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A/N: Even if I have only a small number of reviews, I am so touched with the number of hits! 2700+! plus this story was favored by 6 people and story alerted by another 6 or 7. :-) TYTYTY ILU GUYS

Draco Malfoy was not quite himself these past few days.

Well, physically, he still dressed appropriately: his black blazer, signature white polo, black slacks, and black shoes. He managed to wear the Marvolo Gaunt ring on his right ring finger and his wedding band thrown in the nearest receptacle immediately after his separation with Pansy. But something was wrong with his appearance: he looked haggard, his hair was a mess, his eyes were red and dry, and he was paler than usual.

"Why am I so upset?" he asked himself for the nth time that day. The sun was out, winter was over, and spring was back in the game. Flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and Draco was the only sourpuss that existed as he moped under an oak tree. He closed his eyes as he tried to get some sleep in the quietest area the park had to offer. It had been a good week since he had gotten great sleep. But he couldn't.

He numbered the events that had transpired on his fingers as flashbacks appeared in front of his eyes.

Voldemort died. No, of course I should not be upset!

Death Eaters are gone. No, that's not it.

He thought about his father Lucius and he finally had his answer. His hands numbed at the thought of his betrayal towards his family. He knew he was getting too emotional and it was not like him to moan and groan over some issues he never got to settle with his dad, but just for once he wanted his father's recognition to last even just for a little while longer. And now he was in Azkaban, and Draco knew fully well that the recognition from his dad would never come.

He slammed his fist down towards the grass in frustration and calmed his throbbing temple. He was feeling some sort of rage and regret at the thought of his betrayal. And who caused it? Hermione Granger. Yes, she caused this whole mess. If it weren't for that mudblood, he would have gotten through the whole thing in time, if it weren't for her bleeding stomach and coma…

"Bleeding stomach! Coma!" Draco felt a sharp pain in his abdomen as he thought of Hermione probably suffering unconsciously in Saint Jean Pierre's. He knew that he shouldn't be worried but he was not qualming over her pain, he was qualming because she was suffering through it alone. His heart clenched at the thought of her slowly dying and he suddenly felt his eyes prick. He gasped in shock at the thought of him crying over a girl. He bent his neck backwards in an attempt to return the tears but instead irritated his insomniac eyes.

It wasn't in his blood to cry over a girl, let alone a mudblood. Oh, Merlin, what would Father think of him? Lucius would have certainly beat Voldemort to the pulp to kill his son for such a bastardious thought.

He got up and dismissed his original plan to even try to stop by and see her. What was the use? She was the reason why his family was torn apart. She was the reason why he didn't fuss about Pansy's affair with Blaise. She was the reason why he gave up every pureblood belief he was raised to believe in. She was the reason.

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" his head started spinning from the battling thoughts inside his mind and from nausea due to his plagued rest. He started lumbering weakly through a garden and focused his eyes on a rose.

So, what if it was a rose? He thought to himself. Why am I staring at it? What significance—

And his train of thought stopped for a minute. His mind rewound to the time when he brought Hermione to Shaw Street Gardens a week back. His heart was heavy as he remembered the way she whispered into his ear,

"I love this shade of rose," she smiled shyly. "It's not too dark, it's too light…"

"It's the perfect hue." He finished her quip as he held the rose gently between his index finger and middle finger. A cool breeze blew his way and he caught a whiff of the rose's scent. The divine smell intoxicated his nostrils and the already heavy heart he had was on its way to sinking down all the way to his stomach, adding to the already present guilt pain he had carried. The rose smelled so sweet even in the first few weeks of Spring. The rose was actually impossible to find because the shade would usually appear as the season progresses. But he was holding that perfect rose in the first few weeks, was that a sign?

He shook his head and walked away. "Forget it."

As he was a bit far away from the garden, he heard a little girl gasp innocently. "Mother!" he heard the girl squeal with delight. "Look! Look at this rose!"

Draco stopped walking and turned on his right heel. A little girl was touching the rose he held a few minutes ago. His rose! He scanned the entire garden from behind a tree and found that there was no existing perfect rose. He forced himself to turn around and continue walking out to the exit of the garden when he found himself thinking.

Was it worth going back there to argue with a little pipsqueak over a stupid rose? Was it worth embarrassing himself in front of an innocent mother?

Pluck goes the sound of the picked flower.

He had his answer.

Hermione Granger's mind was on replay today. She didn't know what vibes she got from rewinding back to good memories but she liked the feeling she got from the mere concept of going back. It seemed comforting to stick to memories because somehow living in the present did not really conform to her liking. She hated how things turned out after that fight she had with Draco. Her friends Ron and Ginny had not yet come to visit, Harry hadn't visited after his first time last week, and Draco hadn't come by to visit. That didn't make sense. After all, he saved her? Does he do things like that to the people he saves? Does he even save people? Should she not care that he hadn't come by? Did the events that transpired before the Infiltration mean nothing to him?

Hermione shut her eyes and took the sleeping draught that Janice had prepared for her. She had requested it specifically to get some rest, but she knew it was more than that.

You see history may be great for reminiscing, but again your mind chooses what you see not your heart. And the image of Draco's handsome face constantly flashed in the black empty space of Hermione's shut eyes.

The door creaked as Draco entered Hermione Granger's room. He shut the door gently behind him and walked over to the right side of her bed. His chest tightened at the sight of a peacefully sleeping Hermione and he wished he didn't even have to pick a fight with her. He wished he could have saved her sooner. Was he too late?

He inhaled sharply and a voice echoed quietly throughout the quarters. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh," he exhaled as he turned around. "Hello, Janice. How's she doing?"

"She's recovering from the gash," she smiled. "And about the co—"

Draco smiled a tight-lipped smile and asked, "Could you step outside for a minute? I just want to have a bit of privacy with the patient."

Janice nodded.

"Of course, sir," the healer responded. "I'll be on the second floor if you need me."

"Sir, there's something you should know…"

"Janice, it can wait until later, right?"

"I guess so."

"Then please I need a moment with the patient. I haven't gotten a wink of sleep in a week and I would really appreciate it if you don't defy my word."

"That explains the bedhead and the mussed up clothing." She muttered.

"What?"

Janice reddened.

"Oh, nothing, sir. As I said, I'll be on the second floor with whatever I have to tell you after your moment."

"Thank you."

The door creaked slightly as Janice closed it behind her.

"Oh, Janice?"

"Yes, sir?" Janice's head poked from the doorframe.

"How many people have visited her?"

"You're the second one so far, sir."

Draco nodded.

"Who was the first?"

"It was Mr. Potter."

"Of course." He muttered softly.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Never you mind. Go on now. Thank you again."

"Anytime, sir."

The door finally shut behind him.

Once they were alone, a million thoughts filled Draco's head. What was he supposed to say? Will she be able to see the light of day? To see her best friends? To see him? To be able to be well enough to marry him? What about having kids?

Hold your horses, Captain. Marriage? Children? He was talking about a Mudblood!

But he gazed at her and he knew that if she got up and found out he had passed by, she would be too irked up and raging to have the strength to make her eyes stay open for longer than an hour.

He knew that in order for her to wake up, he had to leave her alone. He knew it was going to be hard (oh, damn all these bipolar thoughts of mine!) but he also thought it was the right thing to do.

He carefully sat on the edge of her bed, parallel to her hands and he gently stroked her right cheek with his middle finger. His eyes turned glassy as his finger moved down to her lips and he again longed for the nth time to kiss her before he left her for good.

He then got up from the bed and he said in the most gentle voice, "It's Spring again."

Hermione responded with slow, tranquil breathing.

"And I know what you love most about Spring. You told me on our date. You loved the butterflies, you loved the dewy grass at dawn, and you loved flowers. I myself think that Spring is such a prissy season—"

He paused.

"I have got to remember that I'm not here to talk about myself. I'm here to talk about you."

He inhaled sharply again.

"I know that we've been sworn enemies for so long and it took us nine long years to reconcile. But a week ago, a fight brought us apart again and it caused you your demise. And for that, I blame myself fully. Sometimes, I wish I could have killed you instead of bringing you into the nastiest world my father had created. Sadly, it had become my life for so long. He was controlling and abusive yet I wanted his approval so badly because he was top on Voldemort's list. He had power and recognition, and yes, unbelievably, it's hard to get Lucius Malfoy's approval even if you're his son."

He checked to see if Hermione, by any chance, was stirring. She wasn't.

"I know that I have been made to believe that muggles aren't supposed to mingle with purebloods," he continued as he paced the room nervously. "And I had to prove such was true with me by trying to kill you. At first, I thought it was easy because I was raised to believe such a way but when it got to the real thing, I couldn't help but cower at the last minute. It's so Un-Slytherin-like, you know. And in the end, I brought you to Shell Cottage where you lived a peaceful life until I had to drop by and irk you more with my cockiness. If it weren't for me, you would have still lived normally without Voldemort bothering you since he thought you were already dead."

He checked for the second time to see if Hermione stirred. But her breathing was the only thing conscious around him.

"But that's the thing. If I hadn't bothered you, I would have stayed in Malfoy Manor chained to Pansy Parkinson my whole life. While it was easy to maintain a flirtatious broad such as her, I knew that I didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage because I not only thought of my well-being but also Scorpius' well-being."

He breathed in deeply for the second time. The core point of his speech was coming up.

"I do have one thing to confess: Potter made me rescue you. Unbelievable, isn't it? Not really because I hid you off in some cottage, please, anyone can do that. But the nutty thing there was my actually agreeing to save you. Well, so many unbelievable things happen to all of us at certain points in our lives. First, I never got to know that Potter was actually a smart chap. Second, Weasley cares for you a lot. Well, that doesn't surprise me. Ever since I've spent a whole lot of time with you, I've gotten to know that you were more than just a shallow bookworm (no offense). You are the feistiest, most amazing girl I have ever known and even if you are a mudblood, you're actually something special. And that's saying something, coming from me."

He laughed softly.

"But you don't deserve someone like me," he sighed heavily. "I mean, assuming that you've felt something these past few weeks. I mean, the fight and Pansy and everything, well, in short, my tumultuous life, I knew that you didn't deserve such a complicated family name. You deserve someone great like Potter or Weasley. They've got the right girl if ever one of them ends up with you. You were the only one who changed my way of living, my way of thinking, and me in general."

His voice was starting to crack.

"Today, I was walking around Shaw Street Gardens and I saw the most beautiful rose. I knew you wanted something like that. You told me during our date but you knew that you couldn't get such a flower because it'd be out during the second week of Spring. Well, amazingly, it's the first week and already I found the flower. I know you won't be pleased with what I did because I wasn't pleased myself. I had started to question my beliefs and in the end, I had forgotten to answer the most core question Potter had asked me months ago."

He paused shakily.

"I had ignored that question for so long because I never knew what to answer. But today, as I saw the rose, I had finally found my answer."

He laid the rose gently on the sidetable next to Hermione's bed.

"I fought over this little rose with a nine-year old girl. I knew I couldn't save face and the mother was threatening to call the authorities or whatever you Muggles called it and I was about to go to prison. But the mere fact that I was risking my life for you out there, even as measly as taking a rose from a girl, I knew right then and there that you were worth saving."

And he looked at her longingly.

"I know that I have not wanted to admit this and I have kept denying this for over nine months but I think I've started to fall in love with you."

His eyes gently closed as he absorbed the admission. He had finally surrendered to his heart.

"But I can't keep you like this. You're in pain, you're in total misery… I know this hurts me so much but I have to… to let you go."

"Your happiness means the world to me and if it has to involve you not getting with a Malfoy, then by all means, I will make the sacrifice. Why? Because you are worth my pain."

He walked away, his eyes heavy with potential tears. He waved his wand and was about to Obliviate her mind, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He knew that deep inside he wanted to set her free from the bondage of Draco Malfoy but he couldn't help his heart. Nothing was worse than having to know that the one you love has forgotten you existed. No amount of butterbeer and firewhiskey could cure such a heartbreak.

He opened the door and Janice was outside, tears streaming down her face.

"You heard it all?" Draco questioned.

"I'm so sorry, Sir," she apologized immediately. "But those were the most beautiful words…"

"Save it," Draco shut his eyes. "Just promise me you'll take great care of her and notify me always on her progress."

"Will do, sir."She sniffled as she wiped her tears on her cloth napkin.

"And one more thing." He said before he turned around on his heel.

"What is it, sir?"

"Don't ever mention that I was here. Don't tell her I came by. Nothing."

"May I ask why?"

Draco sighed.

"I just needed to."

Janice nodded solemnly as she entered the room.

Draco walked to the lift, rode it, and exited through the first floor.

He turned towards the white building and locked eyes with Hermione's room window for one last time.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

All the way up in Hermione's room, a gasp was uttered. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she stood upright.

"Ow." She winced as her gash pained up.

She turned around and saw no one and she knew it was just a dream. She laid her head on the pillow and shut her eyes again, not noticing the rose on her sidetable where Draco's hand had rested for real.