Draco crept through the hallways. It was after curfew but he had dug up his Prefect's badge, might anyone raise questions. Pansy had given him the new password to the Prefect's common room when he had asked, she had looked rather curious, but hadn't commented. Not that he would have known what to tell her. 'The Dark Lord wants me to retrieve a cup, that once belonged to the Hogwarts Founder Helga Hufflepuff, because, apparently, he has hidden part of his soul in it and now, for security reasons, it will have to be moved to Gringotts,' was not something he fully understood, either. Draco shook his head and continued his way to the Prefect's common room. It was not his place to question the Dark Lord's plans, anyway.

"Bizzlebeetle," he muttered to the wall, behind which the common room lay. The bricks started to move sideways, making an opening big enough for him to pass though.

"Malfoy?" The hairs on his back rose upon hearing the questioning voice which he recognized, immediately. Granger. He hadn't seen her since… A lump formed in his throat.

He had only achieved that by actively avoiding her, skipping classes was not something he lay awake from, but he had known he would have to face her, eventually. He just hadn't thought it would be so soon.

He watched her walk over to him. Was she doing okay? Did she remember anything? Those questions had plagued him ever since he had left her shoes underneath the Fat Lady's portrait. He knew a badly cast obliviation charm could have nasty side effects, nightmares, forgetfulness, and even depression.

Why was she looking at him like that, expectantly. Right! What was he doing here. He stuttered, thinking of a quick lie wasn't as easy when he could feel her eyes piercing through his soul.

"You forgot something?" she repeated, her arms folded in front of her, still staring at him. Of course he couldn't fool her.

She continued to talk, but he heard the bricks moving behind him and moved out of the way, consequently stepping forwards.

Hermione went pale, she wasn't looking at him like she had before, but rather like she saw something that couldn't have been. She looked stunned.

"Hermione," he called, "Hermione, are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her eyes, no response, she didn't blink, nothing. Uncertain he put his hands on her shoulder, ready to shake her out of it. It was as if he had touched her off button, her lights went out, her body went limp. He was just in time to pull her towards him, catching her against his chest.

"Hermione?" he grunted, trying to heave her full weight over to the couch. Her head lolled from left to right, and he was scared it might fall off. He stopped, this wasn't going to work. He lowered to the ground, softly laying her on the wooden floor. Taking off his cardigan he placed it underneath her head.

"Hermione, wake up," he begged, wiping the strands of brown curls from her face. He was starting to feel anxious. He had seen her sleep before, but this was nothing like it. She'd seem peaceful, relaxed. Now her face showed no emotion at all, empty, like that time she had been petrified. He checked if she was breathing, just to be sure.

Placing a hand on her cheek a mad idea suddenly popped into his head. His mother had once read him a story of a princess, cursed to sleep for over a hundred years, only to be kissed awake by wizard, who had passed all the magical barriers surrounding her castle and they had lived happily ever after.

Draco scoffed, that was absurd. Still, he couldn't help staring at her, slightly parted, lips. Before he knew it he bent over, brushing his lips against hers.

After withdrawing he watched, expectantly. Two seconds, ten seconds, nothing happened. What had he even thought would happen? He was such a fool.

It was nearly curfew, there was no way he was going to retrieve that cup tonight. He looked back at Hermione, still motionless. He could already imagine the fuss Potter and Weasel were going to make if they learned he had brought her to the Hospital Wing, but he couldn't leave her, either.

Just when he was about to turn around, she stirred. For a moment she drowsily batted her eyelids, before she shot upright. She turned to him, like a Veela her face turned drastically in a show of immense anger..

"You obliviated me?" she screeched, groping for her wand as she jumped up. "You dare interfere with my schoolwork?" Standing up as well he hastened backwards, but her wand was already at his throat and his back bumped into the stone wall. He flinched.

"Do you know what I've been through?" He took that as a rhetorical question. "It was like turning into a second Neville, without the amazing gift for Herbology," she spat.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, it sounded more hesitant than he had liked. He wished he were able to dematerialise and fade into the wall, like the Red Baron often did.

"Put it back!" she demanded.

"What?"

"You can't mess with someone's mind like that, you need to fix it. Put it back."

"I can't," he whispered, after a short silence.

"Of course you can, you're practically the only one who could."

"That's not what I mean," he confessed, avoiding her gaze, "I can't let you remember, 'cause if you did-" His sentence was cut short by the sounding of the bells, it was 12 o'clock, Prefect's curfew.

"Shit," Hermione exclaimed, checking the time on her wristwatch. Malfoy sighed in relief, saved by the bell, literally.

"We should both go back to our common rooms. Filch always checks here first, you know that. We can talk tomorrow," he quickly optioned. Hermione seemed lost in contemplation, so he tried to move her wand from his neck, that was going to leave a nasty bruise.

"Don't you dare, Malfoy," she hissed, pressing her wand even harder into his skin, while searching his robes with her other hand.

"You're coming with me." She clutched his wand between her fingers and pulled him over to the table. She dumped a stack of books in his arms and together they exited through the opening in the wall.

This was it, she was going to tell Professor Dumbledore. But he didn't struggle, didn't oppose. There were a number of things he could have done to postpone his execution, but he had always known that the truth would come out, eventually, and to his surprise he felt relieved. He no longer would have to act like what was expected of him. His father would renounce him, the Dark Lord would reject him. He would pay for his crimes and maybe, maybe, then he could start working towards forgiveness.

He watched Hermione's back, curls jumping up and down as they crept through the hallways, occasionally looking back to see if he was still behind her. Could they have a life together? If everything had been different, perhaps. But not like this. A feeling of deep sadness crept over him as he realised that he would never be good enough for her.