AN: I'm sorry for not updating Finders Keepers in so long. I have half of the next update complete but I sort of hit a roadblock and I have been dying to write a different kind of Draco, more conflicted, truer to his character. If I could, I would rewrite Finders Keepers with a meaner, more toxic Draco but I feel like its already too late. Would any of my readers out there like to see an entire rewrite if it meant a way better story? Let me know!

Anyways, here is this story. I don't even know what it is but I really like it and I hope anyone reading finds enjoyment in it. It's Rated M, there is and will be smut. Minor violence trigger warning as well. Its mostly Canon-compliant, you know, except for my entire plot. That's basically the whole point of fanfiction though! Please enjoy, much love.

We Always Have A Choice
Part One
-o-

Hermione could not pinpoint exactly when it all started, but she supposed the unexpected moment during the Yule Ball was most notable.

She had been weeping from how upset she was with Ron. How thoughtless he had been, the way he went about asking her to the Yule Ball. Then getting so angry with her, the audacity of his misplaced judgment about her being with Viktor instead. She had found herself in a desolate corridor, floating further and further away from the crowded Entrance Hall and patting dry the streams of hot tears on her cheeks.

All she needed to do was breathe, so she did several times and allowed a calmness to come over her. Unfortunately, this minor tranquility had been short-lived.

"Nice teeth, mudblood,"

Oh, she'd recognize it anywhere, that vicious voice. The drawl was slow and coy, but thick with contempt. Hermione internally whimpered and cursed her luck; she had thought she was finally alone. She had just wanted to be alone for a second, Merlin forbid.

"Excuse me, what?" she snapped around, quite obviously not in the mood for his foulness.

Malfoy crossed his arms, reflective. He had been the one to produce the spell that'd accidentally hit her in the mouth to begin with, when he and Harry had been dueling. "I didn't notice before,"

"So what, ferret?" she clipped, preparing to walk away. She was not about to let Malfoy ruin this evening any further. He had grimaced at the nickname he wasn't used to, but still took another step toward her. "No one actually did until yesterday really but I don't care. I have better things to think about,"

"Of course you do," replied Malfoy, an air of boredom. "Like sniffing the pages of every book in the library." Hermione scoffed in disgust but he went on relentlessly, staring back down the dark corridor she'd been hovering. "Or crying to yourself over the ginger rat. So pathetic, all of you Gryffindors." He was standing just a foot away, the silver of his eyes piercing her in the dim light.

"You know what's really pathetic?" she held her chin high and noticed those silver eyes drop to the expanse of her neck and back up again to her jaw, the curl of her smirk. "How hateful you are, you and your slimy friends. It's sickening, truly."

Malfoy's frown deepened, an angry stitch between his brows. It was as if he felt misunderstood. "Hate will keep you alive, Granger. Hate gets you places,"

"So says you." She spat but just as she made to step around him, her periwinkle robes sashaying against his legs, his long arm reached out and snatched her wrist, turning her back to face him again.

"And what do you know, Granger, huh? What makes you so fucking special?" his fingers pressed into her skin tightly and Hermione winced, horrified from his brazen grip.

She could not right away answer, caught up from his close proximity, his hurtful hand but then, "I'm not. I'm not special, Malfoy. None of us are special."

"I really beg to differ," he was so near, looking at her so strangely, his stare so heavily lidded. His sensual boy musk invaded her senses, his cologne and the strong spice of Firewhiskey wafting from his breath.

Hermione gasped. "Have you been drinking?" her voice took on a more authoritative tone but Malfoy shrugged, uncaring.

"And if I was? What? What are you going to do about it?" his eyes lit up with delight, as if the prospect of her trying to get him into trouble would amuse him. "You're such a tattle-tell, little priss. I'd expect you to go to McGonagall straight away. It wouldn't be wise to do that though, to get on my bad side. You know that, don't you?"

She almost cackled out loud. "I thought I already was on your bad side, you know, being a mudblood and all," Hermione rolled her eyes, ripping her wrist out of his grasp and rubbing at its tenderness. She could not take Malfoy seriously, the blighter. She was so incredibly exasperated after dancing with Viktor and dealing with Ronald, now this? Enough was enough. "Besides, I'm not going to say anything. I don't care what you do, Malfoy. Just stay away from me."

And she meant it too, but then he had come around before her again, blocking her from leaving the corridor. "Going back to Krum? I know he's looking for you. I saw him blundering around, asking everyone where you were. That's when I saw Weasel-face fighting with you. I have to say, mudblood," his gaze raked over her smoothed hair, her face. "I'm genuinely surprised to... see what I see."

Hermione fumigated, furiously bashful under his unwarranted scrutiny, furious from his ever-persistent use of that vile word. "Yes well, you and the rest, Malfoy." She had noticed the way he'd sneered at her earlier, when he first laid eyes on her standing next to Viktor Krum before the Champion's waltz. He'd had nothing to say until now, when he wasn't around any of his goons. Her hands were on her hips, "Anything else?"

"Not really," he sniffed, standing aside finally so she could get by.

"Good," Hermione sashayed haughtily. "Happy Christmas, ferret."

She heard Malfoy chuckle darkly as he watched her walk away, and both of them had simply tried to forget that tumultuous encounter from which Hermione named the 'Twilight Zone'.

-o-

It wasn't until over two years later, during Sixth Year when Draco himself, gave anymore true thought to Hermione Granger.

He had been sitting outside by the Black Lake, minding his own business. It was a sunny, warm day in the middle of September, and Draco was scouring through a bunch of tomes on repairing different magical objects. It was only the beginning but so far, he'd been having a difficult time attempting to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. He had not slept right in ages, not since he had been branded a Death Eater, since before the Dark Lord took residence at the Manor.

Draco had heard lighthearted giggling and when he looked up, saw Granger not too far in the distance, laughing about something the Weaselette had just said. His eyes remained frozen on her; she was in a gorgeous, fitted muggle sundress. It was a crisp white with a splash of pretty yellow flowers and accentuated her waist, her curves. Her wild curls had reached longer lengths, falling all the way down her lower back like a woodland nymph and Draco couldn't tear his gaze away.

It was at that precise instance when the wind kicked up. It swiftly sent the skirt of Granger's dress swishing up so high, Draco was gifted a miraculous view of the scrumptious bum beneath.

His mouth fell open, disbelieving not just of the situation, but by just how round and soft the mudblood looked under those tiny knickers. Alarmed, Granger pushed and pulled her dress back in place, staring around to see if anyone saw and immediately caught eyes with Malfoy. He cursed, looking down. He knew he'd been seen, but he poured back over the tomes before him, pretending his cock hadn't just twitched longingly at the mouthwatering sight of her taut but thick arse.

Why? Why did she have to torture him so? By just existing, she had steadfastly ruined his life. Her top marks, coming first in every class, praise from the professors, from almost all. Draco had been more content when she was uglier, when her teeth were larger. He had felt content to let her best him time and again because at least to him, she was rather unattractive. At least her blood was still dirty. He could hate away.

Yet then he noticed her at the Yule Ball, how very fetching she was. She had stolen every eye of the room, including his and he had loathed to admit the witch had blossomed. He embarrassed himself nice and good in the corridor that night, all too easily putting that conversation out of his mind since then.

But this particular visual was not so easy to forget, and Granger began to haunt his thoughts, his imagination. He could not stand the swotty princess of Gryffindor, never cared for her bossy attitude and honey-hearted righteousness but that mattered nothing to his body. Horrifyingly enough, that irritating personality of hers made him want her all the more, and in the worst way.

But Draco persevered, only allowing his precious focus to lay staunchly on his task. She was still a mudblood. She was still Potter's best mate.

It was not until he awoke in the hospital wing after nearly reaching death's gates, when his unshakable walls began to crumble against his will. It was nighttime, and it seemed to be after curfew. He remembered it all.

Draco had been losing his fucking mind, as he slowly was all year. It had gradually gotten worse as the months wore on and he was drained, so drained of life.

Potter had found him in the bathroom, practically ambushed him and Draco had done what he did, he had almost Crucio'd the Gryffindor. He was so shocked he'd been caught blubbering over a sink like a pitiful little boy – caught by the last person he would have wished. He had not seen Potter's unknown curse in time and was sliced to smithereens within seconds. He had been bleeding out, a cold numbness overtaking him, one that he just about fully welcomed but Snape's dark form was then hovering above him, saving his life. The last thing Draco remembered was Snape dragging him along to Madame Pomfrey.

He blinked around, sitting up slowly in the hospital bed. He was sore all over and he groaned but then almost jumped, startled from the small, worried visage of Granger. "You shouldn't move around too much," her frail voice came in a whisper, pressing lightly a hand to his shoulder.

Draco gaped down at her tiny hand, a warmth he had never known invading him through it. Well aware of her odd behavior, Hermione removed her hand quickly, her cheeks hot. He then peered around at the dark wing. They were the only two in here. "What do you want?" he questioned, staring her down threateningly but she only passed him fresh drinking water. He eyed her in suspicion but took a hearty sip, nonetheless thankful for the cold splash down his parched throat. "Come to tell me off, have you? Come to tell me how much I deserved it?"

She appeared very ashamed. "Not at all, I just – I can't believe what's happened, what Harry did. He had no idea what that spell was capable of. I told him to get rid of the book, but he just hasn't listened. He hasn't listened to me all year, about anything honestly. He's so caught up but I try to tell him," she paused, twiddling her fingers and gazing at him pointedly.

Draco heard her words, confused about what she was referring to. What book? "Potter and listening aren't two things that go together," he quipped, cringing suddenly from a jolting ripple of pain through his middle and he gripped his side. "Going around casting curses he doesn't know? I've given Potter far too much credit. He's much more stupid than I thought," Dark curses at that. He very much knew that Potter was on to him, knew Potter believed he was a Death Eater which meant Hermione Granger too, knew of Potter's suspicions. She was his right-hand golden girl. She probably even agreed with him.

Potter attacking him now, it was only a matter of time before the rest of them ganged up on him, attempted to ruin his plans. He was so, so close with the cabinet. Any day now it would be ready.

Hermione scoffed at his cruelness but Draco was feeling around his torso, lifting his nightshirt and revealing an alabaster abdomen covered in bandages soaked with dittany. Around his forehead also was another medicinal bandage helping the gash at his brow. It was very uncomfortable for him, to be lying in these wet cloths but he knew that if he didn't want the scarring then he would have to endure it for now.

"Harry is not stupid," she muttered finally, casting her eyes away from his sinewy but strong figure. "He just makes rash decisions. He doesn't always think things all the way through, but then again, he doesn't always have a choice."

"What are you doing here, Granger?" he queried lazily, not even that frustrated with her as he leaned himself back into the bed again. "Defending Potter and basically apologizing on his behalf? Its ridiculous, so very you. What makes you think I would appreciate any of this?"

Draco thought back to earlier that evening when he pretended to be fast asleep as Pansy cooed over, and coddled him here in this bed. He knew he was tired of Pansy thinking they might get back together, tired of her incessant need for attention. They were friends and they had their fun in the past but he had led her on now long enough.

It would be over by the end of the year regardless, because he would either be dead or completely at the mercy of a snake-faced madman. He already was. He never even had a choice, and Pansy knew all of this yet still persisted. He would make one of the only choices he actually had left and end it with Parkinson, tell her to leave him be. He would do it tomorrow.

"You're right, I don't know why I'm here," Hermione replied, turned away from him... but she did know why she was here. She knew he was up to something, they all did. Even though she had to admit it seemed possible, she wanted to prove to Harry once and for all that Malfoy was not a Death Eater, at least not yet. But she knew whatever made Malfoy look like hell the last year, whatever had brought his top marks plummeting to a mediocre mess, was breaking him to pieces and he was falling apart right before their eyes. He looked like an ashen shell of the person he once was. Something was keeping his soul captive and even if he might not deserve it, Hermione found herself caring.

"We hate each other." Draco added, his heart not really in it.

Did he actually hate her anymore? He was supposed to but staring at her now in the dim candlelight of the hospital wing, he found it hard to care about all the reasons she was annoying, all the reasons why he once rallied at the notion of her death. Would he actually want her dead? Would he just stand there like a coward if he saw her there about to be killed? What if they made Draco kill her? Had Hermione Granger ever really done anything to deserve being executed? Was her blood really that different? And even if her blood was different, did that immediately warrant her a death sentence?

Hermione sort of nodded and shrugged but then said, "I think you're an awful git most days, so rude, and other days I just pity you and your views on life, your lack of compassion. All you care about is yourself," Draco glared back at her, affronted but he could not blame her all the same.

"S'nothing I haven't heard before," he threw in there but it always felt worse hearing it from her.

She continued, "But... somehow, I-I don't hate you, Malfoy, though I want to. I always believed you had room to grow, the potential to change to-to become better than–"

"Just shut your mouth, Granger," Draco ordered emotionlessly. "I am a rude, awful git, just as you say, just as everyone knows. This is who I am for a reason,"

Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing. "I don't think that's who you truly are, who you could be. You –"

His glare intensified, a snarl in his lip, "Are you fucking hearing yourself right now? Not who I truly am? You are such a-a –" he threw his hands up dramatically, but he didn't want to admit that deep down she was right. This was not who he wanted to be, but this was who he had to be. He sighed, gritting his teeth. She had no fucking clue what he was going through. He was supposed to hate everything about her. They were not on good terms, had never been on good terms, and he was not about to start now. "Get out of here, mudblood. You're the last person I ever want to lay eyes on. You should know that."

Liar.

Granger appeared very hurt, but her chocolate gaze held a telling gleam, as if she knew even he didn't believe his words. "I'm so sorry I came," she pursed her lips, defeated and Draco watched her silhouette leave him. Alone, which was only natural.

Still, he could not help but feel so helpless, so hopeless as she left. It shattered him all over again, and he wept himself into fitful slumber.

-o-

Despite everything in her that told her to stay away, to keep herself out of it, Hermione could not refrain from watching the tall, silver snake. He would either miss dinner, or leave the meal early every night and she figured whatever he was up to was probably happening then. It was nearly a week later, that Sunday evening when he slipped out of the loud, clattering Great Hall for his mysterious destination. Observing that Ron still tucked into his supper and Harry was wholly invested with his new girlfriend Ginevra, Hermione snuck away unnoticed to go after him.

Her heart was racing. She had been slowly realizing, much to her very own dismay, that the things Harry had been claiming all year were starting to make much more sense. The more Hermione thought about it, about the clues, the attempted murders, Malfoy's ever more callous but closed off behavior, his exhausted and almost lifeless countenance... the more it all seemed to fit together, like he was a piece to the puzzle.

Up the Entrance Hall and across the rumbling causeways of the Grand Staircase they went. She was close behind but not close enough to be seen, unobvious as she could be. Minutes went by without a hitch, Hermione laying low and keeping light on her feet but she supposed this particular snake was very keen. Malfoy was flying down the corridors, picking up his pace. He turned around abruptly as if he knew someone was following him and Hermione smashed herself against the wall around the corner, finally concealing herself with a Disillusionment Charm.

Hermione trailed him all the way up to the seventh floor, not far from the Room of Requirement. Her charm had just worn off and she had not yet bothered to recast it as she stepped softly around the bend. Her breath hitched as she looked around for Malfoy. He just seemed to have vanished, but Hermione knew better. He was there somewhere, waiting for her.

As she was gliding past a huge statue of a ferocious wolf, he swooped in, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her into the stone of the wall. He was glowering down into the eyes of the impertinent witch in his squeezing grasp, his thick hawthorn wand pressed into collarbone. "What the bloody fuck, Granger? Following me now?"

She weaved her own wand between them, poking it against his chest and as soon as it was there it was gone, Malfoy ripping it from her hand and tossing it far behind. His long, pale fingers wrapped around her neck now, clutching her firmly and Hermione whimpered slightly under his hold, shocked to her core that he had her pinned and in his control.

"What are you hiding?" she croaked out, her thoughts whirling but attempting to keep her wits. She had never been this close to him before, they had hardly ever breathed the same air. Yet here he was, his hands over her, touching her tainted mudblood skin – and even though his fierce grip was hateful and harsh, Hermione felt a certain strain, a painstaking pooling of warmth inside her right where it counted. She never thought Draco Malfoy could make her knees so weak. "It must be pretty bad, if this is how you react,"

He threw his head back and barked out a dry cackle, shaking his silver head but also tightening his grasp on her throat, dipping his nose to brush against her ear. "You and your lot need to stay the fuck out of my business if you know what's good for you," Draco growled hotly and Hermione instinctually shivered, her bottom lip rolling between her teeth. "What'd they do, Potter send you up here after me, to get answers? To stop me?" his gruff tone sounded almost amused, as if their efforts would be for nothing.

"Th-They don't know, I came up here alone. No one sent me," Hermione stammered, wriggling uncomfortably, her temperatures rising to unfamiliar heights as Malfoy's looming body drew nearer ever still, his chest and thighs brushing against her. "I just... had to know for myself."

"Merlin's fuck, of course you do," he groaned, irate and as if in great pain. "You stick your little know-it-all nose right where it doesn't belong. That's just what you do."

She ignored him, closing her eyes. The curiosity, the burning desire to find out what the problem was and then solve it was so strong, Hermione thought she might spontaneously combust. She had never been one to beat around the bush. Hermione was a straight-forward witch and bluntly, she asked Malfoy the million-dollar question right there in the deserted corridor. "Did you really join with the Dark Lord's forces?" She had said Dark Lord on purpose, but she was not sure why. Malfoy went completely rigid, his hold on her unmoving. "Are you a Death Eater?"

She gulped, blinking up into his searing gaze but his heavy eyes dropped, watching how his thumb grazed softly over the smooth bob of her throat. "What would you do, Granger? What would you do if I was?" he drawled quietly, the undertone of a threat and Hermione was vaguely reminded of that time at the Yule Ball when she caught Firewhiskey on his breath. "Would you run right to Potter? To old Dumbledore himself?" Hermione shook her head, about to speak but his fingers tightened around her more forcefully and she fought for air. She could have kicked him, she could have flung him off of her if she really tried but Hermione allowed this cruel behavior, wanting to see just how far the Slytherin would actually go. His tall frame was flush against her now, his lips just above hers, his hips trapping her in place. "I could snap this tiny neck of yours,"

Hermione glared up at him defiantly, choking out, "You wouldn't,"

A low chuckle rumbled within him, skimming his nose across her cheek before breathing huskily in her ear again, "Don't make me." She squirmed under the all-consuming sensations he was giving her, the sensuality, the vibrations of his gravelly voice. Draco pocketed his wand, his free hand roaming up her side before clutching the fabric of her shirt by her shoulder. He took in her scent, finding his face buried deep in her soft curly tendrils. "Mmf, you shouldn't smell this good."

She gasped lightly at his sudden, twisted compliment. "Malfoy, what –?"

He took the fist that wasn't grasping her throat and slammed it into the wall beside her head. "No!" he seethed, unsure just what he was saying no to.

Hermione did not cease, she wanted to get to the bottom of this. Something was very wrong here. It was her duty she felt, to perhaps stop something bad from happening before it was too late. "I-I won't tell anyone," she began gingerly. "I'll help you, I... there's no need to –"

"Are you fucking serio..." Malfoy trailed off, his voice cracking. He cursed his idiocy, his terrible luck. Why had he not denied her accusations? Why had he not lied? Perhaps because he knew his time was running short, perhaps because he knew there was no real hiding it from the brilliant Hermione Granger. If he knew anything about her, it was that she would likely hunt him down for the last couple weeks that were left of term to figure him out like he were some kind of riddle. He had no desire for that, and yet... his black ice soul ached to be saved, to be warmed by her. He knew how giving the witch was, how loving she was over the things she cared for.

Could he actually, was there really a reality for him in which somehow the witch he had pressed against him, got him a way out of this? Draco was an opportunist, a survivalist... and though the light in the distance flickered for just a moment, it faded swiftly to darkness again to the disaster that was his life. No, he couldn't afford to think that way. He was already on a side – the wrong side. "You can't help me," he muttered. "There's... nothing you can do."

Her heart broke at his words, as if she could understand the battle raging within him like a storm on the ocean. His grip on her had greatly loosened but remained, and for the first time she tenderly brought her hands up to touch him, inspecting his tired face. His eyes, which had those perpetual bruises underneath, fluttered shut as the tips of her fingers made contact with his clenched jaw. She smoothed over his snow-white skin, allowing the back of her knuckles to gently sweep a path up to the fresh scar at his brow.

The white dash there made him seem so rugged, so different than he once was, and well, he was different. The essence of Draco Malfoy was there, but where there used to be a putrid and gossipy, whinging attitude with all bark and no bite, was now a withdrawn warrior, a tormented pawn in the chessboard that was the war.

Draco snatched her wrist, opening his silver-moon eyes and peering down at her under his thick lashes. "You shouldn't have come," he said, his ruffled hair falling over his gaze. "I'm a fucking imbecile. This is bad, so bad," he was crumpling in on himself, withering away back into that pitiful boy crying in the bathroom. Granger knew, he could see it in her fucking eyes. She knew he was a Death Eater, the way he was talking. He couldn't expect her to keep this secret. She was a bloody Gryffindor for fuck's sake, on the opposite side of the dark. His enemy.

"Draco,"

The small sound of his name from her lips was like candy to his ears, but this only succeeded in making him all the angrier. He gripped her up forcefully again, her Maryjane's leaving the floor as he lifted her against the wall with the strength of his legs. "I should fucking kill you, I should fucking take you away right now, far away and murder you so they'll never know,"

"No, no," she cried, real, unbidden fear coursing through her. They were nose to nose, fighting for breath. "You wouldn't, you wouldn't," his unyielding fingers clutched ever still harshly her wrist, her throat.

"I should, I should," he ruffed, strained. A tear had breached the outer edge of his eye, daring to drop and Hermione watched with great fascination as it hovered amid his lashes like dew on petals. "It would make me a hero, to them. Imagine me, doing in the Chosen One's best girl, the mudblood Granger. My place would be set for life, my loyalty unquestioned," the dew spilled, careening down his cheek and Hermione was certain that murdering her was not what he truly wanted to do.

"You're not a killer, Malfoy," she tried and he growled at her. "You don't want to kill me. That's... that's not the life you want,"

He slammed his body roughly into her again, "Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me what I want? Yeah, I want it. Haven't I always? I can't change it. You're not, you don't know –"

Her tiny hand had grasped his collar, pulling him down so the flesh of his throat collided with her mouth and Draco stilled instantly. Granger moved her soft lips against his skin, leaving a tingling, wet trail of kisses along his pulse point and he leaned away, swallowing hard and staring into the warmth of her cocoa eyes.

Why did she do that? He felt himself falling to ruin, felt himself sucked into her gravity. He lost all coherent thought, only one thing mattered and he found he was melding his mouth onto hers, gentle at first, a rush of blood to his head. Lust, his body roared to life. Hermione welcomed the enthralling feel of his lips, a buzz of electricity as he began to move them over hers.

Draco released her throat, grasping the side of her face as his kiss gained fervor. She was in his embrace now, his long fingers splayed within the curls down her back. His tongue swept within her mouth, slowly but earnestly seeking out every crevice. Hermione glid her tongue against his return, her hands resting on his chest and he moaned, putting in great effort not to roam his hands along her body. He found he was unwilling for this moment to ever end. If he could be stuck in a time-loop, any time-loop, it would be this one right here – forever kissing forbidden lips.

He punched his fist to the wall again by her head. Hermione was startled out of the reverie, but his lips were not leaving hers yet as he continued to ravish her mouth with his, cupping the back of her neck. His fingers caressed a dangerous path over her sweater, eliciting a gasp from Hermione when he palmed the side of her breast and gripped roughly her waist. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling at it and finishing up his kiss. Draco buried his face into the crook of her neck, savoring the sweet but sweaty, very feminine, very irresistible smell that was all Hermione Granger.

"I have only one other choice," he whispered so quietly, Hermione almost didn't hear him.

"We always have a choice," she supplied, both of them breathless.

Draco finally released her then but brandished his wand again, pointing it straight at her widened gaze. "You're just going to have to forget," he told her icily and Hermione held her hands up in defense, looking around in the dim corridor for her wand. "You have to forget, I-I'm sorry. It's the only way,"

"No, Draco! Please," she begged, her eyes pleading with him to stop. "Don't make me forget, I could never, I could never want to forget this,"

"You're ruining everything, Granger! What is wrong with you? Do you really think I want any other life than the one that's been dealt for me? This is... it's-it's all I know!" he screamed, pressing the tip of his wand into her chest but her expression held only determination, only kindness. She touched the arm that held his wand, past his weapon and slipping closer until she was right in front of him again. "I don't – I don't want you!" he spat, doing his best to sound waspish but Granger only shook her head slightly, a little smirk on her lips – those beautiful lips he'd just devoured mere seconds ago.

"We will help you," she stated simply, timidly. "I mean, I'm practically part of the Order as it is, you know. We can offer you protection, you and anyone else you need. We'll protect you, if only you just –"

Draco let out a slow, dark laugh, his wand lowered. "Were not Lily and James Potter too, offered protection? And just look what happened to them,"

Hermione huffed at that, "That was different,"

"It's not that different," he countered and Hermione snaked her arms around his torso, rubbing her face against his chest. Draco's jaw clenched but he sighed, allowing his own arm to come around her and resting his cheek in her curls.

Joining up with the Order? That would be preposterous. His mother might be more easily swayed but Lucius would never in a million years go for it. Draco might as well kiss the Malfoy name goodbye. He'd probably never see his father again, and the Dark Lord might even kill Lucius for his only son's betrayal.

And yet...

No, he couldn't. He was branded an eater of death, a murderer, a dark wizard. It was too late to turn back now.

Draco held Hermione more closely, fully holding her in his embrace but he snuck his hawthorn wand up toward her head, breathing in her scent one last time. "Oblivia –"

Hermione crashed her arm into his, knocking his wand clean out of his hand and rolling down the hall. She grabbed her own wand, "Petrificus Totalus!" Draco's body froze, dropping to the floor like a statue and all he could do was hear the Gryffindor witch run away, knowing in his gut that his life was officially over. He was a dead man.

-o-

AN: I love to hear from you so please, leave me a review! It means the world to me! And follow this story, I'm definitely writing at least one more chapter. Hope you all have a fantastic weekend, much love.