DISCLAMER: I do not own anything of this story
Hi everybody, I said if I had enough reviews I would make a second chapter,
and here it is. "Bittersweet Goodbyes". You'll see why I named it like
this. Have fun reading. And don't forget: REVIEW!!!!!!
Bittersweet Goodbyes
"Just -- one -- more -- inch." Hermione Granger grritted her teeth as she pressed all of her weight onto the trunk's heavy lid, her brow furrowed in frustration, trying to narrow the gap that was, at the moment, preventing her from latching it shut. She had, as usual, crammed as many books as possible into her trunk for a bit of what she liked to call "light reading" over the Christmas holiday. A few mismatched socks were tucked here and there, holding the books into position for the long train ride back to King's Cross Station. "C'mon!" she strained, finally resolving to sit on top of it. The lid didn't budge a bit. "UGH!" she cried in desperation, sliding back onto the floor and lifting the lid to examine the contents. "Books, shoes, clothes, paper, quills.I can't possibly take anything out!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. "Certainly not *The Thirteenth Use For Dragon's Blood*!" she added gloomily. It had been released only last month, and Hermione had only read through the first one hundred and eleven pages. Lavender Brown walked up behind her, laughing slightly at Hermione's desperation. "You know what I think, Hermione?" she said kindly. Hermione whirled around to face Lavender, her face steaming and arms akimbo. She had an exasperated expression so plainly written all over her face that made Lavender giggle a bit. "You aren't mad about your books not fitting in your trunk. I think the *real* reason you're upset is because you and Draco haven't been apart for more than a day since school began. Am I right?" she added with a knowing smile. Hermione blushed and stared at the floor. Was it really *that* obvious? "You'll survive, I promise you that! Christmas break is only two weeks long," Lavender continued, returning to her own packing, screwing up her face in contemplation as she decided which shoes to take home. "You two can owl each other a hundred times a day!" Hermione relished in the thought of receiving daily letters from Draco, but she was fairly sure that would not be possible. Draco would be returning to his family's mansion for break and couldn't very well be receiving mail from a muggle, let alone *write* to one while on Lucius' turf, could he? "Only two weeks," she muttered to herself, finally resolving to leave her pink v-neck shirt at school. It was one of Draco's favorites, but it would have to stay. He won't be around to see it anyway, she thought sullenly. Lifting it from the trunk, she disturbed a stack of photographs. One of them fluttered to the ground, landing face down on the cold stone floor. Hermione bent over and picked it up, a smile instantly lighting up her face when she looked at the faces beaming back at her. It was the picture Colin Creevy had taken of Draco and Hermione at the Yule Ball earlier in December. They were standing in the Great Hall, framed by the ornately decorated Christmas trees, the snowflakes slowly making their descent in the background. Draco was standing behind Hermione, both of his arms wrapped around her, their hands entwined. His silvery-blond hair was tumbling into his eyes which appeared much more blue than usual, nearly azure. That's funny, Hermione mused, Draco's eyes were nearly grey when school started. She dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the picture. Draco kept kissing Hermione's cheek, making her blush and giggle. Hermione sighed as she placed the picture back into her trunk and lowered the lid. "Only two weeks," she repeated to herself as she fastened the lock. She flopped down onto her bed. Grabbing a quill, she began to make calculations on a scrap of paper. "Fourteen days," she muttered under her breath, "That's three hundred and thirty six hours." Groaning, she rolled over onto her back. How was she going to survive that long without him? After all, one minute without Draco seemed like an eternity. Hermione held her hand up so that she could look at the ring he had given her. Peering into the dragon's sapphire eye, she could almost see Draco looking back at her through it. "I can't take this anymore," she announced to no one in particular, and nearly ran to the common room to wait for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco Malfoy had been in rather bad spirits ever since he had woken up earlier that day. The sun had been shining, he was in perfect health, and breakfast had never tasted so good-- but Draco was miserable. He was completely packed, sitting silently on top of his trunk in his dorm room. Not even a glimmer of a smile was evident upon his rather pointed features; his eyes boasted a gloomy expression. He held in his hands a small picture, one taken at the recent Yule Ball. It was an image of the two of them dancing; Draco's back was tilted slightly toward the camera, his head resting against Hermione's. She peeked over his shoulder, a look of serenity gracing her face. Hermione smiled up at him from the glossy paper, waving slightly before resting her head back against Draco's neck.. The *real* Draco sighed and tucked the picture into his pocket. Not only was he going to be away from Hermione for *two weeks* (an eternity), but in the same time span he was being forced to return to the Malfoy mansion, which meant returning to Lucius, to the threats, to the pressure of becoming a Death Eater. He didn't want to go back to all of that, but he really had no choice. Unless Draco was ready to *confront* his father about the whole Death Eater situation and face being disowned, he had to pretend nothing was wrong and revert to his old ways of life. He shuddered at the thought of practicing the dark arts in the dungeons of their home over the next two weeks with his father by his side, the way they had all summer. He could hear his father's icy voice instructing him, insulting him, humiliating him.never praising him. The lack of feeling in the voice struck him all the way to the core, chilling him from inside out, sucking from him any consoling thought. Draco began to shake uncontrollably. "You *will* make me proud, Draco!" Lucius' voice sliced through Draco's mind like a bullet. No, Draco thought, No! I'm not going back. I *won't* go back! He pulled out the picture again, gazing into Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Would she be done packing yet? he wondered, anxious to talk to her. She had seemed preoccupied at breakfast but had told him to stop by the Gryffindor tower before they left to catch the train. His thoughts were interrupted-- "You *will* make me proud as a Death Eater, Draco!" It was Lucius again, only louder this time. Draco covered his ears, trying to silence the voice that was ringing in them. This was how it had been at the beginning of the year: hearing Lucius' voice every waking hour, knowing that he had no control over his own future. Draco had become miserable, even suicidal. Death had looked far more inviting than becoming a member of Voldemort's ranks. He had been plotting it, planning it down to the last detail -- even the time his body would be discovered, twisted and unrecognizable, splayed on the rocky grounds beneath the tall tower. Jumping, he had determined, would be the ultimate form of self-liberation. But then there was that fateful day in potions, the day when Hermione, a *mudblood* (as he had called her up until then), had stopped him from blowing up himself and half of the classroom. She had no reason to do it, other than the fact that she was a decent human being. That was the day Draco realized that *everything* Lucius had ever said about purebloods and mudbloods, and good versus evil, was wrong, just as he had always suspected. Draco had managed to turn his life around, even going so far as to talk with Albus Dumbledore about how to avoid his near-certain destiny as one of Voldemort's own. And on top of all of that, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. Draco held his hands up in front of his face; they were trembling. He shoved them deep into his pockets and briskly walked out of the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Draco climbed through the portrait in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room, he was met with several confused stares. The entire Gryffindor house *knew* that he loved Hermione, but they were a bit curious as to exactly how *he* knew their password (or where their common room was, for that matter). He surveyed the room quickly. He saw Harry and Ginny in the far corner, foreheads nearly touching, gazing into each other's eyes with lovesick expressions. A few months ago, the sight would have made him physically ill, but now he was quite used to the lovesick look, seeing as it was plastered on his own face most of the time. Finally, he spotted the exact person he wanted to see across the room. Not wanting to cause any trouble (and being first and second years), the Gryffindors remained relatively silent and simply watched as he traversed the space and plopped down into a large chair, opposite a sleeping Hermione. Draco didn't seem to notice all of the attention. He sat and watched her for some time; she was curled up into a ball on the couch. Her chestnut hair was cascading over her shoulders and face like falling waters. Her eyes were closed; a slight smile hung at her lips. Rising to his feet, Draco moved onto the couch next to Hermione and took her in his arms. He lay down, pulling her on top of him. Kissing the top of her head, he gently stroked her hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her. "How am I going to survive two weeks without you?" he murmured softly, his eyes closed. "Three hundred and thirty six hours to be exact," he heard her reply, her voice a bit muffled. "Give or take a few for travel time, of course." She raised her head and looked at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Hi," she whispered, gazing into his blue-grey eyes. They aren't as blue as yesterday, she thought to herself. "Hi," he murmured, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. He spoke his thoughts aloud to her. "I can't believe how fast this year is going by. It seems like yesterday that you stopped me in potions class and now it's Christmas break.I'm really going to miss you, Mione." She slowly ran her fingers down the side of his pale cheek, not looking into his eyes but memorizing every last detail of his face so that she would have something beautiful to think about during the vacation. "I know. I'm going to miss you too." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I love you," she whispered, lips just barely touching. "I love you too," Draco nearly choked out, his eyes beginning to sting. Something was really upsetting him, Hermione could tell. "Draco, what is it?" He could never lie to her. "I'm scared about going home," came the barely audible reply. "Because of your father?" Draco nodded. "He'll try to force me to join with Voldemort again, force me to sell my soul to that bastard so he can run my life!" A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. "And then they'll burn that horrid mark into my skin." His breath became ragged. "Oh, God, Hermione I can't go home! I can't go back to that!" He squeezed his eyes shut as she hugged him tightly. "Do you want to come home with me instead?" she offered, completely sincere. Draco smiled weakly. "It's just not that simple. If I don't go home, my father will know something is wrong. If I do go home." His voice trailed off. "I'll write you, every day, I promise. Morning and night, and probably in between. I'll go crazy if I don't. Your parents won't mind, will they?" She shook her head. "No, but yours will, won't they? If I write to you, I mean?" Hermione asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Draco did not reply, just nodded sadly. "Can't I pretend to be someone else? Like Pansy?" It was half a joke, half serious. "I don't want you to get hurt, Mione," he said quietly. "It's impossible to hide things from Lucius." Draco no longer thought of Lucius as a father. "Even the paintings spy on me! If he finds letters from *you* in *his* home." Draco shuddered at the thought. "Even if we tried to encrypt them, I'm sure he'd find a counterspell. Besides, he puts trackers on all of our owls." "Won't he know that you're writing to me, then?" she asked, worried. "No, not unless he follows me. I know how to reverse the *outgoing* tracking spell," he said. "I figured it out during my third year. He'll never even know the owls have gone, there are so bloody many of them. But all *incoming* owls have to register with our house owlery.it's a rather complicated system, security reasons.he screens all of my mail. He read my Hogwarts acceptance letter before I did!" he laughed, a note of hurt in his voice. Hermione smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "I'll tell you what," she said. "I'm going to write you every day, and you can read every letter on the train ride back to Hogwarts once break is over." The sorrow in his eyes dissolved for the time being. "I sort of had other plans for the train ride back." he said with a mischievous grin, sliding one hand behind her neck. "Oh really?" Hermione played along. "And what would those plans entail, if I may inquire into such matters?" "Something like this." He brought her face down to meet his and began kissing her with his usual passion. But there was something different in the way he touched her this time, different from any other time he had kissed her: something that made Hermione the slightest bit uneasy. It wasn't lust or force; it wasn't desire and hunger. It wasn't something that she even wanted to acknowledge, because at times she had felt the same thing. It was the same unconcealed fear his eyes always held: the fear that he would never hold her again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The train ride back to King's Cross station seemed to pass in merely seconds. Draco and Hermione managed to secure a compartment all to themselves, and they talked for quite a while, finally falling asleep in each other's arms. Draco awoke only a few minutes before the train arrived at the station and stared peacefully out of the window, watching as images melted together into one continuous blur of emeralds and sapphires that whipped past the glass and out of sight altogether. The sun was nearly overhead, dusting the treetops with a golden shimmer. Running his pale fingers through the tresses of caramel brown that spilled across his chest, he felt a twinge in his heart and an overwhelming sense of sadness. What if this is the last time-- he could not finish the thought. "Mione? We're nearly there," Draco said softly as he gently shook her awake. "Mione?" "Hmm?" "We're almost at the station, love," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. "Already?" came the dismayed reply. "I'm afraid so." Draco hung his head, staring at the cracks in the floor. Questions kept darting through his mind faster than Firebolts. What if I'm not strong enough to resist? What if they force me to join Voldemort? What if I come back to school, a Death Eater? Would she even talk to me again? What if I lose Hermoine? The thoughts consumed his mind, filling him with a level of fear the likes of which he had never known. It was pulsing through his veins, becoming a permanent part of him, etching itself into the walls of his heart. He looked up to find Hermione quietly studying his face, a worried expression on hers. He tried to smile at her, but she knew better. "Draco," she said, taking his hand in both of hers. He's so scared, she thought to herself as she lifted his hand to her lips. It was a beautiful gesture in all its simplicity. "I will *always* love you, no matter who your father is. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Nothing. I know that you're scared about what you will have to face, about standing up for what you believe in, but that's what I love about you! You admit your fears and your faults, and that alone is what sets you apart from your father, and from Voldemort." Hermione was crying by now, salty tears leaving streaks on her skin. Draco brushed them away with his free hand. "But what if I'm too weak? What if I can't resist him? What if they burn that mark onto my arm? Will you love me then?" Draco felt as though an icy hand had plunged itself into the depths of his soul and stolen from him the one shred of happiness he had ever known, leaving him as detached and inhuman as Lucius. He stood up and faced away from her, leaning his head against the wall with a hand on either side. His knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable.Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips against the back of his neck. "Yes," she whispered into his ear. "I will love you even then. I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." She felt his chest heave as he gave into bitter tears. Heavy sobs filled his chest, expressing all he could not bring himself to say or even admit. The sound stung Hermione's ears, sending currents of grief and pain through her veins- - her heart crying out for the boy in her arms. "I don't deserve you," she heard him whimper. Her eyes widened in fear- fear of losing him to his own misery, to his retched internal struggle. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she turned him around to face her. His eyes were as expressionless and hollow as if he had just received the Dementor's Kiss, empty grey voids gracing his otherwise breathtaking face. "Don't say that," she said in a voice both gentle yet firm in the same breath. He made no signs of having heard her, staring blankly at no particular point in space. "Draco, don't *say* that," Hermione repeated, pressing down on his shoulders to emphasize her point. She held up her left hand, showing him the ring she always wore: the one he had given her. "Do you see this ring?" she asked. "The man who gave me this ring deserves far better than I could ever give him." A sob escaped Draco's throat. Hermione continued, looking right through his eyes and into his soul. "I wear this ring because I love him, because every time I look into the eye of the dragon, I see him staring back at me. He gives me strength and courage and love. I could never ask for more than that." Almost subconsciously, Draco's arms found their way around her body and pulled her to him: her warmth melting, for the moment, the walls of ice surrounding his heart. The Hogwarts' Express began to slow its pace; images that had been flying past the window at a seeker's rate a moment ago now seemed to be suspended in the glass for a heartbeat before becoming merely a fleeting memory. They remained in view for ever-growing lengths of time until the train itself pulled to a stop, preserving one final frame in the window. The sudden stop caused Draco and Hermione to lose their balance, toppling over onto the floor and out of sight. King's Cross station was bubbling over with wizards and witches eagerly awaiting the first glimpses of their children. Hermione bustled about the compartment, gathering up her things while Draco took the opportunity to watch the goings on outside. He could see a kind-faced witch with flaming red hair peering into the open windows. Suddenly, she opened her arms wide and caught a small redheaded girl in her arms, then proceeded to make a fuss over her for a while until a taller, redheaded boy showed up. The Weasleys, Draco thought. Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron into a not-exactly-mutual hug. Draco felt a pang of jealousy toward Ron at that moment. And behind Ron stood the great-and-wonderful Harry Potter, evidently going to spend the holiday at the Burrow. Even though he knew neither boy particularly liked him (although they did, for some reason, accept his dating Hermione), Draco secretly wished he were going to the Burrow as well. His eyes darted around the crowd, picking out the other Slytherin parents, watching as the first and second years dropped all of their luggage to hug their parents, laughing a bit when one owl opened its own cage and took to flying about, causing its owner a good deal of stress. And in the center of it all, he saw a tall, pale man staring sternly out over the masses of people, arms folded across his chest. Draco's heart lurched. It was Lucius Malfoy. Draco had been praying that Lucius would not personally see him from King's Cross back to the mansion, but there he was, waiting with an impatient air, a sneer permanently seared into his pointed features. Hermione noticed Draco's silence and followed his line of gaze, her eyes resting upon what seemed to her an older version of Draco. The man was tall and pale, with the same pointed features, the same lean build.but there was something different about him, something.inhuman. They said their goodbyes on the train, neither one of them wanting to face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy if, by chance, he saw them together. Draco took Hermione's face in his hands, kissing her deeply before grabbing his trunk and bolting from the room, not even turning to look back: it would have been far too painful for him. Her face pressed up against the glass, Hermione watched him walk away from the train at a deliberately slow pace, dragging his trunk and caged owl behind him. Lucius Malfoy remained perfectly still, moving only when Draco stood directly before him, and then it was only to bark some sort of order at him. From a distance, the two figures could have been brothers, although Hermione noticed how submissive Draco seemed compared to Lucius. A large crowd passed in front of them, blocking Hermione's view. By the time the crowd had passed, Draco and his father were gone. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Hermione pulled her trunk out of the door and made her way toward the nearest exit. She would see him again in two weeks time; there really was no reason for her to feel so.so.but she had noticed something when he kissed her the last time that had caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not a trace of azure had hung in his steely-grey eyes.
And?? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! Thx!! P.S: what I forgot to say, if there are many mistakes in the story, don't be angry, just tell me, I'm from Belgium, I can speak English, but it's not like you guys, you grew up with the language, so..
Bittersweet Goodbyes
"Just -- one -- more -- inch." Hermione Granger grritted her teeth as she pressed all of her weight onto the trunk's heavy lid, her brow furrowed in frustration, trying to narrow the gap that was, at the moment, preventing her from latching it shut. She had, as usual, crammed as many books as possible into her trunk for a bit of what she liked to call "light reading" over the Christmas holiday. A few mismatched socks were tucked here and there, holding the books into position for the long train ride back to King's Cross Station. "C'mon!" she strained, finally resolving to sit on top of it. The lid didn't budge a bit. "UGH!" she cried in desperation, sliding back onto the floor and lifting the lid to examine the contents. "Books, shoes, clothes, paper, quills.I can't possibly take anything out!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. "Certainly not *The Thirteenth Use For Dragon's Blood*!" she added gloomily. It had been released only last month, and Hermione had only read through the first one hundred and eleven pages. Lavender Brown walked up behind her, laughing slightly at Hermione's desperation. "You know what I think, Hermione?" she said kindly. Hermione whirled around to face Lavender, her face steaming and arms akimbo. She had an exasperated expression so plainly written all over her face that made Lavender giggle a bit. "You aren't mad about your books not fitting in your trunk. I think the *real* reason you're upset is because you and Draco haven't been apart for more than a day since school began. Am I right?" she added with a knowing smile. Hermione blushed and stared at the floor. Was it really *that* obvious? "You'll survive, I promise you that! Christmas break is only two weeks long," Lavender continued, returning to her own packing, screwing up her face in contemplation as she decided which shoes to take home. "You two can owl each other a hundred times a day!" Hermione relished in the thought of receiving daily letters from Draco, but she was fairly sure that would not be possible. Draco would be returning to his family's mansion for break and couldn't very well be receiving mail from a muggle, let alone *write* to one while on Lucius' turf, could he? "Only two weeks," she muttered to herself, finally resolving to leave her pink v-neck shirt at school. It was one of Draco's favorites, but it would have to stay. He won't be around to see it anyway, she thought sullenly. Lifting it from the trunk, she disturbed a stack of photographs. One of them fluttered to the ground, landing face down on the cold stone floor. Hermione bent over and picked it up, a smile instantly lighting up her face when she looked at the faces beaming back at her. It was the picture Colin Creevy had taken of Draco and Hermione at the Yule Ball earlier in December. They were standing in the Great Hall, framed by the ornately decorated Christmas trees, the snowflakes slowly making their descent in the background. Draco was standing behind Hermione, both of his arms wrapped around her, their hands entwined. His silvery-blond hair was tumbling into his eyes which appeared much more blue than usual, nearly azure. That's funny, Hermione mused, Draco's eyes were nearly grey when school started. She dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the picture. Draco kept kissing Hermione's cheek, making her blush and giggle. Hermione sighed as she placed the picture back into her trunk and lowered the lid. "Only two weeks," she repeated to herself as she fastened the lock. She flopped down onto her bed. Grabbing a quill, she began to make calculations on a scrap of paper. "Fourteen days," she muttered under her breath, "That's three hundred and thirty six hours." Groaning, she rolled over onto her back. How was she going to survive that long without him? After all, one minute without Draco seemed like an eternity. Hermione held her hand up so that she could look at the ring he had given her. Peering into the dragon's sapphire eye, she could almost see Draco looking back at her through it. "I can't take this anymore," she announced to no one in particular, and nearly ran to the common room to wait for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco Malfoy had been in rather bad spirits ever since he had woken up earlier that day. The sun had been shining, he was in perfect health, and breakfast had never tasted so good-- but Draco was miserable. He was completely packed, sitting silently on top of his trunk in his dorm room. Not even a glimmer of a smile was evident upon his rather pointed features; his eyes boasted a gloomy expression. He held in his hands a small picture, one taken at the recent Yule Ball. It was an image of the two of them dancing; Draco's back was tilted slightly toward the camera, his head resting against Hermione's. She peeked over his shoulder, a look of serenity gracing her face. Hermione smiled up at him from the glossy paper, waving slightly before resting her head back against Draco's neck.. The *real* Draco sighed and tucked the picture into his pocket. Not only was he going to be away from Hermione for *two weeks* (an eternity), but in the same time span he was being forced to return to the Malfoy mansion, which meant returning to Lucius, to the threats, to the pressure of becoming a Death Eater. He didn't want to go back to all of that, but he really had no choice. Unless Draco was ready to *confront* his father about the whole Death Eater situation and face being disowned, he had to pretend nothing was wrong and revert to his old ways of life. He shuddered at the thought of practicing the dark arts in the dungeons of their home over the next two weeks with his father by his side, the way they had all summer. He could hear his father's icy voice instructing him, insulting him, humiliating him.never praising him. The lack of feeling in the voice struck him all the way to the core, chilling him from inside out, sucking from him any consoling thought. Draco began to shake uncontrollably. "You *will* make me proud, Draco!" Lucius' voice sliced through Draco's mind like a bullet. No, Draco thought, No! I'm not going back. I *won't* go back! He pulled out the picture again, gazing into Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Would she be done packing yet? he wondered, anxious to talk to her. She had seemed preoccupied at breakfast but had told him to stop by the Gryffindor tower before they left to catch the train. His thoughts were interrupted-- "You *will* make me proud as a Death Eater, Draco!" It was Lucius again, only louder this time. Draco covered his ears, trying to silence the voice that was ringing in them. This was how it had been at the beginning of the year: hearing Lucius' voice every waking hour, knowing that he had no control over his own future. Draco had become miserable, even suicidal. Death had looked far more inviting than becoming a member of Voldemort's ranks. He had been plotting it, planning it down to the last detail -- even the time his body would be discovered, twisted and unrecognizable, splayed on the rocky grounds beneath the tall tower. Jumping, he had determined, would be the ultimate form of self-liberation. But then there was that fateful day in potions, the day when Hermione, a *mudblood* (as he had called her up until then), had stopped him from blowing up himself and half of the classroom. She had no reason to do it, other than the fact that she was a decent human being. That was the day Draco realized that *everything* Lucius had ever said about purebloods and mudbloods, and good versus evil, was wrong, just as he had always suspected. Draco had managed to turn his life around, even going so far as to talk with Albus Dumbledore about how to avoid his near-certain destiny as one of Voldemort's own. And on top of all of that, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. Draco held his hands up in front of his face; they were trembling. He shoved them deep into his pockets and briskly walked out of the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Draco climbed through the portrait in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room, he was met with several confused stares. The entire Gryffindor house *knew* that he loved Hermione, but they were a bit curious as to exactly how *he* knew their password (or where their common room was, for that matter). He surveyed the room quickly. He saw Harry and Ginny in the far corner, foreheads nearly touching, gazing into each other's eyes with lovesick expressions. A few months ago, the sight would have made him physically ill, but now he was quite used to the lovesick look, seeing as it was plastered on his own face most of the time. Finally, he spotted the exact person he wanted to see across the room. Not wanting to cause any trouble (and being first and second years), the Gryffindors remained relatively silent and simply watched as he traversed the space and plopped down into a large chair, opposite a sleeping Hermione. Draco didn't seem to notice all of the attention. He sat and watched her for some time; she was curled up into a ball on the couch. Her chestnut hair was cascading over her shoulders and face like falling waters. Her eyes were closed; a slight smile hung at her lips. Rising to his feet, Draco moved onto the couch next to Hermione and took her in his arms. He lay down, pulling her on top of him. Kissing the top of her head, he gently stroked her hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her. "How am I going to survive two weeks without you?" he murmured softly, his eyes closed. "Three hundred and thirty six hours to be exact," he heard her reply, her voice a bit muffled. "Give or take a few for travel time, of course." She raised her head and looked at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Hi," she whispered, gazing into his blue-grey eyes. They aren't as blue as yesterday, she thought to herself. "Hi," he murmured, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. He spoke his thoughts aloud to her. "I can't believe how fast this year is going by. It seems like yesterday that you stopped me in potions class and now it's Christmas break.I'm really going to miss you, Mione." She slowly ran her fingers down the side of his pale cheek, not looking into his eyes but memorizing every last detail of his face so that she would have something beautiful to think about during the vacation. "I know. I'm going to miss you too." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I love you," she whispered, lips just barely touching. "I love you too," Draco nearly choked out, his eyes beginning to sting. Something was really upsetting him, Hermione could tell. "Draco, what is it?" He could never lie to her. "I'm scared about going home," came the barely audible reply. "Because of your father?" Draco nodded. "He'll try to force me to join with Voldemort again, force me to sell my soul to that bastard so he can run my life!" A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. "And then they'll burn that horrid mark into my skin." His breath became ragged. "Oh, God, Hermione I can't go home! I can't go back to that!" He squeezed his eyes shut as she hugged him tightly. "Do you want to come home with me instead?" she offered, completely sincere. Draco smiled weakly. "It's just not that simple. If I don't go home, my father will know something is wrong. If I do go home." His voice trailed off. "I'll write you, every day, I promise. Morning and night, and probably in between. I'll go crazy if I don't. Your parents won't mind, will they?" She shook her head. "No, but yours will, won't they? If I write to you, I mean?" Hermione asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Draco did not reply, just nodded sadly. "Can't I pretend to be someone else? Like Pansy?" It was half a joke, half serious. "I don't want you to get hurt, Mione," he said quietly. "It's impossible to hide things from Lucius." Draco no longer thought of Lucius as a father. "Even the paintings spy on me! If he finds letters from *you* in *his* home." Draco shuddered at the thought. "Even if we tried to encrypt them, I'm sure he'd find a counterspell. Besides, he puts trackers on all of our owls." "Won't he know that you're writing to me, then?" she asked, worried. "No, not unless he follows me. I know how to reverse the *outgoing* tracking spell," he said. "I figured it out during my third year. He'll never even know the owls have gone, there are so bloody many of them. But all *incoming* owls have to register with our house owlery.it's a rather complicated system, security reasons.he screens all of my mail. He read my Hogwarts acceptance letter before I did!" he laughed, a note of hurt in his voice. Hermione smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "I'll tell you what," she said. "I'm going to write you every day, and you can read every letter on the train ride back to Hogwarts once break is over." The sorrow in his eyes dissolved for the time being. "I sort of had other plans for the train ride back." he said with a mischievous grin, sliding one hand behind her neck. "Oh really?" Hermione played along. "And what would those plans entail, if I may inquire into such matters?" "Something like this." He brought her face down to meet his and began kissing her with his usual passion. But there was something different in the way he touched her this time, different from any other time he had kissed her: something that made Hermione the slightest bit uneasy. It wasn't lust or force; it wasn't desire and hunger. It wasn't something that she even wanted to acknowledge, because at times she had felt the same thing. It was the same unconcealed fear his eyes always held: the fear that he would never hold her again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The train ride back to King's Cross station seemed to pass in merely seconds. Draco and Hermione managed to secure a compartment all to themselves, and they talked for quite a while, finally falling asleep in each other's arms. Draco awoke only a few minutes before the train arrived at the station and stared peacefully out of the window, watching as images melted together into one continuous blur of emeralds and sapphires that whipped past the glass and out of sight altogether. The sun was nearly overhead, dusting the treetops with a golden shimmer. Running his pale fingers through the tresses of caramel brown that spilled across his chest, he felt a twinge in his heart and an overwhelming sense of sadness. What if this is the last time-- he could not finish the thought. "Mione? We're nearly there," Draco said softly as he gently shook her awake. "Mione?" "Hmm?" "We're almost at the station, love," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. "Already?" came the dismayed reply. "I'm afraid so." Draco hung his head, staring at the cracks in the floor. Questions kept darting through his mind faster than Firebolts. What if I'm not strong enough to resist? What if they force me to join Voldemort? What if I come back to school, a Death Eater? Would she even talk to me again? What if I lose Hermoine? The thoughts consumed his mind, filling him with a level of fear the likes of which he had never known. It was pulsing through his veins, becoming a permanent part of him, etching itself into the walls of his heart. He looked up to find Hermione quietly studying his face, a worried expression on hers. He tried to smile at her, but she knew better. "Draco," she said, taking his hand in both of hers. He's so scared, she thought to herself as she lifted his hand to her lips. It was a beautiful gesture in all its simplicity. "I will *always* love you, no matter who your father is. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. Nothing. I know that you're scared about what you will have to face, about standing up for what you believe in, but that's what I love about you! You admit your fears and your faults, and that alone is what sets you apart from your father, and from Voldemort." Hermione was crying by now, salty tears leaving streaks on her skin. Draco brushed them away with his free hand. "But what if I'm too weak? What if I can't resist him? What if they burn that mark onto my arm? Will you love me then?" Draco felt as though an icy hand had plunged itself into the depths of his soul and stolen from him the one shred of happiness he had ever known, leaving him as detached and inhuman as Lucius. He stood up and faced away from her, leaning his head against the wall with a hand on either side. His knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable.Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips against the back of his neck. "Yes," she whispered into his ear. "I will love you even then. I will love you even if they burn that mark into your flesh, Draco, because that is all it would be: a mark. It can't change who you are inside." She felt his chest heave as he gave into bitter tears. Heavy sobs filled his chest, expressing all he could not bring himself to say or even admit. The sound stung Hermione's ears, sending currents of grief and pain through her veins- - her heart crying out for the boy in her arms. "I don't deserve you," she heard him whimper. Her eyes widened in fear- fear of losing him to his own misery, to his retched internal struggle. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she turned him around to face her. His eyes were as expressionless and hollow as if he had just received the Dementor's Kiss, empty grey voids gracing his otherwise breathtaking face. "Don't say that," she said in a voice both gentle yet firm in the same breath. He made no signs of having heard her, staring blankly at no particular point in space. "Draco, don't *say* that," Hermione repeated, pressing down on his shoulders to emphasize her point. She held up her left hand, showing him the ring she always wore: the one he had given her. "Do you see this ring?" she asked. "The man who gave me this ring deserves far better than I could ever give him." A sob escaped Draco's throat. Hermione continued, looking right through his eyes and into his soul. "I wear this ring because I love him, because every time I look into the eye of the dragon, I see him staring back at me. He gives me strength and courage and love. I could never ask for more than that." Almost subconsciously, Draco's arms found their way around her body and pulled her to him: her warmth melting, for the moment, the walls of ice surrounding his heart. The Hogwarts' Express began to slow its pace; images that had been flying past the window at a seeker's rate a moment ago now seemed to be suspended in the glass for a heartbeat before becoming merely a fleeting memory. They remained in view for ever-growing lengths of time until the train itself pulled to a stop, preserving one final frame in the window. The sudden stop caused Draco and Hermione to lose their balance, toppling over onto the floor and out of sight. King's Cross station was bubbling over with wizards and witches eagerly awaiting the first glimpses of their children. Hermione bustled about the compartment, gathering up her things while Draco took the opportunity to watch the goings on outside. He could see a kind-faced witch with flaming red hair peering into the open windows. Suddenly, she opened her arms wide and caught a small redheaded girl in her arms, then proceeded to make a fuss over her for a while until a taller, redheaded boy showed up. The Weasleys, Draco thought. Mrs. Weasley pulled Ron into a not-exactly-mutual hug. Draco felt a pang of jealousy toward Ron at that moment. And behind Ron stood the great-and-wonderful Harry Potter, evidently going to spend the holiday at the Burrow. Even though he knew neither boy particularly liked him (although they did, for some reason, accept his dating Hermione), Draco secretly wished he were going to the Burrow as well. His eyes darted around the crowd, picking out the other Slytherin parents, watching as the first and second years dropped all of their luggage to hug their parents, laughing a bit when one owl opened its own cage and took to flying about, causing its owner a good deal of stress. And in the center of it all, he saw a tall, pale man staring sternly out over the masses of people, arms folded across his chest. Draco's heart lurched. It was Lucius Malfoy. Draco had been praying that Lucius would not personally see him from King's Cross back to the mansion, but there he was, waiting with an impatient air, a sneer permanently seared into his pointed features. Hermione noticed Draco's silence and followed his line of gaze, her eyes resting upon what seemed to her an older version of Draco. The man was tall and pale, with the same pointed features, the same lean build.but there was something different about him, something.inhuman. They said their goodbyes on the train, neither one of them wanting to face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy if, by chance, he saw them together. Draco took Hermione's face in his hands, kissing her deeply before grabbing his trunk and bolting from the room, not even turning to look back: it would have been far too painful for him. Her face pressed up against the glass, Hermione watched him walk away from the train at a deliberately slow pace, dragging his trunk and caged owl behind him. Lucius Malfoy remained perfectly still, moving only when Draco stood directly before him, and then it was only to bark some sort of order at him. From a distance, the two figures could have been brothers, although Hermione noticed how submissive Draco seemed compared to Lucius. A large crowd passed in front of them, blocking Hermione's view. By the time the crowd had passed, Draco and his father were gone. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Hermione pulled her trunk out of the door and made her way toward the nearest exit. She would see him again in two weeks time; there really was no reason for her to feel so.so.but she had noticed something when he kissed her the last time that had caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not a trace of azure had hung in his steely-grey eyes.
And?? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!! Thx!! P.S: what I forgot to say, if there are many mistakes in the story, don't be angry, just tell me, I'm from Belgium, I can speak English, but it's not like you guys, you grew up with the language, so..