Ok so when I said "the next few chapters are huge for Dramione" I actually meant "the next few after this chapter"…. Sorry don't hate me, but this chapter is 1000000% necessary (as you'll come to find) and definitely not bad.

But I promise you, every single chapter for the rest of this story after this one is LOADED with Dramione! Trust me! You'll LOVE IT!

Also huge shout out to a guest reviewer who reviewed like 8 times and got you guys this chapter a day early! Thanks, dude!

Here it is! Enjoy!

"[In the mirror, he saw] a boy who had finally acknowledged, finally admitted, what he'd known all along. Something he'd feared. Something he'd caused. A boy who was terrified at when he'd done."

~Draco, thinking

She lay on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, reading. A black-haired boy sat below her, back leaned up against the front of the sofa with his elbows resting on his knees. His wand twirled between the fingers of his right hand, which had turned red from the light of the fire in front of them, while his left hand clung to an old potions textbook. The reflection of the red and yellow glinted off a pair of glasses, perched in front of unfeeling green eyes that looked on in mild boredom. The redhead was gone. Probably off snogging his girlfriend.

Hermione read the words on the page several times. The same sentence, the same paragraph, the same page and story. Five times. Ten times. Uncountable. But she couldn't understand what they were saying because though her eyes took heed, her mind did not.

She laid the book down, spine up across her lap as she sighed. Her right hand flew to the wrist of her left, fiddling with the charm bracelet that she'd worn every single day since Christmas of 1996. Most of the time she hid it under her cloak, though, so people couldn't see it; it was meant for her and her alone. She didn't want anyone else to be a part of that.

He was worse. Worse than ever. As the days in April ticked away like the seconds on a wristwatch, so did Malfoy's mental state, so it seemed. He would sit in class, jaw clenched and grey eyes clouded in anxiety. His grades had been suffering, dramatically so, just like his health.

And there was nothing Hermione could do about any of it. She watched on, an urge to say something, do something, do anything rising unsteadily within her. She tried, oh she tried. But nothing would work and nothing would help. He wouldn't let her.

"Please don't." She remembered his words to her from the astronomy tower, when she'd told him she'd do anything to help him. She still didn't know why he was so opposed to the idea of being aided.

Maybe it was just because he was so damned proud. Maybe it was because he just didn't want her help. But maybe it was because he still thought he was superior to her. Hermione doubted this; if he thought that then surely, they wouldn't even be friends at this point.

Friends. Disappointing.

"I'm telling you, Hermione." Worse yet was Harry. "He is up to something."

The black-haired Gryffindor would not let up on anything related to Malfoy. Ever since he'd grown paler and sicklier looking, Harry had jumped at the idea of accusing him of anything.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Malfoy!"

She rolled her eyes as the boy swiveled himself to face her. "Yeah, okay, I figured that part out. I just meant, I don't know, specifically. You can't just accuse him of doing something bad when you have no evidence or any idea of what it could even be."

"I've told you," he groaned, hand tightening and loosening itself around the potions book. "I don't know exactly what he's doing. But I know he's up to something."

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed, going back to her book. "Well I guess we'll just have to trust your gut."

"Why are you so against trusting me on this?"

She froze for a moment. True, she was being more nonchalant than she normally would be, but that was just to throw Harry off her trail. If they talked about Malfoy and she accidentally let anything slip about her friendship with him, the secret meetings and gifts, she wasn't sure how he'd react. She just knew that it'd be badly.

But she didn't let any of her thoughts and alarm show. "Because, Harry, I am a firm believer in accusation based off of evidence. Which you have none of. Which means you can't sentence him to anything aside from your biased albeit quiet judgement."

Harry let out a breath. "I-I know, I know. It's just…it really seems like he's up to something. Something bad. I don't think anything good is going to come of it, either."

Neither do I. Hermione almost said the words, but she bit her tongue. "Just…let me know if you ever do find anything incriminating about him. What?" she asked at his look of surprise. "If you're right and he is actually going to do something bad, I want people to be safe as much as you do."

Harry probably wasn't worried for Malfoy's sake, though. That was the difference between them. Well, that among many things.

"Alright, I'll give you a heads up," Harry agreed, reluctantly dropping the topic. "But I'll have you know: if he ever so much as steps out of line around me without due cause, I won't hesitate to hex him to the moon and back."

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face. "You do that, Harry." He was all talk. He wouldn't actually do such a thing unless it was completely necessary, even if it was Malfoy.

"Oh, that does remind me, though," he said quickly, flipping through his potions book. That damned potions book. She hated it.

"Of?"

"Have you ever heard of this spell…Sectumsempra?"

. . . ….. . . .

Draco,

I wish I had time to tell you happy things. How I love you, how…well, that's just it, isn't it? There's no other happy thing to report on.

Your time is running out. I'm a terrible mother to be doing so, but I must rush you with this. You needn't be reminded the severity of such an issue. The days are going by quickly, as I'm sure you're aware. There wasn't a lot of time to start with and there's even less now. Almost none. Hardly two months left and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is getting restless, agitated. I've been graced with his presence many a time and always because he wants to know if I've any idea of your progress.

It is coming along, isn't it? Please tell me it is. Don't tell me. I can't receive such a note. But if you know it's okay, then I will too. Please know it's okay. Please know everything will be alright.

I do love you. I know I don't tell you a lot, but I do. I don't know when the next time I see you will be. To be honest, maybe never. You never do know, with these things. But know that I love you and I have always loved you. Nothing you could do could change that. Know it.

Good luck, my son. You can do this. I believe in you.

Sincerely,

~N. Malfoy

These bouts of sudden anxiety needed to end. How could anyone put so much pressure on a sixteen-year old? To kill the greatest wizard in the world? To become a Death Eater?

Admittedly, the worst part of his sixth year was brought upon by Draco himself. He never needed to take Dumbledore's hand and relive the year.

But…didn't he? Draco would never in a million years ignore the deal and get killed. This was the only way. The only way.

It wasn't so great. It seemed to be doing more harm than help, as it was.

Draco's hands knitted themselves together behind his neck as he bit on his tongue to keep a strangled cry of fear from escaping his lips. Not here, in the Great Hall with everyone present. Not here. Not here.

He grabbed the note from his mother, shoving it into his robes and exiting. His wand shook in his shakier hand as he faked a swagger from the hall. He had to put on a face, as usual.

One of his hands found its way to his collar, tugging desperately at the suddenly too tight necktie that was choking him. It loosened hastily, and Draco let out a breath. His pace quickened.

He checked behind him as he turned a corner quickly. Maybe-maybe he was going crazy. He was paranoid. But it almost felt as if someone was watching, was following—

No. No. No. The panic was rising in Draco's chest and he fought to keep his breathing even. Fear. Undying terror. He was going to die, his mother was going to die, everyone was going to die, and it was his fault—

He hadn't realized he'd made his way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom—maybe because of the tears threatening to fall that were shrouding his vision—but he had pushed his way inside before his brain could reason with his emotions. Screw this. Screw everything.

The ghost was upon him in moments. "Who are you?!" she shrieked, stupid pigtails swinging as she swooped down to be face to face with him. "Who dares enter my—"

"OUT!" Draco screamed, unadulterated hysteria making his voice high and shrill. One hand flew to his hair, pulling at it harshly in an attempt to calm his racing heart and nerves. "Get OUT!"

The ghost wasn't senseless. Dumb, annoying—yes, but not senseless. She shot him a shocked, hurt, and infuriated look before flying off, disappearing through one of the walls and out of sight.

Draco seemed to collapse in on himself. He threw off his tie and discarded his sweater vest, throwing both by a stall before rushing to a sink. He turned on the water, almost missing the faucet handle in his desperation. The water moved slowly, in a drudging motion towards the drain.

His hands cupped beneath the water, hardly processing the feeling of the liquid on his fingers before throwing it at his face. He rubbed the water against his eyes, his cheeks, his neck. Breathing fast, fast, faster than ever. Hyperventilating.

Sobs racked through his body as the water dripped from his face and down his chest, sneaking under the collar of his cotton button up shirt and trailing towards his stomach. It felt icy. He hardly noticed.

Tears poured down his cheeks, too pale cheeks, and he gripped the sides of the sink with white knuckles. His head was down and his hair—hair that had rarely been tended to in the past month and a half—hung lowly over his eyes. Cries still racked his frame, and he shook. Tangibly.

"I…" The words ripped from his heaving chest, barely discernible over hysterical sobs. "I…I c-can't…I d-don't…I don't kn-know what to…." His head bent closer to the rushing water.

His hands gripped the roots of his hair, elbows leaning on the sides of the sink. "He'll kill me." Whispered. Harsh, reluctant, fearful as all hell. "They'll…they'll kill her."

It was at this moment that Draco finally looked up at the cracked mirror that faced him. In the reflection, he saw his white face, streaked with grey tears. Molten eyes wide with terror and acceptance. Stringy silver hair, mussed and across his forehead. Unkept.

A boy who had finally acknowledged, finally admitted, what he'd known all along. Something he'd feared. Something he'd caused.

A boy who was terrified at when he'd done.

And just beyond his shoulder, a black-haired boy with glasses and a wand, raised ever so slightly.

Draco reacted before he could think. He spun on his heel, drawing his wand and throwing the first hex he could summon at Potter. It shot out and shattered a nearby lamp, barely missing the boy as he jumped out of the way.

As he threw himself sideways, the Gryffindor fired his own spell at Draco, but he blocked it and raised his wand again.

His hex missed and hit a bin. As it exploded, time seemed to slow. Draco saw Scarhead raise his wand, but the curse took forever to appear. It did slowly, flying across the room like a snake through the grass. Visibly slow.

Wait.

No. No, Draco knew. He knew how this would end. But he couldn't stop.

Potter slipped on the wet floor as Draco blocked the spell and the boy fell, losing his foot.

He had to stop. Draco was going to get wounded. No, this had to stop—

Suddenly things moved too quickly.

Draco stood above Potter, pointing his wand. The syllables were on his tongue before he could stop them. "Cruci—"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

That was it. There was nothing Draco could do as rips in his skin appeared out of nowhere, tearing across his body and soul. Red sprayed from his very being, every inch of it, and he fell to the floor, screaming and gasping in agony.

Blood seeped across his eyes and he was blinded. This was worse than he ever remembered, far worse. His throat was in agony from screeching so much, yet he couldn't keep the screams back. It was like he was being peeled alive, skin layer by skin layer until there was nothing left but bone and pain and terror.

And Moaning Myrtle wasn't here. Last time, she'd been the one to get Snape.

Now there was just Potter, looking shocked and horrified beyond words. "No…."

Draco hated him. He hated him for so much. For this. For Granger. For being so bleeding perfect in everyone's eyes.

Potter swallowed and took a step away from Draco's twitching form. "No, I—"

Draco couldn't glare at him for more than a moment. The pain was too great, and he went back to sobbing as more blood spilled from his chest, his face, everywhere. God, it was unbearable.

Make it stop.

Another scream ripped from his lungs. "Please!" You could hardly understand him.

Draco forced his eyes to meet Potter's. Saint Potter. He abhorred him.

But he wasn't going to let his pride get in the way. He'd done that one too many times.

Another scream of agony, of pleading. Help, he needed help.

And finally, the Gryffindor moved. He ran to the door, poking his head out and shouting to anyone nearby. Shouting words, words that Draco could not hear. His eyes were closing slowly, but though he was giving in to sleep, the pain seemed to only worsen.

A tear slipped from his right eye as one last sob left him. Darkness was overtaking him, merciless black. But somehow, this wasn't as terrifying as it should've been.

It brought Draco hope, almost.

Because, he thought as he closed his eyes and let out a breath, maybe if he let it overtake him, it wouldn't claim her.

There was peace in that.

2412 words. Felt longer.

Guys seriously, review. There's only…13 chapters left after this one. Which sounds like a lot, but I've posted 11 in the past three weeks, so…it won't be long until it's over.

Please please review! They only take a minute and they really do mean a lot! #still can't get over how little reviews I got for chapter 35 but oh well I guess….

Oh also vote on the poll on my profile page! It asks, "If one of them had to die, would you rather it be Hermione or Draco in OPAR?" So please vote!

Ok hope you enjoyed! REVIEW

Love you lots!