Hermione had done nothing but worry after leaving Hogwarts. She couldn't stop wondering what Draco was doing in the castle. There could only be one reason for him staying over Christmas holidays and that was to continue whatever it was he was meant to be doing for Voldemort. Why else would he leave his mother alone? She still couldn't be a hundred percent sure that he had had anything to do with the necklace because, as McGonagall had told them, he was in detention with her at the time Katie Bell was cursed. But if she was confronted with making a choice after the events of the previous night, she'd have to agree with Harry, that yes, Draco had been responsible.

She couldn't figure out how he had done it but she had a sinking feeling that it was part of the service he'd mentioned to Blaise Zabini. Yet, Voldemort himself couldn't kill a wizard as powerful as Albus Dumbledore, so that could only mean that Draco had been given the task knowing he would fail.

And still, he'd tried. Was he arrogant enough to think he could kill the headmaster, or was he just that desperate? Knowing Draco Malfoy, it was probably a little bit of both.

She was beginning to regret not having told someone but then she imagined if she did, what would happen to him? Finding him curled up crying; he seemed so… harmless. And so Hermione continued to seesaw between listening to her head and her heart.

Her parents had sensed her unease and asked if everything was alright. She could only smile and nod in the affirmative. What could she possibly tell them? That she was certain that the boy who had bullied her for the last few years had grown up to become a fully-fledged Death Eater intent on ridding the world of her kind? No, she'd really rather not. She just wanted to savour these days with her mother and father.

Then again, what about what Pansy had told her, was it true? Pansy seemed to believe so, yet Hermione couldn't fathom the idea that the boy who publically ridiculed her using a racial slur, was also secretly in love with her. Love — in love — with me? He barely knew her! In fact, she could hardly recall a conversation that didn't involve a throwaway insult or a vicious glare.

Even now when she was trying to help him, he had called her a filthy Mudblood.

Remembering her own last words to Draco, she bit her lip and blushed. Had she really said that, had she really made that kind of innuendo? Her butterflies had butterflies whenever she thought about being underneath him. The whole thing was too surreal to even think about. Although... there was a certain appeal to having the prejudice pureblood panting after her. In fact, the more she thought about it the more she realised that having Draco Malfoy on his knees, begging her, would be the perfect kind of revenge for all the horrible things he had ever said and done. Of course, she'd point and laugh, she wouldn't allow anything to happen, she couldn't entertain other ideas.

He was a Death Eater and he was Malfoy. For God's sake, he was Draco Malfoy. She shook her head telling herself vehemently to stop thinking about the big bad Death Eater.

Running down the stairs Christmas morning she made a beeline for the tree. She could smell the delicious scent of her mother's famous buttermilk and banana pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. The tree was by the front window of the house, brimming full with tinsel and ornaments. Her father was sitting in the chair closest to it sipping on hot cocoa and listening to Christmas carols.

"Merry Christmas dad," she said hugging him tightly.

He faked being choked to death, "When did you get so strong, pet?"

"Ha-ha!" She smiled. He had made the same joke when she had hugged him hello at the train station. He fell back onto the chair with a thump.

"Breakfast or presents first?" he asked cheerfully.

"Do you even have to ask!" exclaimed Hermione rolling her eyes. It's like they didn't know her at all. He let out a huge belly shaking laugh as he watched her tear into the wrapping. She grinned with glee as she opened the box and found a brand new Discman. "I've heard of these, they're supposed to be fantastic." Bouncing up she ran to the CD rack in the living room and busied herself with choosing an album to listen to on her new device. Before she could plug in her earphones, her mom called out from the kitchen that Christmas pancakes were a-go. She'd made them in the shape of gingerbread men. How cool was her mum? Hermione wished her and gave her a big hug, getting flour all over her shirt.

"Oh look, it's Frosty the snowman," her dad teased as he entered the kitchen. The two women exchanged a look as he laughed out loud at his own joke. Watching her parents, she couldn't imagine how anyone could hate or wish to harm them. They were kind, silly, and loving.

Drowning her pancakes in golden syrup, she chatted happily to them both. After breakfast, her parents opened their presents from her. She'd knitted them both matching jumpers. Mrs Weasley had taught her last year and she decided she'd continue the tradition with her family. Plus, it's not like she had a lot of money. It was difficult to save when you were straddling two worlds. Her mind drifted to Ron and Harry. She was a little sad to not be at the burrow this year. The Weasleys were like her second home, after Hogwarts and here, of course. The strange thing was that while she missed the burrow, she didn't feel like it was where she ought to be right now. She really ought to be at the castle.

For the fourth time that dad she chided herself for having left Draco alone at Hogwarts...

"Sweetheart, I know we've asked already but are you sure you're ok?"

Hermione raised her eyes to see her mother wearing a troubled expression. She was just about to say she was absolutely fine but paused. Truthfully, she wasn't fine and she'd just been staring out the window like a looney for the last ten minutes worrying about a boy she wasn't even sure she liked.

"This year isn't turning out exactly the way I expected," she said finally. Looking up again she found they were still staring at her intently waiting for her to explain. "I just... there's this," she hesitated. "Friend. He's going through a lot. I worry that he shouldn't be alone right now. I'm scared of what he might do."

"What he might do," her father repeated. "Such as...?"

"Well, I just don't want him to do anything that might cause him or anyone else pain."

Her mother let out a soft gasp. "Do you mean he might hurt himself?"

Hermione sighed. "Exactly." Because that's precisely what she wanted Draco to understand. "There are some things you can never take back."

Her mother looked worried. She asked after his parents and what had happened.

"Isn't there a teacher he can speak to?"

Hermione pursed her lips. She couldn't tell them one thing without having to explain everything else, so she just told them to forget she'd said anything.

"I'm here and I want to enjoy the time I have with you both, so let's just forget it." They seemed reluctant but dropped the subject anyway. They were never the kind of parents to push her to do anything. They knew she would come to them if she needed them.

Christmas went by and it was the day before New Years. She was in her room sitting at her desk. She had been staring at a blank piece of parchment for the last twenty minutes. She'd decided to tell Harry. How could she not when she'd dismissed his suspicions so quickly. Draco was dangerous to himself and to others.

And yet she couldn't...

Every time she tried putting her quill to the parchment she'd freeze. She'd replay memories; his hand over hers, a halo of little yellow birds, the glint of gold, his thumb brushing against her lip, his tears, the blood on his sleeve, his mouth kissing her wrist and then Pansy in her ear hissing, you'll ruin him.

She couldn't breathe. The quill fell. She started rubbing her fingers over the bracelet feeling that somehow, to tell Harry, would be an unforgivable betrayal. She could lose his trust entirely.

Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Her parents didn't wait for a response before they were slowly opening it.

"Hey, pet."

She gave them a wan smile as they walked in.

"We might be going away for the weekend."

"Oh, where are we going?"

Her parents were looking at each other sheepishly.

"We didn't want to tell you this earlier but we had entered a raffle and we won a getaway weekend trip by the coast and, well, it's only for two."

She frowned, not entirely understanding.

"I can't come with you?"

"Well, we were thinking you could go back to Hogwarts a few days earlier."

"Oh."

"It's not like that," her mother exhaled. We just thought it'd be good for you to spend time with your friend." Her father wasn't looking at her.

Hermione sighed. "There is no raffle, is there?"

"Aw pet," her father huffed sitting on her bed. "There's no point having you here when your mind is already over there."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione, overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of having neglected her parents. Especially, when they scarcely got to spend time together. Her mother was fussing with her hair, moving it out of her face.

"Don't you feel bad," she admonished. "We have plenty of holidays ahead of us and, well, you're caught in the middle of something. We know that you wouldn't be worrying like this if it wasn't important."

Her eyes glistened. They really were the best people she knew and she loved them more than they could know.

Draco had spent every day in the Room of Requirement working on the Vanishing Cabinet. He'd managed to send another apple through, which meant he knew for certain how to open a channel for things to leave the castle. Now he just needed to figure out how to open a channel to allow things to enter the castle. While walking to the seventh-floor corridor he debated how long it would be before the Dark Lord would send him another 'reminder', when he suddenly stopped short.

There were footsteps behind him.

He turned, alarmed.

Hermione.

"Hi," she squeaked as if she was the one he'd caught by surprise. "What are you doing here?"

What was he doing here... he was, he was just looking for — wait. What was she doing here, she was meant to be home for the holidays.

"What are you doing here?" he countered.

"Are you going to the Room of Requirement?" She asked ignoring his question.

His eyebrows furrowed. Smart little witch. "Are you following me?"

"Of course," Hermione replied with a tilt of her head — as if he even had to ask. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled. "So, did you read the book?"

Oh, fuck. He hadn't done his homework. It would've been less frightening to face Snape with an incomplete essay. Maybe the book was a test. Like if he hadn't read it, he wouldn't pass and she would go running off to Dumbledore or worse, Potter.

"Yeah," he lied. "I read it."

Her eyes lit up, "You did?"

He nodded.

Hermione stepped toward him and he had to fight the urge to retreat.

She was chewing her lip. Draco could see the little gears shifting in that fluffy head of hers. Was he staring—?

"So…" she blushed. So, you won't say anything to anyone? "Let's do something!"

He must've misheard. "Excuse me?"

"We could — erm— oh! We could watch a movie!"

"What?"

"Yeah!" she said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards Gryffindor Tower. Had she lost her mind? He withdrew his hand like it was on fire. She looked hurt. "There's no one else there," she huffed as if that was the problem. That was only the tip of the iceberg.

He made a show of putting his hands in his pockets. "I have things to do Granger."

"Like what?" She challenged, folding her arms.

Like fixing a Vanishing cabinet and letting Death Eaters into the school. Fuck.

"Nothing."

She was grinning triumphantly. "Brilliant!"

He followed her like a wayward child; his hands still in his pockets. There were still a few Ravenclaw stragglers in the castle and he couldn't just bloody well hold her hand. When had that become a thing she thought she could do? Stepping into the Gryffindor common room made the fine hairs on his neck stand up. He was officially in enemy territory. Even the Fat Lady in the portrait had tutted at Hermione in disapproval. He agreed. He most definitely disapproved of this too.

"Justin Finch-Fletchly is a huge film buff," Hermione was explaining as she transfigured one of the sofa cushions into a stand of some sort. "He brought the TV and DVD player to Hogwarts third year but then Colin Creevey stole it from their common room fourth year and it's been here since."

He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Who knew Colin could have such sticky hands," she was babbling. "But then again he swears that he'd rightly won a bet, I don't know the details but..." He watched as she levitated a large black box and placed it on the table. "Sit," she insisted and pushed him down into his seat. He was aware of how much more afternoon light filtered through the windows and into the room, warming it. He was loathed to admit that even their sofa was a lot more comfortable than theirs. Bloody Gryffindors.

Then she did something unforgivable.

She got on all fours.

She was fiddling with the metallic box, mumbling about wires and having to connect something to another thing. He looked down at his lap willing himself not to stare at her arse stretched tight underneath her muggle jeans. Then she was bouncing down on the sofa and with the flick of her wand the black box sprang to life.

What the fuck was he doing?