It was Tuesday again, a day that was fast becoming her favorite day. Hermione had waited eagerly, from the time she rose till late in the night when it was safe to sneak away. Which is why she was annoyed when she received a message from him telling her that there was no way he'd be able to sneak out from the dungeons without being noticed. The whole of Slytherin house was up celebrating their victory against Ravenclaw. Draco had caught the snitch at the last minute putting them points ahead. She ought to have predicted this would happen, what with the way everyone was cheering him on after the match and the cocky arrogant expression that had been plastered on his face since. Some of the Slytherin girls were practically fawning over him.

It was like Ron all over again.

Suppressing the urge to go over to the dungeons and strangle him in front of a large audience, she sent a message back.

This is why we have Thursday.

She fell onto her bed with a huff. The coin grew warm on her skin.

I'm waiting to be with you... just waiting.

Hermione closed her eyes tracing the gold string of the bracelet. The thrum of his magic was always there, faint but constant.

When had she fallen in love with him?

She couldn't say.

It was so ingrained in her now that the knowledge of how it got there, she couldn't remember. He was constantly on her mind and it was wonderfully awful. She'd never tell him though, never let him know just how quickly she'd succumbed to it. He'd taken years while she'd taken a handful of months and that didn't sit right with her on most days.

That night Hermione was feeling so restless, she snuck into the room without him, walking around its small space, memorizing the furniture, touching things. There was a tiny pin on the floor. She picked it up and placed it on the bookshelf. Then she took one of Draco's books and got under the covers. After a few minutes of reading, she buried her nose into his pillow and fell into a deep asleep.

She'd just reached the tapestry when she saw Draco walking toward her from the other end of the corridor.

He gave her a smirk. "You're out past curfew, Miss Granger."

"I'm meeting a boy," she grinned. "Several, actually."

Draco pushed lightly against her shoulder pouting. "Not funny."

Hermione reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you."

He dipped his head and gave her a small kiss.

"Come on," said Draco, pulling her into the room. "I have a lead on Regulus Black."

Hermione was already taking off her robes and shoes, making herself comfortable.

"What is it?" she asked, not having realized that he'd been looking into Regulus' disappearance without her.

"There were witness reports," he said handing her a file.

Her brows furrowed as she flipped through the sheets of parchment. "How did you get this?"

Draco was avoiding her eyes. He mumbled something so fast it was unintelligible.

"Say that again."

He let out a heavy sigh snatching it back from her. "I asked Nix for a small favor."

Crossing her arms, she chided him. "Seeing as he can't say no to you, it's more like an order."

He rolled his eyes at her and it was infuriating.

"What did you ask him exactly?" she demanded.

It was obvious Draco was reluctant to tell her anything, which only made her more curious. She watched as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, probably trying to decide whether he could get away with a lie.

"I asked him if he could break into the records room in the Magical Law Enforcement Department."

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"You got your poor house-elf to break into the Ministry?"

"I asked if he was able to. Next thing I know he'd disapparated!"

Her eyes grew wide. "Is that how you got all the old newspaper articles from the Prophet?"

"Yes," he admitted. "He's a very resourceful little fellow."

"Draco!" she scolded smacking his arm. "That's really out of line!"

"I just thought that since we've already exhausted the Hogwarts library and the family library, we might as well try… other libraries—"

"The Magical Law Enforcement records room is not a library!"

He pouted petulantly. It was probably the same look he used on his parents to get his way.

She glared daggers at him.

"Want to know what I found or not?" he huffed like a sullen child.

She pursed her lips unable to deny her curiosity. "Yes alright," she said exasperated. "Tell me."

"Regulus's mother—Walburga Black—made an official statement when he went missing, his father too."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "What did they say?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Their statements are completely useless. They'd stepped out for a few hours and by the time they'd returned he was gone..."

She waited for him to continue. "And?" she demanded. The suspense was killing her.

Draco suppressed a smile. Her eyes narrowed on him. The smug Slytherin was dragging this all out on purpose.

"The Auror's missing person report states that all possible witnesses were interviewed, no magical trace, no trail, no leads, dead-end, etcetera, etcetera—but as usual, Aurors are all idiots."

She smacked his arm for a second time and he laughed.

"The next one will be a slap," she promised.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he mumbled under his breath. "So, there's nothing in the case file that suggests that he was taken forcibly out of his home—which makes sense considering how protection charms cast on wizarding properties are almost impenetrable, especially an old house owned by a Pureblood family like the Blacks—which means, the last person to see him alive before he left would have been at his house the night he went missing. If it wasn't his mother or his father—and it couldn't have been his brother, because he'd been disowned, it must have been—"

"His house-elf!" she exclaimed. "Of course!"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You stole my reveal."

She grinned cheekily biting her lip and apologized.

"Anyway," he continued. "The Black's must've had a house-elf and if there's anything I've learned it's that house-elves are always bloody lurking around, popping up in random places. No bloody concept of personal boundaries. They know just about every dark family secret so I wager Regulus' elf has an idea of what happened to him."

"Kreacher!" she squealed with excitement. "The Black family's house-elf is Kreacher—I can't believe they didn't interview him—this is exactly my point—elves are always being overlooked, taken for granted, I mean, honestly!"

Draco tilted his head and mumbled the name, almost to himself. "Sounds familiar," he mulled.

"This is why I started S.P.E.W, to advocate—"

"Getting off track," intoned Draco.

Hermione paused. "Right... sorry."

She sat on the edge of the bed and began to turn things over in her head.

"Wait," she said suddenly deflating. "If Kreacher knew what happened to Regulus, wouldn't he have told someone, Sirius, or Harry or I don't know, his mother and father?"

Draco tossed the thick file on the table and collapsed on the bed next to her in exhaustion. He brought his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

They shot open a second later.

"If Regulus Black told Kreacher not to say a word, then no, he wouldn't have."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Of course!" she said once again.

She grinned. He was so smart.

"Wait."

Draco groaned at the word.

"How can we get Kreacher to tell us if he's been ordered not to tell anyone?" she asked.

He was quiet, thinking again.

"We can't," he said in a defeated tone. "A house-elf can't disobey a direct command from his master. He'd sooner kill himself than give up anything he was ordered not to speak of."

Hermione huffed and leaned back against the pillows.

"Unless," said Draco suddenly smiling. "His new master orders him to do so and both Sirius and Regulus are dead and isn't my mother technically—"

"Kreacher is Harry's house-elf now. Sirius left him the house so Kreacher's ownership was passed down."

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "He's a bloody pain in my arse that Potter."

There was a long pause.

"I could ask Harry to ask Kreacher—"

"No," he bit out.

"Look I don't have to mention anything about you, I could pretend I came up with the idea all on my own," she insisted.

Draco was shaking his head. "I don't want you or Potter anywhere near this. Your involvement is limited to using that pretty little head of yours, anything else would be too dangerous."

Hermione scoffed. "Trust me, I've been in danger every year I've been in Hogwarts and come out fine."

"You're right," he said sitting up. "You've done a lot of stupid, careless, dangerous things in the past, but it stops now."

"Draco—"

"I'm dead fucking serious Hermione. If I find out that you've asked Potter to ask Kreacher, hell, if you do anything that puts you in any kind of danger, this, whatever this is between us, it's over."

"I'm not a child," she said through clenched teeth. "And I'm not Pansy Parkinson, so when you say jump I don't ask how high!"

"Yeah, well, look at her, not one bloody scratch on her, whereas you," he said flicking the collar of her shirt to where her scar was, "have that."

Hermione's face flushed with anger. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Draco was running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It means that you're likely to get yourself killed."

"Oh, and you're not?" Hermione retorted incensed. "Which one of us was just in the hospital wing, hm?"

"That was different," he muttered under his breath. "I was… that was different. Besides this isn't about me, I'm already… it's about you. I want to keep you safe."

Hermione was shaking her head, screaming no a thousand times over, because as far as she knew, her blood, her friendship with Harry, she'd always been a target, she'd never been safe. And then in a whisper, he confirmed what she'd feared all along.

"I just don't trust you."

Draco must've seen the hurt written on her face because he reached for her.

"Not like that" he corrected quickly. "I just mean—well, for starters you don't know Occlumency which means your mind is like an open book. You're impulsive, emotional, and if you ask me, the only reason you bloody lot are still alive is thanks to Potter's inexplicable luck. You're powerful and talented—I'll give you that—but know nothing of strategy. Look at how easily the Dark Lord lured you all to the Ministry. If one of you bloody Gryffindors had just stopped to think before running off—that's the problem with you lot—you never seem to see the bigger picture."

He bowed his head with a heavy sigh. "When I say I don't trust you, I do, I just don't trust that you won't dive headfirst into danger."

Hermione opened her mouth to refute everything he'd just said but something stopped her. Something he said stood out.

"What big picture?"

He raised his eyes to hers and blinked. "Weighing of consequences, birds-eye view, big picture—it's metaphorical."

She stood near the bed, searching his eyes.

Something clicked in Hermione, something till then that had never occurred to her and she couldn't believe how blind she'd been. Her eyes widened locking on his, she swayed back because it was suddenly so clear. Riddle's diary, the Chamber of Secrets, solving the disappearance of Regulus Black and his insistence that she not know anything, he was plotting something, something big—the bigger picture.

Raising her voice, she repeated the question.

Draco's expression remained blank.

"Oh, God."

"Hermione—"

"What are you planning?" she demanded.

"I already told you," he huffed, standing up. "The less you know the better. It's safer that way."

Swallowing she stammered, "The Chamber of Secrets, I-I want to know, what did you want with that place?"

He licked his lips and Hermione noticed an infinitesimal movement of his eyes.

She twisted around to look at the wall behind her, and then back to him again.

"What are you—?" she started to ask but paused remembering the pin she'd found on the floor.

Hermione grabbed her wand and yelled, "Revelio!"

The back wall, which had always been bare, began to shimmer and then suddenly, a large canvas revealed itself, stretched out to the corners; pictures, pieces of parchment, newspaper clippings all connected with pieces of string. She stepped back, trying to absorb all of it but before she could hold it in her memory it vanished again.

She turned around. Draco had his wand in his hand with a furious expression on his face.

"DO NOT do that again," he warned.

But she was furious as well. Livid.

"I knew you were always a cocky arrogant prat but I didn't realize you were stupid enough to think you could take on Voldemort by yourself!"

Squinting his eyes at her he raised his wand pointedly. "Watch your mouth—"

"Don't you raise your wand at me!" she yelled raising hers as well.

Draco dropped his arm sheepishly. "I wasn't," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to—put your wand down before you hurt yourself, this isn't a duel."

"Well, I was just thinking I could kill you myself and save Voldemort the trouble."

"Your concern for me is cute but it won't end that way," he sneered.

The certainty with which he spoke terrified her. Then she was trembling, her wand hand shook... she was unbelievably afraid for him. He was doing something so dangerous and he wouldn't even tell her what it was, didn't even trust her to know the things he knew. Tears springing to her eyes she lowered her wand.

"This is exactly what I mean when I say I can't tell you anything. Look at you, you're all emotional and sensitive—"

"That's not fair, you're just as erratic as I am!"

"Because you're constantly driving me to the brink of insanity!" he exclaimed fisting his hands in his hair. "Believe it or not, Hermione, I was a bloody normal wizard before you came along."

"No, you were an arsehole and now you're a selfish arsehole!"

He clucked his tongue as if to say she was dead wrong.

"You're going to get yourself killed," she whispered.

"Stop saying that," Draco sighed, grabbing her face in his hands. "I won't get caught."

But she was shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He was doing it again. Touching her, saying things, trying to distract her.

"You have to go to Professor Dumbledore," she said, distancing herself from him.

Draco scoffed. "And tell him what… that I've been trying to kill him? That I almost killed Katie Bell?"

"The Order will help you if you just explain—"

"They'll send me to Azkaban and put me in a cell next to my father."

"They won't," she argued. "You were under duress."

He was shaking his head, his fingers clawing at his left forearm. "I took it willingly. Hell, I wanted it—"

"It was a mistake. You didn't know any better!"

"But didn't I?" He visibly gulped. "You don't know the things I've done."

"You're not a bad person Draco, I know you, I—"

"YOU DON'T!" he bellowed startling her. "You only see what you want to see, even the Mark, you pretend like it's not there!"

"Because you're not like them—"

"How do you think your boyfriend McLaggen is fairing after I hexed his broom?" he spat dryly. "His fall wasn't as bad as Krum's, was it?"

The blood drained from Hermione's face. She remembered the incident all too well from Victor's letters that summer. He'd written to her while he was healing and said it was the first time he'd ever fallen from such a height but merely chalked it up to bad luck. But Draco couldn't have, he wasn't even there, it was impossible.

"No," she whispered, shaking off his words. "It's not… they were just accidents."

Draco laughed seemingly amused. "You'd be amazed at what you can get away with when no one is looking."

She was waiting for him to say something, to take it back, to tell her he was just trying to rile her up but there was something about his casual manner that told her it was no lie. Instead, she watched as he reached up and tugged on one of her curls giving her a small smile.

"You look the most beautiful in blue," he murmured shyly. "Did you know that?"

A shiver ran down her spine. Somewhere in her closet hung the blue periwinkle dress she'd worn to the Yule ball, sitting there gathering dust and by now it no longer fit her.

She felt herself growing smaller in his presence.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Draco pressed his lips together bringing his hands to a steeple as if to think.

"Because I want this to be real," he said finally.

"So hurting Cormac makes this real? He broke his arm!"

She watched as his jaw clenched. "No, telling you the truth makes this real. Breaking that wankers arm just makes my day."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked gaping at him.

His eyes set on hers he answered in an unyielding tone, "I don't like people touching my things and that tosser had his ogre hands all over you!"

Hermione flinched, her eyes widening. There was no mistaking the underlying implication of his words.

"You don't own me," she said in a severe tone. "I'm not a toy for you to fight over."

Draco stared her down but kept quiet.

"Is there anything else I should know?" she asked believing the conversation would end there. He'd say no, that's it, now she knows everything and they can move on.

He stepped toward her and began to speak slowly.

"I spent the summer with Bellatrix learning how to cast the Unforgiveables. In fact, I'm very good at the Imperius curse, I had Madam Rosmerta under it for months—that's how I did it—I gave her the necklace, who then gave it to Katie Bell at the Three Broomsticks..."

Hermione had fallen into a silent shock, wrapping her arms around her as if to shield herself.

"I've also spent the last few months trying to let Death Eaters into the castle to kill Professor Dumbledore."

"You… you were scared," she stammered weakly, trying to convince herself more than him. "Things are different now, you're different now."

Draco barked a humorless laugh running a hand through his hair.

Her back hit one of the bedposts.

"I was considering a second attempt," he continued softly, staring at the bedsheets. "Poison. Overheard you and Potter in the library once."

He raised his eyes to hers and there was a sliver of terror in them.

"Sometimes… when I let the fear in… I think it's not too late, I can still carry out my original plan, I can figure out how to let the Death Eaters into the castle—hell, the Dark Lord might even reward me... but I don't... "

Hermione felt her throat constrict. In a small voice, she asked, "And if he gave your father his freedom, if he did offer you a reward, what then?"

"He'd never give me what I want," frowned Draco. "He wouldn't allow me to keep you."

Her pulse quickened, blood running cold in her veins. "But if he did...?"

There was a deafening silence as their eyes locked.

"You're disgusting," she spat, her anger beginning to catch up with her overwhelming disappointment in him.

"What do you want me to say Hermione?" he rasped. "Do you want me to lie to you, tell you that I'm sorry, that I didn't do those things, that I've changed, that I'm doing this for the good of wizarding kind and Hufflepuffs everywhere—"

"YES!" she cried, her voice hoarse. "Lie, Draco! Lie to me."

Hermione covered her ears with her hands, wishing she could un-hear everything. How could she possibly be with him when there was so much more truth than what she'd imagined there to be? She thought she understood but she'd forgotten something so crucial. Draco Malfoy, even on his best behavior, was selfish to his core.

Lamenting she demanded, "Why, why did you have to tell me?"

Draco brought his palm to her cheek, forcing her to meet his stormy grey eyes. She realized they were perhaps his only feature that ever showed a trace of his true feelings.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he whispered.

She couldn't breathe. There was so much wrong with him.

Hermione heard herself say, "You—I can't—I can't do this."

"Don't."

But she had to, she had to leave, she had to at least try to leave him.

Hermione made to move to the door. He blocked her.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Confess to Krum, write Hagrid a glowing teacher's recommendation, buy Longbottom a Remembrall—WHAT? Tell me and I'll do it."

When she spoke it was so soft she could barely hear herself. "I don't know."

He fell to his knees. "You want me to beg?" She watched stunned, as he began to breathe heavily as if the exertion of such a thing was physically overwhelming.

"Don't go," he choked clutching to her hips. "Please."

A shudder coursed through her as she heard the word slip through his lips. She made to leave again, knowing now, more than ever, that she shouldn't be here. He held her back as she tried to escape his grasp.

"Draco, stop."

But he wouldn't. His grip was iron tight around her waist, almost painful. She pushed hard against his shoulder and they both fell to the floor.

"Let go," she huffed trying to push him off, but his hold on her wouldn't allow it. "Let me go!"

"I can't!" he shouted. "I've tried and I can't!"

His eyes were glistening and red. Hermione whimpered. "Draco—"

"No!" he yelled. "You wanted the truth, you fed me Veritaserum to get it, and now that you finally have it you can't handle it! But you don't get to walk away from this just because I don't live up to your expectations—you knew who I was when you started this—you know what I am! Isn't it enough that I'm doing this for you? Risking my life to be with you? I love you, Hermione! What more do you fucking want from me?"

She was panting, staring up at him in disbelief. Her chest heaving with the weight of his words.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

His lips were far too close.

"What do you want?"

His hand ran down her chest and underneath her clothes searching for skin.

And she was ashamed that she kissed him back, didn't even put up a fight. Because those words, they made everything else seem forgivable. They made her latch onto his lips and his hair, to press her body up against his. They made the air heavy and smothering.

She felt his lips on her neck and his fingers underneath her skirt along the edge of her knickers.

"Wait… wait," she breathed.

She was forgetting something.

It was important.

"We're not supposed to—the rules."

But Draco began to undress her.

"I'm already breaking a rule," he said quietly undoing her buttons. "One that's been enforced my entire life. What makes you think I'm going to listen to your rules?"

"We don't want to get carried away," she protested. "What about—Draco!"

He'd pushed her back onto the floor when she tried to sit up. Her chest cold and exposed.

"This isn't a scheduled class, you don't get to tell me what hours your legs are open because as far as I'm concerned there are no rules, and if there were, you wouldn't be the one making them."

She was about to scream bloody murder at him for implying that her legs were open to him at all when he dipped his head to take her nipple between his teeth and she gasped. It pebbled in his mouth, his tongue swirling softly around it. His fingers worked deftly to remove her knickers. She pulled him up to kiss him and bit down on his lip hard as she felt his fingers teasing her sex. They both moaned. Hermione threw her head back when his thumb pressed against her clit with deliberate pressure.

"Draco."

When he finally slid his fingers into her, he asked with his lips at her ear, "Isn't this so much better?"

She nodded eagerly, raising her hips to meet his hand.

His lips left her to travel down her body.

He kissed the inside of her thigh.

"I could lick your sweet cunt for days."

She swallowed breathlessly; allowing herself to be consumed.

Later, sated and lying in his arms, Hermione made it clear that if he ever hurt anyone again, she'd leave him. There was only so much she could bear.

"I understand," he said.

Then she gave him two options—confess to Dumbledore and ask him for help or tell her of his plans. He refused to do either. It was the moment she realized that if she wanted to protect him, she'd have to do so without his knowledge.

"If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself," she whispered into the dark. "I'd never forgive you either."

Rolling onto her other side Hermione burrowed closer to the wizard who so easily seduced and manipulated her.

Peacefully asleep, he looked to be an angel.