Hello folks. This is the second half of Chapter Nine. I wasn't originally planning on responding to reviews but I was reading them and they made me so HAPPY I just had to respond…plus I got my first flame which I think is (hardly) deserving of a response chuckleswickedly. Plus a whole load of new reviewers and I need to give them incentive to review. I don't know what it is about that but when ever an author responds to me it makes me really happy…I probably just like seeing my own name but…whatever on to the reviews.

Ginny Weasley: Hey girl you alwaaaays review and that makes me sooo happy does insanely peppy creepy cheer thing and ends up breaking neck…oh well …it was a nice idea.

Miriel216: Yah…my chapter lengths are extremely erratic…I used to have to try to get like 6 pages and now I'm trying to keep it between 15 and 20 but end up going to like…40 or 50

Mintytoothpick: no! They are all mine. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

DarkAngelB: I reviewed your stories! YAY! I already knew about the Salster thing…you told me like…forever and ever ago! Are you going senile? You know you being ancient and all!

Nicole-HP-fan: WOW 18? That's insane…I've got like…two.

The-sexy-flower: Thank you for being so understanding about my pretentious unsolicited advice…I just had a slutty Hermione

OKAY FOLKS HERE IT IS! THE FLAME! (Actually it was kind of a nice flame so I won't be completely and totally evil to him/her0

Anonymous: First off, if you are going to flame a story you should do it under your own name, not hiding behind ANONYMOUS, secondly it's a Fan fiction, Hermione is in love with Draco, obviously she's going to be out of character. I mean you can only keep her in character up to a certain point. Yes Draco is a psycho…a sexy psycho if you have a problem with it I'm sure a million, salivitating fan girls would be more than happy to mob you. Babe, it's my fic, if I want everyone good dead…than they ARE dead. Plus who said anything about EVERYONE good being dead? The story isn't finished yet so how do you know. Actually the only person/animal who would be considered "good" who I felt bad about killing WAS Crookshanks…so who knows…maybe I'll bring him back to. As to the Harry thing yes he will come back, but it has important plot points and I'll kill him again anyways so don't get too attached to him. Thanks for your review

Malleana: I LOVE your name steals YAY! You understand Hermione gives Malleana big shiny trophy

Chibimecools: How was it confusing?

Desi: Tom Felton is the epitome of FINE

Awwwwww: staples your tongue to your forehead just for the hell of it Hermione is stubborn…what can I say?

V-queen: I know but some reviewers aren't as intelligent and appreciative as you are

Serpentess: kills

Haystack8190: I'm glad I'm back to…FINALLY!

Sk8erpunkGCpnay: I love you my dear UPDATE YOUR STORIES! YOU ARE AN AWESOME WRITER!

TennisNerd23: You think THAT was a cliffie? HEHEHEHE wait until you see this one! You'll HATE me! I know I LOVE long chapters as well but some of my reviewers aren't as appreciative as you and I don't want to be mobbed. Plus I didn't split it just for length…it was also a lot to take in and I wanted to break it to you slowly.

September 1, 1997

Today was my first day at Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin as is befitting to a Malfoy. But I can't help longing for the Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw table. Hell! I'd even settle for the Hufflepuff table as long as I was surrounded by people who cared, by people who wouldn't expect me to be the cold and emotionless DracoMalfoy. But here, here at the Slytherin table it is just like my home. It is cold, the people I'm surrounded by are distant, frigid, and the only emotion they show is hate. And of course that is all they expect me to show. Being as I am a Slytherin and a Malfoy on top of it. Sometimes I can slip easily into that mold. Be exactly who my father and the whole of this world expect me to be but other times…other times I just wish I was anyone but myself, any where but where I am now. These longings are becoming more and more infrequent. I fear that when they stop all together I will lose whatever humanity I still possess. I don't know that when this happens if I should mourn the loss or embrace it.

"That poor little boy." Hermione said aloud

For when she read this she didn't see Malfoy as he was now

She saw a frightened confused little boy

The longing is ripping me up inside. Just today it happened again. I was standing next to my father, trying to mach my icy demeanor exactly to his, in the King's Cross Station when I saw this girl. I don't know what made me notice her. She appeared rather plain looking at first glance. Her bushy ginger hair obscured her face as she pushed her trunk towards platform nine and three quarters when she stopped, turned, and ran towards a couple standing several yards away. She ran to them and embraced them. The woman who had the same ginger colored hair as her began to cry as she hugged, who I assumed to be, her daughter. The man watched his eyes obscured by thick framed glasses, the lenses slightly fogged. Turning to him the girl wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, pressing her face against his chest. The man stood rigid for a moment and then embraced her, holding her as tightly as she held him.

"Me" Hermione said aghast "He's writing about me."

 At that moment I felt such a yearning to be able to approach the cold man next to me and hug him as this girl was hugging her father and have him hug me back. But I knew that any display of affection on my part would be met with icy disdain and a swift back hand. The Malfoys do not show affection. At that moment, when I felt I was about to cry from the longing tugging at my heart, my father turned and followed my gaze. "Filthy mudbloods." He sneered. I matched my expression exactly to his. The bushy haired girl pulled away from her father, wiping tears from her face. With a quick smile she turned, grabbed her trunk and ran through the brick wall separating Platforms 9 and 10. My father turned to me and said "You'd better hope you get sorted into Slytherin…or you know what would happen."

"Why that brute!" Hermione exclaimed

I knew he was an ass hole

But to hit his own child?

And Draco…poor Draco

Could she have lived in such ice?

No

She wouldn't have survived

But Draco had

 With that he whirled and left. Leaving me standing with Dobby. Turning to him I said "Thank you Dobby but I can take my bags to the train with out your assistance." Dobby's lip quivered and his green, bulbous eyes shone with tears "N-no sir! Your father has been telling me to take your bags or…or else!" he squeaked "Very well" I sighed, and then in a whisper so not to be heard I added "Thank you Dobby. I'll send you some chocolate when I get there." Dobby's thin arms shook as he lifted my heavy trunk his eyes shining with indecision he said "Oh no sir! Wouldn't be proper!" I just smiled I knew Dobby had a secret fondness for chocolate. "I'll send some when I get there." Dobby broke into a grin "You are the kindest of wizards sir!"

"Why he treated Dobby kindly!" Hermione mused a loud

"Maybe I can get him to join SPEW?" Hermione wondered

 I headed through the invisible barrier and walked onto the scarlet steam engine. Settling myself into the seat I closed my eyes and tried to dose of, this how ever was interrupted by the arrival of the idiots Crabe and Goyle, the sons of my father's cronies. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, wishing myself away from this compartment. When the snack cart came around I was compelled to leave, the sound of Crabe and Goyle's eating repulsing me. I stood and left, almost sighing when Crabe and Goyle followed me. I don't know what made me seek out the girl from the station. But I did. I walked up and down the compartments until I found her in one towards the back. I ignored my feeling of disappointment when I saw she was not alone. Although her companions gave me a perfectly good reason to be there. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter." I sneered. The whole time I spoke to them I felt my heart break as I hurled insults at the people in the compartment. Why did I have to be like that? What if I had driven the girl away? But it appeared as if my insults had absolutely no affect on her. I was happy but at the same time infuriated by her lack of response. When we finally arrived at the castle I was in awe of its sheer size but I covered this with a sneer.

"He looked for me?" Hermione asked "and my passive aggressive approach towards bullies infuriated him?"

He didn't want to hurt me?

 Never in my life had a felt such fear as when the sorting hat was placed on my head. 'Slytherin' I thought 'I must be in Slytherin!' 'Oh and why is that hm?' the sorting hat murmured but I didn't have time to answer before he shouted SLYTHERIN. I knew that he had seen the answer in my thoughts. To the sorting hat I shall be eternally grateful. Although I find myself wondering, that if the shadow of my father wasn't looming over me, would I have been sorted differently? I must go, someone is coming

Hermione gaped

She had always thought of Draco as the poster boy of Slytherin

Slytherin in everyway

Could that all have been an act?

Hermione skipped several entries that dealed mainly with his class schedule and stopped at one when he saw her name

November 1, 1997

I watched the girl from the train station, Hermione Granger as I later found out, as she ate across from me at the Gryffindor table. She sat there, laughing, with her new best friends Potty and Weasel. Didn't she remember that a couple of weeks ago they had hated her? I didn't understand it. How could she become instant friends with the likes of THEM when she didn't even look twice at me? They had made her cry and all I wanted was to be her friend…but wasn't I just as bad as them if not worse? I was cruel to her. Intentionally. But I didn't know how else to approach her. She was perfect. She had a perfect life. Perfect friends. Perfect families. She was beautiful. Smart. Far smarter than I could ever hope to be. Every time I spoke to her I longed for what she had and the longing was overwhelming I couldn't be kind to her when she was always looking at me as if I were shit on the sole of her shoe or with her buddies Weasel and Pot head.

Hermione shook her head confused

He had wanted to be her friend?

He thought she was perfect?

She felt her pity and growing affection for the child Malfoy grow

She wished she could go back in time and comfort him.

To give him the affection he needed so badly

She turned back to the diary and continued to read

Scanning and stopping at more interesting passages

June 9, 1998

My father beat me today. My first day home from Hogwarts. I find myself already longing for those cool stone walls. For charms, for potions, hell even for the Slytherin common room. Nothing is as bad as home. As my father beat me I found that I could slip down, down, down into this tiny place in the back of my mind where I pretended like I was in Potions class and Hermione was there, I could just see her out of the corner of my eye as she whispered instructions furtively to that idiot Neville. It's funny that my refuge is her when the reason I am being beat is her. Yes her. My father is beating me because in all my classes no matter how high my mark, Hermione had beat me. Good for her. But as my father's fists pounded into me, bloodying my nose, breaking two of my ribs, and giving me a black eye I felt a little bit of that humanity I spoke of die. I'm afraid I'll become a monster like him. Like him.

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob

She had done that to him?

She had made that happen to him?

She wished Lucius was still alive so she could kill him

Kill him for beating a poor, defenseless little boy

She felt a surge of maternal feelings for the little boy Draco had been

She returned to the book

Turning several pages she stopped on a page that looked as if it were stained with tears

October 24, 1998

It's true. My humanity is slipping away. I'm turning into my father. I'm beginning to deteriorate into the black. Taking everyone around me down as well. I called Hermione Granger a mudblood today. As the words slipped through my lips a felt a piece of me die. Just this tiny little piece, but it was as if I fed the sickness. The longing is coming less and less. I fear that soon it will be completely gone. As I said those words Hermione didn't even flinch. Something that almost killed me had absolutely no affect on her. I admired her composure even as I hated it. I found myself wishing that Potter and Weasley really would hurt me. I felt as if I needed to be punished. As if I deserved it. But the Weasel couldn't even get that right. He ended up vomiting slugs into a bucket and I walked away scotch free. Soon I will be exactly as my father and the other Slytherin. I will be cold. Emotionless. Empty except for the hate. Except for the hate. I will remain a warm blooded creature, but my heart will be frozen. I don't want that. But I feel the tickle as the ice consumes my body. Even as I write this I am slipping away.

Could that happen?

Could you fight, and fight, and fight and still never win?

Hermione stifled a derisive laugh.

Hadn't she been doing that for years?

Fighting against him…Voldemort.

But could that really happen?

You could see the danger

See the outcome

But still be incapable of stopping it.

She stared unseeing at the words as tears welled up in her eyes

Not tears for her

Tears for the child Draco had been

He had had to fight every day to remain himself

Alone

Alone while he had longed for her

While she had been happily oblivious

June 6, 1999

It was a repeat of last year. I arrived home and instead of being greeted with open arms I was greeted with hard fists. It was the same shit, just a different day. Same reason. Same pain. I retreated down into myself, curling into a ball as the fists rained down on me. I didn't feel them though. I was happily stirring extract of frog liver into my bubbling cauldron as I snuck glances at Hermione Granger. But later, after he was done. I worried. It had been harder for me to find that place in the back of my mind. It was harder to find Hermione through the maze of hate that is rapidly being built inside my head.

Hermione felt righteous rage bubble up as she clenched and unclenched her fists

She really did wish Lucius was still alive

She would love to rip into him.

November 11, 1999

I finally got a rise out of Hermione-seemingly-unflappable-Granger. It's only taken me three years of trying but I finally broke that calm composure of hers. It broke my heart. I made fun of that beast that mauled me, okay yes it was my fault but mauling is mauling. I didn't want it dead. But my father insisted. It had brought a Malfoy to its knees, and therefore had to go. He deemed it a monster, as if he was a monster himself. As if he didn't do far worse to me every holiday. I made fun of the Hippogriff, and that giant Hagrid and Hermione slapped me. Slapped me hard. I knew I deserved it. I welcomed it. I rejoiced in the fact that I had finally broken that wall around her even as I felt my heart shatter at the sight of tears in her eyes. I felt another piece of me slip away. No matter how hard I hang on to them that darkness rises up, overwhelming, and rips another strip away.

Hermione blinked away tears.

How could anyone go through this?

How could anyone feel so horrible about doing something and continue to do it?

How could someone live with a monster like that and not turn into one?

How could anyone survive a childhood like that and not emerge with scars?

Draco hadn't wanted Buckbeak dead?

But when he had spoken to her there had been nothing but disgust in his voice.

But looking back now she could see that that was just an act put on by a frightened child 

She pillowed her head in her hands, the sound of the rain comforting her as she tried to come to grips with the fact that everything she thought she knew about Draco had been a lie.

And she was only at their third year in Hogwarts

She pushed a strand of red-brown hair away from her face and continued to read

November 12, 1999

I was happy to learn that Buckbeak escaped, I'm sure that the golden trio had something to do with it, and I can't help but feel grateful towards them. Although my father is furious! I can't help but wonder if he will take this out on me over Christmas break

December 17, 1999

I'm not surprised that my father beat me. In fact I was expecting it. As his fists rained down on me I retreated down, down, down, down into myself. But it is becoming harder and harder to find that place in my mind where I am at peace. I know now that when my humanity is gone, so shall that little corner of my mind where I can hide.

Hermione's lip quivered

She couldn't believe that one so young would be forced to fight such an overwhelming battle

A battle for good and evil

A battle being fought inside himself

Where the enemy was indistinguishable form himself

She wished she could have been there

Been there to help him

She felt love swell in her heart for the scared little boy who fought a battle he couldn't win

She skipped some passages detailing several quiditch matches and classes

June 15, 2000

It's a new millennia but everything is the same. At home, at school. I still treat Hermione Granger like shit, she still ignores me as little pieces of my humanity fade. I know that if only I could be nice to her I would retain my humanity, but every time I am around her I feel jealousy, jealousy when I see her with Potty and Weasel, jealousy when I see her smile at someone besides me. I would give anything to have her look at me as she does Pot head or Weasel. Hell I'd give anything to have her look at me the way she looks at Longbottom!  Every time I see her the blackness rises up and I lash out. I wish that I didn't but it seems as if it is unstoppable, the consumption of soul. When my father beat me today I almost couldn't find the hiding space in my mind. I almost couldn't find Hermione.

Jealous

He was jealous of Harry and Ron

Neville?

Hermione wiped tears from her cheek

Even as she read she could see bits and pieces of Malfoy that she had never seen before.

But if what he was writing was any indication

She feared that they would soon be gone

Gone from the little boy she loved

Gone from the man she loved

And if it was true, if Draco's humanity died, he really would be incapable of anything but hate

She returned to the book

Keeping her fingers crossed as she cheered the child-Draco on

December 24, 2000

Scar head and Weasel are such idiots. Blind idiots. They never saw what was under their noses the whole time I was secretly longing for what they had. I attended the Yule Ball with Pansy. I absolutely loath her. The whole time she was talking to me I was staring at Hermione. She was stunning. Something I had known for a very long time, but the way Ron and Harry were staring at her you would thing she had grown an extra head. Bet they wished they had gone with HER instead of with those fool gossips they had on their arms. Although Hermione had done well for herself. She was on the arm of the Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum. I was so jealous of him I could hardly breathe. Every time Hermione laid her hand on his arm I wanted to leap from my seat and rip them apart. It is the beast inside me. The beast I feed whenever I unleash the hate that I harbor within me. The beast wants what it believes is it and, for some reason, it wants Hermione. I fear the beast as it grows inside me. I do not want to go near Hermione for fear of unleashing it. For fear of feeding it more of my soul.

Hermione reread the passage.

He really was Jealous of her

Jealous of Victor

Had Harry and Ron really stared at her?

And the beast.

The beast wanted her?

Was it possible the beast had won?

That who Draco was now was only a remnant of himself and it was the beast in control

The beast that wanted her

Hermione shook her head

You know what they say about assuming

She turned back to the journal

June 1, 2001

Voldemort is back. The Dark Lord is back. Dumbledore, looking as old as I had ever seen him look, announced it tonight at dinner. The beast inside me crows in triumph as a bit of my soul died as I heard the news. That Voldemort was back meant I would be expected to join him. Become a death eater. What's left of my soul is repulsed by the thought. But the larger part of me, the part that is the beast, the part that is cold, welcomes Voldemort back.

Hermione stared unseeing at the passage

He hadn't wanted to be a Death Eater

Well at least the part of him that was Draco

Draco and not the…beast

June 12, 2001

My father's drinking is becoming worse and he is steadily depleting our fortune. Soon, I fear, there will be nothing left. It wouldn't be so hard to cope, but now, with mother ill and father drinking and gambling, I find it impossible to hold on to our money. Also it is as I feared; I shall be forced to join the death eaters. But not yet. I am not old enough yet. I rejoice in this even as a part of me shakes with the need to unleash the darkness. I stayed up late last night pouring over the books. Trying, trying to find a way to keep us afloat. I believe that I am doing a passable job controlling our money and resources through correspondences. The fools I am dealing with think I am my father. It is lucky for us that he travels to shadier parts of town where he is feared when he gambles. It has kept tongues from wagging because none who have seen him dare speak is name, and even if they did they would not be believed. But the gossip would spread and the Malfoy name would be ruined. So now it is up to me to protect the Honor of a name I do not believe in. Embrace a way of life I loathe but at the same time welcome. The beatings continue. It is harder for me to find the hiding place. Soon, I fear, I shall not be able to find it at all...and then I will be dead and the beast will rule.

He had had to do BOOKS?

The immature little prat of a child had had to do books

Not just books, but business transactions

He had kept everything moving

Hermione gaped

That just proved that the Malfoy she thought she had known back in Hogwarts was just an act.

She never would have been able to face such responsibilities at 14

And Narcissa had been sick and Lucius a drunk wastrel

It didn't surprise her

She continued to read

January 23, 2002

Dumbledore is gone. He has left us at the mercy of the vile Umbridge woman. I of course as still being treated as a prince because I followed my father's slurred directions and kissed up to that fat toad of a woman. I know that Dumbledore is planning something and that he has of course "spilled the beans", as they say, to Harry and he in turn told Ron and Hermione. I know that they are planning to some how over throw Umbridge. I wish I could be involved in it somehow. But after the fight last week, I don't believe any Gryffindor will even speak to me, let alone let me help them. I don't know what came over me. I said the most terrible things to the Weasel twins, and to Harry. Insulting their mothers as my own lies dieing. The cancer eating her alive. The beast is to blame; I am sure, for what I said. I felt the darkness rise up, and that poison left my mouth. So guilty have I felt, that I have been allowing the Weaslett to get the snitch, I could have easily beaten her. But I am ashamed of the things I have done, and I am once again punishing myself. I wonder that if I subject myself to enough of this self-inflicted pain if I will once again feel clean. For no matter how hard I scrub my skin, this dirty feeling pervades my being, my soul. I feel it every time I lash out, every time I look at Hermione. At how pure she is. I know now that we can never really be together. We are far too different. She is freshly fallen snow to my muddy puddle. Touching her would spoil her. Being with her would contaminate her. Loving her would kill her. I accept this now. I am doomed to become the beast, to walk alone, to live in the venom, to live in the cold. Very little of my true self remains. Sometimes I can't even find myself, trapped in the maze of hate and ice. But luckily I still feel the yearning, I feel it every time I look at Hermione. She is my anchor in this sea of hate. Even if I can not have her, she can keep me alive.

Hermione's eyes glimmered with tears

 

He really did love her.

He really did struggle to remain himself

He had never told her how he felt because…he felt that that would destroy her

Something must have happened, something to make him believe that he was clean enough to tell her how he felt

A silvery droplet escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek

She had to find out what changed

June 19, 2002

The Ministry has finally realized that Voldemort really is back. My father, his eyes wild with fear, paces back and forth across the office floor, drinking fire whisky as if it were apple juice. He fears that the Ministry will come for him, or worse yet, Voldemort. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I do the books, struggling to find a way to make ends meet. He paces, occasionally looking at me in a measuring way, then he finally speaks. "You boy!" he growls "You'll be joining me in the ranks of our master on Halloween." I stared at him, my eyes shards of ice. He lived in fear, but was still willing to subject me to the same life as he lived. I was terrified inside, but the new me, the cold me, the me who was more often in control than I was, .  The me I had pretending to be for so long just stared at the man who had once been my father coolly. "Very well." I heard myself say. Inside I screamed in agony. NO NO I didn't want to be a Death Eater! I don't want to be a monster! I don't want to be you! But my outside was frozen into a mask of arrogance. My inner self, ME couldn't break through the ice, couldn't wrestle control away from the beast. I was no longer at the steering wheel. I was just along for the ride. A spectator of my life being ruined. "What? No argument?" I heard my father sneer. And then I heard my own voice, sarcasm leaking from it. "No SIR" My voice making the last word sound like a synonym for bastard, which, as far as I was concerned, it was. "Don't take that tone with me young man! I'm still the master of this house." My father shouted, his voice slurred. His fist connected solidly with my jaw, the beast wanted to fight, I felt my fists clench and my muscles tense, ready to spring. But enough of me remained that I wrestled back the impulse and let my father beat me. It hardly mattered to me. But the beast was angry, I could feel the burning blackness as my father's fists ripped into me. I retreated down into myself but became lost in the black, finally I came across the potions class room, Hermione, but it was so hard to find it, to remain there as the blackness closed in around my safe haven. But I had found it, and I stayed in it. It was a small victory for me. I knew that soon even that would be taken away from me, and soon after that my safe haven would be gone all together, swallowed by the black.

He was fighting a loosing battle Hermione realized

She wondered if he did succumb to it in the end

She wondered if the Draco she knew now really was DRACO or if it was the Beast he spoke of

But she couldn't believe that.

The Draco she had lived with for the past months had been kind, funny, loving.

She had to believe that Draco had some how managed to escape the ice, the hate

She turned the page in the black book

Her eyes moving quickly as she read

October 15, 2002

I received an owl today informing me of my mother's death. The letter was written in my father's hand, it was brief. It read simply "Your mother passed away on this day October 15, 2002 at 4:45am. L. Malfoy" I stared at the letter, my tight grip wrinkling the expensive paper. Why had my father not told me that the cancer had reached the point where they expected death? I would have returned home to be with her in her final moments. But now, it was too late. The one human on this planet, who I knew cared about me was gone. Taken by a muggle illness. It is the ultimate irony. A muggle sickness taking the life of the wife of the Scourge of the Muggles. My soul is barely more than a shadow. And soon even that will fade. I will be inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters on Friday, October 31. What remains of myself cowers in the tiny corner of my mind that is not invaded by darkness, and the beast, the beast paces impatiently, eagerly awaiting the 31st.

Hermione knew that Draco would be inducted into the ranks of the death eaters

For wasn't he one now?

She wondered how he had managed to retain his soul.

She was positive he still had it.

He had to.

She wouldn't have fallen in love with a man who had no soul

October 31, 2002

The Dark mark burns on my arm. The stabbing pains shooting up my arm. I am nauseous but excited. The beast is excited. It knows that the next meeting I attend will mean blood. Blood to feed it. Blood to sustain it. I am now almost completely gone I know that the next meeting will be the end of me. Once I kill the beast will rule. The beast will rule

November 13, 2002

I have done it. I have killed. Or more specifically, the beast has killed. Killed innocent muggles as I stirred extract of Dragon tonsils into a simmering, acid green, potion. I am surprised that I still remain. That my soul still remains. Although it is a tiny sliver, a silvery shadow in a dark room. My earlier prediction has proved wrong and I am still here. I have not yet submitted to the beast completely. I thought that once I had killed, my soul would banish. POOF into thin air. But it was not I that killed. It was the beast. I did not participate in it, I merely witnessed the grisly act. That is the only reason I remain.

She understood now how he could kill and still have emotions.

HE hadn't done it

The beast had.

June 17, 2003

Today my father beat me. I retreated down, down into myself searching for the Potion room. I could not find it. It is lost to the darkness. When my eyes opened, I saw my father standing over me, his fists raised to strike me again, and the beast awoke. I rose to my feet, grabbing his wrist in an iron grip, I leaned in close and whispered "You no longer control me." And I saw fear in his eyes. The beast sensed the fear, feasted on it. I raised my fists and tore into my father, beating him until my fists were wet with our mingled blood. When I was done, when he was on the edge of unconsciousness I awoke long enough from the trance I fell into as the beast beat my father, to feel my soul die. NO! The tiny part of me that still lived free from the hate screamed. But then the beast took control. I am now frozen, the beast dictates my movements and I reside in a place of darkness. A place with no sound, I cannot see, I cannot feel. I am a prisoner, in a prison without bars.

His soul HAD died

Hermione stifled a sob

But if it was gone

How could he write?

Maybe he wasn't all gone

Maybe he just thought he was

September 1, 2003

I was surprised to see the head boy badge gleaming up at me from its bed of red satin. I was surprised that Hogwarts still existed, surprised only because I had not thought something so normal could exist in a world so dark. That was when I realized that the world was only dark for me. Yes there was a struggle. Thousands of muggles and wizards had died, many by my own hand. But no one could see the darkness that I now lived in. No one could notice the difference, I had been doing such a good job of playing the part of the beast, no one could tell the difference between the real beast, and me. I still watched as the beast moved through the motions, an unwilling spectator in a life I longed only to depart from. As I stared at the badge I realized that Hermione would be Head Girl. We would interact more closely than we ever had. The real me, the one trapped in the darkness yearned for her, hoping that she would somehow anchor me, save me from the beast. But the beast, the one who controls my body hates Hermione. I fear that the beast will harm her. I must not let that happen! I wonder how, now that my soul is gone, I still exist. Yes it could hardly be termed living, but I remain, trapped deep, deep down in a cold hard place. It is so dark I cannot see anything. I know I have described this before. But yet I wonder. How it is I can write this

Yes how could he still exist?

It has to be because his soul is still there…he just can't find it

September 19, 2003

It is as I feared. The beast hates Granger. Hates everything about her. Imagines killing her. It has this twisted yearning for her. To kill her. It hates Potter, it hates Dumbledore. It hates. So far I have been able to keep it from doing anything to Granger. But soon, soon I won't be able to hold it back. It needs some release. I just can't let it hurt Granger. I have stopped calling her by her first name. Every time I write it, speak it, it sullies it, drags it through the dirt. I won't do that to her. But I fear that if I ever wrest control away from the beast. If my  soul should ever return, I would have to live with all the things I have done, with the hate. Although I doubt very much my soul should ever return. COULD a soul return? I didn't know. But I continue to hope. Hope even though I am blind, deaf, and dumb. Even though I can't feel.

Hermione frowned

Remembering how cruelly Draco had treated her that year

Oh Draco

You can feel.

You still have your soul

You just have to find it

Hermione read with more determination.

June 3, 2004

I graduated from Hogwarts on this day, or should I say the beast did. I could only watch as he received his diploma. As he sneered, as he glared at Hermione as she gave her Valedictorian speech. My heart swelled with pride for her as she mounted those steps to the podium, but the beast watched her, waiting, longing for the day when he could wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life from her. The girl who had stolen his honor. It should be HIM up there on that podium, not that filthy mudblood! Those thoughts are his, but they exist inside of me. The beast is now free to follow Voldemort all year round. To kill as many muggles as he likes. The end of the war is coming. The beast shall emerge victorious from the fray. He is slowly climbing the social, political, and slipper ladder of the Death Eater chain of command. Using cunning, charm, and ruthlessness to seize the power he desires. Soon he will be Voldemort's right hand man. The beast is furious that I remain. I no longer just exist in the darkness. I fight the darkness as it tries to swallow me every second of every day. I am growing stronger, I believe, from the constant fighting. Maybe I'll be able to escape from the darkness.

.

That's how he had done it!

He had fought off the darkness!

Hermione turned back to the book and began to read again.

January 28, 2005

 

My father has finally died. He has left this earth, leaving me (legally, for it has been mine for some time.) the Malfoy fortune. Now the beast has wealth as well as power. Only one death eater stands in the way of him, and being Voldemort's right hand man. Soon the beast will dispose of him, and he will be the undisputed ruler, second in power only to Voldemort. My strength is growing. Sometimes, when the beast is tired, I can seize control for small stretches of time, but when I return to the darkness, I am exhausted, but yet I must fight, continue to fight. If I don't, even this small piece of me that remains will be devoured by the darkness.

'Yes' Hermione thought

He had fought off the darkness in the end and returned

That had to be what had happened.

The Draco Malfoy that she had been living with for the past month had been real, he had expressed emotions

And from what Draco had described of "the beast" it didn't seem like it was capable of anything but hate, even if he was just acting

Hermione turned the page and turned her eyes back to the book

February, 14, 2005

 

The beast has murdered the last death eater that stood between him and ultimate power, or as ultimate as he could get while still being second to Voldemort. His ambition scares me, and soon I fear, he may go after Voldemort himself. We have been tracking Dumbledore, Potter, and a large group of people who oppose Voldemort. I know that Hermione must be among them and my heart cries out for her. Every time I feel as if I am about to slide into the darkness I hear her voice and I fight with a renewed determination. The problem with me knowing where Hermione is, is now the beast also knows where she is. The beast hates her with such venom that it makes me nauseous. It longs for nothing more than to wrap its, my, hands around her neck and watch as the life fades from her large, thick lashed, sapphire eyes. Several sources have informed me that she and Potter are…intimate. I am jealous, but here in the darkness I cannot allow myself to feel such an emotion. The darkness would feed on it, and I would be destroyed. Hermione is my life preserver, but at the same time, my doom. Every time I think of her the jealousy comes…and I begin to sink. But in my darkest moments, I hear her voice, and I am bolstered. I long for her, I long to feel her skin, to see the warmth in her eyes. But this is only allowed in my imagination, for I do not know if I will ever escape from this darkness. And even if I were to escape, I doubt that it would be warmth I saw in her eyes. She believes me a killer, and I am, or my body is at least. In her eyes I would see, hate, ice, a mirror to how my own look right at this moment, the beasts eyes.

Hermione pressed a hand to her throat

She was liking this beast less and less.

He really did love her

He hadn't written it yet but…the jealousy?

The longing?

What else could it be?

She returned to the book

May 15, 2005

We continue to track down the rebel faction as Voldemort's power grows. He has conquered wizarding England and has set is sights on America, China, and Bulgaria. Soon they to will fall.

And they soon did

As Hermione remembered America fell on June 4, 2005

China on September 8, 2005

Bulgaria on January 27, 2006, the longest to conquer of the three, strange being as how everyone considered Bulgaria a Dark Art's supporter.

February 6, 2006

Today I, or should I say the beast, led a raid on a house where it was rumored the rebel faction had been staying. We came across a large group and I caught a glimpse of Hermione before Harry, Dumbledore, Ron, Seamus, and several others, apparated. All the people the beast really wanted dead were gone. But then he caught a glimpse of red hair, moving swiftly through groups of dueling Death Eaters and rebels the beast found Fred Weasley fighting McNair. Pushing McNair aside the beast pointed my want at Fred and sneered. I had secretly admired Fred and George for what they had done in my fifth year. I never saw that vile Umbridge woman so upset as when they set up that swamp in the middle of the hallway. But the beast despised him, he was a betrayer. He had sullied his pure blood by associating with the filthy Granger, and protecting muggles. The beast and Fred dueled. In the end Fred was tired, but the beast toyed with him. Leading him on. Playing with him. Inside I was pleading for him to finish it quickly. To not hurt Fred. I didn't bother asking him not to kill Fred, for the beast never let prey go. But the beast would not heed me. He finally killed Fred. A malicious smile gracing my (his) face. I am sickened, I feel myself grow weaker because I can not deal with the fact that I have killed someone I knew. I had been able to deal with the killing before because I did not know the men I (he) killed. But when I looked at Fred as the life drained out of him, I saw Ron. Then I saw Hermione. I knew that Fred's death would cause her pain and I was weakened. But I continue to fight. Fight for my humanity. I CANNOT let the beast win. I must succeed. I must find my way out of the dark and find a way to keep Hermione safe.

Hermione blinked at the page stupidly

The beast had killed Fred

Brilliant, clever, wonderful, funny, lively Fred

He had toyed with him

He had killed him

Hermione felt her hate for Voldemort grow

August 30, 2006

We are so close to finding the last of the Rebel Faction the Beast can smell them. Dumbledore is dead. The wise, kind, funny, old man is dead. Voldemort has killed him like he has so many others. And not even in a duel. Voldemort came across Dumbledore while he was unconscious, knocked out in a battle, and killed him. He couldn't kill him while he was awake, and Voldemort knew it. So being the murdering coward that he is, he killed Dumbledore while he was unconscious. And the beast watched. The death of Dumbledore had filled me with a righteous anger, and soon, soon, I will be able to fight the beast and win. I know it. I have been able to take control of my body for hours at a time, but then the beast seizes control. Soon I will slay the beast and join the rebel faction. Fight Voldemort. I know I must. Even if I will die doing it.

He was going to join them

Help them fight Voldemort

But he hadn't

He had captured the last of the rebels

Maybe he hadn't been able to take control from the beast as soon as he had thought.

December 31, 2006

Today I watched as Ron Weasley was put to death. I lost some of the strength I had been gathering to fight off the beast. I watched as McNair beheaded Hermione Granger's best friend. Never have I felt such guilt. He looked right at me, the moment before the blade fell, I saw the hate in his eyes, and I knew that that would be the same way Hermione would look at me.

NO! NO! I don't hate you

You didn't do it, the beast did

And Hermione believed this with all her heart.

February 15, 2007

Word has reached us that Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, has killed himself, and Hermione Granger has been captured. The beast crows in triumph and eagerly awaits the kill. I am scared. What if Voldemort kills her before I am able to regain control of myself? Or worse yet, What if I kill her? No. I won't think of that. I will concentrate only on gathering strength so that I may fight off the beast.

Hermione stared at the date, her fingers tracing the graceful black lettering.

The day Harry had killed himself

The day her life had ended.

Or had it just begun?

Hermione knew that she would face five months moving from dungeon to dungeon before Draco finally rescued her.

She wondered why it had taken so long.

March 18, 2007

I have not yet see Hermione. I must not until I have conquered the beast. I know that the Beast would kill her. I would completely lose myself if that were to happen. I MUST not let that happen! I MUST protect Hermione at all costs, even if I have to protect her from myself. Which is what I am doing now. Voldemort expects me to capture the last of the rebels, I have only enough control over the beast to keep him from killing Hermione. I cannot keep him from going after the Rebels.

Hermione stared at the words

He had kept her alive…by killing her friends?

'No' Hermione reminded herself

'It was the beast that captured my friends. Not Draco. Draco saved me'

June 3, 2007

Today the beast captured the last of the rebels. Voldemort is now completely unchallenged. He is the supreme ruler of…well…everything. I have almost enough strength to overthrow the beast, and when I do…I will rescue Hermione. I will claim her as my "reward" for capturing the rebels

Hermione blinked.

So THAT was the reason she had been given to Draco

She had wondered

June 9, 2007

I have overthrown the beast. I am now in control of my own body. It is an awkward feeling, for I have not really been in body for around four years. I have been living in the dark. Seeing again, hurts my eyes, but everything I lay eyes on is new and wondrous. It is like seeing for the first time. For the last years while I have watched the beast commit thousands of horrendous acts, I never thought they would be a part of me when I returned to my body. But how wrong I was. These hands that are now mine have killed. These eyes I now see with have watched as thousands, no millions of muggles being killed. These ears I hear with have heard the screams as they died. This brain I use to move and talk and walk to hear, to live has ordered my body to commit these acts. And it remembers each and every separate attack. I remember the hate. I now live with the hate, the guilt. Everything I have done is now a part of me. I must live with all the things I have done. Never in my life have I felt so filthy. I cannot go to Hermione like this. I must work through the guilt, the hate. I must understand how I feel before I go near her again, my feelings and the beast's are now so closely entwined I don't know which is which half the time.

He…remembered everything he had done?

How could he live with such guilt…such pain?

'For me' Hermione answered her own question

'He had to live with it so he could save me. Maybe to atone for his sins'

July 20, 2007

I understand now what I must do. I understand now who I am, what I feel. I do not hate Hermione, I hate Voldemort. I must protect Hermione, I must kill Voldemort. I am Draco Malfoy, and I am a murderer. But I must live with that. I accept it now. The beast used me. But it was still me committing these acts. I must atone for my sins. But the first thing I must do is make sure Hermione is safe.

She had been right

He HAD fought through the hate so he could save her

He did love her

She knew it

July 21 2007

Today I went and rescued Hermione from Hogwarts. I have taken her to my home. Now she is safe. I have blood bonded her to me. I don't know why I did it. But the longing over came me, and I submitted to it. I love her.

Hermione felt a tear trickle down her cheek

She stood abruptly, letting the book slide from her lap onto the floor.

She had to tell him

She had to tell him that she loved him

She ran out of Draco's room, her feet pounding on the wood floors of the hall. She flew down the stairs and skidded onto the marble floors. She ran from room to room trying to find him.

Flinging open the door to his office she saw him

Seated in the red chair behind the desk

As she ran into the room

His head snapped up, his eyes wild and red rimmed, as if he had been crying

Crying?

She knew now that he could cry

That he could laugh

That he could feel joy, happiness, pain, sadness

And love

He could feel love

He really did love her

And she loved him

She could tell him and they really could live happily ever after.

She snapped back to reality as Draco spoke "What do you want Hermione?" he asked sadly

Hermione's heart swelled with joy

She opened her mouth to tell him when a large banging rang through out the house.

Hermione froze her mouth slightly open about to speak

He looked in the general direction of the front door and then back at her

She began to speak again "Draco I-" she was cut off again by the loud banging

Draco stood abruptly "I have to go answer that." He mumbled and strode out of the office towards the front door.

Draco strode resolutely towards the front door, his thoughts awhirl

What had Hermione been about to say?

'Why didn't you stay to find out you fool?' the little voice questioned in an annoyed tone of voice

'Because I had been afraid to hear it' Draco admitted silently

He had sensed that she had been about to tell him something important, he had sensed it through the bond

But what if she had wanted to tell him again that she didn't love him…or that she hated him?

Or maybe that she wanted to leave.

Or something equally as bad

He reached the front door and flung it open to the dark, and pouring rain

He could just make out a shadowy outline of a man

Then suddenly a flash of lightning illuminated a face he saw in his nightmares

A face that should be under six feet of dirt

"Wha- what?" he stammered, his mind numb with shock

He heard the padding of feet as Hermione came up behind him

"Draco who's at the…" she trailed off as the man stepped into the house

His black hair sopping wet and his green eyes flashing

Hermione's sapphire eyes widened in shock

"Harry?" she said in a whisper

AN- THE END….No, no I'm just kidding. Hehehehe dodges tomatoes I wrote this in Canada…that's neat eh? Wow! That was a freaking long ass chapter. See what happens when I want to upload and I CAN'T?  Well we had a little peek into Draco's past…AND LOVE! Now I'm thinking I have three chapters left, and if you can count that means twelve chapters all together...actually because I split chapter nine into two chapters it would be like…thirteen…or if you're like me…it means that there's a story…and it has chapters…and you're not sure what all the numbers mean. grins Oh yes and as I mentioned before I am looking for Betas for my other story "From the Ground Up" if your interested please say so in your review or email me.

Oh yes to the folks who haven't been to my profile page lately, I announced my intention to not update until I have at least 33 reviews after updating. Why 33 you ask? Well let me tell you, it's because 33 people have me on their author alert thingy…actually it's more. But I have decided that it is unnecessary ego stroking and I should right for the creative release and not for reviews, I'm taking pity on you…but don't think that means you can get out of reviewing. I still want a decent amount before I update. sighs I really am taking pity on you all.

Draco: Snorts pity? PITY? You're not showing ME any pity! Your making me watch…THAT points at Harry and Hermione snogging in the corner I tell you I don't deserve this!

OA: Hey you two break that up pokes Harry and Hermione with pole until they stop kissing I will have none of that on my set! Besides if there is any snogging going on it will be between YOU points at Hermione and YOU points at Draco besides you're supposed to love each other…shouldn't you be practicing?

Hermione/ Draco: GAG! HEY! I CAN KISS BETTER THAN YOU CAN!

Draco: Oh please! You're like a dieing fish gasping for air

Hermione: gasps I'll have you know I am an EXCELLENT kisser…aren't I Harry? HARRY?

Harry: Don't get me involved in this

Hermione: Harry?

Harry: gulps nervously …yes?

Hermione: I HATE YOU! smacks Harry

Draco: HAHAHAHAHAH GO BITCH QUEEN SMACK SCAR FACE!!!!! WOOHOO!!!

Hermione: shut up you…you…YOU FERRET! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! kills Draco

OA: AHHHHHHHH YOU KILLED DRACO! YOU KILLED MY LEAD MAN!  Oh god oh god now I have to rewrite the script

Hermione: Is that all you care about? Your stupid story?

OA: well…I like…um…well actually yes

Hermione: kills author NOBODY LOVES ME!!!!!!!

Harry: Wait! Wait Hermione I love you! runs after Hermione

Draco: Stupid bitch! Why does she always do that? cracks knuckles and I so do NOT love her

OA: Hey I thought you were dead?

Draco: Oh shut up! Locks author in closet

I AM A REVIEW JUNKIE! FEED THE ADDICTION! grabs reader by lapels FEED IT!