Disclaimer. Not JK Rowling.

A/N Yes, this is short. Very short. Also, very important. i was going to combine this with the next one, but after thinking about it, decided against it. Youll see. i hope. Again, I apologise for the sheer shortness.

Songs. Chapter 6. Stabbing Westward- Television. The offspring. Have you ever. Chap. 7 Boysetsfore- Unspoken Request. Chap 10. Sympathetic- Seether. Chap 11. Bother- Corey Taylor. Chap. 12. Boysetsfire- Across 5 years. Chap. 13. Smashing pumpkins. Disarm. Chap. 16. A thousand hours. The cure. Chap. 19. Boysetsfire-resection.

Draco solely walked into his room. Why had he done that? Now Hermione was pissed at him, and she, admittedly, had every reason to be so. He was made at himself, and worried about Hermione. What made her react so badly? Could it be that she actually didn't share the same feelings?

Draco pondered this while deciding to have a shower. He needed something to get his mind off the almost kiss. His lips felt swollen, as if burned from the heat of her skin. He could almost feel Hermione's pulse on his skin, quickening as he had moved..

Damn. He really had to stop thinking about this, or his shower would have to be cold. Draco walked into this bathroom, stripped his clothing off, and turned the shower on. Once at a comfortable heat, he went into this shower, and sighed.

He knew that he fancied her. A lot. He wanted to do more then he did at the time, but she stopped him. What had that meant? Did she hate him still? But they had been getting along so well recently.

He washed his body and hair, while still pondering the question that is Hermione. He felt the hot water on his flesh, and it made him feel a little better. He liked to be warm, and comfortable. Winter was not his thing, or anything cold, for that matter.

Draco eventually crawled out of the shower, and dried himself of with a towel. He turned to his bathroom mirror, and looked at his reflection, trying to decide if, physically, there was anything that Hermione didn't like. He looked at his Quidditch-trained body, his silver-blonde hair, ice blue eyes...there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Or, rather, he didn't think that there was anything odd about him. He didn't really make a point of looking at other males naked.

Draco continued to look for flaws upon his body. His eyes flickered to a long, thin jagged scar across his left side. His mind flew back to its memory.

Draco was sitting in his room, reading his textbooks for the following year. He had just eaten lunch, and was content. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep.

His contentment was interrupted by a loud knock behind him. He turned around in his chair, and looked at the door, which flew open. There stood McNair, with a smile on his face.

"I always keep my promises Draco. Are you ready to relent?" He said, a sneer across his lips.

"Ill never relent. Ever. Get out' Draco yelled.

"No, never. You are mine Draco. Now and forever." McNair said, walked over to Draco. He stood next to Draco before it started.

Draco felt his head fly as McNair slapped him across the face. It had hurt. A lot. Draco was dazed, and was unable to stop the next hit. McNair's hand came crashing down on Draco's face. There was a resounding 'smack' sound that filled the room.

Draco's vision was starting to blur, he could feel himself slipping away into unconsciousness. He felt hands pulling his shirt off, then his pants. He was too weak to stop it, even if he could over power the blood-hungry death eater. Draco felt himself being thrown against his desk, the corner sharply hitting his hip. He felt hands upon him, and tried to get away. He was stopped, of course, but in the process, was cut. With what, he didn't know, but in reality, really didn't want to know anyways.

The hands, the blood, the smell. Draco wanted to vomit. Soon enough, though, unconsciousness took hold of Draco, who willingly slipped into the unending darkness.

The memory ended. Draco could still feel it, as if it were happening at that moment, rather then years ago. Draco tore his eyes from he scar, and forced himself to look back at the mirror, hoping to find something else to think about.

Draco's eyes suddenly widened, as realization dawned on him. Hermione. She knew. She knew that he was damaged. He wasn't pure anymore...that he was filth, dirt, lower then anything. She knew. THAT was why she pulled away, afraid to be touched by someone so worthless.

Draco comtemplated the implication of this, and got his cloths on. He turned from the mirror, disgusted with himself for not being good enough for what he wanted. He stalked out of the bathroom, in a worse mood then he had been on before.

He walked to his bed, and threw himself down.

Life sucked.