A/N: Next chapter! I hope you like it! Please review!

Diclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 17: The Confession

Draco sat in shock there for a moment, gazing into Hermione's deep brown eyes. Snowflakes were settling on her lashes. Draco didn't know what he was feeling. He should have felt repulsed, shouldn't he? After all she was a Muggleborn. Mudblood.

But instead, Draco felt an odd swelling sensation in his chest. It sliced through him. For a moment, it made him happy. Until he saw Hermione's expression.

She looked absolutely horrified. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyebrows were raised. Her eyes were full of fear.

"I...I'm sorry," she said, getting to her feet and brushing the snow off of her robes. She looked at Draco for a moment, took two steps backward, then fled. She ran along the lakeshore toward the castle, slipping on the ice and sinking into the snow. Finally, she did manage to reach the castle, and entered only after she had looked back at Draco for a fleeting second. Then Draco watched her disappear behind the oaken front doors. Draco had seen that she was crying.

Draco let out a sigh, then a gasp, and then he dropped his head on his knees. He tried to sort out his thoughts and emotions, but they seemed to be as slushy as the snow around him.

When it grew dark, Draco heaved himself off the ground and dried himself off with his wand. He felt as though he was nothing more than a skeleton as he trudged up to the castle. He felt his bones creaking; he was so weak.

He skipped dinner that night. He went straight to bed, but did not sleep. The next day, he walked through the castle like a ghost. He didn't speak even once. He didn't eat anything. Because ghosts couldn't eat. So neither could he.

Draco saw Hermione a few times that day, but he didn't bother talking to her or communicating with her in any way. Her eyes were puffy and red. The brown hair Draco had gotten used to seeing was messy and appeared unbrushed. Hermione didn't raise her hand even once to answer a teacher's question during all the classes she had with Draco.

Draco didn't know what was wrong with him. He kept wanting to talk to Granger. He wanted to see her eyes light up when she knew the answer to a question. But why did he want to see those things?

It's Granger, for goodness' sake! He thought as he tried to focus on the potion he was supposed to be brewing. He was supposed to hate Hermione Granger!

But why had she kissed him? Draco was dying to know. For all he knew, she loathed him too. Hadn't she slapped him during their third year? Didn't she say she'd rather not talk to him?

That evening Draco lay in bed with his hands folded over his chest. He examined his long, pale fingers in the dim green light cast by the lamps resting in silver sconces lining the walls of the dormitory. He had developed a new theory. Granger must have kissed him only because Weasley was nearby or something. It would have helped her with her plan for sure.

This thought should have made Draco feel better, for it meant that Granger didn't really like him. But instead, Draco felt an iciness spread through his body, starting in his chest and reaching his toes and the tips of his fingers. Draco tried sliding under the covers to warm himself up, but nothing would rid him of the the empty coldness in his heart.

By the next morning, Draco was feeling a little ill. His head was throbbing and he was shivering. All through the day he felt as though he was about to pass out. He still hadn't eaten anything, and he wasn't planning to. Every moment he had outside of class was spent in the Room of Requirement, searching for the right spell for the Cabinet.

At seven thirty, Draco felt a sour taste in his mouth and decided he'd better eat something. As he stood up, he nearly fell over. He felt so...light.

Just as he was pulling open the door to leave the Room and head down to the kitchen, he ran into somebody.

"Ow!" She exclaimed as the top of her head collided with Draco's chin.

"Sorry," Draco sighed weakly. He looked down to see a mane of bushy brown hair and a pair of chocolate brown eyes. "Granger?" Draco asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione seemed too busy rubbing her head to answer. After a moment, she looked up at Draco and said, "I have every right to be here, Malfoy," she said indignantly.

"Right," Draco said weakly. "Sure." He noticed something out of the corner of his eye perched on Hermione's arm. "What's that?"

"Food."

Draco's eyes lit up. "Can I have some?"

Hermione unhooked the basket from the crook of her arm and handed it to Draco. "Sure," she said. "It was for you anyway."

"Pardon?"

"I know you heard me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, I heard you, Granger. But I was simply asking for a further explanation. As in, 'why is the basket for me?'"

Hermione blushed. "Oh, of course." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, I noticed that you hadn't turned up for any meals and that you were probably up here. So, I brought you leftovers from dinner."

Draco was shocked. "Why would you do that?" He asked in surprise.

"I thought you would be hungry."

"I would say 'pardon' but, seeing as you find that annoying, I'll ask, 'what drove you to feeling sorry for me and bringing me food?'" Draco said, half amused, half curious to know what Hermione's answer would be.

Hermione flushed, an even deeper shade of red staining her cheeks.

"Well?" Draco pressed.

Hermione took a deep breath then said, very quickly, "Well, I thought that since I saw you looking so ill and on top of that not eating that it would be my fault if you became fatally ill and I figured that none of the other Slytherins or anyone else would help making me think that if you really did get sick and died that it would be all my fault." She let out a huff of air.

Draco stared at Hermione for a moment, trying to comprehend what Hermione had said. Finally he replied, "Well, Granger, for one thing, that was a really run-on and repetitive sentence. Secondly, if I did die, it wouldn't actually be your fault. It would be the Dark Lord's." Draco then wrenched open the basket,and pulled out a meatloaf sandwich, and sank to the floor.

"Granger," he said between bites. "I don't believe that dinner would consist of sandwiches. Did you make this?"

"No," replied Hermione, sitting down in front of him. "I asked a house-elf in the kitchen to make it."

"No way," Draco said. "You asked a house-elf to do something for you? Oh, wait-" He looked up at her. "You left money for them there didn't you? They won't like that."

Hermione scowled.

Draco laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. He pulled another sandwich out of the basket and held it out to Hermione. "Want it?" She hesitated for a moment, and Draco added, "You did pay for it."

The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched upward, and she reached out for the sandwich.

Draco and Hermione spent the next hour sitting in the Room of Requirement as they had often done during the past week. But this time, they spoke to each other. They talked about schoolwork, life, and books. Hermione seemed happy to find out that Draco had read Hogwarts, A History as well.

Draco was surprised to find himself enjoying the conversation with Hermione. He didn't know if it was because of the food he was eating improving his mood, or because he simply enjoyed her company. Draco was not sure which one of the reasons he wanted to be true.

At the end of the hour, when both Draco and Hermione had finished two sandwiches and three dinner rolls each, Draco finally asked Hermione the question whose answer he had been quite anxious to find out.

"So, Granger," he said as he brushed the crumbs off of his hands. "Why'd you kiss me the other day?"

Hermione was suddenly silent. She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them.

"Granger?" Draco asked gently. She mumbled something incoherent. "Pard-" Draco began just before Hermione cut him off.

"I don't know," she said looking up at him, her brown eyes avoiding Draco's gray ones. "I don't know," she whispered looking back down at her hands.

"Was it because of Weasley?" Draco asked, trying to sound gentle.

Hermione sighed. "I thought it was," she said after a moment. "I kissed you because I saw Ron near a window. But I'm not really sure it was him." She inhaled heavily. "The truth is," she said quietly. "It was originally about Ron, my helping you. I wanted to make him jealous. But I began to realize soon afterward, that I wasn't entirely sure I liked Ron that much anymore. He's so ignorant sometimes. I feel like... he doesn't appreciate me. He takes me for granted."

Draco was silent, waiting for her to go on.

"But, after I kissed you," Hermione went on. "I realized something else. I really didn't like Ron." She took a deep breath. "I liked you."

"Excuse me?" Draco said, unable to help himself.

Hermione let out a watery chuckle, and Draco realized that her eyes were full of tears. "I liked you," she repeated. "I liked the way you took a book of the shelf. I liked the way you turned in your heel before you walked away. I liked the way your brow crinkled when you were concentrating on a book. Right here." She raised a hand to the space between Draco's eyebrows, barely brushing his skin before she began to draw her hand away. Before she could pull it back though, Draco grabbed her wrist and threaded his fingers through hers.

"Why," he whispered as he pulled Hermione's hand to his face. "Was everything you said in past tense?"

Hermione smiled. "I was afraid you would get mad at me. I needed a quick escape plan."

Draco smiled back at her. He searched her face for a moment, then said, "Maybe I like you too."

Hermione looked shocked. "You...you really...but I'm a...Mud...blood..." She trailed off.

"I've realized something," Draco said, scooting toward Hermione. "It doesn't matter." Before she could interrupt, Draco hurried on. "You might get mad at me, saying that I should have realized that earlier. But the truth is, I did." He moved even closer to Hermione, dropping her hand and cupping her face in both of his. "I realized it when you kissed me," he whispered. "So now, maybe, you'll realize something just as good," Draco moved his face nearer to Hermione's. "When I kiss you."

Their lips met, and it was like magic. A different kind of magic, though. Draco watched Hermione's eyes flutter shut, and he soon felt his own eyelids doing the same. HE felt so happy, so warm, so light. So...not evil.

"You're not evil," Hermione mumbled against his lips.

"How did you..." Draco began before Hermione pressed her lips back to his.

"It was my realization," Hermione said once they broke apart. Draco smiled at her, and watched the corners of her eyes crinkle up as she smiled back at him. Draco pulled Hermione to his chest, and she rested her head there.

Draco wasn't sure what he was doing. He figured, though, that if he was going to die, he'd rather be with Hermione. The kind, intelligent, caring girl he had begun to realize she was these past weeks.

The one he knew he didn't deserve in the slightest.