A/N: The stoning may now start…I admire you for waiting so long, my faithful readers. Be well! And…I WILL HAVE THIS FINISHED BY JULY 16th! Just so I don't seem like a fool if something in that book contradicts what I've written here.

Chapter 14

Vulnerable

The taxi I took smelled of old fish and burning socks. I sank back in the seat, muttering to the driver where I wanted to go. He merely grunted in response. I should have known better than to expect more.

The drive took longer than I thought it would. I had wandered farther than I originally estimated. As we passed, the darkened streets silently mocked me, taunting me for earlier failures. I felt weak, as if all my muscles had left me and I could hardly breathe. All I wanted to do was creep into a bed and forget the whole world. Except…Hermione. Her face flashed in my mind just as the driver stopped the cab. With the sound of her voice echoing in my mind, I handed the man all the money I had left in my wallet. I had no patience to try and figure out how much was owed…I had enough problems figuring out pounds, and I didn't want to try and learn dollars. The driver offered me a bright grin and said something to me in some gibberish language I could only guess to be Spanish. I stood in front of the doors to the hotel for a long moment before I actually walked inside. The rains had settled a little, coming down in a small drizzle, but I was still dripping water on the marble floors.

Ignoring the dirty looks I received by several members of the management, I walked in the elevator and was grateful that it was so empty. Most people were either out for the night, or asleep at that hour. So I had time to run my fingers through my hair to get the excess water out and glance down to sigh at my ripped and bloody clothes. There was still a sharp pain in my mouth, stomach and chest, no matter how I tried to ignore it. My limp was in no way gone, but it was slightly less noticeable. Yet I knew none of that would matter to Hermione. She would see right through the way I still held myself high and see right through my forced grin. However, I knew I had to try.

Placing my bruised hand on the door handle, I turned it and pushed open the door. The first thing I saw was Hermione, curled up in the chair, blanket covering her. Shutting the door as quietly as I could, I glanced into the bedroom. It was completely clean. Her work, I assumed. She still didn't move from her beautiful rest. She wasn't peaceful, though…I could tell that she had unwillingly fallen asleep. She moaned softly in her sleep and her eyes flew open. I was there in a moment, kneeling down in front of her.

"Draco? What…what happened to you?" she asked, the sight of my bloody and torn clothing enough to rip her out of any sleepiness she might have had. I shook my head and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have left you…"

She nodded and gave me a dark glance.

"No…you shouldn't have…"

I followed her into the bathroom where, after a wave of her wand, the water of the bathtub turned on.

"Hermione…" I started to protest as she stripped off my bloody clothes and set them on the floor.

"Shut up…"

Once I was settled in the water, she brought a cloth to the cuts on my face and chest. I lay back against the edge and sighed softly. Instead of my pride being stripped from me by her care, I was renewed by her loving touch.

"What happened to you?" she inquired, dipping the cloth into the water. No matter how much blood was on it, the water remained clear. Her doing. I shook my head at her, not really ready to tell my story. I wasn't willing to let her see the full extent my shame yet. She let out a sigh of frustration and stood up, making sure that she threw the cloth in the water. It splashed up on me and my frustration equaled hers. I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my waist. Following her into the bedroom, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to face me.

"Have you ever felt shame, Hermione? Shame so deep that you cannot shake it, only feel it and feel that alone? That is who I am, Hermione. I am just shame. Shame, hate and anger."

Hermione froze at that, her eyes going softer as they gazed at me. She reached up to touch me, run her hands through my hair. I pulled back and faced the wall.

"Ashamed of what? Hate what? Your father?"

"Yes. Who else, besides Potter?"

She blinked at me and looked as if there had been some sort of physical blow dealt at her.

"That's not fair, Draco. You know it's not." I whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders.

"And what is fair, Hermione?" I hissed and she looked down, not meeting my gaze. That made me even angrier, "Go on and say it. You think it's better that my mother died rather than your precious Potter, don't you? She wasn't evil, Hermione." At my last words, I released her and combed my wet hair from my face.

"That's not what I was going to say, Draco…" she said softly and, surprising me, wrapped me in her arms. And in her arms I sank to the ground, the tears finally falling. With just a towel around me, I was bare both inside and out. Raw and vulnerable, she held me, comforted me. And I was strong. She was what made me strong. In that moment, it seemed I had finally come to terms with my mother's death. And her killer was one less person to hate, now that I had discovered Hermione stood by me. Would stand by me for as long as she lived. And that was something I never got to thank her for.