Bittersweet and Strange

Chapter 4: Promises and Intentions

"Come out of that room, Granger!"

"No!"

"Did you not hear me? I said come out!"

"I heard you the last three times, Malfoy! Say it as often as you like! I'm not coming out!"

"You can't stay in there forever!"

"Oh, yes, I can!"

"Granger, get out of that room before I break down the door! I can do it, you know!"

"Go right ahead!"

Sweet Salazar, she was infuriating. Draco had been at the door for nearly half an hour, and he had given up on coaxing her out politely nearly as long ago. He had just wanted to apologize for the night before and make sure he hadn't hurt her – he could remember slamming her against the front door and not much else. But Hermione's stubbornness and Draco's temper had led them right into a shouting match through her locked bedroom door. And she would not come out.

Draco doubted his shouting was helping he situation, but he was past caring. "I know where the key to your room is, Granger! All I have to do is go get it."

There was silence on the other side of the door. "Don't you come in this room, Malfoy," Hermione warned.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Granger, all I want to do is talk to you!"

"So talk!"

"I meant face-to-face!"

"I can hear you just fine!"

"Granger, get out here unless you want to starve to death!"

"Sounds good to me!"

Draco nearly rammed his fist into the door, just to throw a scare into her. That's just going to add to the time it will take to get her to come out, he reasoned. He pulled his hand back but kept talking, trying to calm his voice somewhat. "Granger, please. There's no reason to be like this!"

"I don't know how drunk you were last night, but I'd say I have a perfectly good reason to be like this!" she retorted.

Draco sighed, leaning against the wall in frustration. "That's what I want to talk to you about! Please, just let me say what I have to say!"

"Say it through the door!"

"Fine!" he shouted. He took a deep breath to steel himself. He hated apologizing. "I'm sorry if I scared you last night." Hermione didn't reply, so Draco kept going. "I know I was drunk and I'm sorry I got so riled up, but I'm not used to having someone in the house with me. I usually am just mad at myself or my scars are hurting, and that's why I get drunk." He grimaced, forcing his next words out. "I'll try to be more careful."

Hermione didn't answer for a moment, and Draco could picture her leaning against the door, chewing on one lip as she thought, just like she always had at Hogwarts. Draco was about to call her again when she responded.

"That would definitely be a good thing," she said simply.

He sighed in relief. "Yeah. Come out now?"

"I'll come out when I'm ready."

"And when will that be?" he growled, feeling annoyance bubble up again.

"Whenever I'm good and ready."

"Granger, I'm warning you –"

"Aha!" she exclaimed, sounding triumphant. "I knew it. You were just waiting for that, weren't you?"

"Waiting for what?!"

"To show your temper! You have a bad temper whether you're drunk or not, Malfoy, and I don't like having to put up with it."

Draco raised his voice, not caring if he was proving her point. "What do you mean, a bad temper? I was drunk, Granger!"

"You weren't drunk when you came into the kitchen yesterday and snapped at me! I was just trying to make sure you weren't dying, and you practically bit my head off!"

"I wasn't drunk, but I was in a lot of pain!" he told her. "My scars were killing me!"

"And how often does that happen?"

Draco had had enough of this banter. "I don't have to tell you anything, Granger! Now, listen, you're supposed to do what I say, right? Now get out here!"

"Why? So you can punch me? Call me a Mudblood again? I don't think so!"

Draco was preparing a retort when Hermione's words registered with him. "I called you a Mudblood?" he asked.

She took her time in responding. "Yes. A dim-witted, selfish, worthless Mudblood, if I recall. You said you wished all Mudbloods were dead."

Draco groaned, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands. He had called her a Mudblood? He couldn't even remember it. He had been drunk, but he suddenly wished he hadn't been. It had eased the pain for a while, but at what cost? "Granger, I…"

His voice trailed off, and there was silence for a long time. Finally, Draco heard the lock turn and saw the door swing open. Hermione stepped outside cautiously, and her eyes widened when she saw him. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Draco looked up, noticing the circles under her eyes. She probably hadn't slept all night. "Listen, Granger, I… There's something you should know." He took a deep breath. "I don't think of you as a Mudblood anymore."

She merely stared at him skeptically. "Oh, really? Then what am I?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "A muggleborn witch? You're certainly as capable or more so than any Pureblood I know. Besides that, you seem like a… a genuinely nice person. I'm sorry I ever called you that, especially last night."

Hermione appeared to be in shock. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before replying. "Malfoy… that's nice of you to say, but I really hope you don't expect me to believe you."

His eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Because one apology doesn't erase a lifetime of bad deeds. You may very well be sorry, but don't expect me to forgive everything at the drop of a hat."

"Granger," he ground out, "I'm not apologizing for my whole life. Just last night."

She frowned. "I know what you meant. I'm just saying, don't give me all that drivel about me being a nice person and a talented witch and all that. I know you don't think of me as an equal, so don't try to fool me."

"Who says I don't think of you as an equal?" he demanded.

"You did," she replied simply. "Last night."

Draco sighed, frustrated again. "Look, all I wanted to do was apologize and make sure I didn't do any lasting damage to you."

"You're about twenty years late to not do damage to –"

"Let me finish!" he roared. "Why can't you just accept the apology and be done with it? Why all these barriers to go through?"

"Why all these barriers?" she repeated incredulously. "Let me tell you something, Draco Malfoy. You may be the one with the clawed-up face and the cursed house, but I've seen and lived through just as much heartache as you have!" Draco started to scoff, but Hermione broke in. "I've seen horrible things! I've watched as my best friends were publicly murdered by your beloved Death Eaters. I saw my teachers and classmates, friends and family, be made examples of. I've helped the survivors struggle through their lives while they tried to come to terms with the new world. I've led rescue missions and waited at home for the others to come back. A few years ago, I even thought I had found love again. I didn't think I could ever love anyone after Ron, but then this young fellow from Wales came and helped us fight the Death Eaters. I thought he and I might be able to have something special, but then he committed suicide to keep from being caught on a mission. I got there too late." Hermione's eyes sent off sparks. "Don't you dare say I haven't lost as much as you have. You've lost your freedom, your place in society, even your face, but I've lost everything else. Besides, I didn't choose this life; you chose it."

Draco couldn't think of a single word to say in response. Hermione was exactly right. If only she could know…

"I'm sorry," he finally croaked out. "I didn't mean to belittle your suffering."

But his words did nothing to calm her down. Hermione had had a whole night of being angry to fuel her rage. "Do you know who killed all those people I mentioned? Do you know who made that young man commit suicide? Do you know who does all these horrific things to my loved ones? It's your people, Malfoy. It's your Death Eaters. They're the ones who make getting up in the morning a pain. You may carry your scars on your face, but I carry mine in my heart. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there. I don't care if you think I'm a Mudblood or not! You've chosen to surround yourself with my very worst enemies, and for that I can never forgive you. You're just like your father."

That did it. That last sentence pushed Draco over the limit and had him stepping toward her menacingly. Hermione backed up, reaching for her bedroom door, but Draco grabbed the handle and pulled it shut, pinning her against the wall with an arm on either side of her head. He tried not to pay attention to the terrified yet determined look in her eyes.

"Don't you dare compare me to my father," he said quietly. He didn't even feel like shouting; she was getting the message. "I am not anything like him, and I never will be."

Hermione scoffed. "You're a pathetic Death Eater who couldn't even please Voldemort, no matter how many people you tortured and murdered. You're a bigot, selfish and cowardly. I don't know what you're hiding from yourself, but I think you and your father have a lot in common."

Draco pounded his fist against the wall, making Hermione jump. He moved even closer, so close he could count her thick lashes, close enough to notice for the first time that her dark brown eyes held a tiny ring of golden brown around the pupils. He was trying to intimidate her, to move far enough into her personal space to make her afraid, but she didn't look afraid, and Draco was suddenly less angry and more fascinated. Had he ever really looked into her eyes before? Of course, he had last night, but he had been drunk and didn't remember seeing the three tiny lines creased into the skin beside her right eye, nor the near-invisible scar that crossed the bridge of her nose. Draco wondered if Hermione was noticing the same details in his own gray eyes.

Apparently not. Hermione always looked for an opportunity to take, and she took the one that had been offered. While Draco was staring enraptured into her eyes, she kicked him hard in the shin and threw her left shoulder into his chest, driving him back into the center of the hallway. She whirled around to open her bedroom door for safety, but Draco lunged forward and caught her wrist, pulling her back to himself. He kept a safe distance between them – no need to get dazed again, Draco – but he took both her wrists in one hand and said, "You don't know me like you think you do, Granger. I don't care what you've believed your whole life, but just trust me; I'm not as much like my father as you might think."

"Trust you," she spat. Even when she had no way of defending herself, she still wouldn't give up. "I wouldn't trust you any more than I would Voldemort. You expect me to feel sorry for you just because you're cursed, but you deserve it. Your kind is despised enough by the Order; I can't imagine how unthinkable a deed you must have committed to make Voldemort hate you."

"Listen here, you persnickety little –"

"Oi, Malfoy!" Draco and Hermione both went dead silent. The shout had come from downstairs.

"Come on, where are you, mate?" came a different voice.

Draco let out a muttered curse as Hermione's eyes widened in fear. She started to whisper something to him, but Draco clapped a hand over her mouth. "It's Zabini and Nott," he whispered to her. "We can't let them see you." He looked around quickly and pulled her bedroom door open, motioning for her to go inside. "Hide. I'll try to get rid of them."

Hermione ducked into the room, and Draco turned to face the staircase. Blaise and Theodore rarely came by. Why now, of all times?

Theodore's head popped up above the landing. "Hey, Blaise, I found him!" He strolled casually up the stairs. "Who were you talking to, Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco froze. "I… I wasn't talking to anyone."

"That's a likely story," Blaise commented, following Theodore to the upstairs hallway. "We could hear you shouting from outside, Malfoy. We even listened once we got in here."

"Why, you –" Draco started.

"It was a woman's voice," Blaise interrupted. "And I know for a fact you'd be too scared to talk to your mother that way."

"And no Pureblood witch even knows how to get in," Theodore added.

Blaise grinned at Draco smugly. "So who's the girl?"

Draco sneered. "I talk to myself and do voice impressions at the same time."

"Sure," Blaise said patronizingly. "And I'm the master of the Elder Wand."

Theodore snorted a laugh. "Come on, mate. We won't tell anyone. How'd you get a girl in here?"

"I –"

Draco stopped short as he noticed Blaise poking Hermione's bedroom door. He wanted to tell him to stop, but he knew that would only make both Blaise and Theodore search the room thoroughly. They would know Hermione on sight; Draco couldn't risk that.

"Wait!" he said, trying to think of an excuse. Blaise stopped and looked at him curiously. "Uh… I, uh… I left my… um…that is…"

Blaise and Theodore shared a look, and both of them started for the door.

"No!" Draco threw himself in front of the door. "You're not allowed in there."

"Why not?" Theodore asked. "I stayed in there years ago."

"I know, but, um… it's a mess," Draco said weakly.

Theodore rolled his eyes, flicked his wand, and the door flew open. Draco jumped in ahead of them. Maybe he couldn't stop them from going inside, but he could at least try to protect Hermione when they found her.

"So where is she?" Blaise asked, glancing around the room.

"There's nobody in here except two gits who can't mind their own business."

"I'll agree to that," Theodore said, stepping away from Draco and Blaise. He went to his knees and looked under the bed; finding nothing, he moved to the chest of drawers and started poking around it.

Blaise didn't join in the search, but he seemed interested. Draco, on the other hand, was mystified. Where could she have gone? There was only one window, and the vines around it were immovable. The room had no closet, no vents, no other doors that Hermione could have gotten out of. He just hoped wherever she was, Blaise and Theodore wouldn't find her.

Theodore finally straightened and started to walk toward Draco, casting another glance around the room for good measure. "Well, Blaise, I guess ol' Malfoy's telling the truth."

Blaise gave them both a skeptical look and stepped into the center of the room himself. Draco held his breath as Blaise's dark eyes alighted on the bedroom door. Draco chanced a look over to make sure Hermione wasn't there, but he moved closer to it anyway. Blaise sauntered over and smirked at Draco before giving the wide-open door a sharp kick. Instead of hitting the wall, the door bounced off something behind it, and Theodore laughed as he realized what Blaise already had.

Oh, Merlin, please, no, Draco thought. It was no use to jump forward. Blaise was already nudging the door shut, revealing a nervous-looking Hermione pressed into the corner behind the door. Draco gave her a sheepish look.

"Oi, would you look at that, Blaise!" Theodore exclaimed. "What a dish! Malfoy, you really lucked out this time!"

Blaise didn't say anything, just stared at Hermione. Theodore whistled loudly, and Hermione glared at him.

Draco frowned at Blaise and Theodore. "All right, you've had your fun. You found her. Come on, let's go."

"Is this my old girl, Malfoy?" Theodore asked, ignoring Draco's comment. Draco shook his head no. "Nah, I didn't think so. Sure looks like her though."

"Who is she, Draco?" Blaise asked, speaking for the first time since he had seen Hermione.

Draco tried to recall the name of the girl whose place Hermione had taken. "Um… Amelia."

"Amelia what?" Blaise pressed.

"Thornberry," Draco said.

"It's Finberry," Hermione snapped from her corner.

"Aha!" Blaise shouted. Draco jumped, fearing the worst. "I knew it! That's Hermione Granger!"

Theodore gawked at Hermione. "No… no way! Draco, is it really her?"

Draco merely glared at them.

"Hermione Granger," Blaise drawled, starting to walk closer to her. Draco defensively moved to block his path, but Blaise kept staring at Hermione. "You've been assumed dead for years. How are you even alive, much less here in Malfoy's cursed house?"

"Yeah," Theodore added. "How did you get her in here, Malfoy?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "I didn't get her in here. My mother bought her at a slave market and bound her to me."

Blaise laughed out loud, and Theodore shook his head in amazement. "Does your mother know who she is?"

"No," Draco replied. "She thinks she's Amelia Finberry, a girl who's been on the run for years. Granger somehow got switched with her and bought by my mother as company for me. I'm assuming I can count on you two to keep this a secret?"

"Yeah, sure," Theodore agreed, giving Hermione a suggestive smile.

"Draco," Blaise said seriously, "you do know that if Voldemort finds out she's here, it's not going to end well, right?"

"Yeah, what's he going to do, Zabini?" Draco hissed. "I'm already trapped in my own home without magic. If he killed me, he'd be liberating me."

Blaise nodded his head to concede, and Theodore added, "Besides, Malfoy's probably having the best time of his life with a bird like this as his slave. Malfoy, how much is it to rent her?"

"You can't rent her," Draco said flatly.

Blaise still appeared to be sizing up the situation. "Draco, have you thought about turning her in to Voldemort? I mean, you never know; that could be your ticket to get out of this curse."

"No," Draco said, then amended his statement. "I mean, of course I've thought about it. But I just can't do it. Granger's been through as much or more than any of us, and she's survived this far. Seems a shame to just offer her up as a sacrifice after all she's lived through."

Blaise and Theodore stared at Draco incredulously. "Malfoy, you're not actually…" Blaise said. "You haven't… fallen for her?"

"Merlin, no!" Draco exclaimed, trying to push the thoughts of the moment when he had gotten lost in her eyes in the hallway out of his mind. "I just feel sorry for her, that's all."

"Well, this beats all I've ever seen," Blaise admitted.

"If you don't want her, I'll take her," Theodore said, his smile widening as Hermione scowled at him.

"Aw, Theo, don't rob Draco of the only good time he's had in years," Blaise said teasingly. "I'd say Granger's giving Draco a run for his money on stubbornness. And that's always fun to tame. After all, it's the lionesses that fight the wildest and fall the hardest," he added with a wink.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You two are morons. Now you've got to swear, not a word to anyone. Not even your families or closest friends. No one can be trusted."

"Yeah, yeah, we won't tell anyone, Malfoy," Theodore said. "Though I'd be a whole lot more willing to agree to this if I knew I'd get a turn with her."

"She's mine, Theodore. Don't come near her."

Blaise added his promise as well, and Draco escorted his friends out of the room.

"Nice to see you again, Granger!" Theodore called out. "Hope to see you again soon… with less people around!"

"I'd rather give myself up to Voldemort!" Hermione shouted, slamming the door of all three of their faces.

"Well," Blaise said after a moment. "Granger hasn't changed much."

Two hours later, Draco was standing at Hermione's door again, much calmer since Blaise and Theodore had left the house. He cleared his throat. "Granger?" he called. "If you wouldn't mind coming out here a second, I'd like to talk to you."

Silence. Then the door opened and Hermione appeared, looking slightly irritated. "Good. I want to talk to you, too."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "All right. I just wanted to apologize for Blaise and Theodore. I didn't know they were coming, or I wouldn't have let them see you."

"Well, all I can say is they better keep their promise," Hermione huffed. "Because if they don't, you and I both are going to be worse off."

"They will," Draco assured her, rolling his eyes upwards. "They're not all bad, you know. Just because they're Slytherins doesn't automatically make them Death Eaters."

"Zabini and Nott aren't Death Eaters?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"No. Nott's father is, but Blaise works in the Ministry treasury and Theodore has a job with the Daily Prophet."

"Oh." Hermione cast her gaze down.

Draco tried to ignore her downcast look. "Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for the things they said. I'll try to talk to them and keep them away from you in general. Though, that may be difficult with Theodore. He's kind of known for being persistent with women."

Hermione snorted. "He'll get over it. And this brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about." Draco swallowed hard at the fierce gleam in Hermione's eye. "I just want you to know that I don't buy this whole being nice to me campaign. I don't care what you said earlier; I just want you to know that I'm not falling for it."

Draco gave her a puzzled look. "Granger, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this web you're spinning! I wasn't nicknamed the Brightest Witch of the Age for nothing. I can read between the lines. You're going overboard to show me you've changed. You're pretending to treat me like an equal because you want something. You almost had me going for a second in the hallway earlier! I don't know what it is you're after, but I'm not going to give it to you without a ferocious fight."

"Granger," Draco said, "anything I've done towards you is real. You may not think I'm capable of changing my ways, but I hope you know that you're being very childish and… unfair. You used to talk about equality for the house-elves and the muggles and the muggleborns, but when it comes to forgiving a Pureblood, you just won't have any of it."

"I have no issue with forgiving a Pureblood," Hermione countered. "It's just Death Eaters whom I have trouble with."

"I'm not a Death Eater!"

"Well, you used to be! And an inch is as good as a mile when you're racing for your life."

Draco shook his head. "Fine. You're right. I used to be a Death Eater. But there's a very good reason why I'm not anymore and why I have this curse on me."

"And what is that?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm not going to tell you anything!" Draco shouted. "It's not like you'd listen even if I screamed it in your ear. You're just stubborn and unforgiving. Well, I don't care what you believe. I know the truth. Every bit of kindness I've shown for you is real." He didn't know why he did it, but he added, "Even the hallway."

Hermione looked affronted, then confused, then horrified. She took a few moments to compose herself before she spoke. "Maybe," she said in a low voice, "maybe we should just keep our distance from each other." Before Draco could ask her what she meant, she continued, "Because I have no intention of developing any sort of feelings for you other than indifference. My people will be coming for me soon enough, and until that time, I don't think we should have any contact with each other besides a master and servant relationship. Tell me what duties you expect from me, and I'll keep my distance from you while I complete them."

Draco didn't know what to say. He really didn't know what he had expected her to say, but she had still managed to surprise him. After a moment, he said, "That's fine, Granger. That's just fine."

"So how long do you think it'll be before old Malfoy decides he's in love with Granger?" Theodore asked. He and Blaise had apparated to the Three Broomsticks from Draco's house and were currently having lunch and discussing what they had just seen.

Blaise shrugged. "Who knows? Isolation can do mad things to a man."

"Yeah, especially when he's got someone who looks like Granger living in his house with him. Alone. And without her wand to hex him with."

"True," Blaise agreed, taking a bite of his sandwich. "I don't think it's Draco who'll have the problem admitting his feelings; like you said, he's been without female company for years, and he's always been a little more emotional than most of us. Granger will be the real challenge. She's as stubborn as a mule, and I'm sure she's heard all about Draco's reputation as a Death Eater."

"Do you think she knows about what Draco did that got him cursed?" Theodore asked.

"Nah. She was acting pretty hostile toward him if their shouting match is anything to go by. I'd say she'd feel a little different if she knew."

"Do you think we should tell her?"

Blaise thought for a moment. "No. He must have some reason for not telling her yet. He'll tell her when he's ready."

"Mmhmm," Theodore replied. "So if Granger still sees him as an enemy, do you think she's ever come around to liking Draco back?"

Blaise shrugged again. "I don't know. She's pretty persistent, but then so is Draco. I'd say if he falls in love with her, he'll do anything he can to prove his love to her. And sharing their space certainly will be on his side."

"Do you think he's forced her to sleep with him yet?"

"Nah, probably not. Draco's not the type for rape, especially with someone like Granger. She'd probably claw his eyes out if he tried anything."

Theodore laughed. "So the question isn't if they'll fall in love, but when."

"Yeah, I guess," Blaise said.

Theodore grinned. "How about a bet, Zabini?"

"A bet?" Blaise asked skeptically.

"Yeah! I'll bet you thirty galleons that Granger will take at least a year to admit her feelings. Maybe even longer."

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "A year? No way." His eyes glimmered. "I say Granger will not only fall in love with Draco, but she'll admit it and give in to him by…" Blaise thought for a moment. "By Christmas."

Theodore nearly spat out his drink. "Christmas? Are you daft? That's barely four months! Give the girl some credit, Blaise."

"Nope," Blaise said resolutely. "I say by Christmas."

"Forty galleons says she won't."

Blaise was quiet. "Fifty," he finally said. "If Granger admits that she's in love with Draco by Christmas, you give me fifty galleons. If they're still at odds by then, I give you fifty."

Theodore gave a wolf's smile. "Done."

They both were quiet for a few moments as they ate, but Theodore finally asked, "In the meantime, do you think Granger would fancy an evening with me?"

Hermione sat in the kitchen later that evening, quietly eating the beans and rice she had fixed for herself. She had offered to make some for Draco, but he denied her offer, choosing his Firewhiskey bottle over her cooking. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how often he ate, if ever. He was painfully thin, and his gaunt features only served to exaggerate the scars on his face.

Hermione toyed with her fork as she mulled over the day's events. She and Draco had had a violent disagreement that morning, but still, when he stared into her eyes with such intensity and an almost childlike curiosity, Hermione had felt the spark, too. She had taken the opportunity to get out of his hold, but still… she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened next had she not gotten free.

Could she trust him? He certainly didn't seem to want to hurt her. When they fought, his words – at least when he was sober – were at least somewhat civil. He had even apologized for calling her a Mudblood! Despite her claims, Hermione couldn't detect any insincerity in his words, no matter how hard she tried. She didn't know why he was attempting at a truce between them, unless he had just been alone for so long that he wanted a friend desperately. Desperately enough to want her as his friend.

Hermione could understand loneliness well enough. She had lived with it most of her life.

She narrowed her eyes resolutely as she took her last bite of her dinner. She wouldn't fall for his tricks or allow herself to be seduced by him, but if all he wanted was a friend, she supposed she could be that for him. At least until the Order came for her.

Hermione picked up her dishes and washed them, taking as much time as she could. Draco was in the sitting room, and she wasn't looking forward to walking through to the staircase. After spending as much time as she could polishing the dishes, Hermione turned around, took a deep breath, and marched out of the kitchen, into the dining room, and through the entry hall.

When she reached the sitting room, she was surprised not to see Draco anywhere inside. However, as she passed the center of the room, she noticed him across from her, his head resting on one arm as he slumped into the couch. He was passed out cold, Hermione realized.

She took a few cautious steps toward him, making sure he wasn't awake, and picked up the Firewhiskey bottle on the table in front of him. It was more than half full. Hermione smiled to herself. So he was keeping his word about being careful after all.

Hermione started for the staircase, but just before she reached the first step, she turned, walked back to the couch, and pulled a wool blanket off the top of the couch. The night was chilly, and Hermione didn't know how long it might be before Draco woke up. She spread the blanket over him, pausing just a moment to look at the hand that was visible from under the blanket. There were fewer scars on his hands than his face, but they appeared to be much deeper. He was lucky not to lose his hands, Hermione thought.

Not for the first time, Hermione found herself wondering what it was that Draco had done to warrant such a terrible punishment. It must have been something dreadful.

Satisfied that she had done her job as a servant – and friend, she reminded herself – Hermione returned to the staircase and retreated to her room. She dreamed in shades of silver that night. White and silver.

A/N: Thank you for reading my story! Even if you don't follow or review, I hope you're enjoying reading this fanfic as much as I am writing it. I wrote most of this chapter slightly more in Draco's POV, but I tried not to reveal too much. Fear not and be patient; secrets will be revealed in their own time!

Also, may I just say how kind and encouraging all my reviews have been. You are all such fantastic people, and I'm glad you like this concept. I hope it turns out the way you're expecting.

P.S. 98, I have no idea why your name didn't type out all the way in my last A/N, but I extend my thanks to you, as well as Dancing-Souls, Jake Jackson, RosieJones95, Jillianthompson24, and the two anons. You all rock and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll see you soon!