Draco's frown deepened. "Granger," he said aloud, still sitting on the ground with his fist wrapped in a handful of silky blanket fabric.
"And-"Hermione shuddered. "I saw him. Voldemort. And he Crucio'd me when I was too slow to answer-"
"Granger!" Draco shook her shoulder, leaping to his feet. He took ahold of both shoulders and gave three violent shakes. "Hermione, wake up!"
She gasped lightly and instinctively flew her hands up to grasp his wrists, opening her eyes. "What-what happened?"
"Nothing happened," Draco said shortly, panting.
"Lies," Hermione retorted shakily. "I feel horrible, like I've just had a horrible dream."
"You talked in your sleep," Draco said quickly.
"About?"
He smiled suddenly, grinning in a lopsided smirk. "You were proclaiming your love for Snape."
Her eyes widened, affronted. "I did not!"
His voice took on a girly, high-pitched giggle. "Oh, Sevvy, I love you so very much!"
"Stop!" Hermione covered her mouth. Sevvy? A snorty giggle escaped before she could hide it within her horror.
Draco smirked wider at the sound. "Sevvy, I just want to run my fingers through your beautiful black, greasy locks and send you flowers!"
"Stop, just stop it," Hermione shook her head, half-amused and half-horrified. "You are such an idiot."
"Mind letting go of the idiot's hands?" Draco added dryly. He wished he hadn't, because Hermione looked down and blushed to the roots of her hair, letting go of his wrists. He coughed and awkwardly shook the soreness out of them.
"You should go," Draco said, at the same time Hermione said "I should let you get some sleep."

He flushed, and opened the door, beckoning for her to leave.

Hermione stood. "Okay, I'll just-okay."

"Hurry up," Draco rolled his eyes. "And let me sleep.

Hermione shook her head. "Good night, Draco."

When she had closed the door behind him, and Draco climbed into bed, His fingers brushed against the dragonsnap rose she'd been clutching in bed. He pulled it out and played with it, the scales glinting.

He fell asleep with the scales glowing in the moonlight, the stem woven in his fingers next to him.