A/N: Please bear with me for the first part of this chapter! It's basically the same thing from the end of the last chapter, but from Hermione's perspective. I felt that it was kind of important. Enjoy: D

-IGNORANCE-

Hermione couldn't comprehend what was happening. She felt even more lost in this vacuum of hers. One moment, Draco was holding her hand, and then the next moment, she was thrust back into the bottomless pool of nonexistence.

She awoke again Merlin knows how long later to the feeling of Malfoy's fingers at her pulse points. Bleeding hell, this boy was overstepping his boundaries. Hermione was bloody sure that he had seen how dangerous her temper could make her – he had been on the receiving end of it once! When she got out of this place, she swore that she would make Malfoy's life a living hell.

Well, that sounded dramatic, didn't it? She would just irritate him for a while – maybe a week or two – just to show him how much his physical contact with her annoyed and angered her!

Hermione attempted to calm down. Malfoy was not worth all of this venting. She was wasting time. She tried to focus on his fingers pressing into her wrist, her throat...What, exactly, did he think he was doing? With her mind still on red alert by his fingers pressing down a great deal into her throat, she felt as if he was watching her. She hated when people watched her without saying anything. It felt as if she was a specimen under scrutiny.

Mentally, she shifted, wondering at what Malfoy was staring at. Was there something on her face? Were her clothes covering her properly?

Then she felt his cool fingers gently rest on the skin above her lips. Against her will, Hermione sighed. Had his fingers always been that soft, that calming?

Pull yourself together, she scolded herself, trying to ignore his un-ignorable presence. She tried to concentrate on why he would check her wrist, her throat...why he would place his fingers under her...

The penny dropped.

Was she still dead? This is a joke, right? He was checking for a pulse and to see if she was breathing. Wasn't she? This felt too bizarre, too odd to be real. She must surely be dreaming then. This was someone's twisted idea of dreamland. Because it was definitely not possible that she could know what was happening around her whilst being dead.

No. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't. She needed to give Malfoy a piece of her mind before dying. She couldn't be dead; she just couldn't.

"Nothing," Malfoy kept on murmuring, a tone of torment tearing through is voice. This didn't seem right. There was no reason for him to be sad. She was sure he would find someone else to play games with, to befriend them, kiss them and leave them. She huffed. There were probably plenty of other girls out there that fit that description.

Suddenly, he gripped her face – his time, gently. His hands cupped the sides of her face, and Hermione felt the ice-like quality of his hands escaping. His hands soon became hot, and she could have sworn that she could feel his pulse beneath the surface of his skin...

"Hermione," he was saying, "Wake up...wake up!"

Sod it, man, she was up! Not technically speaking, of course, but she was almost fully aware of what was happening around her. She wished she could wake up, she wished he could just Imperius her...maybe then she would wake up. She wished that she could jump right out of that bed and strangle him for pretending to act all caring, emotional, chivalrous... She wished. But this wasn't the fairytale where one could rub a lamp and a genie would appear. This wasn't a fairytale that resulted in complete happiness for everyone. This wasn't a fairytale where life in reality could mean something.

This wasn't a fairytale, actually. This was her life. His life. This was reality. Reality with a heavy concentration of underworld magic.

Would she give up?

No. No, she wouldn't. That would mean letting go of everything that existed in her life: her parents, Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, her other friends, her professors, the adventures...maybe even Malfoy. Just a bit. She tried to force her mouth open; she tried to voice words...but it was to no avail. She couldn't even lift her hand! She felt useless.

"Mr Malfoy..." she heard Professor Pinkle say. The professor's words were patterned with hesitation, a hint of warning.

"Please," Malfoy said, his words blowing across Hermione's face. She wished she could smell. If she could have, surely she would have smelt the freshness of his words, the naturalness of them. "Just go away," he said, his tone turning desperate.

And then Hermione froze. She couldn't think, she couldn't hear. She could only feel. She felt him coming closer and closer to her, and a few soft strands of his hair swept across her forehead. What was he doing? A feeling of déjà vu oozed through her body as she felt his warm, soft lips brace her own. The moment his lips touched hers, something like a power surge raced through her body. It started at her toes, wrapping itself around each part of her body as it made its way to her head. A feeling of warmth embraced her skin, and she could feel his forehead coming to rest on hers. He was breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Sounds travelled through her ears. Smells drifted up her nostrils. The cool, cool air cracked against her skin.

She was alive.

But before she could say anything, he lifted his head away from hers, shearing their contact with each other. She felt cold, yet she concentrated on what he was saying. She felt his weight shift off her bed as he stood u, gently asking the professor for his wand. What was she doing with his wand?

Hermione felt her body twitch slightly, and she willed it to stop. It did. Her body was responding to her! She tried to move her hand underneath the sheets...it did. She tried to wiggle her toes...they did. And last, noticing that her heartbeat was turning erratic as euphoria entered her system, she opened her eyes.

Harsh light pierced her eyes, and she immediately shut them. Taking it more slowly this time, she opened her eyes a sliver. Then a little more. Then a little more. Gradually, in the space of a few seconds, she became used to the room's light. Her eyes rolled about in their sockets as she absorbed everything around her. She licked her dry lips, observing the floating candles, the ceiling, the bed she was lying on.

Hermione's brief moment of euphoria was cut short as she heard Professor Pinkle say, "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy, but I'm going to have to do this." Do what? Hermione wondered. She tried to get up from her place on the bed, but her body felt too stiff. She tried again, but again, it didn't work. Where is my wand? she wondered, unsure. She tried to move her arms, but gathered that they too were stiff. She could only move her hands. Well, this was proving futile. She clenched and unclenched each part of her body starting at her toes, her legs...and so on. This should work.

She breathed in slowly, liking the clean smell of the Hospital Wing. And she could smell Malfoy as well. She felt as if she could hear everything. She could hear herself breathe, she could practically hear her heartbeat, she could hear –

"Professor, can I just have my wand please?" she heard Malfoy say. There was an edge of hysteria to his voice that Hermione didn't like.

With eyes opened to just a slit, Hermione observed him. He had moved to stand at the foot of her bed, and she couldn't really see beyond him. His tall frame seemed even taller from where she was, and she tried to move to the side to see passed him, but it hurt. Hermione tried to crane her neck. She winced. One step at a time. She was at her stomach now, clenching and unclenching. Clenching and unclenching.

"Please understand that I never wanted for this – any of this to happen," Professor Pinkle said. Surprise filtered through Hermione as she heard a note of pain in the professor's voice. The professor went on to stutter over a few words, and Malfoy tried to help her. Hermione noticed that he had backed fully into her bed, and his shoulders were tensed. She could see the outline of his arm muscles through his shirt, and she wondered what was bothering him.

Again, she tried to move, but only her legs followed her brain's command. Hermione rolled her eyes, and began to clench and unclench her arms. Almost there.

Hermione caught only snippets of what was happening as she was giving her full effort to move her body.

"...Order of the Phoenix..." Draco was saying.

"...You look uncomfortable at the moment..."

"...I need to say goodbye to Hermione..."

What? Had he already given up? She wasn't dead! Come here! She screamed at him in her mind. She couldn't open her mouth yet. Come here and feel my pulse points! Check to see if I'm breathing!

And then one word beckoned to her, "Hermione..." He had put so much of emotion into that one, simple word. Emotion that called to her. Emotion that attached itself to her and was pulling at her like a string. Get up, it seemed to say. Get up now.

She tried. She really did. She twisted her head this way and that, trying to unknot the tension in her neck. Using her elbows she attempted to drag herself up, but she couldn't. She tried again and again, only half-hearing the dialogue exchange between Malfoy and the professor.

"...Ordered? Is that what you're trying to say?..."

Was that Professor Pinkle that was choking?

"...Professor...ordered to do what..."

"...To k—"

Hermione stopped trying to pull herself up, deciding that this conversation was more important. What was the professor trying to say? And why couldn't she articulate her words properly? Having one final go, Hermione clenched her teeth and hauled herself up, propping herself on her elbows. She felt immediately dizzy, and almost dropped back to the bed, but she forced herself to stay upright. She closed her eyes, waiting to stop feeling lightheaded. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, and before she could take a look around her, she was frozen by the stare the professor was sending her.

He professor looked as if she was in physical pain, her face twisted into a grimace, her eyes bulging as she stared at Hermione. Hermione felt uncomfortable. "No...it can't be...Why now?" Professor Pinkle murmured anxiously, her gaze transfixed on Hermione. Hermione licked her lips, not knowing what to do.

What did the professor mean? Hermione shifted her eyes slightly to the left, taking in the back of Malfoy. She looked back at Professor Pinkle. She pushed herself further off her bed, so that now she could see over his shoulder. She felt her eyes widen. Professor Pinkle had her wand pointed at Malfoy! Confusion ripped through Hermione and before she could act on it, professor Pinkle looked at her sadly, and said, "I'm sorry."

In less than a split-second, Hermione's mind spun into overdrive and she realised what was happening. She threw back her covers, yelling, "No!" The fact that she had opened her mouth to formulate words was irrelevant at the moment.

Her cry seemed to shock both Malfoy and Professor Pinkle, but Professor Pinkle gasped, and clutched her chest. She cried, "Avada kedavra!" her wand pointed at Malfoy, before falling into the mirror.

Hermione gasped. The woman had slipped right through the surface of the mirror as if it was water! And no green light had shot out of her wand! She scrambled out of the bed, and ignoring the dull aches and twists of pain that vibrated through her body, she hurried to stand next to Malfoy, looking at the mirror. The cold floor burned into the soles of her feet, but she ignored it. Shock was the one thing that overpowered all these physical, non-emotional feelings.

Hermione noticed how big Malfoy's eyes became as he stared at their reflection. He must have only realised then that she was standing next to him. He whirled around to face her, his mouth dropping open. "You-" he gasped. "You're alive!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking a step away from him. "Yes, yes," she said impatiently. She pointed at the mirror, saying, "More importantly, did you see that?" she asked seriously, her voice low.

His eyebrows shot up. "Hermione, you rose from the dead and you think that that is more important?" he asked incredulously, jerking his head in the direction of the mirror.

He had stepped closer to her, his curiosity and shock getting the better of him. Hermione tried to disregard the warmth he was exuding and took another step away from him. "And so what if I did rise from the dead, Malfoy?" she asked, folding her arms. "That part was completely predictable, of course. That's how the fairytale ends...or don't you remember?"

He narrowed his eyes at her words. "Of course I remember, Hermione," he said thinly. "But I...I kissed you –" Hermione grimaced at the memory, not noticing how his eyebrows shot up at her reaction. He narrowed his eyes further. "I kissed you," he repeated, looking at her, "just like how Prince Charming did, mind you, and you didn't wake up. Hear that? You didn't wake up."

Hermione looked away. She couldn't handle the intensity with which he was looking at her. Was he doing that deliberately? Was he trying to distract her? "Malfoy," she said, "We need to deal with the matter at hand –"

He cut across her. "-Which is the fact that you awoke after dying, which – according to the laws of magic – is impossible."

"Could you please get over that?" she cried out exasperatedly. His lips twitched, and Hermione knew that he wanted to say something. "What I meant was the fact that a supposed professor tried to kill you, and nothing happened!"

Malfoy looked back at the mirror. "Oh, that."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yes, that."

He looked back at her, and something akin to emotion registered in his eyes. Hermione's breath caught when she saw his hand reaching out as if to touch her, but he brought it back down to his side. She breathed out again slowly, feeling relieved. She started to walk over to the mirror, careful not to go too close to him as she passed.

"Wait!" Malfoy called out, grabbing her wrist. Hermione was jerked to a stop. How dare he touch her? Without turning around, she glared down at his hand clamped on her wrist. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, irritated.

He let go of her wrist immediately, and calmly said, "Stopping you."

She couldn't see what expression he was wearing, and quite frankly, she didn't care. She ignored him and continued to walk forward. "She's unconscious, Malfoy," she said.

She felt his presence beside her. "You can't know that," he said.

"I can, and I do," she insisted. She was about to step around the mirror when he pulled her behind him. "Honestly, Malfoy, I'm no mere girl," she said scathingly, trying to get out of his strong grasp. He had twisted his body so that his lower half was in front of the mirror, and his upper half was behind it. "Malfoy, let go of me," she ordered. When she found that he wasn't responding, she yelled, "MALFOY!"

He let go of her, but he did so ever so slowly. "Hermione," he whispered.

"What." She was annoyed. She came to stand next to him, looking at him, wishing that her glare would melt him.

He wasn't looking at her, though. He was staring at the floor, his mouth slightly open. "Hermione...she's your mother."

"What?" she asked, turning away from him to look at the woman on the floor. She blinked. Then, a muffled cry sounded in her mouth, and she bent down to take a closer look at her mother. "Mum..." she murmured, suddenly feeling sad. She wiped her eyes, wondering if what she was seeing was indeed real.

She reached out a hand to touch the woman's cheek, but she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, and was about to tell him off, when he said quietly, "This might be trick, Hermione."

She looked up at him. What she appreciated (but wouldn't tell him) was that he wasn't looking at her with pity in his eyes. In previous days, Hermione wouldn't believe that Malfoy was capable of showing kindness or concern. But, despite her feelings of anger and resentment that had resurfaced for him, she could acknowledge that now he was capable of such things. Human goodness – because, yes, he had displayed these traits.

Now, looking down at her, his hand still resting on her shoulder, more than kindness or concern was represented in his face. He stared at her, and she understood. Over the past seven years – now eight – she had been through so much of disguised danger, that anything could be possible. He nodded his head slowly, as if agreeing with what she was thinking, and she slowly turned back to look at the woman who looked like her mother, Jean Granger.

She sighed. For the past week, she had been under the impression that she had only one parent left in the world. And then now, now, she comes within hugging distance of a person who looks so much like her mother – right down to the small beauty spot on her chin – and she couldn't even touch her. But Malfoy was right. This could be a trick.

And if it was a trick, then what sort of reasoning was behind it? Whose idea of crude intelligence was this? She slowly leaned away, noticing that Malfoy's hand was still resting – not restraining her – on her shoulder. She shook her shoulders slightly, hoping that he would take the hint. He did.

She picked up the wand lying next to the woman and she slowly got up, still looking at the woman who lay splayed on the floor. Hermione glanced up at the mirror, and then back down at the woman. She turned to Malfoy, having to step back to look at him without hurting her neck. She handed him his wand. He took it wordlessly. "Where is Madam Pomfrey?" she asked him, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was looking at her strangely. She concentrated instead on the pupils of his eyes – at least those didn't distract her. They were rather large now – a thing very quick to notice when a person had such light-coloured eyes. Taking a quick look around the room, she noticed how prominently dark it was outside. She returned her gaze to him.

"She is in her office," Malfoy said slowly, his eyes not moving from Hermione's face.

Hermione felt her eyebrows pulling down. "How is it that she didn't hear the ruckus taking place here?"

Malfoy walked back bit by bit, and Hermione followed him. He was probably trying to steer her away from the woman on the floor. He stopped when they were at the bed. "I cast a Muffliato spell on her. It's a spell that –"

"I know what it does," Hermione muttered. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. The only expression he wore was one of curiosity. He was still looking at her strangely.

"Hermione, have I done something to offend you?" he asked seriously, leaning in towards her.

Hermione took a step backwards. "Not at all," she lied. "We need to inform Madam Pomfrey of what happened."

"Because," Malfoy continued, seeming to not have heard what she said, "I get the feeling that you are angry with me."

"Can I use that please?" she asked, pointing to his wand.

He looked down at his wand and then held it behind his back. "Answer my question," he said quietly, staring at her intensely.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Malfoy, there are more pressing matters at hand. No, listen to me," she said, when she saw he was about to interject. She pointed behind her. "There is a woman there who has changed her form. She now looks like my mother. That same woman also tried to kill you. We need to deal with this first."

He regarded her for a moment, and then sighed. "But we will discuss the other ...matter later." It wasn't a question.

Hermione merely nodded, knowing full well that she had no intention of broaching that topic later.

He flicked his wand. "Done."

"What?" Hermione asked, not noticing a difference.

"I lifted the spell. Wasn't that what you wanted to do?"

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling stupid. "Yes."

"Madam Pomfrey!" he called, still looking at Hermione. Hermione couldn't understand the way in which he was looking at her. It was as if he was trying to read her, or something. It was as if he knew she was withholding information about her feelings.

Hermione held his gaze, refusing to look away, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion. Not before long, she heard quick steps. She looked around Malfoy, watching the petite woman quickly make her way towards them, looking down at a piece of parchment in her hands. "What is it, Mr Malfoy? I'm kind of b—" She stopped, looking up for the first time. The parchment fell from her hands. "M-miss...Granger?"

Hermione stepped forward. "Madam Pomfrey," she said, smiling politely.

The nurse gasped. "You...you're alive!" She exclaimed rushing forward, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders. "But you were dead! No heartbeat, nothing!"

"I know, Madam Pomfrey—" Hermione started.

"How did you come back from the dead?" the nurse whispered, her eyes huge.

"Yes, Hermione, how is it that you came back from the dead?" Malfoy mocked.

Hermione turned to glare at him. "He kissed me, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said matter-of-factly to the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Hermione, then at Malfoy, then back at Hermione. She smiled. "My dear, that is impossible. What really happened? Because a magical medical miracle has occurred!"

Hermione sighed. She couldn't expect a professional to believe her – especially someone educated in the field of Magical Medicine. "Madam Pomfrey, it is a rather long story, and I can assure you that that was exactly what happened."

The nurse looked dubious. "Miss Granger—"

"Madam Pomfrey, take a look at this," Malfoy said, coming to Hermione's rescue. He gestured behind them at the woman on the floor.

Madam Pomfrey gasped, holding a hand to her chest. She rushed forward, kneeling before the unconscious woman. She turned her over, checking her vitals. She breathed a sigh of relief. Standing up, she used her wand to levitate the woman. She directed her to the bed Hermione had previously been using. She patted the sheets around the woman, and aligned her body so that the woman was on her back.

Madam Pomfrey turned to face them. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked, her lips pulled into a straight line.

Malfoy, Hermione noticed, was still looking at her. Hermione ignored him and replied, "We don't know."

The nurse stared at her incredulously. "What do you mean you don't know? Surely you must know something."

"Let me explain, Madam Pomfrey. Whatever we know, I'll explain," Malfoy said. He stepped forward, explaining everything from the point at which people were chosen to play specific roles for the fairytale musicalermHerHedkjfnc/lHermii, to the point at which "Professor Pinkle" fell through the mirror after trying to cast an Unforgivable Curse on him.

At this point, Madam Pomfrey had conjured a chair and was now sitting on it, staring at the ground. "You mean to tell me that this woman is Professor Pinkle?" she asked, clearly not believing him.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione answered. "I was awake. I saw it."

"But I know what Professor Pinkle looks like! I've seen her before!"

"Professor Pinkle fell through the mirror, and the next time we looked, we found her," Malfoy said, motioning towards the woman on the bed.

Madam Pomfrey got up and walked towards the mirror. "What is the function of this?" she asked, gazing at it.

Malfoy stepped forward. "It is a magical device designed by Prof – by that woman. When you walk through it, all magic performed on you over the past week is reversed or lifted."

Hermione gasped. They turned to look at her. "I...I think I just realised something." She licked her lips.

"Evidently," Malfoy said.

"This woman here...she is, I think, in her actual form. She must have taken...Polyjuice Potion, or...or an Illusion Charm or something to make her look like someone else!" Hermione said in a rush, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes in thought. "Then that magic...that magic would have been reversed when she fell backwards through the mirror," he muttered. He looked at Hermione, and she looked back at him, unaware that his mind too had begun to spin with ideas and thoughts.

Madam Pomfrey looked doubtful. "That sounds quite far-fetched."

"Madam Pomfrey, with all due respect, we have been through so many things that the word 'far-fetched' has become plausible," Malfoy said.

"Either way, I'll have to run tests and the like just to make sure – Miss Granger! What are you doing?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.

Hermione stepped away quickly from the person on the bed. "I was just...um," Hermione said, searching for an excuse. "She's breathing, Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, I know that, Miss Granger. Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Madam Pomfrey said, narrowing her eyes. "Miss Granger, would you please come away from there?"

Hermione slipped another look at the woman, and then reluctantly moved away.

"Now, Miss Granger, I am happy that you are alive, but you need to excuse me," Madam Pomfrey said, waving her wand. Hermione ducked just in time as several potion bottles and flasks and rolls of parchments soared their way. They lined themselves neatly on the table, and Madam Pomfrey began going through them, reading the labels. She looked up at them, noticing that they were still there.

"Mr Malfoy, please escort Miss Granger out as she seems incapable of leaving," Madam Pomfrey instructed.

Hermione began walking out of the Hospital Wing. "I am perfectly capable of doing that myself, Madam Pomfrey. Goodnight."

Hermione heard Malfoy's "goodnight" as he too left the infirmary. She ignored the sound of his footsteps behind her, and quickened her pace. He didn't comment or say anything throughout the whole journey to the Heads Tower. At times, Hermione would want him to say anything, and at those times she would silently scold herself for thinking such thoughts.

She came to a stop at the portrait, wondering what the password was. She didn't want to ask him, but she turned to look at him nevertheless. "What, now you decide to acknowledge my presence?" he asked sarcastically. He stepped forward, and muttered, "Fidelitas."

She stepped through and looked around. The place hadn't changed in the slightest. When was the last time she had been in here? She smiled, and was about to walk over to her room, when –

"Stop," he said, the tone of irritation bringing her to a halt.

Draco felt so frustrated. She had no right to wake up like that – from the dead – and act as if nothing happened. Did she even know how much emotional pain he had gone through? For her? That still boggled his mind, but it was the truth. She didn't even say 'thank you'; she hadn't expressed any signs of gratitude. She had acted incredibly standoffish, and why wouldn't she let him touch her? What did she have a problem with?

Draco had just gotten over his issues with touching people...well, maybe it was just Hermione...and she knew that.

"What?" she asked, not turning around. He needed for her to turn around. He needed to see her face. He needed to see her eyes again – the spark in them.

He walked over, and came to a stop right behind her. "Hermione," he said.

He saw her body tense as she realised that he was behind her. And, predictably, she took a step forward – away from him. A dull throbbing began in his head. "Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked, annoyed.

She turned around to face him. Finally. "Meaning?" she asked somewhat innocently.

Draco narrowed his eyes. She knew what he meant. He lifted an eyebrow.

She probably realised that he knew that she knew because she sighed. "Malfoy, I want to sleep. I'm tired," she said, her left eye twitching.

Hermione seemed so set on avoiding him, and this disturbed Draco. He couldn't understand why the person who had saved him from himself was now leaving him stranded. "You just slept for the past day, and you're feeling tired?"

She turned away, looking at something on their right. "I wasn't sleeping, Malfoy. I was half dead."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, this time seriously.

She turned to look at him. "If I answer your question, will you let me go?"

The question 'will you let me go?' bothered him to no end. Draco saw more than one meaning in it, but he didn't show it. He maintained a blank face. "Yes," he said.

"I was dead, yes. But then something happened – I don't know what – and then I was alive again, but I couldn't –"

"When was this?" he asked, cutting across her.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know."

"Can you try to remember?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he added, "It might be important."

She sighed. Inwardly, he smirked, knowing that she had done something he had asked. She bit her lip and the action brought Draco's attention to her lips. They were not as red as they used to be – the pink colour had returned. They still looked so soft, and Draco had the urge to unhook her teeth from her lip. He clenched his fists, though, attempting to exercise self-restraint.

He knew when she had found the answer because he could see the realisation in her eyes. She brought her eyes up to his, and then they dropped to his lips. Draco couldn't help but smile slightly. Did she know how incredibly readable she was? When she noticed his smile, she brought her eyes to meet his, and Draco saw the annoyance – self-annoyance – in them.

He looked at her with unfeigned amusement, his irritation with her already gone. "Yes?" he asked.

"It was when you kissed me," she muttered.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I wasn't alive. I couldn't see anything. But I could hear...and feel."

"But your heart...it stopped beating...and you weren't—"

"Breathing, I know. I also don't understand it."

Draco thought. "Were you conscious of what was happening all the time?"

She looked down, biting her lower lip again. After a while, she looked up at him again. "Now that I think about it...No. There were times when I would switch off, and then switch on again. Very haphazardly."

"Who was the last person you felt or heard? Usually, I mean," Draco enquired.

She thought. "You," she said after a while.

"And the first?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You."

"How flattering," he said.

She stepped away from him. "Don't feel too important, Malfoy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

Draco pushed down the deflated feeling of having her walk away, and said, "Of course there is."

"Maybe..."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me," he insisted.

"No, it sounds rather obtuse."

"I'm pretty used to obtuse, Hermione. Tell me."

"I think..." she trailed off.

"Would you spit it out!" Draco practically yelled.

She was at the window now, looking out. He slowly walked towards her. "I think that whenever you would have contact with me...it would cause me to switch on..." she trailed off. Shaking her head, she said, "It sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud."

Draco thought. "No...no, it actually doesn't," he said seriously.

She whipped around to face him. "Why are you following me?" she asked, moving away from him again. Draco sighed.

"It sounds like a good theory, Hermione," he commented.

"What, you following me?" she asked, now sitting on one of the couches. He remained standing by the window.

"No," he said, clicking his tongue. "About having contact with me during your non-dead, non-alive state."

"Seriously?"

"Well, given the roles we had, wouldn't it work like that? Snow White had been brought to life by Prince Charming's kiss. Why couldn't you be brought back with my kiss?" His argument sounded fairly reasonable, but the thought of kissing her made him uncomfortable. It brought back memories.

"Well, I suppose..." she said, sounding unsure. "But wait," she said, after a while.

"What?" he asked, watching the moon.

"Could you look at me?"

Could he? Yes. Would he? No. Even though he really wanted to... "No," he said, deciding to be stubborn.

"I can't talk to you properly if you're not looking at me," she reasoned.

"Then that really is your fault," he said, leaning his head against the cold glass.

"I resent that," she said, sounding annoyed.

"I know," he sighed, closing his eyes. "What was it that you wanted to say?"

He heard her sigh. "I don't think your theory is right."

He smiled, knowing she couldn't see. "And why is that?"

"Because when you kissed me –" here she cleared her throat, "-you weren't in your Prince Charming state."

Ah. He had been ready for that. But first..."How did you know that?"

"It was a guess," she said. He could just imagine her shrugging.

"It was a good one," he murmured. "True, I wasn't in my Prince Charming state, but you were still in your Snow White state. Maybe that's why it only half-worked. You were awake, but you weren't."

"Oh!" she gasped. "Then that's why...When you kissed me in the Hospital Wing, it worked! Because...you passed me through the mirror!"

"How did you know that?" he asked softly.

"You were asking Professor Pin – that woman about it."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Hermione," he said.

"Hm?" she seemed to be in a better mood. It seemed that whenever she brainstormed something, she would become excited. Therefore, it was safe to ask his question. "Why are you angry with me?"

He turned around to face her. He was just in time to see her ease slip off her face. Irritation was back in its place. Hermione turned her head away from him, facing the fire.

"Because you kissed me."

Draco blinked. "You're annoyed with me for ... for bringing you back?" he asked, surprised.

"No, I'm glad you did that. I'm just annoyed that you had the gall to kiss me or touch me...intimately," she said quietly.

Draco felt his pulse pick up. He took a breath. "Hermione, that was necessary." No, it wasn't. Draco brushed the thought away.

"Drawing circles on my hand? Patting my hair? Cradling me to your chest?" she asked softly. Draco closed his eyes. Why was she semi-conscious when he had been doing that?

"I thought you had died, Hermione," he said simply, honestly.

She stood up then, walking over to him. "And so?" she asked. "So what if I died, Malfoy?"

Draco knew he had to put a mask back up; he knew that she was backing him into a corner, and if he didn't act smart, there would be no way out. "It's what friends do, Hermione," he said, looking away, hoping that she wouldn't see his eye twitch.

She came to a stop before him. "Friends?" she repeated, sounding surprised.

He walked away from her, going to her previous place.

"That's what we are," he said quietly.

"What?"

She didn't have to sound so surprised. She didn't have to sound so shocked. Draco had to lie to her because he just wasn't ready to tell her that he felt something for her. He couldn't bring himself to that level of honesty. How could he tell her that what he felt for her was beyond the boundaries of friendship? How could he tell her that he wished he could kiss her properly again? How could he tell her that he dreamt up fantasies involving just the two of them? Even now, he was constantly thinking those thoughts as she stood there before him. How could he tell her these things without tarnishing her heart like that? Because the truth was that he wasn't good for her. There weren't many young men out there who were healed by young women. He couldn't constantly ask that of Hermione.

And what would she see in him anyway? He was just the person whom she had helped. She had seen him at his worst, at his most vulnerable. No one would really like someone like that.

Therefore, he lied. He leaned towards her, smelling her wonderful scent. "What did you think, Hermione?" he asked, his voice just a whisper.

She hadn't leaned away. She was looking into his eyes, and Draco could read everything there. Her confusion being most dominant. "I thought..." she started and then stopped. She looked away.

"Honestly, tell me what you think," he whispered. "Honestly." Irony played an important part in that sentence.

She cleared her throat. "I..."

He moved them around so that she was the one against the wall. "You..."

She licked her lips. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head and leaned forward, knowing that this would be the last time he could act like this toward her. "I thought..." she whispered, and Draco closed his eyes as he felt her breath wash over his face. "I thought that you felt something more."

Silence.

-to be continued-

A/N: So I made this chapter a lot longer than most because I felt the beginning was a bit repetitive. And also, I've been getting such awesome reviews that I felt you people deserved an awesomely long chapter : )

Thanks for the support! xx