Vonne: Okay, I might have not made it clear last chapter and that's totally my fault-- this is the second to last chapter of THIS story, but only of the first part! :) I'm going to make a second part that is just a continuation off of where this one ends (which is the next chapter). The only reason that I'm making this story two parts is that I am uncomfortable with millions of chapters in one story. Ha, it just kind of bothers me, personally. But I am SO glad that you are all so into this! I'm glad that you all like it and guess that part two will have about thirty chapters in it, as well. So, this story as an entirety has a while left! There's no way it could end now... far too much to tie up! :)

Now, there is one more chapter IN THIS PART! :) Please let me know if you're more confused.

Let's Go Skydiving: First off, I love your username! :) And second, thanks so much! I'm glad you like the way this is set up- it means a lot to me.

Doni: Yeah, he will. HA Draco's a little bit uneasy with the fact that he's got feelings for Hermione Granger, of all people. But he'll get used to it. You still see more of his resistance in this chapter, but he truly does have feelings for her. And that is how this chapter ends. You'll see... hope you enjoy it!

Thwarted Moony: Aw thank you! I'm glad you're planning on reading the second part, because that makes me extremely excited to write it! :)

HardlyThere: Oh no! I'm sorry I confused you. This is only the second to last chapter of THIS part. There is still a second part coming, so this story as an entirety is far from over. I hope that clears everything up and I'm so glad that you like this story so far!

Dramione1996: HA, yes, in their own special way, they've made up. :)

Isabella120: Thanks so much! And no, not almost over! :) I hope the explanation at the top clarifies! :)

Voldyismyfather: Thank you! :) I hope you like this chapter, as well.

KishigoandDramioneRULE: Thank you! I'm so happy that you liked it. I hope you like this chapter as well. I wrote and rewrote it and tried to make it perfect. :)

Lily18dm: Aw! Your review made me smile. Actually, it reminded me that I need to update soon. Hopefully you'll get the update notice in your email ASAP. And I'm so glad you liked the way I planned things out. HA, you have no idea how long I tried to think of how I was going to do it. I think it's very important for Draco to have a friend... not just Hermione, who will be more than his friend. But Goyle's important to Draco, considering they practically went through the same thing together.

Weather Watch: Thanks! HA, verryyy concerned.

Anavell: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter, too. I added something that I think may be long awaited. :)

Shining Bright Eyes: Oh, definitely you're getting some hints! :) I think there's a BIG hint in this one! HA!

Jade2099: Yes, Draco's a bit nutters, isn't he. But that's exactly the point! :) He's a little bit too unstable. And that's what I'm going to touch up more on in the second part... Draco's sanity. :)

Chapter Twenty Nine:
For Your Consideration

Draco Malfoy awoke with a start. His mouth was dry and his forearm was crusted with the lingering wetness of leftover blood. He lifted his face up from his arm and blinked about the blackness. In the darkened forest, he'd initially considered himself to have been completely alone, left there without having even expect it. Until finally he spotted her. Hermione Granger was still on her back and she might have not moved a muscle if her even weren't closed. Her chest heaved up and down but only in a way that was slow and rhythmic, as if she was one with the wind in the way she inhaled her air. Her curly hair was still sprawled out about her skull, and her hands were thrust out on the open floor, her fingers gracefully curled at the tip.

For a slight moment, Draco considered not moving her. She looked almost purely peaceful, as if waking her up would be nothing but a sin. But the falling rain above him seemed to snap him to his senses. Though only lightly dropping, he decided to roll over, pick up her jacket that he hadn't even realized he'd kept, and tuck it under his arm. Still achingly sore, Draco crawled forward, the palms of his hands pressing low into the forest grounds. Through the fabric of his pants, he could just feel the prick of the twigs below him. But that was not much of an issue. His only focus was the girl in front of him, so ignorant to the miserable weather, so quiet and captivating in her sound sleep.

And what was the point? In reality he could have just let her sleep. It was only a storm and she was only a girl. Wasn't she? This girl, she lie flat on the ground, her mouth open letting out slightly slurred groans with every passing minute. Malfoy fought against the thoughts that now tormented him; she was both beautiful and horrible there in front of him. And yet he still hadn't figured her out entirely. Nearing her, he was certain that his curiosity was merely part of his delusion. He wasn't right, Goyle had even said, he was sick, and Hermione Granger was not the cure, but rather a symptom. Either way, that fact didn't stop him from moving towards her. Each inch forward was a stretch towards something he hated to find himself desiring. And still he maliciously shook his head free of these rancid thoughts. He wasn't himself. Hermione was wrong, maybe he hadn't changed.

In the rush of the mild wind, a soft voice said, "Draco Malfoy, you have not changed a bit. Five years makes not a slight difference. Don't be a child. Don't fool yourself." And the voices were real as day. He could hear the voice of Voldemort, high-pitched and demanding whispering with an almost caring tone in his open ear. The loud squeal said with an amused laugh, "do not fool yourself, Draco. Only I know your soul." And nonetheless, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He ceased his motions, froze within himself, and because he couldn't move forward he curled himself up tight, pressed his sweaty palms over his ears. His eyes burned with tears and he felt the sting of a sharp knife in the pit of his throat. The rain hit his back, hit his head, hit his skull that covered his very brain. And all the while the voice was still close to his ear, so close that he could feel the breath-like blow that might have been only the wind.

Something beat rapidly in his pulse and he couldn't take it. Pettigrew scratched the walls and now all Draco could think about doing was tearing the grass out of the very ground beneath him. And it was undoubtable that it hurt like hell, he could feel the pressure in the core of his very being, rupturing his skeleton, burning his heart. He told himself that it wasn't real; it wasn't real because he was completely crazy. Completely insane and delusional. Now he was curled in a ball, his palms clenched over his eardrums, trying to block out a voice that wasn't even really there to begin with. Draco Malfoy may have not been the same person that he was five years ago but, really, what did that make him now?

Still he unhinged himself, ignored the voice by simply focusing ahead of him. If he'd ignored it, perhaps it would go away, too. He moved forward slowly, each shaking hand forced to literally take hold of the emerald grass below him. He coughed, sniffed, lifted a hazy hand to push the water off of his face. When finally, he reached Hermiones body, he lunged vibrantly for her, the voice in his head almost as loud as audibly possible. The voice was screaming at him now, laughing at Malfoy's confusion. But Malfoy shut his eyes and swallowed hard, pulling his hand out and grabbing Hermione's outstretched forearm almost far too harshly. And at moment the voice stopped, cut off by something abruptly. Perhaps the voice had been choked or, rather, sliced by the throat completely. But either way, Draco Malfoy blinked at the newfound silence, his chest heaving up and down, his fingers almost digging into Hermione's pale skin.

Hermione's eyes shot open. She bolted up off of the ground in an instant, her eyes wide and horrified. She gasped, shocked at the sharp pain that pierced her, and whisked her arm away. However, she did not move and instead stared back at Malfoy with a curious look of her own. She ignored her stinging arm, leaned forward and caught sight of his soaking wet face. "What?" she asked with a quick aggression. "What's going on? Malfoy, what's happened?" She looked as if she were about to hop of on her feet and she made a quick leap towards her wand.

Her eyes scanned the face she'd just healed, now covered in dirt, red from having been pressed up against the knob of his own knees. Malfoy's bruised eye was almost shut from the swelling, though it was obvious that he had been crying. Quickly Hermione's eyes scanned the scene around her and, though it was beautiful, she could tell that she was alone. Still, the nerves in the boy across from her made her almost physically ill. He looked as if he were about to be sick at the very moment, his eyes glazed over and his stance almost havering in the light of being excessively unsteady. "Draco," Hermione asked, this time softening her voice, "what? W-What's wrong?"

But Malfoy was glancing around the clearing on his own now, as if looking for something specific. Then he pressed both of his eyes tightly shut, scrunching his face up. He lifted both of his hands to his head and pressed his sweaty palms against his face. Then, like this, he allowed his hands to once again flop back down, his shoulders low and defeated. Nonetheless, the voice was gone. He knelt in complete silence, filled with only the sound of Hermione's frantic breaths. Once again Hermione broke the silence, her voice nothing more than a simple little whisper. "Draco," she said slowly again, her own hands flat at her side as well, "please. What's the matter?" Malfoy's silence made her uneasy, a bit overly anxious. As she sat on her knees on the forest floor, she watched his face, fearful and horrified. He stood hazily as if he were expecting something. To this, Hermione asked sincerely, "did you have a nightmare? Was that it?" Malfoy's heart was pounding faster and faster with every passing second and to Hermione's question he privately thought to himself: if only.

Anxiously, Draco opened his eyes, let his limbs hang loose. He shook his head, swallowed the same lump that just would not cease its annoying consistency. Everything about him was numb and buzzing. He could have passed out if only he could relax enough to succumb to such actions. But his temples were pounding too severely, his mind was running too fuzzily, and his heart was pumping on nothing but what seemed like battery acid. Hermione's face in front of his, she looked as if she were about to melt into one big puddle. Her expression was so soft and so scared all at once. She was lovely and curious and anxiety ridden. There was nothing she could do but sit; she'd asked all her questions and Draco, he wasn't much help. As a matter of fact, his uselessly uneasy stature was in its own way increasingly sickening.

"Draco," Hermione tried again, though her more sensible brain told her that her pleas were utterly useless, "please. C-Can you hear me?"

Oh yes, Draco Malfoy could hear her fine. In his blank mind he could hear nothing but the voice of Hermione Jean Granger; her eyes opened wide, she was watching him closely. Another lump plagued Draco's dry throat and he swallowed it, trying to calm himself almost too desperately. "Voices," he told her anxiously, his voice raspy as if he'd just run an entire relay. And why he was being so honest with her wasn't even the issue anymore. All Draco could think about was telling her. It wasn't a desire, but an obligation. He needed her to know because he hoped more than anything that she could help him, could fix it like she fixed the mess on his face. The dried blood on his shirt, the very blood that matched the massive amount of it on his face, it stood out vibrantly on his pale face, as well as on his white shirt. In the cold he felt nothing but heat and his head was suffering greatly. Despite himself, despite the illness that seemed to delay any of his usual reactions, he told her, "I-I've b-been hearing voices."

Hermione paused for a moment, considering this. Then, remaining still, she repeated uneasily, "hearing voices?"

But Malfoy was in hysterics. His face was now completely wet, his eyes glazing over with oncoming tears. He didn't care that he was loosing it, loosing it in front of Hermione Granger, even. He'd just wanted it fixed. Why would Goyle and Pansy lead such normal lives? Why couldn't he forgive himself and forget the past? The stinging prickle of the wind once again poked restlessly at his face, turning the tip of his nose red. He could feel a sting of bile boil up in his throat and he wondered why he was growing ill? Could he truly not take much of this any longer or, maybe, was even his body failing him? "And he's in my head. I can hear him, too."

"Who?" Hermione asked instantly, this time moving forward. She seemed to sense the nausea that was creeping up on his, seemed almost perfectly prepared for him to fall completely unconscious. "Who are you talking about, Draco?" she asked gently, lifting her hands up as well. She grabbed his shoulders and she held him upright with a gently stern grip.

Malfoy's face twisted slightly and he said out loud with desperation, "Voldemort."

Hermione's face fell. Her mouth dropped slightly, open just minimally. Her hands rose from her shoulders and she stared, captivated, at his face. Then with shivering hands of her own, she pushed the tears away from Malfoy's face, placed her hand on his freezing cold cheek. "Draco," she said softly, "Voldemort's dead. It's not real, okay?" But nonetheless he was shaking, looking around as if he'd expected to hear the Dark Wizard once again at any second. "It's all in your head. Listen, you're not in danger, okay? You're going to be okay, Draco, just please, calm down."

However, Malfoy only seemed to further sway in his spot. He leaned forward and then pushed himself back, the rain getting caught in his hair, plastering it to his face. And Hermione was starting to feel it too, the rain soaking her curly hair and flattening it upon her own chilly skin. Finally, when the two had done nothing but stare at one another, Draco cleared his throat. He blinked once again, as if to try and clear his eyes. And while he only did so unsuccessfully, he glanced around, finally feeling a bit embarrassed. "We," he started slowly, "we should go."

Nodding, Hermione slipped her hand off of Malfoy's cheek, stood up and offered him her hand. Taking it, Draco regained a much more proper stance and nodded a humiliated thanks in her direction. "Ready?" she asked him, looking off into the trees. Whether or not he wanted to walk home alone, Hermione wasn't going to permit him to do anything of the sort. In fact, now more than ever she felt much more of a strong attachment to him. He really was not right and yet, there was something so saddening about him at the same time. She could not shake the feeling of desiring to fix it, make everything alright again. And so now he was hearing voices, voices of the dead, nonetheless. But he was sick and suffering and miserable and Hermione rationalized it, feeling more pity than she'd ever thought possible.

But Malfoy nodded, signifying that he was in fact ready to leave the clearing. So Hermione picked up her pace, meeting him at his side and watching him out of the corner of her eyes. Her mind raced and slowed at the same time. And there he was, walking next to her, hazy and unsteady. She could still see the red tint that he'd held about his eyes, still left over from only moments ago. As he walked he watched his feet and he arms were loose, hanging on two shoulders that had sunk down far too low. He seemed to be lost in thought, too, and all the while Hermione found herself desiring to know of what he was thinking of. But still she managed to contain her curiosity, remaining silent at his side, waiting for a moment as to where talking would suffice.

However, perhaps talking was not the answer to her curiosity. From her pocket Hermione removed her hand and permitted her wrist to carry her fingers towards Malfoy's palm. Then, finally, when her hand met with his, her fingers interlaced around his lightly, squeezing his only once before relaxing within his palm altogether. On impact Draco looked down and then back up at her, a rather confused expression etched on his face. But he did nothing. And in the stillness of the night, Hermione was certain that he'd slightly stopped shaking. "You're going to be okay, Draco," Hermione told him, watching him watch his scuffed shoes. "Okay?"

She stood back away from him, watching him completely. His eyes searched her face, still not believing her. Nonetheless, Hermione was almost lost, by then she'd noticed the anxiety in her stomach and her pounding heart behind her weak skeleton. And perhaps she couldn't help herself, perhaps she'd felt she'd wanted to lean in and embrace him for a long time. But why was that? Was it because she was sick, too? Greatly, Hermione doubted this. She could see that Draco Malfoy was, more than honestly, trying. He was not a killer, and he never had been. He was not the same person that he was at school and even the very thought of it had even physically tormented him. Sure the situation was complex, but Hermione had dealt with worse. Thus she inched forward, as if to end off her sentence with a signature embrace. Lightly she kissed his lips and then drew back, as if she'd instantly snapped out of her curiosity to do so. She slipped her hand out of his, said stupidly, "oh no... oh shit, I'm sorry."

Though Malfoy only stared back at her, his gaze was merely temporary. Instead, he stepped slightly forward, felt a strong rush as he put his hands on her face and leaned in, following her as she backed up against the nearest tree trunk, her hands feeling the back of it to steady herself up against the side. She felt his cold hands on her face, but she didn't draw back. Instead she pressed her hands over his freezing ones, being just as soft. The rain above them slipped off the looming leaves of the tree they were under, falling in Hermione's wet hair and clinging on to Draco's dark coat. In the blackness, the stars seemed almost perfect, and the dewy emerald grass just barely seeped through Hermione's shoes and in to her socks. And really she couldn't bring herself away. Her heart was pounding much faster than before, but she'd felt more and more easy as the moments passed on. And then finally Malfoy pulled himself away, looking at her with such sincerity that she thought she could be surely weak in the knees.

Simply in all seriousness, Malfoy said as he looked directly into her eyes, "I need to go back to therapy."

Nodding, Hermione said warmly, "okay," she said breathlessly, "okay, I'll go with you."

And a quick rush built up quickly in Draco Malfoy's frozen chest. Then Malfoy leaned in again, kissing her once again before pulling himself back. "I need to try to stop drinking," he said again, still watching her earnestly.

This time Hermione leaned inwards. She enjoyed feeling warm even while holding onto his cold hands. She kissed him in a signature way and then stopped, leaning back against the tree trunk saying in turn with a slight smile, "that one's a given."

Malfoy stopped, at first looking hurt, but then allowing a smile to fall over his own face, as well. He said pressing his forehead up to hers, "don't patronize me."

And Hermione said back, "whatever."

Lying on her back, Hermione Granger found herself wondering how it was that she'd actually gotten herself to this point. So far, she'd considered just about every possibility, including the theory that everything, absolutely everything, was far beyond her control. The irrational part of her widely rational brain told her that the night was simply destined to turn out the way it had, that she had no other choice but to inevitably go along with the punches. Stupidly, she told herself on occasion that she could blame the events on the direction of the wind, or the alignment of the stars in the sky. She'd even considered placing the blame on the aroma of the air; perhaps it had been far too freshly scented outside. However, Hermione Jean was far too smart for such nonsense and she knew that fate had nothing to do with the way in which her night played out. Kissing Draco Malfoy was her choice and she found, the more she sat down and considered it, that she wasn't regretful.

So, with her hand outstretched, she felt the fingers that she'd been clinging on to. Malfoy was close enough to see in the fog, but distant enough for Hermione's arm to be completely straightened. She could barely see him through the thick air ahead of her, but she could see that his eyes were wide and opened. His mouth was slightly parted, too, and he seemed to be considering the sky more than anything else in the world. And where did that leave Hermione? Truth be told, she'd considered every ludicrous idea and now she'd had nothing more to consider.

What she'd remembered was minimal, because she hadn't realized how fast everything had taken place. She'd felt a rush and had leaned in, embraced the boy she'd never thought she'd kiss in her lifetime. But then, there he was kissing her back. And then, who was she kidding? It wasn't as if she'd gone a day previously without thinking about Malfoy; it wasn't as if she'd never thought about doing what she'd done, either. So then, why was it that she didn't consider her actions to have let herself down? More precisely, she seemed to have redeemed herself, though from what she hadn't truly figured out as of yet. Though, nonetheless, she was still rather content with herself, sitting there with her hand in his.

But perhaps it should have scared her, but then again... maybe not.

Draco Malfoy, lying there next to her, he looked like an angel. His white-blond hair was spread about his pale face and his white skin seemed almost transparent. But the undoubtable tragedy that always seemed to emulate from him was still ever so present. The dark bags around his face circled his gray eyes and even with a slight smile, he seemed to be consumed by a grimace. "So," she asked, watching him carefully, "where does this leave us?"

"Hm?" Malfoy blinked, rather wiped out of his thought-filled daydreaming. His head clearly turned and he focused his eyes back on Hermione, who had been looking at Malfoy perhaps much longer than even she had anticipated.

Hermione fixed herself upon the wet floor below her. Funnily enough, Draco was the one who had been so set on leaving the forest, but then, he'd been the one to sit back down again. Or, at least she'd thought he'd been the one to physically suggest upon it. With their hands set back and forth on one another, it wasn't exactly easy to tell; however, either way, still embracing they'd managed to settled themselves back upon the grass, having left the thick tree trunk entirely. Of course, their natural location wasn't really the point of Hermione's initial question. She'd been more concerned about their mental positions and so, to clarify, she repeated out loud, "where does this leave us, then?"

Malfoy's pale face reddened. He contemplated Hermione's inquiry and then, looking a bit more than simply lost, he turned back to her with nothing. "I dunno," he said honestly, looking a tad frustrated with his own answer. Much to her own dismay, Hermione felt her chest dropping along with the expression that had been etched on her face. Though what did she expect? She was questioning a boy who was too far gone to consider such circumstances; he was miserable and forlorn and a little bit crazy. She thought back to only an hour ago: he'd been hearing voices, for crying out loud.

Consequently, her face matched the color on Draco's. "Ah," she said back.

Instantly Malfoy seemed to catch on to Hermione's hint of disappointment. "No," he said quickly, trying not to stutter, "no, that's... not what. I didn't mean..." With his free hand, Draco lifted his sweaty palm and ran it across his face. When his hand reached the endpoint of his chin, he looked back at her, hoping to successfully start again. "Where are we now?" he asked shakily. However, his silence seemed to sustain his well anticipated answer. Sighing out, Malfoy seemed frustrated with himself when he responded morosely, "I... I don't know."

Swiftly Hermione pulled her hand out from Draco's. She pulled herself back up off of the floor, disillusioned. Still, she made for her jacket and pulled it over each arm restlessly. "Well, then," she said as she stood back up, though struggled to do so, "I'll be seeing you, Draco Malfoy."

"What!" Malfoy's voice was hoarse and raspy. Still plastered to the ground, it seemed to take a long while for Hermione's determination to actually hit him. Still, he lunged forward, stumbling upwards like a baby deer, trying to walk for the first time. His blond hair flopped lifelessly in front of his face, his black tie looked almost pathetic around his white button-up shirt. "Hey!" he called towards her as she bent low to pick up her discarded shoes, "hey, wait!"

Hermione's eyes wiped up towards him like a pair of deep brown daggers. "What?" she asked harshly.

Malfoy's eyes wandered around quickly. He seemed to be struggling with whatever it was he was trying to say and still Hermione didn't have it in her to move an inch away from him. His arms were stiff at his sides and he looked as if he truly had nothing to give. He opened his mouth and then, as if he'd thought better of it, shut it. Then, breathlessly, he tried again. "You don't want to be with me," he told her finally.

But Hermione was less than impressed. She straightened herself out and said in a tone that was just as bitter as her previously harsh statement, "why not?"

Although Malfoy kept hold on to his sad tone. "Because," he said defeatedly, "... you even said it yourself. I'd be bringing someone down along with me... I'd be bringing you along with me."

Posture slightly softening, Hermione's shoulders sunk. Nonetheless, she didn't drop the frustration that so heavily filled her body. However, it was her turn to stutter. Restless in her determination to contradict Draco's theory, Hermione said back in an unconvincing response, "t-that... t-that w-was different then. That was-- completely different." Neither of the two moved until finally Hermione raised her fingers to rub her throbbing temples. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Only a short while ago, on the floor in the forest, she'd have expected nothing to have been more simple. Perhaps she should have listened to herself before hand. Perhaps she should have blamed the night completely on fate. But Hermione was determined to prove her point. Looking at Draco stilly, she said again, "you're not going to bring me down with you. I'm the one who is choosing to do this with you, Draco. What? You don't think I can handle myself?"

Once again, Malfoy blinked jumpily. "No!" he said quickly, "no, that's not it, either." Sighing, he continued, "I'm twenty-two years old... five years ago, I couldn't stand you."

Finally, Hermione's posture softened. A slight smile crossed her face and she then took a whole new look at Malfoy's misery. He didn't catch on to Hermione's amusement and still looked down at the grass, ignorant. Hermione extended her arm and grabbed hold of Draco's shoulder. When he looked up, he looked more glum than ever. "I'm twenty-two years old," she said quietly, "and five years ago I couldn't stand you or your entire family." Giggling, she tilted her head a bit farther, attempting at cheering Draco up completely. "I hexed a scar across the side of your father's head."

Instantly Malfoy's facial expression changed. He blinked up at her, utterly dumbstruck. Like a fascinated child, he responded in a whisper, "you did that?" Biting her lip, Hermione nodded briskly as if she'd done something especially restricted. "Out of all the marks he'd garnered over the past couple years, that one still baffles him."

"My point is," Hermione said, pulling Draco's hair back away from his eyes, "is that times change. Things change. I don't hate your family. I don't hate you... I told you before: I'm done with hating. There's far too much for that going on in this world. So," she added in a tone a bit lighter. She looked around, slightly embarrassed, but still dying to know, "... where does this leave us?"

Hermione looked back at Draco Malfoy, whose face drained of color. He looked uneasy, but there was no sure way for her to know what it was he was thinking. Still Hermione waited, watching him fret mentally to himself. Then finally, when he looked back up at her, he said, "where ever you want us to be." And then Hermione threw herself at him, smiling broadly and wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. Malfoy wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her much more tightly than she'd expected.

And as they stood there with their arms around each other, Hermione Granger was unsure if she'd ever felt as happy in her life.

Vonne: REVIEW! :)