Chapter 16:

Draco's heart was racing as he waited for Astoria in the Slytherin common room. It hadn't changed one iota since he'd last been in the room. But he had. The emerald lighting and shipwrecked-aesthetic brought back too many painful memories. He refused to sit on the couch where he lost his virginity to Pansy. The desk on one side was where he had sat too many nights, staring absently at an open textbook, all the while trying to plot Dumbledore's assassination. This room had once been his palace and he had once been the Prince of Slytherin, reigning through fear and bullying. Now, the room made his skin absolutely crawl.

Anger was radiating through him as he stood with his back to the windows that filtered the murky green light. Wrath was not at all a safe emotion to start feeling at this time. With no sexual release, he would find worse, more destructive ways to unleash the pent up rage. Granger would not stand a chance if his mood shifted any further.

Finally, Astoria appeared, looking the absolute vision she was. The dress code for the evening was black, white, gold or silver. She had settled on a simple silver dress that accented her assets in a way that was both modest and sexy. Any man would be lucky to have her. But Draco wanted more.

Astoria smiled widely at him and he opened the box he had been clutching in his hand. He retrieved the delicate masquerade mask that he had specially crafted with feathers from his father's peacocks. It was shaped on one side like a crescent moon, with feminine lace detailing and silver stitching. Astoria let out a squeal of pleasure at the sight of it. "Oh, Draco. It's beautiful!"

He grinned then. His friendship with Astoria was so easy—he didn't have to put up false pretenses. Something simple, like having a mask created just for her, was something Astoria appreciated and she expected nothing more than just a kind gesture. Walking around behind her, Draco tied the silk ribbons behind her head and then tapped a finger to the side, using wandless magic to fit it properly to her face.

"What about your mask?" she asked, turning to touch his face lightly. "Your usual mask of indifference and suffering won't be enough of a costume tonight."

He glared at her and sighed, retrieving his own mask from within his cloak and enlarging it to full size. It was simple, covered in brown and black owl feathers and had two six-inch deer antlers on either side. "Hmmm…the Horned God…how fitting," she teased as he tied it around his face.

The thought of donning a mask made bile climb up his throat and sting his nasal passages. The last time he had worn one had been at a revel, where he had been forced to torture Muggles against his will. Though he had tried to pick something lighthearted and the complete opposite of the pewter metal he had once begrudgingly wore, regret was stagnant in his heart.

Draco offered his arm to Astoria, a crisp, "Come on, then, let's go," falling a little too harshly from his lips.

She frowned at his tone but took his arm. "We won't stay all night," she promised. "Let's just show our faces and dance for a song or two. Then we can go back to your room, and you can take all of your frustrations out on me."

Fuck. It was now or never. "We need to talk about that, Greengrass."

They continued their path and Draco noticed the specter of his first love, hovering at the end of the corridor. Frowning, she lifted her button nose into the air and floated away. A derelict guilt wormed its way through his veins and he knew he could not avoid speaking to Parkinson much longer. So careful to avoid her corridor any other time, the pang of loss was like a dagger in his chest.

Astoria raised a carefully sculpted brow. "Uh oh. You used my last name. That can't be good."

"I think we should sever our…arrangement," he said simply, avoiding her gaze.

"May I ask why, at least?" she was frowning, but not overtly heartbroken. "I thought we had fun together."

"We do. But…there is someone I would like to try to get to know better and I can't very well gain her trust if I'm shagging you," he returned as they neared the Great Hall.

She gave him a friendly smile and ran her hand over the inside of his arm. "Fair enough. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He knew she wouldn't be too put out by his proclamation. They had fun together, but she was a wild witch, satisfied with using her feminine wiles to find a good time. Once in a marriage contract with Vincent Crabbe, his death had left her free to do whatever, or whomever, she chose. Newly seventeen and an adult though she was technically only a sixth-year student, she had no intention of being promised to another individual again.

The pair walked over the threshold of the Great Hall and the sight caused Draco to pause. The only lighting came from the two fires burning at opposite ends of the Hall and thousands of candles floating overhead. There were jack-o-lanterns floating above them, enchanted to laugh creepily as they walked passed. The tables all lined the walls and were covered in black lacy cloths with human skulls and candles spread in between the food. The skulls told their stories as you retrieved food or drink. The music was eerie and dark, the mood appropriately somber. He kept his eyes averted from the furthest wall, where the damned apparitions watched the frivolity in a mix of revulsion and delight. Even Pansy had floated in to watch them, and he felt her eyes boring straight into his skull as he danced with her former best friend's sister.

As Draco walked in with Astoria, he could hear hushed whispers of "I bet he feels right at home in a mask!" and the like from all around him. His heart was beating wildly and a suffocating weight pressed down on his chest. Why the fuck did I agree to this?

But then he felt, rather than saw, the moment she entered the Great Hall. Something that he can only chalk up to intuition made him look toward the entrance at the precise moment that Granger walked in, hanging off of Theo's arm. She looked elegant and poised in a black cocktail dress, speckled with gold glitter so that the firelight danced off of her and made her glow. Her mask was made of raven feathers and took the shape of a cat. Her hair was clasped back and cascaded down her back in a swoop of sleek curls and she was wearing a deep burgundy color on her lips. She held onto Theo's arm as though it was the exact place she belonged and he felt the first stinging slap of envy, of what was sure to be many, that night.

Theo had sworn him to secrecy, promised to tell her about his predicament with the eldest Greengrass sister after they made it through the ball. He was set to have a floo call with Daphne later that evening, to discuss the exact circumstances. His friend wore a tight smile, one Draco recognized as discomfort right away. Granger reached up and brushed her fingers along Theo's cheek, and his tense jaw slackened slightly.

Astoria placed a finger under Draco's chin to close his mouth and followed his gaze. "She's beautiful, Draco."

She said it as though Granger was already his and she was congratulating him on pending nuptials. Astoria had a knowing glint in her eye and he knew she had managed to put two and two together and realized that Granger was the witch in question. "Daphne claims to have a floo call with Theo tonight. I reckon Granger will be all yours by morning."

He finally tore his eyes away from the graceful couple. "We aren't actually on a friendly level. We've had only a few civil conversations since…really forever."

Astoria let out a bright laugh. "Oh, Draco. Are you telling me you're pining after a girl who you barely know?"

The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. He knew plenty about Granger—how she took her tea; how she snored lightly when she slept on the couch in their common room; how she bit her lip when she was reading something particularly intense; how she tapped her quill when she was reading over a textbook; how she looked when she was getting ready to start crying but refused to do it in front of him; how she looked when she did let down her walls and wept from her heart.

"Don't be cross, Draco. I was only teasing you," Astoria whispered to him, grasping his hand and pulling him towards the punch table.

"I'm not cross," he sounded much more hostile than he really should have. He rolled his neck and shoulders, before smiling as genuinely as he could muster. "Why don't we find a table? And then I can do my Pureblood mother proud and whisk you around the dance floor a few times?"

They settled into a table and Draco removed his cloak, leaving himself in a tailored three-piece black suit, crisp white shirt and an amber colored tie that complemented his mask and the festive autumn season. He felt anything but festive as he removed Astoria's robes and draped them over his own.

"Cernunnos, eh?" came a voice from behind him.

He turned and Granger was standing there, her hand clasping Theo's elbow, a playful smile on her lips. Draco smiled back. "He's all about life, death and then rebirth, right? I thought it fitting."

"Absolutely," she replied, taking a sip of the spiced pumpkin juice from the flute she held.

A song began and Draco turned to Astoria and bowed, extending his hand. She placed her hand in it and he kissed it lightly. He missed the fall of Granger's lips as he did. He had to be the true Pureblood gentleman, regardless of who his date was and whom he wished it could be. Astoria was one of his oldest friends. Pushing Granger from his mind, he focused his attention on the woman in his arms.

He danced a delicate waltz with her, easy and carefree. Memories of waltzing with Pansy and Astoria through the ballroom at Malfoy Manor flooded him. A smile touched his lips—until the vision of Granger writhing on the floor made his stomach twist. "You're going to have to talk to her, Draco." Astoria's voice filtered into his mind, allowing him to rejoin her in the present. She reached up and touched his jaw lightly, bringing his focus to her. "Draco. Talk. To. Her."

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he asked, "What can I possibly say to her? Why would she ever forgive me—I made her life hell our entire lives!"

"Why don't you try being yourself?" she suggested, carefully stepping as Draco led her around in beautiful boxed steps.

"If one more bloody person tells me to be myself, I'm going to scream," he said through clenched teeth.

"You're a good man, Draco. You faced a hard set of circumstances, but you came out of them a decent human being."

He scoffed and frowned as he accidentally caught sight of Theo twirling Granger around the dance floor. She was a terrible dancer, but Theo's Pureblood etiquette told him to continue to lead and ignore her two left feet. The two were truly a beautiful pair, even Draco couldn't deny it.

A few more songs passed and Draco found it hard to shake the tense feeling in his shoulders. His aunt was lying across the Ravenclaw table, twirling a useless wand between her fingers as she scowled at the crowd. Pansy appeared to be weeping into her hands, her back to them.

Astoria was great company, but try as he might, he could not stop his eyes from wandering to the klutzy, beautiful, lively woman across the dance floor. She was giggling at something Theo said as she playfully swatted his chest. The beast within him roared at the sight. I've made her laugh—twice! The song ended and Theo dipped Granger low, causing her to squeal.

Draco led Astoria back to their table, their friends coming up behind them shortly after. Granger was whispering to Theo quietly. "Are you sure? I mean…you were fine a few minutes ago and now you feel poorly? You don't think it's the dragon flu do you?"

Draco looked into his friend's eyes through the black mask he wore. Theo looked away from Draco's harsh stare. "It may be. It came on awfully quickly. I'm sorry, Hermione. Perhaps you can walk back with Malfoy and Astoria when they're ready?"

At that, Astoria set her full flute of pumpkin juice on a passing waiter's tray. "Actually, my mother is expecting a floo call soon. Do you think you're up for bringing me to the Slytherin common room on your way to Wulfric?"

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Astoria was blissfully unaware of his predicament with her older sister. "Sure. It's not too far out of the way. I'm sure Malfoy and Hermione could get along enough to walk back to Wulfric Tower together…without hexing each other."

He gave Draco a pointed look. What is he doing? Theo wasn't even trying to pretend he felt poorly. His demeanor had not changed one iota and yet he was leaving Draco to tend to his date. He bowed low to Granger and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for being an excellent date, Hermione. As always, spending time with you was my pleasure," Theo told her with an award winning smile. "Come, Greengrass. I'd better get into bed, and soon."

The two Slytherins walked off together with Draco and Granger watching them. Granger smoothed her hands over her dress, staring at the floor to avoid his gaze. Watching her fidget from his peripheral, he grew steadily more agitated by her unease. She was clearly unsettled by being left alone with him and the thought made his stomach turn. "Do you want to find Weasley? I can sit here until you're ready and then walk you back."

Granger finally looked up at him then, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"Well…you seem unhappy to be standing here, so I figured you might want to be with friends," he replied, gesturing to the crowd of students.

"Ginny is dancing with Seamus, has been all night. I haven't been able to say one word to her since she arrived. You want to dance?" she asked, wringing her hands anxiously. "Just one song."

Draco's eyes shot over to her and his heart started fluttering afresh. The newfound reemergence of his crush on Granger would surely be the death of him. Would he dare to touch her, to brush his fingertips along her skin as they swayed? Would he want to? Swallowing hard, he tried to banish the voice at the back of his mind—one that sounded entirely too much like Lucius Malfoy—one that tried to insult her, to twist his thoughts. No. It doesn't matter anymore. "S-Sure. One dance."

He started to walk forward toward the other dancing couples and he heard a tiny foot stomp behind him. When he turned, Granger was standing with her arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "What? No bow and hand kisses?"

Is she flirting? Surely he must have been mistaken. "Oh…Forgive me. My manners momentarily slipped me."

Draco held his hand out and Granger placed her tiny one within. His lips burned as he ghosted a kiss across her skin, his heart stuttering within. He bowed deeply and put one hand behind his back formally. "Hermione Granger, would you care to have this dance?" Too much ingrained aristocratic charm.

She laughed at his efforts, swallowing hard. His eyes traced the column of her throat, steadfastly ignoring Pansy Parkinson's ethereal body float past them at a breakneck speed. Her voice was scarce above a whisper when she replied, "Malfoy, I'd love nothing more."

As they went to where other couples were dancing, the music turned to a slow tune. Draco internally groaned. Of course the music would have to get soft and romantic—there would be no quick two-steps to keep his mind off of the fact that Granger wanted to dance with him. His heart was leaping into his throat and he could feel the self-doubt rising with it. She'll never want anything to do with you. He fought to keep his eyes from falling to the scar along her forearm.

When they stopped between two other couples, he stood to his full height, stiffer than was really necessary. Where do I put my hands? They weren't exactly friends and definitely weren't lovers, so her bare back was inappropriate. Her hips felt too intimate. At quick glance, the others around him were much closer together, their hands roaming each other freely. He did not have that luxury and so awkwardly took Granger's right hand and placed one hand high on her waist.

The fabric of her gown was warm with her body heat and her scent was nearly overpowering in such a proximity. As she placed her other hand on his chest and stepped a little closer, she trained her eyes straight on his chest. "We can at least pretend we don't hate each other."

Ouch. "I don't hate you, Granger."

"Well, we argue nearly constantly. I can count the number of real conversations we've had on one hand, including this one. So, I just assumed…" her voice trailed off.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he had developed as a child being scolded. "Well, does that mean you hate me, then? Because I'm not always the culprit behind our tiffs."

She stared at his chest for a moment, long enough for his heart to absolutely sink, before shaking her head. "No…I don't hate you. I just wish we got along better."

Draco shrugged one shoulder, uncomfortable with the course of conversation. "I'm a moody fuck. I have been for years and I don't foresee that really changing, sadly." She pursed her lips, disappointed by his response. "Don't take it personally, Granger. I just have a lot going through my mind and most of it is not too pleasant."

"Are you seeing Healer Little?"

Draco had no desire to speak about such heavy topics in the middle of a ball. "I'm in a decent mood now. So let's not ruin it with talk of my insecurities and irritations," he whispered forcefully.

Granger clearly had more opinions on his mood swings, but smartly decided against saying anymore on the topic. "I'm sorry, Malfoy."

Draco wished Granger would just stop talking. She's ruining a perfect moment! He wished he could have two minutes of undisturbed bliss without her having to analyze his personality. "It's fine. Let's just dance."

Granger only nodded. He was feeling the familiar prickle of irritation that usually accompanied a huge row with her. Her eyes flickered in the candlelight and it was enough for him, for that moment. He didn't need them to be fully ablaze; her mouth to spit fire. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.

Slowly turning them in a gentle circle, he frowned when she removed her hand from his to place it on his chest. Closing his eyes, he spent a moment inhaling her scent, refusing to allow the panic attack to develop. Draco felt, rather than saw, the moment Granger lifted her face toward his. She worried her lip, dragging her eyes up over his jawline, cheeks and finally settling on his mask-rimmed eyes. "Maybe we should stop trying to tear each other apart all the time."

Draco looked into her eyes and wished wholeheartedly that he could promise her just that. But he knew it was impossible—he had never been able to control his temper before. "Granger…I already told you not to take it personally."

Abashed, she looked away from him. "Sometimes, you can be really funny and charming. It's almost like you realize you're being nice and completely shut down."

He clenched his jaw. Why did she feel the need to press him so? If she was fishing for an argument, she was two seconds from getting one. "Why me? What have I ever done to you?" her voice was small and disheartened.

His chest constricted painfully. "You've never done anything-"

"Is it because…because of my…heritage?" Granger guessed, her voice was suddenly shaking.

Fuck. She was going to cry in the middle of a ball, surrounded by hundreds of people. Stepping in beside her, Draco placed a hand on the small of her back to gently push her toward the table to retrieve his robes. "Let's take a walk, Granger."

Her lip was still trembling in his peripheral, and he refused to look in her direction. Stepping into the courtyard, the cool air was like a kiss from Death himself. He pulled his cloak over her shoulders and clasped it around her neck. Immediately she cuddled into it, tucking her ruby lips and blocking the chill. Untying the ribbon holding her mask, he pulled it from her face to reveal her glassy eyes. Draco pulled his own mask off and held the ribbons of both in one hand. "Please don't cry on account of me," he said pleadingly as he began to walk slowly.

Granger fell into step beside him. "Is it because I'm a Muggleborn? Is that why you treat me so poorly?"

The vice clenched around his heart. He refused his father's words, echoing through his psyche now. Mudbloods are soiled—no better than the filth under your shoe. "You know I don't believe in that nonsense any longer."

"It just slipped off your tongue so casually."

"It spilled out before I could think. Really. It's not an excuse, but it's the only explanation I can give. I am truly sorry for what I did," he confessed, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled.

"Then how can it just roll out of your mouth as smoothly as if you'd called me by my name?" Granger pressed, refusing to back down.

Draco stopped his course and looked at her. "What the hell do you want from me, Granger? Do you want me to drop to my knees? Beg for forgiveness?"

She glared at him in the pale moonlight. He could feel an argument flaring up inside of him and he refused to give in. Not tonight. "No. I want you to feel remorse."

"For Merlin's sake. I do. I've lost sleep over it. I've talked to Theo about it. I've apologized to you on at least three different occasions now. What more do you want?" he snapped.

"I want a truthful answer as to why you treat me like your personal punching bag."

Clenching his eyes and clicking his jaw, he took a few steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He turned and began walking slowly once more. "There are so many layers to my thoughts. We could walk this courtyard three days before I explained even half of it to you."

"Well, try," she urged.

Annoyance surged through him. Why the fuck does she have to be so difficult? "The simplest answer is that you are a constant reminder of my shortcomings."

She looked over at him incredulously. "Me? What did I do?"

With a frown, he answered, "You returned to school. I was supposed to come here and tuck my face into books and mourn Pansy. I wanted a simple year where I could just get in and get out. But then you showed up."

"I have every right to be here," Granger argued, her tone getting testy.

A row was building between them, no matter how hard he fought against it, and Draco could taste the bitter remarks on his tongue. "I understand this," he hissed. "But you are a constant reminder of what happened in the Manor. I've heard your screams every day since the spring. The screams of the others, they swim in my head too. But you…I knew you. I knew your name, your school schedule, your favorite book. I hoped against all hope that I would never have to see someone I knew in that context. The shame of what I'd become, coupled with the crippling guilt that I stood idly by as my aunt…" his voice broke, hoarse with the severity of his repentance. "The shame and regret increase every day that I have to work alongside you. Every time you smile over a repaired book in the library or leave your damn peanut butter covered knife in the sink or laugh at something you're reading—it's a constant reminder of that day, of my inactions. I should have pulled her off of you. I should have just Avada'ed her and been done with it…saved us all a lot of grief. But, I just stood there…stood there and listened, my eyes clenched shut so I didn't have to face you. To watch you hurting and tortured. You are a constant reminder of the darkest period of my life."

Granger had stopped walking and was staring at him with her mouth agape. She was freely crying and his heart felt as though it had a weight tied around it. "Please don't cry on account of me," he implored again, lifting his thumb to her cheek to wipe away her tears.

"I had no idea," she said shakily. "I didn't know that my presence hurt you so badly."

A shiver ran through her, and he was unsure of whether it was because of the cool autumn air or because of his revelation. Pain distorted her features and he regretted his harsh outburst. "It's the truth. I can't help that."

"I'll stay away from you, then. We can work out a schedule for Head rounds and the use of the bathroom and I can study in my room. We can take turns working on our project," she was rambling, her voice betraying the torment she felt.

Gruffly, he barked out, "No!"

Her fresh tears shined in the moonlight, an uncharacteristic vulnerability laid bare for him to witness in a moment of his own. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I said no. I am slowly trying to work on my triggers and responses. I'm trying not to attack you at every opportunity. You must be patient with me." He hoped he could keep out of his voice the absolute horror he felt at the idea of her avoiding him.

She stared up into his eyes, her lips parted and hands shaking. He'd said too much to her, cut her with his sharp tongue once more. I fucking ruin everything.

Granger's body trembled. Draco rubbed his hands over his cloak to warm her arms. Their breath fell in a mist between them. He watched, mesmerized as it mixed and mingled with each exhale, hers slightly slower than his own. "Come on, then. Let's get you inside where it's warm."

She nodded once and they fell in step with one another, his arms crossed over his own chest. He didn't dare let his hands fall between them, didn't dare risk touching her again. They were silent all the way into their common room. They stood close together in their shared space just staring into one another's faces. Her features were set in a small, forlorn pout and his were set in his usual stony mask. Finally, Draco swallowed and his voice was a mere rasp when he spoke. "Please don't give up on me."

Her brows came together and then went up and for a moment. Expecting tears, he closed his eyes. Draco didn't think he could take seeing her sorrow for another moment—he would surely shatter into a million pieces. She finally responded. "I won't. I promise. Good night, Malfoy."

o-o-o

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this and leave such kind reviews.