Far From Over

by RosePond

Hermione Granger and her friends are returning for their seventh year (properly) at school, but not all old prejudices have been put to ground with the death of Voldemort. A certain Slytherin fights his changing feelings for a girl who would surely never look at him the same way. It's a battle on all sides, and Draco Malfoy is determined to come out victorious.

28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Draco's heart was still hammering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins with such veracity that he felt like he could have taken on the Dark Lord himself if need be. But he struggled to rein in his surging emotions, right now he needed to be calm for Hermione, because she looked so unsteady on her feet just then that Draco thought a slight breeze might push her over. He glanced over at the prone form of his former best mate, laying unconscious on the alley floor, and felt rage pulse through him one more, still unable to fully comprehend what he'd seen a few minutes before.

#

Draco and Phil had come skidding around the corner of the alleyway, wands drawn—though Phil had been a little concerned for Draco's sanity during his flight from the Hog's Head, and hadn't run flat out until he'd heard Draco's shout of "Granger!" and then seen the jet of scarlet light that had shot from Draco's wand down the dark passage.

The two boys had pounded across the gravel, Draco in the lead, throwing himself at what Phil had only just realized were two people grappling in the dirt. Draco had tackled the larger figure, clearly male, and the pair had rolled to the side, fists swinging, curses spitting from their mouths, and Phil had seen a pale figure curled up in their wake. He didn't know how Draco had known it was Granger before then, for Philip barely recognized her now, with her glossy curls matted with grit and dirt and her dress rumpled, one strap ripped and hanging down her arm. He moved toward her carefully, but he'd barely taken a few steps before she came to life and crawled to the side of the alley, out of the way of the flying spells Draco and Blaise where firing off with no regard to bystanders.

Phil cast a shield charm and made his way over to where Granger huddled, dropping to his knees and trying to get a look at her face. He felt sick. Only an hour before he'd been playing cards with Blaise Zabini. Sure, Phil had known Zabini was a bit of a tosser, a womanizer and generally full of himself, but his family hadn't even been Death Eaters as far as he'd known, so Phil hadn't thought that Zabini was truly evil. He felt now rather like someone had pulled a rug out from under him.

"Er, Granger?" he said in a low voice, unsure. Granger was staring at Draco and Blaise as they duelled, her eyes glassy and unseeing, except if a spell came too near her—then she flinched back against the wall. He tried again. "It's ok, let me get you out of here," he offered, holding out a hand toward her. She stared at it for a moment, studying his palm, then looking up into his face, though it still seemed like she wasn't truly seeing him. Phil felt that look like a physical punch to the gut. The Hermione Granger he knew at school was tough, brave, intelligent to the point of arrogance sometimes, but the girl crouched before him now looked… shattered.

Over Granger's head, Phil could see Blaise and Draco firing spells at each other, both of them cursing when one hit, or was a near miss. Blaise looked deranged, his face twisted in that way that righteous people get when someone challenges their beliefs, and he had several near-misses, likely due to that fact that the last time either of them had seen him, Blaise had been tossing back shots of firewiskey, two for every one that Phil or Draco had had during their card game. Draco's face was set in a mask of rage as he deflected the curses Blaise shot at him, baring down on him with lethal precision, and Phil wondered if he would lose control completely and use an Unforgivable.

Attention back on Granger, Phil slowly wrapped his fingers around hers and started to pull Granger to her feet. A moment later, as if something clicked in her mind, Granger suddenly lunged at him, clutching at the front of his clothing to pull herself up off the ground faster, as if his body was a springboard to her salvation. He stumbled backward as Granger threw her arms around his neck, holding on in that way that small children do when they're not aware of how tight their grip actually is; but it wasn't this that bothered Phil, it was the sound Granger was making as she clung on to him. He wanted to stop up his ears at the awful whimpering coming from Granger's lips. He'd never heard a girl make that sort of sound before, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Becoming aware that Granger was trembling, Phil awkwardly undid his cloak and shrugged out of it, tugging it around Granger's shoulders as she sniffled into his chest.

He'd never had a proper girlfriend, not that he wasn't a good guy, but girls in his house didn't seem to be attracted to him as dating material, and those who weren't in his house seemed to hold that against him, as if Phil had manipulated his own Sorting. In fact, the hat had almost put him in Hufflepuff, but not even Malfoy knew that. At first Phil had thought that it was because he wasn't tough enough to be in Slytherin house, but later on he realized that it was because he didn't care for the politics and underhandedness that saturated so many of the students sorted into Slytherin. He could play the game if need be, purely for survival, but it wasn't something he relished, or was particularly good at. So now, faced with comforting a girl from a house so directly opposite his own in practically everything, Phil floundered. Granger didn't seem to have any qualms about being in his arms, but maybe she wasn't the best person to judge such things against just then.

But despite their houses, it all came down to Granger being a girl and Blaise being a boy, and the abuse of power that had taken place. Phil couldn't abide such a disgusting act, and only became aware of the dark mutterings that were coming out of his own mouth when he growled something too loudly and Granger flinched in his arms. He swallowed back the rest of his tirade for later, struggling to murmur words of reassurance instead.

He didn't notice that the duel had ended because Granger had just let out a soft moan and became a dead weight in his arms. Not having expected this sudden shift, Phil nearly dropped the girl altogether, only barely managing to hold onto Granger's now limp body and guide both of them down to the alley floor. His breathing stopped at her white face, and he turned to seek out Draco, his heart in his throat as he shouted for him to get over there and help!

When Draco looked over, his gaze finally leaving the crumpled mass of robes and limbs that was Blaise Zabini's finally unconscious—dead?—body, Phil saw the terror in his eyes. Draco was usually so confident, so full of his idea of how the world should be, that he was probably the only one of their group who had even a chance to meet Blaise in the battle of wits required to approximate a friendship of sorts—before tonight's events had blown it all to smithereens—that now the emotion of fear was stark in every motion of his body. He stumbled over to them, reaching for Granger, but drawing back when she squeaked out panicked words of distress, then looking at Phil, his eyes begging him to tell Draco that things weren't as bad as they'd looked.

"Granger?" Draco asked, his voice strained within an inch of breaking, then he paused, and the gentleness in his tone surprised even Phil, as he switched tack, his eyes locked onto Granger's face. "Hermione?"

Phil had really only confirmed tonight that Draco had a thing for Granger, but if he was already on a first name basis with her, then things had progressed further than he'd thought. Phil didn't have time to think much about this switch in formalities though, because Draco was suddenly kneeling next to him, his expression twisted with pain and anxiety, forcing out the words that Phil hadn't even let himself think. When Granger whispered the denial that confirmed Blaise hadn't crossed the most the most uncrossable of lines, Phil felt some of the tension seep out of his limbs. Whatever Zabini had done, at least it hadn't been that. His relief was echoed in the almost silent oath he heard Draco mutter as he closed his eyes and some of his own anxiety faded away.

Draco reached out a hand, carefully placing his palm against Granger's arm, his face hesitant, as if after everything that had happened he wasn't sure if he could, or should, touch her; but Granger only stiffened for a moment before relaxing, as if Draco's touch had a soothing affect on her body.

"What do we do?" The question Phil asked hung in the air between them, both boys staring down at Granger's huddled form for a long moment, before Draco finally answered.

"I need to get her out of here."

"Of course," Phil agreed. "Where to? Rosmerta's?"

Draco bit back a sharp reply, knowing Phil was only trying to help, but there was no way he was bringing Granger into a crowd right after what had happened to her. He needed to talk to her alone. "Not the pub," Draco said firmly. "If anyone else sees her right now it'll be worse for all of us. You know it will. Despite the fact that I've been making progress with a few of Granger's friends this semester, it'll all go sideways if someone suspects you or me of causing Granger to be in this state."

Not waiting for Phil to reply, Draco got to his feet, uncaring of the dirt on his trousers or the rip in his formerly pristine shirt. He focused on Granger's now silently watchful face, and hesitated. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to do. Would Hermione allow him to touch her? Would she flinch away and refuse to leave Phil? Would she want him to get Potter or Ginny? Merlin only knew what would happen if Weasley stumbled upon them right now.

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco nodded at Phil. "Help me get her up."

#

Draco saw the second Hermione's knees gave out, and swooped down to pull her up into his arms, barely feeling her weight. When Phil had shouted for him minutes earlier, holding what had looked like an unconscious Hermione on his lap, Draco's heart had seized. He still didn't know how he'd managed to restrain himself from killing Blaise just then. When he'd seen him grabbing at Hermione with no regard as to thought or consequences, Draco had nearly gone mad with blind rage. That Blaise, who professed to be above all things muggle-related, not the least of which were muggleborns, thought that he could put his hands on Granger without retaliation, after all those weeks of snide comments, and suggestive remarks, as if he'd been testing to see how far he could push Draco… now Blaise had gone so far as to… as to… well, his actions had demanded a more physically violent retribution. Even now, Draco wasn't sure the extent of Blaise Zabini's injuries, only that it still didn't feel like enough.

"Draco?" a voice called hesitantly, a few paces behind him as Draco turned to stride out of the alley with Granger in his arms. He almost reached for his wand before he realized it was Phil.

"What?" he demanded, not turning, and forcing Phil to jog to keep up.

"Is Granger ok?"

It was not an unreasonable question, all things considered, but Draco reacted as such. "Of course she's not bloody ok!" he almost shouted, glaring at Phil, who took his reaction in stride. "Zabini assulted her in a back alley; would you be ok?"

"Of course not, mate," Phil said carefully, placating Draco's temper in that manner he was so good at. "I only meant, is there anything I can do?" He paused, glancing behind them into the darkness where Blaise was sprawled. "About Zabini, or for Granger…" He trailed off, looking helpless but earnest.

Draco could feel Granger stirring against his chest, coming to, and wanted to get her out of the alley and somewhere quiet where he could find out what had happened, but first he had to deal with Phil. "Leave Zabini to rot," he growled, not turning to dignify the unconscious boy with a glance. "I'll deal with him later." He took three more steps before Phil spoke again.

"I'm sorry about Granger," he said quietly, his voice as gentle as a boy who hadn't had the same refined upbringing that Draco had been blessed with could make it. "I know how you felt about her."

These words stopped Draco's feet. He turned slowly to look Phil squarely in the eyes. "What happened to Hermione in no way diminishes my feelings for her," he growled, feeling the honesty in these words bloom hotly in his chest. "It's because of the way I feel about her that Blaise wanted to take her away from me. He's always been jealous of my life, such as it used to be, and even in our disgrace after the War, he didn't want to allow me to move on, to try to rise from the ashes. He hated Granger because she was the light that was leading me out of the dark. But I won't let him extinguish her. I won't let him drag me back down." He paused and let his hard, fierce look force Phil to swallow under his gaze. "You seem like a good bloke, Phillip, and I liked having you in my circle this year, but our friendship will end here just as finally as mine and Zabini's, if you can't accept her."

There was a beat of silence between both boys, and then Phil spoke, sounding a little offended. "I've tried to make my feelings about Granger clear, Draco. I don't have the same prejudices that many in our house still hold to. If you and Granger want to move to London and work in muggle shops, abandoning magic forever, it's none of my business. Zabini and his lot can kiss my arse. He was a rubbish card player anyway."

The lightness Phil attempted to infuse in his response fell flat, but Draco nodded anyway, accepting the boy's allegiance. "Good." He turned and walked on, eyes straight ahead, leaving Phil to decide what, if anything, was to be done about Blaise. Right now Draco couldn't bring himself to care about anything beyond the girl in his arms.

xXx

Hermione leaned against Malfoy's chest, feeling dimly grateful that she didn't have to support herself in these moments. He held her carefully, one arm wrapped around her back and the other under her knees, allowing her to completely give in to the weakness she was feeling. Her head lolled against Malfoy's shoulder, her arms slung limply around his neck as he strode down the high street. His face was set, a carefully blank look that stirred a deep-seated fear in Hermione's chest whenever she glimpsed it. He was angry, she could tell, but he'd pushed that anger down for now, letting it simmer until he had time to truly let it free, but when he did, she knew his wrath would be apocalyptic. She trembled in his arms, wondering if any of that rage would be directed at her.

"Hermione?"

She stirred at the sound of her name, gentle and quiet, and lifted her face to look up. Malfoy had stopped walking, having carried her out into a meadow on the edge of the village. The sky was still clear and bright and full of stars, the beauty of the night undiminished by what had happened to her. Overhead a full moon was rising, and a gentle breeze caused the long grasses to ripple in the wind.

"Draco," she whispered back, and his eyes locked onto hers, looking dark in the night. His skin was bleached in the moonlight, and his blond hair gilded silver. He'd walked far into the field, away from the sounds of the late-night pub-goers and general merrymakers from the school still laughing and shouting in the street, and only the soft night noises now surrounded them: cicadas clinging to the last vestiges of summer floating away on the winds of autumn, an occasional owl calling out, and tree branches rustling in the wind. He held her for a long moment, looking down at her, and then carefully lowered her legs, helping her to stand, and then to sit, half-covered by the long grasses, joining her on the ground.

"Are you really ok?" he asked after a long minute of silence, only interrupted by nature's chorus. "Melville told me where you'd gone. I came as soon as I could." There was another pause. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

Hermione wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, it was hers. She was already sobering up, the cold night air clearing her head. She played with the edges of the robe around her shoulders, unsure precisely where it had come from. "You came," she whispered, unable to look him in the face.

A hand reached out slowly and covered hers, stilling her anxious fingers, and Hermione finally lifted her head. Malfoy was looking at her intently. "I will always come for you, Hermione. I swear on my wand, I won't let Zabini near you ever again."

"I…" Hermione began softly, unsure how to put her confused feelings into words. "I wasn't sure…" The fingers over her hand tightened at her words.

"Tell me what happened." The question came out in a hard voice, more of a command, though it was not unkind. "Please, Hermione," Malfoy went on, his voice rough with emotion. "I've been on edge about Zabini for weeks now, but I never thought that he would go this far." He paused. "I'm sorry. I should have realized he'd lost the plot. I should have protected you."

Malfoy's voice sounded tortured, as if everything that had happened had been his fault. But how could it have been? Who had been the one to saunter into the pub and start throwing back shots of whiskey when she'd barely ever tasted muggle champagne? Who'd let Blaise come with her when she'd left the pub? Who must have done something to lead him on?

"It wasn't your fault," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have—"

The hand on hers tightened still further as Draco rolled up onto his knees in front of her. "Stop right there, Granger," Malfoy said, voice sharp, and Hermione bit off her words, startled at the loud tone. "It wasn't your fault. None of this, anything like this," he spit out the words as if they tasted vile in mouth, "is ever your fault."

"But—" Hermione felt the protest jump to her lips before she could stop herself. Despite the conviction in Malfoy's voice there was still that nagging feeling inside her that somehow she should have known.

"Don't you dare, Granger. Don't you bloody dare blame yourself. Don't give him the power!"

She flinched slightly, without seeming to realize he was doing it, Malfoy had reached out and grabbed her forearms, pulling her up onto her knees as well. She was still a head shorter than him even now, and had to clutch at his shirt front to steady herself. He was right, of course, she was letting Blaise continue to torment her even without his physical presence, and it was going to drive her mad if she didn't fight it. But Malfoy didn't know the utter terror she'd felt in that alley before he and Phil had showed up. He couldn't understand the helplessness she'd felt when she'd fought and fought and it had made absolutely zero difference because Blaise had been stronger.

If only she'd been able to hold on to her wand.

"What?" The word was sharp and slightly exasperated, and Hermione glanced up to see Malfoy staring at her incredulously. She blinked, and parroted the word back to him. He narrowed his eyes at her before continuing. "Your wand?" he demanded, and Hermione realized she must have spoken the last bit of her mental lamentations out loud.

"Yes!" The word burst from her like a damnation as she glared furiously up into Malfoy's skeptical face, shame burning in her cheeks. She pushed away from him, struggling to her feet and clutching at the robe over her shoulders as if she could hide from his incredulous gaze behind it as she started to pace about the field. "I let him take it from me," she said desperately, wishing the words weren't true. "If I'd just managed to hold onto it I might have been able to—" She choked on the words stop him, unable to continue speaking as the vivid memory of Blaise wrenching her wand from her fingers, shoving her to the ground and pinning her there with his body… kissing her—if you could call the aggressive, angry mashing of his lips to hers a kiss—crashed over her once more, sending a shudder rippling down her body.

Tears stung her eyes and Hermione bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to swallow the lump of anguished humiliation that had lodged itself in her throat. "I—I was s-so stupid," she muttered, her words stumbling through chattering teeth as she fought not to cry. "I went into the pub alone. I drank Firewhisky—Firewhisky!" she cried disgustedly. "I've never had anything so strong before, I don't know what possessed me."

She paused, then looked up into Malfoy's face with a rueful expression on her own. "He warned me it would be too strong for me, you know," Hermione informed Draco, feeling her face stretch into a mocking smile that probably looked manic to anyone watching her. She continued on feverishly, unable to stop now that she had started. "Of course, since it was Blaise talking, well, I wanted to prove he didn't know what he was on about. He had such a smug look on his face, as if he knew so much more than me—than me! Hermione Granger! I've been top of the year since I started at Hogwarts!"

Malfoy had been quiet for a long time now, though Hermione only now noticed. She halted her frenetic pacing—another thing she hadn't realized she'd been doing—and looked around to see where he was. She found him a few steps away from her in the empty field, his face blank except for the piercing look in his grey eyes. "I let him buy me a drink, more than one—I stole the first one from him, did Sylvia tell you? He probably thought that was a right good laugh. I guess he showed me how stupid I really was in the end," she whispered, her words finally running out.

"It wasn't your fault." The words dropped into the heavy silence that had draped the field once Hermione finally stopped speaking, and though Malfoy said them quietly, they seemed that much more false for it.

"Of course it was," she broke in, voice bleak, her eyes on the grass at their feet. "He didn't force me to drink three tumblers of Firewhisky. He didn't force me from the pub either. I let him walk me out. I even let him help me when I got disoriented in the alley."

There was scuffle then, the sound of the shoes against grass as Malfoy shifted position, moving even closer to her. He slowly reached out and and placed a finger under her chin, tipping her face up to look into his own. "No," he said slowly, his voice firm, "it wasn't."

"But—" Hermione heard herself say, shame warring with hope deep within her soul. "I should have—"

"Should have what, Granger?" Malfoy broke in, cutting Hermione off before she could think of another reason she should have been able to foresee the danger she'd so willfully walked into. "You should have refused the drink at the pub? Maybe so, but any real man wouldn't have pushed it on you when it was obvious you'd never tried something so strong before. Don't think you wouldn't have been noticed in the Hog's Head if you were a regular, Granger. People may look the other way for most happenings there, but they still notice what's going on, even if they don't say anything."

"I let—" she tried again, not sure why exactly she kept trying to refute Malfoy's claims, but he cut her off once more, releasing her chin and stepping closer to her as he talked over her protests.

"You let him come with you outside? Anyone who's had more than two shots of Ogden's isn't thinking straight, Hermione," Malfoy informed her, his voice firm but gentle, "and you said you had three. Considering your body weight, coupled with your clear inexperience with hard liquor, it was a wonder you were able to walk outside on your own. There was no way you would have had the presence of mind to care overmuch about anyone who'd come with you. I've had Ogden's myself, I know how fast and hard it can hit your system if you don't ration it." As he spoke he kept moving toward her, and Hermione, uncomfortable with Malfoy's advance and unflinching gaze, kept moving backwards—until her back abruptly hit a tree, she hadn't even realized they'd moved across the meadow in their pacing until the bark grazed her back. Malfoy halted in front of her, his eyes narrowed and his expression a study in contrasts.

Hermione tried to pull herself together, Malfoy didn't get it. She should have stayed in the pub, not wandered out into the night with Blaise. She should have refused the drink he'd given her, and the one after that. She should have been more in control of her senses and used the proper jinx on him when he came at her in the alley. These were all things she'd grown up knowing, rules for her own protection. She could have prevented things. She could have stopped him.

"I can see you making excuses for him in your head, Granger," Malfoy's voice cut into her thoughts, making Hermione jump. "I told you before, stop that. Stop giving that sorry excuse for a man any grace. Blaise is a master at manipulation. He knew exactly what he was doing and there was nothing you could have done differently to stop him. He would have found a way."

Feeling nettled at Malfoy's defence for some stupid reason she couldn't name, Hermione tried to push past him. He moved to intercept her, and she frowned, turning the other way. Malfoy blocked her again, this time bringing his hands up to press his palms against the trunk on either side of her. Glaring up at him, Hermione lifted her hands and shoved his chest, trying to physically move him out of her way; he barely budged.

"Move, Draco," she said angrily, trying to duck under one of his outstretched arms as he leaned over her. He blocked her again. "Get out of my way!"

"No." The word was simple, short and to the point, and encompassed a cold distain that Hermione hadn't heard from the boy in front of her in a long time.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she snapped, reverting to his last name as her anger rose, her voice trembling with several emotions at once. "I'm through with this conversation, now let me pass."

He didn't give an inch. If anything, Malfoy pressed closer to her, lowering his arms so that his hands now pressed flat against the trunk right next to her shoulders. He didn't touch her, but he lowered his face so that it was directly in front of her own, and sneered at her. There was no other word for the mocking, condescending expression that twisted the Slytherin boy's face. He moved so close his lips nearly brushed the delicate shell of her ear when he hissed, "Make me."

The sensation of ice water washed over Hermione at the low, cold, growl in her ear. It had been a very long time since she'd heard that tone of voice coming from Draco Malfoy. Now he didn't sound cooly aloof, sarcastic yet with a moral code. Now he sounded like the old Malfoy, if the old Malfoy had never been reached out to by Dumbledore, or realized that Harry was the winning side in the War. This voice was the sound of Draco Malfoy if he'd given in to the darkness. Low, cold, and deeply dangerous. It chilled her to her very marrow.

Still, Hermione refused to let him bully her. Old instincts kicked in and she shoved him harder, fumbling for her wand. If he wouldn't move his stupid Slytherin arse then maybe she'd turn him back into a ferret and bounce him out of her path. She reached again for her wand, frowning—

—and her fingers groped thin air. It was then that she remembered that Blaise had taken her wand from her. Was it still in that alley, stuck through his belt? Would she have to go back there and get it from him? And now, with Malfoy glaring at her, his body between hers and freedom, just like Blaise's had been… she'd have to rely on her wits to get away from him. Her heart started to beat faster as the sensation of being trapped crashed over her once more. They were alone in the field, no one had come past even once while they'd been talking. And where was Phil? Hermione felt her breathing speed up and fought to keep calm. She was overreacting. Malfoy had just saved her from Blaise, he wouldn't do anything to her. Right?

"What's the matter, Granger," Malfoy mocked, looking coldly down at her. "I thought you had figured out your mistakes from before. If you're so keen on taking the blame for Zabini's attack, then surely now you can get away?"

Rage boiled up inside her and Hermione shoved against his chest. "Stop it!" she hissed, her voice shaky with confusion and the rising quiver of cold terror. "Stop it! Stop saying that!"

Malfoy let loose a flat, mirthless, laugh at her futile attempts to push past, moving to block her every time she turned a different direction, not needing to lift his hands to her, simply maneuvering his body as if anticipating her thoughts. A tremor shuddered down her body and she started to shake, whether with anger or actual fear of the boy in front of her Hermione didn't know. She threw all her weight into pushing past, and Malfoy, caught by surprise at her sudden shift, actually stumbled backward a step. He recovered quickly though, too quickly for her to take advantage of the situation.

"You can't do it, Granger, just admit it already. There are some situations where brains aren't the answer. It's awful and it's twisted and those who take advantage of such situations are the lowest filth that crawl the earth—"

Feeling her heart crack, Hermione slumped against the tree, sliding down the bark several inches until it was only Malfoy's sudden grip on her arms that was holding her up. "Okay!" she cried, the word ripping itself from her throat in a sound that was half outrage and half anguish. "I can't do it, ok? I'm not strong enough to fight you off and you know it! So please—!"

At her admission, Malfoy instantly pulled back. He released her arms and pulled her body up against his chest as Hermione slumped into him, shaking with the after-effects of adrenaline. She could feel hot tears sliding down her cheeks as he cradled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her carefully as she cried, but they were now a release from the guilt she'd been feeling.

xXx

"It wasn't your fault," Draco said again, voice thick with too many emotions to put a name to. He was surprised Hermione hadn't fought him when he'd embraced her, after the way he'd acted, but was grateful she was allowing him to hold her. It was all he wanted in that moment, to hold her, and protect her from anything that scared her or could hurt her. And yet, Draco fought for control over himself. He'd let himself give-in to the anger he'd felt at Zabini and had taken it out on Hermione. He just hadn't been able to bear that she'd felt any guilt for what had happened. But he'd scared her too. Inwardly he cursed himself, wondering if he'd truly changed as much as he'd thought he had. Merlin, he hoped he hadn't gone too far.

"Blaise took advantage of you in a moment of vulnerability," Draco continued, his voice low in Hermione's ear as she pressed her face into his chest, trembling, and finally the message seemed to sink in to Hermione's heart and mind. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry he hurt you. And… I'm sorry for the way I treated you just now. I just—" he broke off, feeling unsure of how to talk to her now that Hermione was clutching at his chest and sniffling into his shoulder. "I just wanted you to understand that it wasn't your fault," he reiterated somewhat lamely.

"I know," Hermione whispered after several long minutes had passed and she'd managed to get herself under control again. Draco too had steadied his breathing, though his hands where they rested against her back, trembled faintly. He hoped she really did understand.

There as a long silence before Draco replied. "I'm sorry I scared you." Hermione slowly lifted her head to look up into his face and Draco forced himself to continue in a low voice, not quite meeting her eyes. "I just needed you to see that—"

Hermione lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips, effectively silencing him. The move was so intimate that Draco would have come to a complete halt on any other day, let alone this particular night, if she'd done it earlier. He wondered if he should have tried that trick on her when she'd first started protesting in the meadow. "I'm ok," Granger was saying softly, looking like she was maybe trying not to blush at the feeling of Draco's lips brushing against the pad of her pointer finger, and he wondered that she could still look like that when she looked at him. "I understand why you did it."

Draco looked down at her for a long moment, then leaned back slightly so he could speak. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he said at last, needing her to hear his apology out loud, again. What if he'd undone everything that he'd been working toward that year in one night, simply by mishandling an already impossible situation? "That's not me any more. I swear, Hermione, I'll never touch you without your permission again. You don't have to be afraid of me."

xXx

Hermione could hear the vow in his voice and her heart gave a little flip in her chest. "I know," she said softly, holding Malfoy's gaze and seeing the wretchedness in his eyes. "I trust you, Draco," she added quietly, his name still feeling strange on her tongue. Blinking the last of her tears away, she managed a small smile. As she said his name, Hermione felt Malfoy's hands spasm slightly against her back, and looked up. He was staring down at her in wonderment, the moon now directly overhead, spilling its pale light gently over them both, wrapping the pair of them in the softness of the night.

It was true. She did trust him. He'd come for her as soon as he'd heard where she'd gone. He never once doubted that she hadn't done anything to spark Blaise into his unspeakable actions, and had insisted until she believed it herself. And, even knowing how tenuous relationships in Slytherin could be, he'd unhesitatingly thrown himself at his best mate to rescue her. Even if he hadn't said anything out loud, actions spoke. Hermione allowed herself to consider the fact that maybe the last few months with Malfoy hadn't just been charity or general good-will and inter-house relations. Maybe Malfoy felt the same way about her that she felt about him?

xXx

Draco looked down into Granger's innocent, open expression, and felt his heart start to thrum for a different, and probably very inappropriate, reason as the sensation of holding her in his arms, her face turned toward him, filled all his senses. He pulled back, forcing his brain to reign in his spiralling feelings. There was still something very important he had to know and he had to make himself ask it before either of them could find another excuse to dance around the subject.

"What happened in the alley?" He knew both of them had been drinking, and Merlin knew what he and Phil had come upon when they'd rounded the corner, but he had to know if Blaise had done anything else. If Hermione didn't tell him, his imagination would only assume the worst.

Granger stiffened in his arms, seeming to fight for control for a long moment, before finally starting to speak, her gaze averted. "It wasn't really a problem at first, or maybe it was, I wasn't really able to understand what was going on—I was a bit muddled…" She trailed off, as if trying to recall the events, and Draco forced himself to wait patiently for her to continue. "He was almost…helpful… at first, seeing me out of the pub and catching me when I got dizzy and almost fell. But then…he… well, he made a pass at me, but blokes do that at parties, and I guess he was riding the high of being out on the town after school like so many others. I mean, Cormac was handsy at Slughorn's Christmas party too…"

She trailed off again, sounding resigned, as if such situations were almost the norm, and Draco stared in shock. He vaguely remembered Slughorn's party; though he hadn't been there very long, he thought he recalled Granger looking a little dishevelled. He'd put it down to her not caring about her appearance, what with her generally frizzy hair and such, but had McLaggen been harassing her? Did girls really put up with things like this on a regular basis? He couldn't imagine being in a similar situation and made a mental note to start watching for such problems at other events, and to make a point to step in if need be.

"I mean, it was obviously a game to him. He's… well, he's been making little comments to me since the start of term, but it sounded like just Slytherin nonsense, poking at me because I'm muggleborn, my feelings didn't matter. I was beneath him."

Her words were matter-of-fact and detached, as she recounted these things, and Draco clenched his jaw so he wouldn't interrupt. He felt his anger surge as these words washed over him. As if Granger were just a thing for Blaise's amusement, to be used and discarded and never thought of again! But before he could say anything Granger had continued her story, as if telling him what happened was somehow purging the evening from her soul.

She told how she'd pushed Blaise away and tried to leave, but he hadn't let her; she'd tried to defend herself with her wand, but despite her training, despite her smarts and quickness, Blaise had used brute strength to best her.

"It was about the power for him, I guess," Granger finally admitted, "when he couldn't convince me, a lowly muggleborn, to give-in to his attentions, he had to prove that he was still better than me. He said… things…" She paused, looking down, as if reliving whatever Blaise had said. "…about my past… relationships… and then he…" She stopped there, and Draco felt his muscles tense with anxiety as he waited for her to continue. "He said that you…"

She stopped here, swallowing back the words, her cheeks pink, and pulled out of his light embrace, moving away from him as she seemed to try and sort out her thoughts. Draco could only imagine what Blaise had said about him to try and turn Granger against him, the possibilities were disgustingly endless.

"What did he say, Hermione?" Draco made himself ask. He could tell she was uncomfortable, and he wasn't really sure he wanted to know; but at the same time he felt like he couldn't not know.

"He said that you…. well… had needs… and… you weren't getting anywhere with…well, with me…"

She trailed off looking mortified, and Draco felt his own body heat with uncomfortable recollections. Blaise's remarks about Draco and his girlfriends taking over their shared dormitory; his leading comments when they'd met in the library; several times when he'd intimated that all Draco had wanted was a quick shag and then he'd be done with the girl forever… Draco could only imagine what he'd said to Granger when he hadn't been around. Was that why she always pulled away from him whenever they got close?

"And then he kissed me."

Draco's head jerked up. What?

"He did what?" Draco growled, startled at the fierceness in his own voice. He really hadn't thought he could get any angrier, but it turned out he could. Hermione wasn't looking at him. "Hermione—"

"I couldn't stop him," she started gabbling, any facsimile of calm she had been presenting washing away with these words. "I—I couldn't think straight. I jinxed him, but he—he took my wand and then he—I didn't want him to—"

Something about her words finally struck Draco in the midst of the whirl of his mind just then, and he reached toward his belt. A moment later his fingers grazed across the raised vine design that wound around Granger's wand where it rested, stuck into the leather loop that held his own wand.

"Here," he said quickly, withdrawing Granger's wand and pressing it into her hand. She stopped talking at once and stared at it. "I got it back for you." At least he'd been able to do something for her.

As Hermione stared at her wand, slowly curling her slim fingers around it, her eyes wide with wonder, Draco swallowed back the fury he'd felt when he'd realized Blaise had an extra wand tucked through his belt as he'd dodged Draco's stunning spells and multitude of curses. Draco had recognized it at once, and reclaimed it as soon as Blaise had finally been hit by one of his stunners. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about it until now, though, in all fairness, he'd had a lot of other things on his mind.

Hermione was staring at him, her expression a little calmer now that she had her wand back, and Draco could understand why. A wand is an extension of a witch or wizard, and having yours lost or broken or stolen is like losing a limb. He cleared his throat, trying to sort out his next words.

"Did he do anything else?" he pressed. He had to know.

Granger was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing her wand. "Not really. He might have, if you hadn't come…" she said quietly. "But he really only teased me in a horrible way. Pushing just enough to make me uncomfortable before pulling back," she added, then was quiet again for a long moment before hurrying on, as if speaking the words faster would end the memory before it fully registered. "The worst was the way he taunted me. He forced me to stay there, pinned to the ground, and listen to him tell me how worthless I was. He kissed me because…because it didn't matter to him, I suppose."

"Hermione," Draco started slowly, swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I know Blaise said a lot of things tonight…some of them about me—" He broke off, watching her face, but she was only watching him back, as if whatever he was going to say was extremely important to her. "But I would never—"

Granger seemed to curl in on herself at his words and Draco frowned; he'd been trying to be careful and couldn't see what he'd said to make her react that way.

"Right, of course not," Granger said quickly. "I knew he was only saying those things to get under my skin."

She turned away, fiddling with her wand, and Draco stared after her, wondering at the strange tone in her voice. Coming forward, he slowly moved around her so that he stood in front of Granger once more. He waited until she finally lifted her eyes to glance up at him, then spoke before he could talk himself out of it.

"That's not what I meant." Granger's expression tensed but she didn't move away from him, so Draco pressed on. "What Blaise so crudely phrased as…'needs'… was just him trying to paint me in my old colours. I've been working hard this year to… well, improve my standing. That sounds vain, I know, but I promise it was all for honest reasons. Deep down."

He paused, studying Granger's face, but she looked the same, waiting for him to continue as if she both needed to hear his confession and dreaded it at the same time, just like Draco had earlier.

"At the start of the year I sought you out for academic reasons; even I know you're the cleverest witch at school, though it took me long enough to admit it to myself." He allowed himself a rueful smile and thought he might have seen a faint softening in Granger's face too. "But even though we still butted heads like mountain goats every other day, well, I found myself enjoying your company."

Granger was staring at him in a different way now, and her eyes looked…dare he let himself think it? Hopeful?

"I liked spending time with you, too," she said softly. "Even butting heads." Her lips tipped up the tiniest bit.

Encouraged, Draco went on, moving closer. "I had no right to it, and Merlin knows I didn't exactly make things easy on either of us in my quest for it, but I found myself wanting your company even when we weren't working on the Charm." He reached out and gently took one of her small hands in his own, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, relieved when she didn't pull away.

Granger's face looked faintly pink in the moonlight, though the odd tear still clung to her long lashes. Even standing there with her hair mussed and Phil's cloak hanging off her shoulders, Draco thought she looked so beautiful. They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, and Draco waited for Granger to gently push him away, to tell him that there could never be anything between them beyond academics, but she didn't.

"I've been thinking about you, too," she said at last, and Draco's heart leaped with hope. "All my friends have warned me away from you," she went on, and he did his best to steal himself for the let down. "At the start, anyway. But I think they're starting to understand what I see in you, a bit anyway."

Draco's heart had jumped into overtime, he wasn't sure how much more he could take of this roller coaster of feelings. What did she mean 'what she saw in him'?

"It wasn't easy for me either," she went on. "We didn't have the greatest start over the years."

That was the understatement of the century, Draco thought to himself, but didn't interrupt, afraid if he did or said anything then the spell would break and Granger wouldn't continue.

"But you're different this year, and even Harry and Ginny have noticed. Others have too, I'm sure. I know I have." She looked up, a soft smile on her lips, and Draco had to swallow hard against the surge inside him. Sure, others had noticed his changing attitude, but not all of them approved of it. "I can see how you've grown and matured," Hermione was saying, her voice kind, and Draco felt a lightening in his chest. If she could see it, could believe it, then maybe it really was true. "I think Dumbledore would have been proud of you."

For a long time such words would have rankled Draco. He'd spent so many years being told what a tottering old fool Dumbledore was, but in the end he'd known how truly wise and understanding the man had been, and Granger's compliment meant a lot.

"It took me a long time to realize it," Granger was saying, and Draco forced his body to remain still, "but I'm glad we're friends." She looked into his eyes with a proper smile, withdrawing her hand in order to adjust her cloak. "I think we are, aren't we? After all the ups and downs these past few months, even…" She seemed to trip up on her next words, her smile fading, but she pushed on a moment later. "Even after tonight. I mean, if you still think it's worth it to be friends with me, after all the trouble it's brought into your life."

Friends? Friends?

Was that all this was to her? He'd practically bared his soul a few minutes earlier, and all Granger had gotten out of his words was 'I'm glad we're friends'? I mean, of course Draco was glad she finally really considered him a close friend, he wanted that too, and he'd known how hesitant she'd been when he'd first sought her out. But like she'd just said, they'd been through so much these past few months, had she really not realized how he felt about her?

But how could Draco tell her now? He'd tried to lead the conversation that way, but if Hermione had realized what he'd been trying to say she'd gently steered things in another direction. And if not, well, he'd just have to try harder to show her how he felt.

"Of course I think it's worth it to be friends with you, Hermione," he heard himself say, his voice fervent, "but maybe the question you should be asking is if you still want to be friends with me."

What the hell was he saying? Was he trying to push her away? But it was because of him that Blaise had bothered with Granger. Before, when Draco was tormenting the Trio himself, Blaise had merely enjoyed a laugh in the background; now it was another story. Draco forced himself to hold Hermione's gaze. He knew it would probably be better for both of them if they parted ways now, but he didn't want to. Merlin help him, he cared about her too much to let her go now. Even after everything that had happened.

He started a moment later, as the sensation of Hermione's hand taking his own abruptly registered in his brain. He looked down and found her staring at his hand. She wasn't exactly holding it, just sort of gripping the top of it, her delicate fingers overtop of his knuckles, but Draco still felt his entire being come to a complete standstill as they both looked at her hand.

"I want to be friends with you, too," she said softly. "I don't judge someone by their mistakes. Not any more. I'm trying to learn and grow, too. And I don't blame you for tonight," she added, as if reading his mind, "that would be like blaming Harry for Bellatrix cutting my arm."

Draco tensed. Why had she brought that up? He'd nearly been sick from the sound of her screaming that day, but hadn't been able to stop it. He'd been unable to make himself defy his parents, the death eaters, and especially Voldemort. It was another horrible memory that he'd never be able to forget.

"I know that I can depend on you now," Granger was saying, she paused, then lifted her head to look at him straight in the face, "and I won't let tonight break me. I won't let someone else dictate terms to how I live my life."

Draco could see a flash of her old spark in her brown eyes and felt relief bloom in his chest. No, tonight wouldn't break her. Her spirit might have bent a little, but she wouldn't let it snap. He took a deep breath. If all she wanted from him was friendship right now, then he'd give it to her. But he wouldn't give up either. He'd show Hermione Granger that he was worthy of her heart in the end.

Stepping back, Draco withdrew his hand and offered Granger a gentle smirk, trying to ease the tension in the air. "You never have before, so why start now?" It worked, to his relief, and she smiled back—a bit wanly, but still genuine.

"I think I want to go back to school," she said a moment later, her smile fading as she glanced down at her body, taking in Phil's cloak, and then wincing as she caught sight of her torn strap when the cloak slipped down off one shoulder.

"Let me," Draco offered quickly, reaching for his wand and slowly pointing it at the torn cloth. "Reparo." The strap's frayed threads wove back together, good as new, and Draco glanced at Hermione's face, a little embarrassed, as if such an act as mending her dress had been too intimate.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, shifting the robe again. "Um, was this yours?"

"It was Phil's," Draco replied quickly, inwardly cursing himself for not having worn his own robe into town that night, but it hadn't been that cool out and he hadn't wanted to drag it around.

"Oh, right," Granger said, fingering the material. "I'll have to… um… thank him, the next time I see him. For… for lending it to me." She danced around the situation that had brought about the lending, but Draco didn't press it.

"Keep it tonight," he said instead. "I can get it back to him tomorrow, if you like," he added, as if still unsure that she really would want to continue spending time with him back at the castle.

"Okay," Granger returned, and silence fell between them once more.

He watched as she glanced across the meadow toward the village. It was quiet where they were, but across the grass, back in the street, there was still the occasional whoop of laughter and people talking. It felt like an age had passed while they'd been talking, but it was probably not more than half an hour. Granger lifted a hand to her hair, running her fingers through it with a frown. He could guess what she was thinking even as she lifted her wand and pointed it at her head with a murmured incantation. A moment later a soft breeze blew up around her head, fixing the majority of her hair, though a few bits of grit still clung stubbornly to a few places. She looked almost normal, as if nothing amiss had happened to her, but Draco knew better.

"I'll walk you back," Draco said quickly, when Granger made to start across the grass, and she looked at him. Was that relief in her eyes?

"Thank you," she said, and the pair of them headed back toward the street.

#

The walk back up to the castle felt both like eons and mere seconds as Draco tried to work up the nerve to tell Granger she needed to talk to someone besides him about that night's happenings. He could see her closing up the closer they got to the castle, and knew that she was locking everything away behind her eyes, as if not talking about it would mean nothing had happened. So, even knowing that she might hate him for it, Draco murmured a message and an incantation and flicked his wand, sending his patonus—a small, wispy, silvery dragon, shaped in the fashion of a Japanese myth—ahead of them toward the castle.

He still had to concentrate hard in order to create one, in fact, it had taken him until this very summer to be able to manage one, because Merlin knew what kind of life he'd had before then, before certain key elements in his life had changed, but it was becoming easier in recent months. He had a lot of new, secret, happy memories. Like a girl laughing at him in a library when he'd taken a book bag to the stomach, or a girl toppling onto him outside a forest and looking up at him with wide eyes as he smirked down at her, or girl touching his hand and telling him she didn't judge him by his past…

A girl.

This girl.

xXx

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