Vonne: I decided to upload this chapter a bit early, despite not having as many reviews as I'd anticipated for the last chapter. However, it was due to the fact that I wasn't entirely satisfied with leaving it off there, either, that I wanted to submit chapter fifteen so fast. Anyway, here's my responses to all the reviewers from the last chapter-- thank you all so much!

Shining Bright Eyes: Thank you so much! I was so glad to read your review because you're response was exactly what I was hoping everyone else would have. My goal when writing is to make everything seem more NOT like fanfiction and more over like a regular, with problems that work itself out realistically. I definitely want to build on ALL of the relationships you've suggested and I am totally planning on doing that. Anyway, thank you so much for your review. I'm so glad that you understand the direction!

Jade2099: Aw, I am so glad that you liked the previous chapter, as well. I am just so glad that I have readers that understand where I'm trying to take this fan fiction. It's really refreshing! Hermione does seem to be the only sane one so far, but she always has been the most clever! Anyway, thanks so much for your reviews! I really appreciate them!

Dramione1996: Hm, I'm not really sure what happened with that, then. Did you perhaps hit a wrong button? Anyway, thanks so much for your reviews. I appreciate them! Hopefully you'll figure out what went wrong with the chapter mix up- HAH. I woudn't want you to be confused.

Isabella120: Aw thank you! I realized that it wasn't exactly the most captivating chapter previously, but I feel it definitely needed to be written. This chapter's got something happening, definitely, and Hermione gets a bit more insight than she bargained for.

Doni: Thank you! I was so excited to read your comment. I'm so glad that you like the way this is written- so, thank you! And, to top it all off, I loved the words you used in your reviews (both of them). HA!

Chapter Fifteen:
Walk In Closet

Draco Malfoy was buried in the depths of the darkness known as Pansy's walk-in closet. He had pitched his back against the strong wall and pushed himself tightly against it. A rather lavish coat hung delicately in his face and, currently, he had never felt so desperate. A swing of nausea swept over him as he clutched the tiny radio, waiting to hear something, an ounce of breath, or even a mere intake of it. However, the silence was his only company. In the back of Pansy's closet, so big that perhaps it could serve as a spare room, Draco couldn't help himself from sweating. He didn't care about his battered appearance or the fact that the dried blood would probably forever leave a mark on his once nice shirt. All he cared about was hearing that voice again; if he could hear that voice, somehow, he would feel right again.

He shut his eyes in the darkness, plunging himself further into the false night. Pansy had been gone longer than he'd expected, much to his appreciation, and he'd taken to locking himself with the radio for as long as it took. Furthermore, he couldn't quite possibly imagine never hearing from the woman on the other line again. He'd only just began speaking with her, but for one reason or another he'd quite enjoyed doing so-- one of the few things he'd still found himself enjoying. Because while food didn't taste appetizing anymore and even his favorite hobbies seemed pointless and droll, he still found importance in the radio. And such an enjoyment was odd to him, was still odd, but he couldn't deny himself from his own personal satisfaction-- even if it was something he didn't fully understand himself.

Frustrated, he released his finger from the speaker button of the radio, tossed it on top of his piled up coat, and banged the crown of his skull against the wall behind him, croaking out, "dammit!" A collection of Pansy's precious coats fell freely from their hangers and landed lifeless on top of Malfoy's blond head. With a burst of uneasy anger, he wiped each possession from his person, kicking them into even more of a messy clump towards the corner.

Surely, with as much pride as he'd lost over the past five years, he could bring himself to say sorry. However, even he realized that such a thing was only a fabrication of what he actually could do. He bent down gently, picking up the toy once again, and leaning back again; this time standing on his shaky feet. "I know you're there," he tried, tired and almost whining. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "please?"

"I- I'll t-tell you everything," he bargained, shrugging as if to free himself from any embarrassment. "Whatever you want to know, okay? Just..." he let himself trail off. Just what? Answer back? Say something, anything, to let him know that he, Draco, was not alone in the darkness?

The moments before he heard anything was almost unbelievably torturous. He could feel the tenseness build up unwillingly in his throat. His headache doubled and, instantly, he wished that he'd pulled off a more constrained voice. However, his moment of regret only lasted temporarily. "Ah," the voice said with with, just as Draco had barely lost all hope of retrieving any answer at all, "so now you're wanting to talk to me? What's changed from the night before when you completely blew me off?"

Even in his misery, Draco couldn't help but smile. A numbness that was strangely welcomed took over his entire body and he could almost completely block out the pain that so harshly gripped him. She'd answered, despite whatever they'd been arguing about the night before. And for some reason that fact made Draco feel important to someone else. "About that..." he drooled sheepishly, "I'm... uhh... well, you know."

"I know?" The female voice guessed, raising up ever so slightly, "actually, I'm sure I have utterly no clue what you are talking about, sir."

Malfoy frowned. She was pushing it, and he knew it. However, he let his hand fall from the front of his face and whispered as if someone were listening, "sorry. I'm... sorry."

A little giggle rose out through the speakers and Draco looked up, slightly shocked. He hadn't exactly figured that the woman would take his apology as humorous. However, she stopped laughing, lowered her own voice too, and asked with a slightly jokingly flirtatious murmur, "why are we whispering?"

Draco's tone, however, was nothing but serious. He stared at the Muggle radio with narrow eyesight and smoothed back his hair, regaining himself. Though he didn't stop to bother whispering. "I have a bit of a hard time with apologies," he admitted, and then said slightly contradictory, "so, consider yourself lucky."

"Oh, I do," the voice teased, slightly sarcastic. "So," she said, adding on to their conversation with casual intent, "how did your.. err-- plan... work out for you last evening?"

Malfoy hesitated. He looked around at his current predicament. Sitting in the blackness of Pansy's large closet, he felt instantly red in the face. He found himself lucky that there was no way that the woman on the other end of the radio could see his battered face. That way, lying came more easily. "It went... swimmingly," he lied, hitting himself the very moment he'd finished his sentence.

"Really?" Hermione asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"No, not really."

Hermione paused, chewing her bottom lip. Oddly enough, she didn't feel the need to yell out victoriously, "I told you so!" Instead, she found herself at a loss for words. Stammering, she asked, "do... you want to talk about it?"

Once again, Draco muttered with his eyes closed shut, "no, not really."

Then a new bit of silence overtook the two of them. At the other end, alone in her house, Hermione shifted slightly on the couch. Her mood seemed to have instantly lightened ten fold; though it wasn't because of the bad news about the boy's previous night, but only because she'd been talking to him in the first place. Setting aside of steaming cup of tea, she leaned forward on her knees and wrapped the throw blanket around her shoulders. "Well," she said, once she'd decided she'd have enough of the silence, "what are you waiting for?"

Malfoy stammered, uneasily, "... waiting for?"

"You told me you were ready to fill me in on everything." Hermione, with her new posture comfortably leaning back on the living room couch, felt a bit more relaxed. Perhaps she'd accepted the boy's apology too easily, but then again, she'd got out of apologizing herself. What was more touching to her was that he didn't ask her to do so-- and the very fact made her slightly anxious to keep the conversation going.

Draco swallowed hard, "I did, didn't I?" he asked, playfully, however his voice turned instantly serious and solemn. "What is it you want to know?"

Hermione waved her hand around loosely. Her wrist popped, as if having let out as much stress as possible. She shut her eyes, tired of having to answer the boy's same question over again, but slightly glad that she was given the chance to in the first place. She started off by slurring, "I'm not going to ask you about your night before unless you want to tell me." Then, she waited for him to speak up. When he didn't do so, however, she bit her bottom lip, only slightly disappointed. "Okay, then. Start from the beginning. Why are you so miserable."

Malfoy scooted Pansy's coats far away from him, pulled his wand from his pocket, and with a wave, they'd recollected themselves back on their hangers. "I'm warning you right now--"

"I'm a big girl," Hermione snapped, slightly agitated. "I think I can handle whatever it is you have to dish out to me." Once she'd said it, she reeled back, flopping back onto the couch with a somewhat accomplished intake of breath. In real life, Hermione wasn't as confident or as sexy as she so appeared on the other end of the radio. However, there was something about the anonymity that thrilled her, further fueled it. She'd always wanted to be that type of person anyway-- confident, sexy, mysterious. And the silly little toy seemed to bring that part out of her... and she loved it.

Inhaling, Malfoy wasn't too thrilled about the mysterious girl's confidence or enthusiasm. In fact, he bitterly regretted promising to tell her anything in the first place. But he recollected his past several days morosely, realizing that it was either the radio or an actual therapist. Wincing, he remembered the feeling of being completely lost in that office and he knew that he never wanted to go back. "During the battle," he started, instantly thrusting himself into the bet that he'd promised on giving, "I wasn't really on the best side..."

Hermione gasped, reeving forward. "You were a Death Eater?" she accused, her voice hoarse and sharp. The robe had slipped from one of her boney shoulders, and her hair fell slyly across her face. A buzz ran through her mind. She'd realized the worst, but somehow she couldn't manage to put down the radio. Her fingers gripped it tight-- so tight that her knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white.

Malfoy turned a bright shade of red in the dark closet. "I never said that," he flushed, his hair falling messily in front of his forehead.

Huffing, Hermione shifted. Her own hair now covered half her face. "Surely," she breathed, tirelessly, "you implied it."

Once again, Draco pressed a hand to his face, though he left it there without any movement. He spread only his two longest fingers to peak through them, and just managed not to slump to the ground. "I'm not a Death Eater," he only half-lied. True, he had been, once... but that was the past. And the woman on the other end didn't need to know that much of it.

"Yes you are, admit it!" Hermione recoiled, brining her forehead with a newfound frustration. "You said... you said you wouldn't lie!" The way in which her voice sounded, she almost came off as scolding. However, the breathlessness in which she spoke made her sound almost emotional with shock. In fact, she had to hold her quivering chest.

"And what if I were?" Draco whispered, altogether more humiliated. His hand still pitched over his entire face, his eyes were pressed shut. Maybe being completely embarrassed of his past was part of the core reason why he was so depressed in the first place. He thumped the back of his skull against the wall, cursing himself angrily. Then the circumstances took a strange twist- neither of the two said a word and it wasn't the same quietness that had infiltrated their conversations before. As Draco's head began to buzz, Hermione felt her face completely heat.

She wanted to both thrust the radio against the wall and trace down whomever this person was, as well. She took back every bit of resentment she'd had in her past, allowing absolutely detest fill her entire torso once again. Maybe Ron was right, maybe it was necessary to hold grudges. And just when she was starting to like this boy on the other end...

"Who is this?" she spat, clearly angry.

But Draco's head was only filled with humiliation. "I..." he began, but his nerves stopped him. Finally, he slid back down Pansy's closet wall, pressed his forehead to his knees, and murmured sheepishly, "I never said I'd tell you..."

"Well you don't have to tell me, sir." Hermione grumbled. She'd lifted herself up from the couch, her fists clenched. "It's been five years, but I still have every right to be... to be..."

"Angry," Draco finished her sentence for her. Swallowing hard, he nodded against his knees, screwing up his hair even more. "And you're right... you--"

Heated and flushed and throbbing, Hermione cut him off instantly, not even completely hearing what he was saying through the speakers. She couldn't help the frustrated tears that filled her eyes and as she felt the intense lump in her newly sore throat, she waltzed from behind the coffee table, nearly tripping over it in the process. "And you know how many... how many lives you and your... your cult put in danger? How many lives you ended!"

He didn't move a muscle. Only opened his mouth to agree with her, once again falling silent. Despite himself, he could feel his own overwhelming burst of guilt take over. Perhaps he'd better have stuck with the therapist, where at least he was so far gone he couldn't even remember the session to begin with. But this, this now, was grueling and almost completely unbearable. And the worst part about it all was that she was right. Every disgusting word she threw at him, every accusation, was one hundred percent justified. Frog-like and groggy, he nodded with a hoarse voice, "yes, and I--"

Hermione glowered, her eyes burning mental little holes through the plastic device. "You what?" she hissed.

"I- I a-agree with you... with... with everything you said." The admission didn't come as hard as Draco had expected. In fact, saying such a thing out loud felt almost freeing. He lifted his head up from his knees, cradled it in his clammy palms, and swallowed bitterly.

And when Hermione repeated herself, her tone lacked any amount of detest at all. Only confusion riddled her soul as she repeated once again, "what?"

"You're absolutely right," Draco muttered in the dark. "Everything you said is right and... I- I.. I have to live with that."

Once again, the both were at a loss. Instantly, Hermione felt weak in the knees and she back stepped, colliding with the kitchen island instantly. For a moment she'd even wished she could take back her yelling. Though it had allowed her to let out all the bottled up anger she didn't even realize she'd had, she had completely reverted back to her old self-- had been hypocritical. Though she had to admit that she wasn't expected as an answer to her outburst. She sniffed, pushing her hair out of her face with the entire front palms of her hands, and then messed her hair back up by running a shaking hand through it.

She turned herself around, pressing herself against the island completely. "what?" Malfoy lifted his head. From the speakers, Hermione could hear that he was attempting to repeat himself again. "No, no," she advised strictly, "don't speak... don't... d-don't you say anything." Obliging, Malfoy fell silent.

What was it that made him want her to not hate him? His heart beat anxiously in his skeleton. He'd hoped that she wouldn't resent him forever, but knew that he probably deserved everything that she could feel for him. However, her silence didn't last long. She'd thought out what she'd needed to and he could hear her footsteps as she paced against the tiled floor of her house, apartment, closet, whatever. "Well, that makes sense," she said in a whisper, "with you being so completely mental." Hermione slid her own palm down the front of her face. "So, you've begun," she said, shaking with what was unquestionably anger. However, it seemed to be dying with every passing moment, "keep going."

Malfoy blinked, "k-keep?--"

"Going! Merlin!" Hermione spat.

"I've been... questioning everything ever since the Battle was a main topic of... Voldemort's." Draco swallowed, feeling a ping of fear even merely muttering the deceased man's name. Hermione at the other end caught on, but managed to refrain herself from feeling any pity. Instead, she stepped away from the island, sluggishly strode across the kitchen floor, and headed straight for the first place she figured Ron and Harry wouldn't find her. On fast feet, she made for her bedroom, kicking aside any loose articles of clothing that lined the floor, and sat on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. However, she sat silent, listening with undeniable fascination. "I didn't want to be part of the whole thing anymore..."

She allowed him to continue, taking note of the difficult time he'd had speaking any of it at all. "You... you don't even know what they made me do. And I was stuck there by more forces that one. I...I didn't know what to do because if I left... if I left, they'd kill me."

Hermione couldn't help but slink down lower. Her mind was buzzing in all different directions. Who was this? It had been five years and there had been many Death Eaters released from prison for numerous reasons. And then instantly her mind found the ghost of the newspaper. Gregory Goyle, she thought bitterly, or any of the underground followers. There were way too many for her to even remember. Then she thought back to the paper with more severe interest: Draco Malfoy.

However, she instantly brushed that thought away. Her better sense told her that there was no way Draco Malfoy was the boy on the other end of the radio. First off, he hadn't even stepped out of his house until recently. How would he have stumbled upon the radio she'd set out? Besides, Draco lacked any... any charm. No, Hermione was sure that, of all things, it could not be Draco Malfoy.

"Perhaps they should have killed you," Hermione responded, more harsh than she'd anticipated. However, the voice fell silent, as if agreeing with her, as well. "Go on," she commanded, pressing her eyes shut. She felt stupid, despite herself. She had thought that the boy was interesting and charming and intelligent. She'd thought that she enjoyed having conversations with him. She'd thought that maybe he was a good person despite all his past.

Malfoy groaned, miserably, "granted," he began, firstly agreeing to her previous statement of damnation. He inhaled, completely forgetting about his battered appearance- he was much more concerned about the situation at hand now. "...I guess what I'm trying to s-say is that I... I'm a little bit broken." A whirlwind of humiliation rushed through him yet again. But he'd had to say it.

"I'm guessing," Hermione spat, only slightly more calmed herself, "that you lived at the Malfoy Manor."

Draco's heart skipped a beat and his instant reaction was to lie. Stammering, he only responded, "y-yes, but... but only after a while. I... I was there..." he ran he hand once again through his blond head of hair. "Generally, I was there for only a while. I didn't spend most of my time there..." He pounded his forehead nervously, waiting for her answer.

Hermione leaned forward on her own, pressing her face into her lap. So it wasn't Draco Malfoy.

"Now let me ask you this," she began, flustered beyond belief, "why in the world did you hate it?" When she spoke next, she was only being half sarcastic. In all honesty, she didn't truly believe much about the boy's misery now. What she'd considered him to be was nothing more than a criminal, only sorry for having been caught. Did his pride get popped like a mere bubble? Was the newfound infamy too foreign and harsh for him? An overwhelming heatstroke overtook her beating heart. Her anger was almost absolutely uncontrollable. "I mean," she laughed, so bitterly that she surely had given Malfoy her harsh message, "don't get me wrong- the people there were the most disgusting people that lived on this planet. But, they gave you everything. You were part of their... their group. You helped them out, didn't you? Besides, the Malfoy's mansion is, unfortunately, a lovely home. Surely, it couldn't have been that awful."

Malfoy shook his head, which throbbed mercilessly, "that's not how it was... at all. Please," he merely whispered, "you have to believe me. If I could have left... I would have. That place... the Manor, it was a living hell."

"Doubtful," Hermione croaked. Then, biting her lip, she added child-like, "I don't believe you. You understand, I'm sure."

Only able to reside in his own stammering, Draco couldn't quite manage a sturdy tone of voice. In fact, the only thing that he could even muster was to hoarsely start, "I... I..."

He could feel the stinging burn in the depths of his throat, and he couldn't quite help it. He didn't want to remember anything about his old house, didn't want to remember even the slightest thing about it. Even the minimal childhood memories that he could remember had been tainted by death and murder and torture and pain. He could feel the intensity that ached his sore eyes, felt them dampen and cursed himself for breaking down so easily. What was happening to him? At once he'd been so hard, and now, even the mere mention of his past completely tore him to pieces. He couldn't do this, but he knew he had to. Despite everything, he knew he had to.

"I can't even begin to start. It doesn't start anywhere..." he chocked out, feeling himself loose any sense at all. "I couldn't even p-pick a place. But saying it is fuzzy and beyond me... that would be a lie because I r-remember e-every single moment of it. And I'll never forget any of it."

"What was so awful, huh?" Hermione asked, shakily, "pray tell, because I'm sorry but this is completely beyond me."

Draco shook his head. He could fell the aching sensation that tortured his entire body. His arms ached and the open gashes on his face seemed to sting and burn with every twist of his head. But this was nothing to what he'd felt during his time with the Death Eaters, during his time back at his home. However, he'd already started and he realized that he was way too far in to go back now. Confessions seemed to pour out of him, flood-like and unstoppable. And while he hadn't fully crumbled yet, he could fell a breakdown nearly upon him. With every stammer, his throat tightened and his heart beat fast and even faster.

His eyes shifted around the depths of the dark closet, half weary that Pansy would walk in at any moment. She'd been gone for a while, and such a thing was possibly a risk. He couldn't let her see him like this, not when he was supposed to be sleeping soundly in her bed. And then he heard it, the door whirl open, and the sing-song voice of Pansy, happy to have finally nabbed Draco after all. "Draco!" she called from downstairs, and Malfoy could hear the rustle of her baggage as she set them down on the ground.

"I..." Malfoy started, breathless from the instant bit of energy that gripped him. "I h-have to go."

"Excuse me?" Hermione spat, half expecting for him to spill out everything. And she might have just about gotten lucky, for Draco had expected himself to do the very same.

But Malfoy was pushing his way through the closet, bending down with full force to scoop his jacket up off of the floor. "I'm sorry," he added hoarsely. "I p-promise I'll let you know whatever you want... tomorrow. Just---"

"Fine," Hermione cut him off, once again. She released her hand from the speaker of the radio and tossed the thing lightly in front of her, as if it had just burst into flames. For a moment, Malfoy froze, staring at the radio with shock as he'd realized that she'd left. A swimming rush of relief rushed over him, but at the same time he felt a sickening feeling of utter loss. However, nothing of the sort could stop him. He heard Pansy's light footsteps climb the marble staircase and he bolted from the wall to the closet door, stumbling over his own feet. Kicking off his shoes, he flung each one to the side of the bedroom wall and thrust his jacket to the floor.

With shaky hands he untucked the button up from his trousers, to make himself appear even more convincing, and climbed back onto the bed, pulling the elegant covers back over his face. And as he did this all in one single breath, he heard the door to Pansy's beautiful bedroom swing open. She swiftly made way to the bed and under the covers Draco pressed his eyes shut. "I brought you some steak," Pansy offered, lavishly bragging about the quality of the meal in general. But to himself Draco grimaced; he'd hated steak.

"Mmm," he moaned, despite himself, staring at the take-out tray containing the grotesque meat. Pansy's eyes twinkled, but she was staring at Malfoy only. Awkward and a bit uneasy, Draco finished off with a politely meek, "thank you."

"Of course, Draco," Pansy nodded, scooting away from him. Then she attended to her bag, lifting out a brand new coat from the paper, and heading to her closet to hang it back up. As she stuffed the gorgeous article away, Draco picked disgustedly at his meat. "Draco," Pansy called from inside the large closet.

Looking up from his food, he set the plate aside, at least forcing some pieces of it down his throat. He sighed, shifting a little bit against the pillows, that were hard and uncomfortable. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" She asked again, emerging from the closet and shutting it briskly. "You look like you've been... I don't know... crying."

The previous statement stumped him. Slightly struck, he cursed himself with slight aggression. He'd thought he'd pushed away any sign of discomfort from his visage before Pansy walked in. However, his obvious sign of failure only further added to his misery. "Oh, no," Malfoy shook his head, "I'm fine... I just... had a bad dream."

Pansy smiled, smoothing back her hair. She didn't press the issue, but only seemed happy with the answer she'd received. "You won't be having nightmares for too much longer, I promise," she suggested. "Anyway, about our dinner plans," she began again, "I was thinking we'd go on a picnic tomorrow-- not out in public. Just in the backyard. The fresh air might be good for you." Draco watched Pansy smooth out the sheet in front of him. There she went again- thinking for him. However, all the while he did not detest her for it. He only felt more puppet-like, considering the fact. And how could he sa no to her? This was his future he would be denying-- and he couldn't have that.

"Okay," he merely said, forcing Pansy's face to instantly brighten.

"Okay," Pansy responded, but simply out of excitement. She pulled off her coat and strode over to the mirror, expressing concern at her messy hair. She grabbed for the hair brush and ran it through her dark hair with determination. And watching her from the bed, Malfoy sunk a bit lower, watching the lump the little radio made in the pocket of his dark coat. Thanking the woman mentally for not speaking any more of the subject once he's begged her to let him go, he felt a slight attachment for her. "And now that we're going out... perhaps we should have dinner with your parents sometime soon."

His parents. Draco Malfoy could feel himself completely drain. He hadn't planned that far. But how couldn't he have? What did he think was going to happen? Of course, his parents would be all too thrilled with the idea of Draco Malfoy seeing Pansy. "My parents?" he asked her, watching her face morph in the reflection of the mirror.

"Yeah," Pansy responded, "they'd enjoy such a thing, don't you think?" Of course they would, but currently Draco was being selfish.

However he nodded, ignoring the ill feeling that ran through his veins. "Okay," he said back, one of the only few phrases that he'd found himself muttering as of lately anyways. "Okay, sure."

"Lovely!" Pansy beamed, spinning back around. With her makeup and hair refreshed, she nodded towards the plate in front of her brand new 'boy-friend'- presumably her future husband- and said with a smile, "now eat your steak, darling. That shit's pricey."

Vonne: REVIEW! (: