Bound
By Angel Of Music

Author's Note: Once more, I must add a disclaimer to my chapter title. It is a lyric from the finale in Les Miserables, and though I hate to admit it, I don't own that play. *Sigh.* Again, I thought it fit well with the chapter. One more thing; I've gotten a few questions on if this story is ending any time soon. I expect that Bound will be from about eighteen to twenty-two chapters, give or take a few. I also anticipate a sequel for the story, and I will most likely begin that when I end this story. Thanks once more for your support. Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven: Take My Hand, and Lead Me to Salvation.

'I have never been beautiful. Never free, never perfect. I strive for innocence and with it, guilt reigns. I have been deceived, conquered, dominated. I've always been alone. Solitude never seems to bond with friendship, but for me it somehow has.

I've never believed in luck. Sure, things come along right some days, but- I don't know. I've never thought luck could be real. Instinct.

Am I lucky for finding what I did? Have I found a miracle? Immorality. I am alone again.'

Hermione Granger drew her quill from her diary and shut it slowly. The series of events that had occurred within the last few months could hardly be summarized in any number of words. Everything so far had made her feel impotent, and in some sense this was true. She felt farther then she ever had from Harry and Ron, and this frightened her. It wasn't that she wished for it to be this way, no, that was far from the truth. She felt that the simply could not express the year's events to them without worry.

A Hogsmeade weekand was coming up shortly, and she prayed that this would temporarily take her mind off of things. Perhaps, for once, she could focus on her true friends: what were really important. Standing, she stretched and tucked her journal underneath her arm. The common room was nearly empty, for the hour was late and most Gryffindors had gone off to bed. She turned and headed up the circular, winding stairs and into her dormitory. The warmth of the room was welcoming, and she slipped into her four-poster at once, throwing her journal upon the bedside table.

After a few moments, she drifted into a slumber. For the first night in seemingly a long while, she had not a single dream.
* * *
The corridors were dense with thick air and deserted. The coming day played upon the castle like a bow to violin, and the cold January oxygen refreshed Hogwarts students. Hermione was making her way to breakfast, yawning tiredly and pulling her sandy locks over her shoulder. For a brief moment, her solitude was pleasing, and she smiled as she gazed down the empty hallway. Not expecting it, someone seized her from behind.

"Malfoy- what's the matter with you? Don't sneak up on me like that!" She gasped.

"No matter...we have to talk. Something is not right. Will you listen to me?"

"Can't it wait 'till after breakfast?" She questioned, cringing as her stomach acids danced.

"No!" He cried, roughly grabbing her by the arm and leading her quickly in the opposite direction. "You don't understand! Hell, I don't understand." He led her into an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Immediatley, he flung himself onto a desk and sat upon the surface. She joined him in a seat next to his, and bit her lower lip.

"Make this quick. I have a lot to do today, and I'm certainly not willing to waste my only free part of the day on some silly notion that Blaise despises you."

"Granger- you haven't let me say anything. It's not Blaise. My God, I never even worried about telling Blaise. You aren't permitting me to speak." She raised an eyebrow and flipped her palm outward as if signaling him to continue. "It's not like I had control, right?"

"I haven't a single clue as to what you mean. Just get on with it."

"I think I did something horrible." He breathed, sheltering his face in his palms and rubbing violently. "I mean- I know I did. Or else Voldemort would not have let me live."

"Malfoy, what are you talking about?"

"Last night, my father came into the castle. He's got enough powers to, anyway. I awoke to him peering at me from over my bed. He told me that we had a meeting to attend, but I refused. He cast the imperius curse on me."

"Like your dream..." She started, inhaling slightly and placing a her thumb over her lips.

"So I went. And Voldemort applauded me for killing that family. Of course, at the time, I thought my father was just telling him a lie so I would not be brutally murdered. But then on the way home, I questioned my father. And- and he told me that I did kill that little girl." He paused, his silver-blonde hair perfectly framing his preposessing face, and his silver eyes flickering as they focused on Hermione. She sat still, her breath not audible.

"You killed a child?" She whispered after an elongated moment. "An innocent little being- how could you?"

"I tried to fight it-"

"How could you!?" She repeated, more frantic this time. "You should have tried harder, you insolent Slytherin! Harry fought off the imperius curse, why couldn't you! You're always saying you're better than he, no? Well I think your horrible. If you really wanted to save that child, you could have. You're no less of a stupid little muderous prat than you ever have been! I can't believe I doubted that."

"Granger, I told you, I didn't want to kill her! I've been trying to tell you all along! Maybe your just the insolent Gryffindor know-it-all you've always been! I tried to tell you calmly, I asked for you to listen. Of course, I should have known. Gryffindors don't realize there always will be death in the world. There always will be murder and crime and deluge! There always will be rivalry and pointless hatred! There is always going to be an evil side, and there is nothing, NOTHING you worthless little creatures can do about it. Nothing I can do, nothing you can do. We are bound to a pathetic, miniscule fate. One person can't change everything, you know!" He yelled, jumping from the desk.

"One person can go as far as their heart will carry them, even if they have to try harder then they ever have before." She began, much more calmly, and stepped slowly out of the room.

"I should have known you were just as heartless as you were all these years."

"Heartless?" She questioned, peering back into the classroom. "You're calling ME heartless?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled menacingly. "You truly are nothing but a filthy rogue. You have a nice day." She then turned to leave.

Instead of heading in the direction of the great hall, she swept herself towards Professor McGonagall's office, mumbling harsh words to herself and trying to ignore that large lump that seemed to be creeping it's way up her throat. She found herself in front of it, determined to tell her house headmistress about everything that had gone on. She needed to tell someone, and McGonagall seemed the best one to eject her thoughts to. Draco would be gone before she could say the words "Death Eater." She put her clenched fist to the door and knocked three times.

It was a long shot. Professor McGonagall could have been down eating with the rest, but Hermione didn't want to go to the great hall. She had suddenly lost her appetite. "Hello, Miss Granger. This certainly is a surprise. What is it? I didn't see you down at breakfast- it's over, I hope you know." She nodded, attempting to blink away the moisture that was dancing in her eyes. "Is everything alright?" Professor McGonagall questioned softer, looking concerned.

"Professor... Draco Malfoy is-" She opened her mouth to continue, but nothing came out. She simply did not have the power or courage to tell her headmistress anything.

"Yes?"

"He's-" She tried again. Nothing. "He's not doing very well in school, and I think he needs a tutor." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"This I've never seen before. Inter-house ties? I thought the day would never come. I'm happy your concerned with him, Miss Granger. It's difficult to find witches or wizards like that these days. May I suggest to closer tie the Slytherin and Gryffindor house, that you become the tutor?"

"Me, but Professor-"

"Thank you, Miss Granger! This is a wonderful idea. Perhaps we can make relations stronger within our house. You can meet him every Friday evening at five o'clock in the library. I'll see to it that the arrangements are made. You'll both be sent owls. What a wonderful idea; ten points to Gryffindor!" Hermione thanked her professor and bit her lip. That wasn't what she meant to tell McGonagall. She wanted to find the courage to simply tell her the truth, to end her rivalry with Malfoy forever, to put a stop to the insanity. But as he had said, one person cannot make a difference... "Now, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"No." She whispered after a pause, the lump traveling farther up her throat. "Nothing."
* * *
The day of February the second was sunny and crisp. Winter birds flittered through the trees like geisers, the snow fell lightly from the sky, and the deep smells of winter penetrated the air thickly. It was a splendid day in the village of Hogsmeade, where the scent of fresh bread lingered in every shoppe window, the sights of the white-capped moutains swirled through the visitors' vision, the streets were full of cloaked and merry folk, and the day seemed nearly perfect. A fresh winter breeze danced through Hermione Granger's hair, and she laughed as it tickled her flush cheeks.

"It's wonderful out today, isn't it?" She asked her friends, whom nodded gingerly in agreement. "I can't believe how perfect it is. Nothing could be better." She smiled, drawing her hood up. "I've got some Valentines shopping to do. Does anyone want to accompany me to Honeydukes?"

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about Valentines." Ron began, stopping to snigger. "Hey Harry, I know who you'll be getting a chocolate frog from." He teased.

"Oh shuttup." Harry demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Pausing to comtemplate something, he started slowly, "Do you think I should get Cho some candy? Maybe some pumpkin pasties; I know she likes those. I saw her eating one at quidditch practice." Ron rolled his eyes and crinkled his forehead.

"I think you'll pull yourself into something totally pointless." Coughed Ron. "But you can go ahead, I'm sure you don't value my opinion." They pulled down their cloaks as they entered the warm shop, Ron massaging his very pink, cold ears.

"It's Valentines day, Ron. Don't be so stuck up." Hermione grinned, inspecting a box of glow-in-the-dark toffees. "I think Pavarti would like these." She said sharply after a moment. "Anything that makes her more radiant will simply please her." Harry chuckled briefly. Ron frowned.

"You girls are so concerned with your looks. It's a wonder I'll never understand." Hermione tilted her head and gave him a sarcastic grin.

"Well, I'm buying them." She noted, pulling a box from the shelf. They wandered Honeydukes for about a half of an hour, chatting and conversing about ideal gifts for their friends. In the end, they had made a few purchases and were growing famished. Hermione hoisted her full bag over her shoulder and clicked her tongue. "I almost forgot about Dobby and Winky!" She cried, gasping as she nearly dropped her purchases.

"Don't tell me-" Ron started, but he was cut off by Hermione's concerned jesture. "I can't believe you're going to get them gifts, but it's your money." She raised her eyebrows and stepped out of the shoppe. Harry was fixing the bow on Cho's gift of chocolate firebolts, and squinting to make sure it was perfectly straight. "I'm surrounded by obsessive twits." He sighed jokingly, and pulled up his hood.

"I think I'll go the the sock shoppe after we get a butterbeer. Lavender told me that they have ones with little hearts on them that kiss your feet- I think Winky would like those." Hermione told herself, her arms folded over her chest. They entered The Three Broomsticks, Ron jabbering animatedly about the fact that Valentines day was overrated. Hermione secretly agreed.

They sat at a small table, draping their snowy cloaks over the back of their rickety wooden chairs and looking around at the comely surroundings.

"Ah, you can never have a perfect day, can you? There's Malfoy over there with that git Zambini...and I thought I was having a good day." Ron sighed dramatically and shook his head, his flaming hair bouncing as he did so. Harry growled and exhaled, looking at Hermione.

"I could just go over there and tell Malfoy he's a slimey toad right now." Harry cried, exasperated.

"Just ignore them." Hermione said quickly. "I'll get the butterbeers." She stood, craning her neck over to Draco's table. He looked very joyous, thus making Hermione feel even more sick. Malfoy was simply a slimey toad, just as Harry had said. She narrowed her eyes and slowly made her way over to the bar, where a new busboy to the cafè was polishing a glass. "Three butterbeers, please." She told him softly, and he nodded.

She sat upon the barstool to wait, staring hopelessly up at the charmed ceiling fans and coughing when she heard Malfoy's voice from behind her.

"Move it, mudblood." He demanded, a fierce expression entwined in his lips. "You don't half deserve to be here. If I were you, I'd drag my filthy self into the street and wait to be run over by a carraige."

"You're the filthy one, Malfoy!" She whispered, attempting to talk soft enough so that Harry and Ron could not hear her. "Even if it wasn't your fault as you say, couldn't you have found the courage in your heart to stop it? Or do you not have a heart?" His eyes widened.

"How dare you tell me I have no courage, you stupid, disgusting little weakling! You would have boiled under the Imperius curse- don't you talk to me about courage. I confront Lord Voldemort himself on a bi-weekly basis, Granger, and you do nothing! Nothing! And perhaps you've realized, if theres anything my father has taught me, it's that having a heart is a weakness. When I showed you all I could, you stomped all over it! So don't you say I don't have a goddamn heart." Hermione upturned her nose and threw her hair over her shoulder.

"Your heart is as cold as black ice. I hope that someday it backfires in your face." She tapped her foot, wondering when the busboy would return. "I may have not told McGonagall yet, but someday, I shall." She shut her eyes quickly, then turned her head from Draco's face.

"You wouldn't have the soul to do it. Because no matter how hard you try to do the right thing, you can't. And you want to know why? Because you've never experienced the world. I have. And I know it's full of pain and suffering and death and hatred, and I deal with it. But like I said before, you can't change anything, because that's the way the world will always be."

"You're- you're an awful person. I just hope you know that." He snarled at her as she claimed the drinks the busboy had just brought her and returned to her seat.

"Was Malfoy bothering you?" Harry asked. Hermione tried to answer, but the lump in her throat was returning. She shook her head and carefully sipped at her warm butterbeer. Harry and Ron began to talk about quidditch. Not interested, Hermione turned her vision away from them and focused on Draco's table, just as he was returning to it with two butterbeers. Blaise thanked him and took it.

"Was Granger pissing you off again, Draco? Because I know a few charms that could-"

"Just being a stupid mudblood. You know how they are." Hermione could hear them exclaim.

"She's pathetic, Malfoy, don't worry about her." Blaise leaned over to him and embraced her palms over his face. She kissed him deeply for about a minute, then returned to her drink. "Is there something on your mind?" She asked, thoughtfully staring at Draco. He was looking dull and melancholy, and his pale, thin lips were twisted downward in a tranquil way.

"No, there isn't anything. Thanks, Blaise." They kissed again, and as they pulled apart the attractive brunette smiled.

"I always forget how good you are at that." She laughed softly, smirking slightly. Hermione, disgusted, turned back to Harry and Ron.

"Putrid." She exhaled, frowning. Although she promised herslef she did not care, something inside of her felt strongly incomplete.
* * *
Valentines day came very quickly, perhaps more quickly than anyone in Hogwarts would have liked. Gifts were being thrown about everywhere, puse robes could been seen scattered all about students in the hallways, and singing melodies echoed down the corridors between classes. Hermione personally could not wait until the end of the day, after classes were over.

It was a dank Friday evening, with stars just beginning to peer out over the smokey gray horizon. As students entered the great hall for dinner, audible gasps were heard. It was adorned in bright scarlet and salmon hearts, all of which swayed back and forth, making the hall look like a giant moving caterpillar. Colored fireworks illuminated the enchanted sky, and banners with swirls of Valentines tints were thrown across the podium where the teachers sat. Upon each student's empty pink dish lie a sack of Bertie Botts every Flavor Candy Hearts, while the goblets were decorated with tiny little lips. It looked like something Gilderoy Lockhart would have dreamed up. Ron sighed heavily as he saw the decor.

Hermione herself was overwhelmed by the festivities as they began to eat. The whole staff (excluding Professor Snape and Professor Binns) had also dressed themselves in puse apparel, blinding the student body with the color. It did not look like the boys were having very much fun, but most of the girls were squealing with delight and grabbing their suitor's hand.

"This...is...immoral." Coughed Ron, massaging his temples. "Look at this place!" He inspected it for the third or fourth time. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"This looks like something the muggles do." Pointed Harry, then biting his lip. "The Dursleys used to go all out for Valentines day. I think Dudley just coped for the candy. We just have normal candy hearts in the muggle world, not sand flavored ones." He added, spitting out a funny almond-colored heart candy. Hermione laughed slightly, remembering too when she used to consume the common muggle candy. She gazed around. Many people at the house tables were sharing kisses and hugs, and the atmosphere in the castle was loving and friendly. After a moment of trying to see why she was uncomfortable, she realized she detested this loving essence. Something about it made her wish to be alone, where she could easily write to just her diary. Making up her mind, she stood.

"I think I'm going to go back to the common room." She told her friends, their faces falling.

"And leave us alone with this?!" Questioned a very annoyed Ron. "You can't do that. We're BOYS. You're- you're a girl."

"Yes, I am." She said, nodding and giggling a bit. "I think you two can handle it." With this, she headed back up to the Gryffindor common room.

She sat by the fire with her journal and began to write. Everything about the year seemed to be building up to this very day, and her heart was screaming to say something to someone. There was simply too much kindness and caring in the air for her to cope with. As she put her quill to the parchment, she scribbled,

'I don't want to hate him. I never thought I'd say this before, but it certainly is true. I want him to be the way he was just weeks ago, when he could calmly tell me things that I never knew to be true about him.

Yet I want to despise him, because I want things to be back to the way they were before I saved him. I miss being able to insult his stupid little face, that beautiful, but horrid face, and not care. Now it seems that when I say something cruel to him, I'm the one who's hurt by it.

I don't care if things improve or worsen between Draco Malfoy and I, just don't let it be the way it is now. I have no one left to talk to.

You know, I finally began to think that there was a little bit of good in Malfoy; that he had a gentle side. Yet I seem to be always proven wrong. I began to gain some respect for him, maybe even to befriend him. Maybe even to admire him. Maybe I admire Draco Malfoy. Can it be?' She set down her quill and stared at the crackling fire for a moment. Her first instinct was to throw her diary into it, burning all of her pointless, probably wasted thoughts. But she paused as she heard a shaky voice whisper into her ear,

"Is it true?" She turned quickly around, spotting no one. All of her worries had now led to paranoia, she told herself. What next? She picked up her dragon-skin bound book and stroked it's intricate cover, cursing her own words in her mind.

"Is it true?" Came the voice again, louder this time. She again flung herself around.

"How did you get in here?!" She asked harshly, gasping as she immediately recognized the silver eyes. "Malfoy, you shouldn't be-how did you?"

"It doesn't matter now." He told her, shaking his silvery locks. "Nothing does. Just tell me if what you wrote was the truth."

"You read it?" She whispered, on the verge of being frightened. He nodded slowly, taking in her expression like a sponge to water. "I- I don't know..." He stood, not moving or breathing, staring at her solemn and solicitous face. He paused and blinked softly, still remaining very silent. "Yes." She said quietly after a moment of thought. "I think it is." And suddenly, almost as if it was happening in a flash of lightning, he had wrapped his arms about her and held her to him in a tight embrace.

"Malfoy, what the- how did you get in- get off of Hermione, you ignorant moron!" They both looked up from eachother's arms as Ron Weasley burst into the common room.
* * *