Okay. So some – okay, MOST – of you are confused. I don't know if it's because you don't get my writing... or that I'm trying to have sneaky plot behind this. (Notice the word trying)

Now. I'm going to give special thanks to hay lin felton because you're an amazing reviewer. I love your pointers and am going to follow them. Except maybe not all in this chappie. My feet are heinously cold and I can't think of what to write.

Damn.

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"What the hell has gotten into you, Draco?" Shouted Harry,

"Nothing," Draco muttered underneath his breath,

"I didn't do anything!" sensing Draco's mistrust for his word yesterday,

"Sure," he agreed sarcastically, not bothering to look up at Harry,

"I didn't!" Harry wailed, protesting his innocent. Harry's eerie voice, when used in that tone and pitch, had a mysterious quality; yanking everybody's ounce of attention to him. Draco looked up at him, disconnected with his thoughts.

Damn, Potter was telling the truth, Draco thought. He had found an ingenious way of detecting whenever the naïve Scar Face was lying; Potter's nostrils always flared when he was lying. Quite comical, but very handy. Last night Draco had been too pissed to care, too pissed to consider that Potter was actually telling the truth. That Potter didn't do it; even though – Draco must admit – he would've done it if their situations were reversed.

"Yes, of course you didn't," Draco tried not to relent. He felt kind of hurt that he was the lesser person – oh what was he kidding? He was just angry with Potter because he needed someone to vent his frustrations on. He was a Slytherin for Merlin's sake! Draco was sure Potter at least thought about doing it, "that's why I agreed with you."

People can take Draco's remark two ways; the literal way... or the sarcastic Draco way. Harry didn't think about it deep enough and concentrated on the big pile of yellow lollies and the even bigger pile of discarded wrappers.

"So nothing's wrong?" Harry asked absently, foundling his treasure,

"Nothing," Draco assured, keeping his nostrils from flaring, bitterly,

"So, when are we going?" Harry whispered, believing Draco's lie like a child would take candy, and changing the subject to a more lighter and delightful choice.

"Who's going where?" Hermione asked, entering into the conversation with the thirst to know,

"Nowhere-" Draco began, before the dolt Potter chirped in,

"I'm going to Draco house!" he exploded excitedly,

Foolish immature git! Cursed Draco in his mind; he didn't want Hermione knowing.

"When?" Hermione asked, her eyes widened with hurt that he didn't invite her,

"I don't know," Harry admitted and giggled insanely to himself.

Draco rolled his eyes; who was stupid enough to feed Potter sugar; WHO?!? Draco evilly gazed at the yellow pile before him and thought very hard about snatching them all away from Potter. Was that lemon candy being consumed right in front of him? The big – gigantic, colossal and mammoth – question was; who supplied it? Draco was going to get to the bottom of this.

Hermione looked hurt at Draco and caught him rolling his eyes. He's rolling his eyes at me! Thought Hermione, paranoid and worried about Harry's stability. She should've never given him all that candy.

"Well," Draco began.

Why am I risking my neck to save you? He wanted to ask, not sure of the answer himself. Mudblood. He added to his thoughts. He felt a pang of guilt inside, guilt told him he should respect Hermione and lo... like her. Only that his guilt got bashed and was told never to return. Draco's guilt ran away, along with it eloped his need to pounce on Harry's stash.

And so Draco didn't feel guilty.

"Harry's coming to my house. Tomorrow," Draco explained briefly. Harry jumped up in his seat; so soon? He needed to pack, he needed to pack; HE NEEDED TO PACK!

"I NEED TO PACK!" Harry screeched excitedly, unable to contain himself. Hermione shouldn't have given him candy. Tasted like lemons. I'm beginning to understand what Draco sees in them, thought Harry wistfully to himself. What did Draco see in Lemons?

Silence followed Harry's exit – gliding, flying, falling, smashing; whatever you'd call it – Hermione looked hopefully up at Draco. Why wasn't he inviting her? Draco looked into Hermione's – the Mudblood's – eyes, why did she have to be so damn irresistible?

"I'm sorry," Hermione broke the silence. Tears began streaming down her eyes; she couldn't read Draco, she didn't know how to react. Hermione was cracking; Draco's mood swings were too much, she couldn't stand being treated like this.

"WHAT?" demanded Draco; why was this strong and determined girl suddenly breaking down? Had he worn her down so much? Did she even know why she was sorry, what she was apologizing for?

Draco should've hardened his eyes and told her sorry wasn't good enough. But he couldn't. No because he didn't know why she was so sorry but because... actually he didn't know that either.

He gathered her in his arms, cooing her. "Hermione," he began lightly, brushing back her hair, "M-My father," he wavered when she didn't stop her weeping, "he doesn't approve of M... not pureblooded people." He continued. Hermione couldn't believe she was hearing this. She stopped her sobbing immediately to listen better. This began to enrage Hermione.

Who does he think he is? Daddy's little boy?

"...so he placed endless charms and spells all over the manor so M... not pureblooded people can't get in," he finished.

Oh.

"So," he smirked at her, "I reckon I would rather go to your house!" he suggested. Hermione beamed,

"Draco," she breathed, "How are we ever going to work out?" she asked simply, more to herself.

Draco didn't reply for a moment. How were they going to work? Sure, if the plan works, she would be safe. Then. But that'll be it. His father had somehow – PANSY – known of his 'fling' with the despicable lowlife creature, known to Draco as Hermione. Soon, he wouldn't know when, she'd be the target of Lucius' wrath. Draco closed his eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted, cradling her; letting her cradle him in return.

"M-My house," Hermione confessed, "don't... approve,"

Draco snorted.

"Is it that Weasel stirring trouble?" Draco asked,

"No!" Hermione defended, "Ron's been... busy," she smirked a very knowing smirk and Draco caught on to what she meant. "It's the others. Who don't know you." She smiled at him, "but; it's okay. I know it will be. They don't know you. I do."

Draco studied her. Wearing a cream jumper, no doubt with layers of extra clothing underneath, she was shivering slightly. How can her faith in someone like Draco be so strong? How can she be so sure? How can she oppose her house... for him? For nothing?

"Yes," Draco agreed, swallowing. He didn't want to admit it; but he cared for her. Deeply.

Fuck that was a bad sign. Very bad.

"I lo..." Hermione began, looking deeply into his clouded eyes. She could see he was in turmoil; she sensed it, but it was ignored when brought up.

Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk.

Thunk thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

"Am I interrupting something?" Harry asked coyly seeing the two lovebirds snuggling up together. The thunking of his trunk had annoyed the idiots who listened to his grand entrance; everyone but himself. He was too happy to be upset that Hermione was too snuggled wit Draco. "I'm ready," he said, grinning broadly as he spoiled the moment.

Draco tensed at the sentence Hermione was about to utter. He guessed the last word and a half; her eyes practically gave it away.

I love you too; he wanted to bid in return. But, no; it can't be. She was right before. How were they ever going to work out? The answer was simple; one way or another, they weren't. Whether it be some little fall out they could have during their school and adolescence; or their ancestors feud of bloodline. Draco was endangering her.

He was breaking her link to the other Gryffindors. He was ultimately dooming her by getting involved with her. His father would inflict so much pain. Too much pain. Unbearable pain. Such thoughts, as Draco imagined them, were unthinkable. He cringed away as he remembered his punishments as a disobeying and weak child, unable to imagine her 'punishment' for consorting with him. She wasn't family. To his father, she wasn't even human.

He looked down at her cradling in his arms; she was giving up immensely, whether she realized it or not. Not many would dare displease – even talk – to the object of Draco's affection. She didn't realize that being involved with Draco had somehow put her on everybody radar. Everybody's bad radar; a radar she – and everybody else – wouldn't like to be on.

Would he give up everything? For her sake? He watched her snuggling up to him in her sleep, ignoring Potter serenely awing and ooing pathetically in the background, too lost in his own thought. Would he give everything up?

Draco decided then and there. He stared at the angel sleeping in his arms, unconsciously weakening his resolve.

After his suicidal mission back to his manor, he'd break it off with Hermione. Everything would go back to normal. He'd go back to being the proud, conceited, haughty brat and she'd continue to grace the atmosphere with her pure presence like usual. He'd hate all the Gryffindors; his Slytherins would back him up. Hermione would hate all the Slytherins and so the Gryffindors would back her up. He'd go back to hating her, making her feel like she was below him; too low to notice. And so he'd save her from his father. And so he'd save her from himself.

Yes, Draco would give his everything up.

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Wow. That was quite sad. And unexpected. Oh well, adds some zing – is that even a word? – to the story. Well, more zing. I just can't wait til I start writing about there exciting adventure to Malfoy Manor!!! You'll never guess why.

I'll have to do some research or something; I don't know a single thing about it. Bugger.