:: Chapter Eight: The Beginning Of It All ::

"I have a cold heart?" Draco questioned. "You're wishing my death upon me and you're claiming I have a cold heart, Granger?"

"Never once did I wish death upon you. But I can't honestly say I wasn't thinking about it."

"It's the same thing Mudblood." The old childhood insult came quickly out of his pale lips without a moment's hesitation and Hermione sat shoulders back, fighting off the insult.

"Why are we enemies?" She asked suddenly.

"Why? That's like asking why does a dog hate a cat. Why does a cat hate a mouse? They just do."

"But why? There is no rhyme or reason. Opposites attract, someone once said, it's a proven fact. But why is it that in this world, in these days, they repel stronger than any other force."

"Whoever said opposites attract lied."

"Why can't you ever just take things as facts? You're not that stupid."

"The things you say are not things I see as facts. They're rubbish."

"Rubbish? How dare you." She drawled. A smirk coated his lips raising her temper even more with the passing moments. But she couldn't help but stare at him before she could finish her tirade. She noticed for the first time how much he had truly changed since their days at Hogwarts. His once perfectly kept white-blonde hair was unkempt and was falling in all directions; his gray eyes seemed to be a more crystalline blue that bore into her. Her eyes traveled down his body in a once-over, the years of Quidditch practice had left him with more that just a losing streak. Through his button down white shirt Hermione could clearly see muscles. Her eyes rested on his left forearm where she knew the Dark Mark resided, the one thing that connected him to this mass of murders. "Can I see it?" She asked aloud before she could stop herself. She mentally slapped herself. His gazed followed hers and he glanced down as his arm rubbing it gently.

"No." He snapped. Hermione glanced down at the floor chiding herself for offending him for what seemed to be the thousandth time. He began to roll up his sleeve to the point where the mark was visible. Hermione took her bound hands and gently ran one of them over the raised skin forming a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.

"Did it hurt?" She asked gazing as the figure perfectly set into his skin.

"Severely." He said softly watching as she traced it.

"I'm sorry." She said moving her finger along the thin white line.

"As am I. I'm sorry that you have to be kept here, your hands and feet bound."

"You're only doing what you have to do." She stopped tracing the mark and raised her head to meet his eyes.

"That's the thing, I don't. I know I could run away from all of this today, and yet, I won't."

"I can't blame you for that. I would be terrified in your shoes. I know that sooner or later I'm going to end up in the hands of your father and my life will crumble, but being used as your fathers torture device must be a thousand of times worse."

"It made me stronger."

"You couldn't have been but a child when he began his frivolous sessions."

"I was five. I begged and pleaded for him to stop but he wouldn't. I realized then I didn't have a father, that what I had was a monster." His voice drifted into a dreamlike stage as if he was recalling a memory that was buried deep inside his mind.

"I wish there was something I could have done, something that I could do." A strong look of concern coated her face and a knotted feeling rose in Draco's stomach. He'd never felt that someone truly cared about him, least of all a mudblood. He felt a sudden urge to repay her for the wonderful feeling he felt inside, but he was being selfish. He didn't want this feeling to stop. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. She responded quickly and kissed him back, whether is was from the heat of the moment or because feelings were being created neither knew, and neither cared.