Draco had the most wonderful dream and horrible nightmare he had ever had in his life, all at the same time. First of all, he dreamt that he was in this place where there were the colors of rainbow everywhere, which seemed to blend together in a swirl. He had looked around and saw that there were many logbooks and golden notes pasted on the white walls. He flipped one logbook open. It had the title "Friends" embedded in the cover. He opened it and immediately saw Crabbe and Goyle ,who seemed to be spitting at each other. He rolled his eyes at their immaturity, only to realize that the picture he was staring at wasn't moving. It was like the old Muggle photographs he used to see, which didn't move at all. He raised his eyebrows as he wondered once more about the location he was at. Yet again, he didn't have a clue about what was going on.

After flipping through the first few pages, he surprised himself as the rest of the many pages were blank. What did that mean? Were all of the logbooks in the windowless room his future or his past? Or were they true or of lies? Draco quickly shut the book, unwilling to dwell on the fact that he hadn't had that many friends to walk through the rest of his life with him.

He went on to the next logbook, which marked "Hatred". Hatred? Now what did that mean? Draco only realized what the book was about just as he saw the first page. Harry Potter was there, scowling at him. Draco would have smiled or smirked if the seriousness of the issue he was facing here wasn't lurking beneath the murky waters of misunderstanding.

Draco went through the rest of the logbooks tirelessly, amazed at what those books showed, amazed at the fact that his life had been that way since he was born as a wailing baby. There was only one logbook left. And Draco wouldn't have opened it if he knew that that book was the only dark spot of this somewhat beautiful and mysterious haven.

"Family" was what was embedded in the cover. And strangely enough, that logbook was the only logbook that had animation in it. He first saw his uncle, aunts, and cousins. There were some smiles and there were some anger mixed in those pictures. Lastly, he came to this picture where he saw his father raise a cruel hand to strike his mother. Draco's mind willed himself to just close the book, but some other part of his body made him look on as his father strike his mother again and again. There were no sound coming from either of them. It was like watching a silent abuse going on, but there was nothing to stop it. Draco finally shut the book and leaned against one of the walls, crying and burying his head in his hands to soften his sobs.

He didn't know that his sliding down the wall activated one of the golden cards on the wall. Immediately, his father's voice boomed through the whole room, and was amplified many times over. His father spoke of vulgarities and of sadistic methods to make his mother and him suffer if Draco were not to follow his footsteps.

Draco was sobbing harder and starting pounding on the walls. "No! No!" he kept shouting. Finally, the voice stopped, only to be replaced by another voice. The difference was that this voice spoke softly, but it was of begging. Begging by his mother to ask his father to stop beating her, that she had had enough of him and his fists.

It was near breaking point for Draco. He finally realized that every card he activated, there would be some voice, some voice he would either want to hear or hated hearing. Being unable to take it anymore, he pressed every other button, and finally stopped when he heard the voice of Hermione. She was saying, "Hush, hush," as if soothing Draco to stop crying and go to sleep.

Draco finally woke up when he felt pressure on his back in both his dreams and reality. He turned around as soon as his sub-conscious self felt the gentle caresses that were being made on his back.

Hermione was lying down beside him and crying, while she started stroking his back gently. When Draco saw her, he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and silently hoped that Hermione would think that the tears remaining were just sweats. He didn't want Hermione to think that he was a weakling.

"Hey," he said softly, in a tone he had hoped that was gentle and soothing and not shaky, while he silently held Hermione's hands in his own.

Hermione didn't say anything; she simply couldn't bring herself to. She couldn't seem to stop the tears that seemed to flow from an infinite source too. Draco let go of her hands and just managed to catch one of her tears as it fell from behind her lashes and before it splashed onto her face like a waterfall. This gentle gesture was all it took in Hermione to hug Draco tightly and not let go. Draco raked his fingers of one hand through her brown hair and slowly untangling whatever tangle she got. The other hand he had used for caressing her back in slow, smooth strokes.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, the image of his dream now quite far behind at the back of his mind. Now, all he could think of was Hermione and her quieting sobs.

Her sobs subsiding, Hermione started hiccuping against Draco's masculine chest. She also tried to find her voice, which seemed to be lost somewhere.


"Sorry," she apologized for the fool she was, crying in the early morning.


Draco pulled her away gently and kissed her forehead with equal gentleness. "It's okay," he whispered against her ear.

Hermione nodded, then her heart wrenched again as she thought of the scars on Draco's back.

"Draco, tell me, please, who did this to you?" Hermione pleaded, hoping that Draco wouldn't just walk off again.


Draco didn't have to think to know that Hermione was referring to the scars. No wonder she was feeling them in the morning. Draco felt like walking off and running away from that question, but he knew that that would hurt Hermione badly, so instead of walking away, he answered her question with another question.

"Tell me, then. Are you ashamed of them?" he asked softly, afraid to know Hermione's answer.

"No!" Hermione yelled her denial to his statement. "I want to know who hurt you like this, so I can hate him."

Her loyalty stunned him. It touched the most inner core in him.

Cupping her heart-shaped face in his hands, Draco kissed her, as if she meant the whole world to him. Right now, that was exactly what she meant to him. The whole wide world, some place where Draco won't have to hide from anymore, some place where there would finally be someone to walk through the turbulent roads with him.

They stayed that way, in each other's arms until late that morning, when they could no longer hear the birds chirping, see the bluebells swaying back and forth in the wind and feel the sun's gentle reassurance. When they still heard the call of seagulls, the rush of tides and felt the sun's fierce wrath.

Draco decided to rest in that day, what with all the fatigue from last night's dream. But he had taken a bath first.

Hermione had kissed his right cheek as she left his hut and saw him sleeping away peacefully, like a child. He just lacked the smile on his face.

The pain in her heart was rather hurting, though Hermione had to admit, there was also relief from today morning's questions and answers. At least Draco didn't walk away like he sometimes did. At least Draco didn't get angry or mad.

The pain came from when Hermione heard Draco shouting out "No! No!" in his sleep and crying, even when he was in his sub-conscious mind. It must have been a terrible nightmare. Hermione was at a loss when she heard his cries and saw his tears; only one thought came to her mind. She soothed him by stroking his back, only to see the once painful and hurtful scars inflicted on it.

She wasn't ashamed of it, she would never be. Instead, she was proud of it, for Draco had stood unwavering to these blows. She was sad for it, for Draco didn't have anyone to see through the painful experiences with him, no one to embrace him and his hurts. No one to retrace his lost faith and put it back in place.

Hermione took breadfruit to Draco's hut and left it beside him, so that he could eat when he woke up. Then, she turned her ankle a few more times, to test if it was all right to move with ease. It proved to be so. So Hermione dragged the heavy trunk she had found a few days before to a more deserted place, to see if she could open it.

She took every hairpin of hers and dented almost everyone of it. That lock was hard, and Hermione was sort of frustrated that she didn't have her wand to say the simple spell, "Alohomora". She could feel that something in the trunk was pulling her towards it. As if there was something in it that was beckoning to her, saying that it was important to whatever she valued most now. Yet, she couldn't figure out what that was.

Hermione didn't realize that she had tried almost the whole of half of that day. She didn't realize that Draco was looking for her everywhere at the other side of the beach; neither did she find out that Draco was panicking as every minute passed by without her safely in his arms. And of course, she wouldn't have known that Draco was grabbing tufts of his hair in despair and trying hard not to let his distraught emotions show blatantly.

Hermione wanted to bring the trunk back to its original place, but decided then that she hadn't had much energy left to drag it all the way back. So she just left it there and started walking back to the beach. She was almost sure that Draco would be awake by now.

When she got there, she saw Draco sitting down with the inside of his knees perpendicular to the sands under him and his head buried in his arms which were also situated at his knee-caps. She tiptoed to him and didn't make a sound until she leaned in and whispered in his ears, "Boo."

The reaction she got from Draco was shocking, and that was to be an understatement, to be specific. Draco had leapt up and would have hit Hermione in her face if she didn't step back fast enough. She didn't have time to smile at his reaction when Draco pulled her towards him to embrace her tightly. It was only when Hermione remarked amusingly that she couldn't really breathe with his tight hold on her that Draco loosened his grip on her.

"God, you scared the shit out of me," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"I did?" Hermione was truly amazed at that statement. After all, it wasn't even a whole day that she was gone, it was only half a day.

Instead of nodding or saying 'yes', Draco simply tightened his hold a bit more and told her in a sort of commanding voice not to leave his sight for another minute from that second on. Just to prove his point.

Hermione decided to bait him a bit more before giving in and promising him not to leave within one inch from him.

"Even when I'm bathing?" she teased, but his answer stopped her teasing and surprised her all the same.

"Yes."

Hermione's jaws dropped wide open, the inside of her mouth clear for all to see. Hermione blew a few strands of Draco's hair that had gotten into her mouth when she closed it again, then she pulled herself away much to Draco's reluctance.

"Draco, you can't watch me as I bathe," she shook her head at the audacity and indecency of it.


He sighed and took in ragged breaths. His breathing hadn't resumed to normal yet. "I know, and I won't."

Before Hermione could sigh with relief, Draco continued softly and uncertainly.

"But… I don't want to lose you. Not ever again."

Hermione's hand flew to her chest, over where her heart was situated. It was, now, beating faster in response to the statement that had affected her. Greatly. She hugged Draco with as much strength she could muster in her.

"I don't want to lose you too-", Hermione replied in a half-whisper. "- I love you too much."

It was late evening by now, and Draco was still affected by the earlier encounter when he thought he had lost Hermione. The statement that made an impact on him was that remark about Hermione loving him too much to lose him. He didn't want to lose her, that was for sure, but Draco wasn't sure what he felt for her right now. Was it love? Or was it just an infatuation? Worst of all, when he had confirmed all these suspected emotions, what will happen from there?

At that time, he couldn't find the answer to Hermione's reply. It wasn't a question, but he knew that Hermione wanted to hear the same words repeated, only to her. Draco wasn't sure whether he could do it. Since he met Hermione on this isolated island, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. He found out that there was much to value about in life and Hermione would be one of them. At that time, he had simply smiled at her and walked back to his hut before he could catch a glimpse of what he was sure was hurt and disappointment. And if he saw the looks from Hermione's eyes, he didn't want to see them reflected in his.

He sat on the sand and was sure that Hermione was asleep by now. He was also sure that she had cried herself to sleep. He had heard the sobs and had tried his best to ignore them. But he just couldn't. Nor could he go over to soothe her sobs, as much as he wanted to. He knew that that would hurt her more than he already had.

So he just sat in the sand. He thought, and thought. Thinking, Hermione's favorite sport. And ironically, he was doing the exact same thing. He thought about his past, his present and his future. He didn't see his past with Hermione, he saw the present with her, but couldn't see it without her. It had to have her, and for that Draco would be grateful for. But he had said nothing instead, he had just walked off.

What the hell was wrong with him, he thought. He knew what he was afraid of, but he was even more scared to face it. For years to come, he wanted to face it. And if he had, he had always done it alone, without any help from anyone but his mother. But his mother had gotten a punishment that was much worse than whatever he got. He hated his father, hated the same blood that flowed inside his veins, hated the way his life was going and was probably going to go, and most of all, he hated himself for the person he was. He wanted to be loving and caring, giving Hermione all that she needed and wanted, for he knew that she deserved it. She most certainly did.

After all these incoherent thoughts, he still found that he couldn't bring himself to say the three words. He wasn't afraid of Hermione's reaction, he was afraid of his father and what he would do to her. She was Muggle-born, and Draco knew it perfectly well. He didn't care, he never did. It was his father that had hated them.

His father, his father, his father. All his thoughts had led to his father, and he still didn't know what to do about the issue.

Tomorrow. It would come sooner or later. Draco couldn't stop it, just like he couldn't stop the tides from flowing, the sun from rising and setting, the flowers from blooming and the snow from falling in winter. It will come. And Draco would have to face it, no matter how he did it.