Author's note: Sorry this is a little later then usual. I got caught up in another chaptered fiction of mine. I hope this chapter redeems me in some small way.

Acknowledgments: To all the people who urged me on to write this chapter. I'm that my creative flow wasn't like the weather we're having now.

Disclaimer: I own none of this, apart from the words.

Chapter 9

Hiding in the shadows, you often find that everything merges into one. No longer is there a wrong or a right, but a here and a now. All you want is for the world to swallow you up and for the constant drone of your thoughts to be silenced for an eternity. Consumed by self pity you search for that relief from the world. Even angels fall…

Running along the corridor all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. Clutching the book with one hand, she desperately tried to remove the incriminating tears from her face with the other. Her efforts were in vain though as each tear removed was replaced by another. They stung her face making her curse the name of their source. She hated the feeling that she was weak to his powers. She hated the feeling that he could reduce her to this without even having done anything. He had done something though. He had broken her heart, and all that was left were the brittle remains.

Now though, instead of denying his existence in her thoughts, she couldn't help the flow of emotions running through her. All she wanted was to see him and tell him what he had done to her. She wanted him to feel her pain and anger and she didn't care at what cost it would come. Draco Malfoy had pushed her to the edge with his kisses and passion, and then he had dropped her into the abyss. Everything was his fault. Because of him she might lose her best friend. Then again it was because of him that she hadn't already.

Storming up the stairs she thought about where she could find him. Clever though Hermione was, she doubted she could get into the Slytherin' Common Room and find him. Where else would he be? The Quiddich pitch, she thought defiantly, and spun round on one heel. If he was there she would give him a piece of her mind. She would tell him all the things he had done to her.

As she approached the doors out of school, she hesitated on her actions. What if, by confronting him, she made everything worse then it already was. She paused at the huge pine doors and took a deep breath. Hermione Granger was a rational person, and this was an irrational thing to do. The blood running through her veins began to simmer for a moment. What would happen if she didn't see him though? She would have to keep all these feelings of hatred bottled up inside her. She knew that that would defiantly not help at all.

Once outside she broke into a run, her legs carrying her as fast as they could across the uneven earth. Quickly, her heart beat rose, her breathing became shallow and her face was tainted pink. Loosing her balance she stumbled forward, landing hard on the ground. A gasp of shock escaped her lips. Closing her eyes she tried to gather her thoughts. Mud was the first thing that she thought of, lots of mud. Placing her hands on either side of her she pushed up until she was up on her knees. Her robes were caked in the brown sludge. Sighing heavily she stood up and tried to wipe off the offending dirt, which only made it worse. Looking up she could see the Quidditch pitch in front of her and it hardened her determination. With that in mind she began to walk briskly down to the pitch, not taking any chances by running.

As she reached her destination the stands around her rose up into the air as if reaching for the clouds. It always amazed her how high they actually were. The tall loops of the scoring goals loomed above her and the familiar tug of excitement pulled at her heart. Even being here gave her the butterflies that watching Harry and Ron play did. Throwing her head back she surveyed the skies for any sign of life. A single broomstick was twisting and curving through the atmosphere, so fast that Hermione swore she saw sparks fly from its rear. Training her eye more she tried to work out who it was riding high above her.

'I must say he may be a nasty bastard but boy can he fly!'

Hermione turned to see the smiling face of Colin Creevy, as always attached to a camera. She smiled faintly and thought how ironic it was that it used to be her saying those words. Though still thinking he was, as Colin put it, a nasty bastard, she had seen a side to him that had made her crave for more. She wanted his affection and attention all the time. Blinking a couple of times she ceased her thoughts. 'I'll take it that's Malfoy?'

'Sure is. I came out here to ask for a photo for the team and I can't even get him in shot.' Colin said in a frustrated tone.

'Did you ask?' Hermione said with a frown.

'You try stopping him to ask! The boys like a machine today. I swear if he goes any faster that broom will break from beneath him.'


Thinking about this for a second she continued to keep her eye on him. At the rate he was going, she doubted that she would be able to get him off his broom too easily. Especially since Colin was stood next to her watching too. It would draw suspicion if she suddenly threw Draco off his speeding broom. The only simple answer to this problem was to get rid of Colin. 'Why don't you take a break. I bet he'll come down before dinner. It'll give him time to come up with a plot to torture us Gryffindors.'

Colin laughed gently and sniffed. 'Yeah, is a bit cold out here too. Want to join me? You look like you need a bit of a clean up.'

Hermione looked down at her mud caked robes and smiled slightly in Colin's direction. 'I'm trying to find a specimen of flower and I slipped.' She filled in slowly. 'So, no thank you. I still have to find it before dinner.'

'Alright then, I'll save you a place at the table,' Colin said jovially before strolling off away from the Quidditch pitch.

Watching his back, she released a weary sigh. Now that she was here in such a close proximity she felt her courage seep slowly from her body. From what she sense, he was in a pretty foul mood. Maybe confrontation wasn't the greatest idea right then. Closing her eyes, she ran a dirty hand through her hair in an attempt to neaten it in any way.

'Always knew mud was your style, Granger.'

Hermione spun round to see Draco stood behind her. His hair was tussled from the fast flying, and he was leaning lazily against his broomstick. His robes were creased almost giving the impression that he had just dragged himself out of bed. Tiredness seemed to be written all over his face, yet somehow he managed to keep up his little smirk. 'What do you want Malfoy?' She casually asked after having taken in his appearance.

The smile on his face seemed to become more malicious. 'Actually more to the point what do you want Granger? You're the one standing down here watching me. Never seen a real man fly? I wouldn't be surprised seeing as the way Potter does.'

'Get over it Malfoy. You may be able to delude yourself but its not going to work on me,' she retorted angrily, while crossing her arms over her chest.

At this comment Draco arched his eyebrows and took a more offensive stance. Slowly he took a step forward but Hermione held her ground. There was no way she was going to let him push her around. The confidence that had been lost only seconds ago, seemed to have come back in a double dose. She might regret it later, but now it was right. She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

'Well Granger, I don't seem to remember any complaints last week.' He said snidely.

'You callous pig! Do you know how much I hate you? You are not even half the man Potter is and as far as I'm concern any feeling I had for you have been erased. Even the slightest thought of you makes me want to vomit!' She shrilled at him, her anger beginning to take over.

The smirk on his face was swiftly wiped away by her cutting words.

***

Almost like a knife's point did the words cut into Draco's being. Even up upon his broomstick he had been able to tell she was down there. Everything he had wanted to escape by flying through the air. Maybe if the noise of silence could consume his drumming heart then he would be free of her hold on him. Seeing her everyday was like a million pins being stabbed through his soul and the pressure was beginning to be too much. He wanted to kill her for making him feel so bad. Make her suffer the way he was suffering. But he couldn't. He couldn't let her see the real him, it would scare her away.

'Leave me alone, Granger,' He said in a harsh whisper.

'Oh I'm sorry,' Hermione said sarcastically, 'Did I hurt precious little Malfoy's feelings? Oh hang on! He hasn't got any.'

'You know nothing about my feelings!' He said loudly. 'Now just for once listen to me, and leave me alone!'

'No Malfoy. I have every right to be here and you don't scare me.' Hermione flicked her hair back as she spoke, sending Draco into a world of his own for a second. Letting her go had been the biggest mistake of his life, but he had had to do it. Soon they would both be leaving school and Draco had his own destiny to follow. It would include death and despair, things that she would learn to despise him for. He didn't want to poison her. In all aspects he was rotten to the core. The only good thing about him was her. Feeling himself crumble, he gripped tighter to the broom.

'Well I should scare you, and you're more stupid then I thought you were if you aren't,' He said bitterly as he tried to control his temper.

'What are you going to do Malfoy? Hurt me?' Her voice quavered slightly.

Looking down at the floor, he closed his eyes as the memories came flooding back. 'I never meant to hurt you,' he said softly.

'Well it's a little late for that,' Hermione said forcibly. 'You already have.'

Looking up at her he stepped close again and wrapped his arms around her, burying his head into the nook of her shoulder. All he wanted to do was show her that he regretted. Saying sorry wouldn't even express the regret he felt, and there was no going back. The relationship had been doomed for infinity. Holding her tightly to him, he took in everything about her and stored bit away in his mind. She was tense under his firm hold, and he could tell that his actions had taken her by surprise.

'What are you doing?' He heard a muffled mumble from above his head. A slight smile curled his lips and he tightened his arms around her tiny frame. Breathing deeply he could smell an odd mixture of coconut and vanilla, that made his senses stand on end. He knew that taking her here and now would be wrong. She was no longer his, but he would always be hers. This he swore to himself. Turning his head, so his face was turned to her neck, he gently let their skin collide and left it that way.

Finally he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. She was scared he could see it as plain as day. Some people might have mistaken it for confidence but he knew her like his own hand. The way she walked, thought, smelt, talked, everything about her. Running his fingers slowly over her cheek and down her jaw, he observed how it made her shiver. Fear seemed to be at its most raw now. Fear that he would never again he allowed to feel anything. His outer shell would harden and once he was free of the darkness he might have forgotten how to feel. Lost in the moment he smiled at her softly. Whatever she might think of him in the future, he needed her to know that he had loved her.

'I'm sorry for everything I have done and everything I will do,' he whispered, scared that if he spoke any louder his voice would crack under the strain. 'I need you to know that. Whatever happens, however I might seem, I'm truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you and I never will intend to.'

Hermione nodded slightly and he knew that she understood what he meant. The Dark Mark would burn him, but it would never take away the memories. He wanted for the man in him to be remembered.

'I forgive you,' she said gently, her hand coming up to his face. It glided along his cool exterior making him close his eyes and lean into the touch. All he wanted to do now was lose himself in it.

…to the depths of hell. Nothing is what it seems though. The devil may play cruel tricks but does anyone truly know what he thinks. Love is like falling through a million clouds, each one a different temperament. Some are fluffy and light. Others are dark and filled with thunder. Each one shall be missed though when you land on the ground. Fatal but true.