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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 18: The Grace Period

Hermione had decided that she was going to find out everything she could about Draco. Draco discovered this when he encountered her sitting at a library table with a huge stack of books in front of her, all relating to pureblood wizard genealogy, the next evening.

Draco sat down quietly in front of her, carefully making sure she had not noticed him. He reached out to take the book from her hands when her hand lashed out and grabbed his wrist.

"I saw you coming," she said, turning to face him with a smile. She released his hand.

Draco glowered at her as he massaged his wrist. "Fine," he said, unable to keep himself from smiling. He couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't stopped smiling all day.

Glancing down at the books, Draco saw the titles of all of them. He turned back to Hermione. "Why're you reading this stuff?" He asked her, picking up a heavy, leather-bound book. "Wizarding genealogy? I didn't know you were interested in this."

"I'm not," she said, plucking the book from his hands and returning it to the pile in front of her.

"Then why are you reading it?"

Hermione pulled another book from the stack and held it out in front of her. "I'm doing research," she answered, scanning the book's index.

"On what?" Draco pressed.

"You," Hermione replied quietly, a tint of pink coloring her cheeks.

Draco laughed. "Why?" He asked, standing up and walking around the table to sit next to her.

Hermione closed the book and opened another one, an old, green one this time. "I'd like to find out more about you," she replied, thumbing through the new book.

"You could just ask me," Draco said, leaning in to read over her shoulder. "These family trees wouldn't tell you much."

Hermione continued reading as she said, "I know about you. You seemed quite willing to tell me everything about yourself last night. No, I'd like to figure out which of your relatives is on our side."

Draco lowered his head and stared at his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly.

Hermione looked up at him, startled. Her eyes widened as she realized what he had meant. "Malfoy, I didn't mean...it's not your fault..."

Draco flinched at her words. "Please," he said weakly. "Don't call me...Malfoy."

Hermione set her book on the table and turned her body so she was facing him completely. "Mal- Draco," she said, "I'm-" Her words seemed to get caught in her throat as she sighed softly. "That felt nice to say."

"Excuse-"

Hermione answered the unspoken question quickly. "Saying your name. It was nice. It's a nice name."

Draco snorted. "Really?" He asked skeptically. "I hate it."

"Why?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"It's so..." Draco struggled for the right word. "Purebloody."

Hermione laughed. "That's not a word!"

Draco smiled. "I know. But can you think of a better word?"

Hermione looked back down at the book. "How about...stellar?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Draco replied. "I know it's a constellation. But I still don't like the name."

"Because it's a pureblood name?" Hermione asked gently.

Draco sighed silently in response.

"Ma-Draco," Hermione said, leaning closer to him. "I thought you liked being a pureblood."

Draco sighed again. "I did," he said, staring down into his lap.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

Draco reached for his left arm and pulled up the sleeve of his robes, turning his forearm so the horrible twisted snake and the grotesque skull faced Hermione. The Dark Mark. "You already saw it, but..." He trailed off as she reached out her hands to grip his arm. She looked up into his face. Draco looked down at the Mark, at Hermione's hands resting there near it. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he stared at the dreadful symbol. "I..." his voice caught in his throat, refusing to pass his lips.

"Fancy a walk?" Hermione asked, trying to lighten the mood. Draco could only nod.

Once they were encased in the frigid and frozen outside air, Draco found himself able to speak. As they walked slowly toward the greenhouses, Draco said quietly, "I never knew what to believe."

Hermione clasped his hand tightly.

"I didn't know whether or not to believe that Muggles and Muggle-borns were bad or not," Draco went on. "I was...brainwashed, in a sense. My father always told me that purebloods were better than everyone else. My mother...well, she loved my father, and could only agree with him. After all, she was brought up to believe it too."

Draco's mind was suddenly full of memories of his mother, so happy, yet sometimes so lost.

"She's a good person," Draco said firmly. "Just scared. So am I, I guess. When I came to Hogwarts, I didn't know whether or not to be mean to Potter and Muggle-borns. So when Potter snubbed me, I kind of made up my mind. Well, that and the fact that I'm extremely scared of my father."

"You seemed to like your father during second year," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Draco was silent for a moment before saying, "He wasn't the same after the Dark Lord came back. And it was frightening. He was horrible. Horribly evil after that. At first, he was scared because he hadn't been all that 'faithful' but then, he was assigned the task of getting the prophecy. He went mad trying to figure it out. I stayed away from him after that. But Mother...she still loved him. She still does. I was worried about her, especially after the arrest."

Hermione gripped Draco's elbow tightly as he went on.

"And then...it was my turn. I didn't want it. I didn't want the Mark. But I wanted to do something to prove to everyone I wasn't like my father. That I wasn't a failure." Draco stopped and let out a small chuckle. "I wanted to prove to my father that I wasn't an idiot. He'd thought that ever since you beat me on all the exams. He didn't care that I was second."

Hermione smiled.

"I didn't want to become a Death Eater. But I needed a way to show everyone what I was capable of. And when that 'everyone' is a family of Death Eaters...well, Bellatrix Lestrange can be very frightening. LIke I told you, she guilted me into taking the Mark. And I became a Death Eater.

Hermione's grip on his arm tightened.

"At first, I admit, I was excited to be able to prove myself. But then, as I tried my hand at the task..." A tear slid down Draco's cheek. "I realized what horrible things I was doing. That he was making me do. And I didn't want to do it anymore." He sighed. "But if I don't do the tasks...Mother and I will both be dead. And Father, too, I guess. But he's dead to me."

Draco looked down at Hermione to see her face covered in tears. "What was-is-your task?" She said softly.

Draco took a deep breath. "To let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts," he said in a strained voice. "And to kill...to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with the gloved hand that was not clutching Draco's. She froze in her tracks, lurching slightly. Her eyes were huge above her red woolen glove. "Draco," she whispered after a moment. "What're you going to do?"

"I don't know," Draco said, rubbing a hand across his face. "I don't want to do it. But if I don't...Mother..." Draco choked on his own words. Then, he felt arms wrapping around his waist.

"I'll help you," whispered Hermione.

Draco froze. "But...you'd never help kill Dumbledore," he said in shock.

"I won't," said Hermione. "We'll find another way. A way you can complete your task without Dumbledore dying."

"But that's impossible," Draco said in astonishment.

Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco's cheek, then pressed her forehead to his. "We're the two smartest students in our year," she said. "We'll figure it out." She grabbed Draco's hand and began pulling him toward the castle. "We can start right now!" She exclaimed as Draco resisted her tugging.

Draco shook his head. "No time today," he said. "It's almost curfew."

"Who cares?" She said, continuing to pull Draco's arm.

Draco laughed quietly. Hermione was beautiful. It had just begun to snow, and the snowflakes were settling gently in her hair. He pulled her toward him and kissed her on the nose. "I can't be caught out late. I'll get detention. If I get detention, I can't spend time with you."

Hermione stiffened. "Draco?" She asked slowly. "You've changed so...quickly. Why?"

"Please explain," said Draco, upset by her worried expression.

Hermione pulled herself from Draco's grip and gazed up at him. "Last year, you would have slapped me if I'd kissed you like I did under the beech tree. But when I did...you just stared at me."

Draco was starting to get worried. "Did you have a problem with that? Would you have preferred it if I had slapped you?"

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I'm glad you didn't. And not just because it would have hurt," she added with a shaky laugh. "It's just...I can't understand it, Draco. I've gone with it the past few days because, I suppose, I like you too."

"You said you did," Draco said hurriedly. He was really scared now.

"I do," said Hermione. "But do you like me?"

"We had this conversation last night," Draco said.

"I need to hear it again."

"I like you."

Hermione still looked worried.

"Why?" She asked. "I'm a Mudblood."

"Don't," said Draco. "Call yourself that. Please. Don't."

"Why not?" said Hermione, coming closer to Draco.

"It makes me feel...evil."

Hermione reached out to touch his cheek. "I told you you're not evil."

"But I am," exclaimed Draco. "I'm a bloody Death-" Hermione clamped her hand over his mouth before he could finish.

"You may be a Death Eater," she whispered. "But you're not evil...because you're a Death Eater."

"What?" Draco asked, bewildered.

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him to the ground. "Think about it," she whispered to him. "You would have never, ever kissed me if you hadn't gotten the Mark. And I wouldn't have kissed you."

"It seems ironic," Draco mumbled.

"Does it?" Asked Hermione. "To me...it seems like...fate."

"What?" Draco inquired again.

"I feel like," Hermione said, so close to Draco now, her lips inches from his. "That I was meant to fall in love with you."

"You..you fell in love with me?" Draco asked weakly.

"I did," said Hermione. "You're not as bad as you want everyone to think."

"Am I not?" Draco whispered.

"No," Hermione answered."Am I?"

Draco thought for a moment. "No," he said. "You're lovely. So kind, so caring. You're a perfect Gryffindor."

Hermione laughed. "And you're a perfect Slytherin."

"How so?"

"Well," said Hermione. "You've successfully avoided calling me by my first name for this entire conversation, and you haven't said you love me either." Hermione paused. "Unless you don't?" She looked a bit scared.

Draco smiled. "Maybe I love you too. Maybe I love the way you point out everyone's mistakes. The way your eyes light up when you know the right answer. The way you smile when you read a book. The way..." Draco stopped speaking. "Enough?" He asked with a smile.

Hermione laughed. "No," she said. "You still haven't called me-"

"Hermione," Draco said, pressing his fingers to her lips. "There, I said it."

She giggled. "You talk too much."

"You're right," Draco said. "It does feel nice. To say your name."

Hermione smiled against Draco's hand. "Doesn't it?"

"You talk too much," Draco said.

"We talk too much," Hermione said. She laughed and stood up, pulling Draco up with her. The snowflakes in her hair were disturbed, and they fell out of her hair and joined the ones falling from the sky. "Come on," she said, brushing the snow off of her pants. She took Draco's hand and they started heading back up to the castle. The moment they entered the Entrance Hall, however, the let go of one another and headed their separate ways. Just before they parted, Hermione whispered to Draco, "Meet me in the Room of Requirement tomorrow evening." Draco nodded, then headed for the Slytherin common room.

Draco went to bed that night happy. He ignored all the insults the other Slytherins hurled at him. He was filled with a warmth that he hadn't felt since before fourth year.

Somebody else loved him. Someone besides his mother. It was a wonderful feeling.

The next day Draco went to breakfast. Then class. Then lunch. Then class. Then, finally, he climbed what seemed like a thousand stairs (which it probably was) to the seventh floor corridor housing the tapestry of troll ballerinas. Draco stood in front of it for a few moments, pondering over the idiocy behind trying to teach trolls anything.

A quarter of an hour later, Draco wheeled around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Hermione was hurrying up the corridor, her hair coming out of the high ponytail she had tied it into. She smiled at Draco, and he smiled back at her. When she was right in front of him, she kissed his cheek and grabbed his hand.

"So, what did you want to see me for?" Draco asked, standing near the large urn, watching Hermione pace in front of the stone wall.

Hermione didn't answer until she had finished pacing and the door she had been waiting for appeared. "I want to start working on the plan."

"Which plan?"

Hermione pulled open the door in front of her. "The plan to avoid Voldemort," she replied as she entered the Room of Requirement.

Draco followed her inside, where he found an assortment of armchairs, tables, and shelves of books. "You know," Draco said. "We don't have to do that." He collapsed onto an armchair close to the small fireplace in the back corner of the room.

"Why not?" Asked Hermione, looking over at Draco from behind a bookshelf.

"I've realized," Draco said, pulling a roll of parchment from his schoolbag. "That I don't mind dying."

It seemed to take Hermione a moment to comprehend what Draco had said.

"What do you mean?" She asked slowly as she walked over to him with a heaping pile of books in her arms.

Draco set the parchment on the table next to him and pulled a quill from his bag. "Well," he said as he began scribbling on the parchment. "I figure that if I die now, it won't matter. Once the war is over and your side wins, I'll be sentenced to Azkaban anyway. THat'll be worse than death."

Hermione was watching him with a small frown on her face. "Draco," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice steady. "That sentence is purely prediction. What if 'my' side doesn't win? What if you aren't sentenced to Azkaban?"

"Please, Hermione," Draco said offhandedly. "We both know it's true."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking hard. Finally, she said, "All right. But, I promise I won't let you die in Azkaban."

"And how are you planning to do that?"

She thought for another moment, then said, "I'll figure it out. But Draco, please don't talk like that."

"Like what?"

"You're not going to die," Hermione said firmly, ignoring his question which had, in fact, been rhetorical.

"Okay," said Draco. He was glad Hermione was on his side. Well, sort of on his side. At least she would keep him out of Azkaban. At least she loved him. "Thanks," Draco added.

"You're welcome," said Hermione in a small voice, smiling crookedly. "Now," she said, She dropped her arms, allowing the books she was holding to tumble out of her arms and onto the armchair next to her. "Which of these should I read?"

"All of them,' said Draco with a smile. "Though you would probably do just that even if I told you not to."

Hermione laughed and sat down on the armchair in front of Draco. She plucked a book from the pile and began to read.

Draco's eyes roved over her face as she read each word and turned each page. He watched the light dance through her hair and across her face. He watched her eyebrows rise and descend upon her face as she encountered new facts in the book.

Eventually, Hermione looked up and found Draco staring at her. She smiled. "This seems to be all we do, doesn't it? Talk, read, and watch each other read?"

Draco shrugged. "It's a comfortable arrangement."

Hermione laughed. "It is, isn't it?" She turned back to her book.

After another fifteen minutes, Draco broke the silence cast upon them by Hermione's reading.

"Is watching me read this nice?" Draco asked.

Hermione looked up at him for a moment. "Watching you at any time is nice," she said thoughtfully.

Draco felt his face grow hot.

"You're blushing!" Hermione exclaimed.

"No I'm not!"

"You are!" Hermione giggled. She dropped her book and walked over him, poking his cheek. "Right...here."

Draco covered his face with his hands, preventing Hermione from looking at him. She laughed trying to pry his fingers from his face. When she finally succeeded, Draco found himself staring into her eyes, just inches from her face. He was completely taken by surprise at her closeness.

"This is the part where you kiss me," Hermione whispered, leaning closer.

So he kissed her. And she tasted like spearmint toothpaste, a warm summer's day, and something Draco didn't recognize at first, but soon remembered.

Hope.