That evening they talked. They really talked. About their life and how they became the people they are today. They expressed all of the emotions they felt.

He explained his harsh up bringing. How his father stressed the fact that he was to follow in his footsteps should anything happen to him.

At the age of 6, Lucius put Draco through intensive training for the Dark Arts. He made sure every chance he got to tell him he would be apart of the Death Eaters and he should be quite proud that the Dark Lord even considered him. How Lord Voldemort took special interest in him. For in him, he saw something no other saw. He wouldn't say of course. But Lucius always assumed that he saw Draco as his successor.

The thought of such frightened him. In his deep put away heart, he knew he could never be that evil. He could never kill innocent people. He formed his actions by what Lucius saw fit because he was afraid of what he would do.

When he was 9, his mother and him ventured into muggle London. And older lady dropped her bag so he bent down to pick it up for her. His father beat him horribly for it.

"NEVER HELP A MUGGLE!" he said , as he lashed his back with a whip. That's why he has bad scars on his back. His father really didn't beat him often. That was one of the only instances. But he beat him mentally, so to say. And that's why he acted the way he did.

He explained that he never hated her or the trio. He envied Harry though. Although an orphan, he was loved by so many. And Draco never had that. Except for once.

One of their servants had a young daughter his age. They grew up together. Her name was Grace. He loved her so. He couldn't wait to wake up to see her, when he was younger. He knew at the age of 8 that she was the one he would spend the rest of his life with.

Voldemort got wind of his distraction and killed her right in front of him. Ever since then, he vowed to never love again.

After a bit of silence, Hermione spoke up.

"Draco? Why do things have to be this way? Why can't we be friends without worrying what others think?"

"I don't know Mione. My father is finally out of the picture. But there are others around. Others who are looking out for me while he's there and they give him detailed reports. I wouldn't want to harm you. I know they would." He said, quietly as he looked down.

" I understand. I hate the thought of pretending to hate you. I'm sure that Harry and …and Ron wouldn't understand anything. I could always try to explain."

"You don't have to do that. I would never expect something like that out of you."

"So what do we do now?" She asked above a whisper.

"As much as I do hate it, I believe we should go back to the way things were. I can't risk you getting hurt. I couldn't live with myself if another person died because of me."

She nodded.

"Well we're friends now, I wonder why the spell hasn't been lifted?" He said, trying to change the subject as quick as possible."

"Maybe he's just waiting for the week to end." She said to herself.

" I guess so."

Things were quiet once again. They both looked up at each other. The longing in their eyes both reached down to their souls.

" I guess we should go back to the way things were before then." Hermione said, trying to hold back tears.

" Yes, I guess so. Let's just wait for the week to pass. We've only got 2 more days."

"Ok." She said above a whisper and ran to her room.

With her door shut tight behind her, she cried. She cried for Draco and his hard life. She cried for herself and her ability to choose the wrong people to love. She just cried.

Hours later, out of exhaustion, she lay staring out her window. The moon shone brightly through.

"Why?" She whispered to herself.

She felt the bed crease and arms snake around her stomach pulling her close.

"Because fate is a very wicked thing." She heard Draco drawl.

She turned towards him and smiled.

"Let's just enjoy these next two days, shall we?" He said with a smirk.

He leaned over and kissed her.