Chapter Seven: fifteen years earlier

The chill of the October wind was nothing compared to the frigid temperatures of November and December. Draco paused in his reading to pull his cloak tightly about himself. He looked across the library table discreetly to study the intelligent beauty across from him. He smiled slightly as he watched her bite her lower lip in concentration. Gods! He got all twitchy when she did that.

Had it only been two months since they had formed their new friendship? It seemed longer to him. In that short amount of time she had steadily earned his trust, become somewhat of a regular study partner of his, and even argued on his behalf with those who challenged their friendship. It seemed impossible that he, the rich, Slytherin, pure-blood prince, had befriended the bookworm, Gryffindor, muggle-born princess. He didn't think of her as a mudblood anymore. He couldn't. She had proven herself more noble and gracious a friend than anyone he'd ever known.

And it shamed him. He had never been those things to anyone else…had never known those things from another. He marveled at her bravery, her loyalty and her goodness. He felt worthless when compared to her. But when he was with her, he felt as though he could be all of those things, too, and more – if only she would stay by his side.

He wanted their friendship to be more, to extend beyond the confines of school. But he feared for her, for himself. As long as Voldemort lived. And then there was his father. Draco shuddered at the thought of his father and tried to pull his cape even tighter. Now was not the time to remember. Here was not the place. But his subconscious mind slipped out of his control…

He knew his father would kill him the first chance he got once word of his son's betrayal reached him. But Draco was counting on the fact that his father's "extended trip" would keep him out of communication for a while longer.

Draco felt tears come to his eyes as he remembered that horrible day this past summer. The cold, dark dungeon below the main floor of his manor home. His beloved mother trying to protect him from yet another Crucio session "for his own good" at the hands of his outraged father. The ugly wrath on his father's face as he turned on the woman he called wife. The screaming. The curses. The pain. The blood. The flash of green light. Draco let out a strangled noise as he released the breath he had been holding.

"Draco?" Hermione asked as she noticed him pale and set his head down. "Draco, are you alright?" But she got no response other than rapid breaths as he continued to fall victim to his memories.

Lucius had sent his half-conscious son, broken and bleeding, out of the room immediately. Later, much composed and collected, he had approached Draco with a concocted story of Narcissa's jealous insanity and subsequent suicide. He had instructed his son that if he ever told anyone the truth he would suffer a most painful death. And by the Malfoy honor, even one tear over her death would mean severe and lasting punishments for the weakling he was forced to call his own flesh and blood.

Draco felt his stomach begin to roll. "Draco?" Hermione asked again with concern.

And then Lucius had gone out and gotten himself a mistress. Just like that. The grieving widower act lasted all of a month before he warmed his bed with some gold-digging tramp. Draco didn't even know her name. Lucius had simply come into the drawing room one afternoon and announced that he deserved a vacation with his new lover and The Dark Lord had agreed he could stay away until after the Christmas holidays. And wouldn't Draco be so good as to get his own things ready and get himself off to school?

The bile started to rise in Draco's throat. "Draco?" Hermione asked again. This time she was at his side and was shaking his shoulder in earnest. "Draco, answer me."

Sharply, Draco raised his tormented eyes to stare at her before shoving her aside. He raced from the library as fast as he could to seek refuge in the loo. There he heaved the remnants of his supper as he cried the tears he had held captive for nearly six months. "Damn, you, Father," he whispered between sobs. And he collapsed on the floor to purge himself of emotion.

-/-/-/-

"Malfoy?" a strange voice called out, rousing Draco from the light slumber in which he found himself on the stone floor. "Malfoy, are you in here?" Evening had fully fallen and it was dark in the bathroom. Disoriented and exhausted, Draco pulled himself to a sitting position and listened to the footfalls still outside his stall. "Malfoy, is that you?"

It was Weasley. What in Merlins' name could he want? "Go away," Draco said quietly.

"Are you alright then?" Ron asked, ignoring Draco's command.

"Of course I am. Can't a man use the loo in peace? Or do you want to have a pissing contest, Weasley?" Draco couldn't summon the energy to move and merely sat propped against the inner wall of his stall, praying the annoying redhead would leave him in peace.

"Listen, Malfoy, Hermione's really worried." No response came from the stall. "Are you coming out or not?" Again, no answer. "Stupid git," Ron whispered and then made his way back to the door when he realized Draco was not going to speak again.

"He's here," Ron said to the concerned face waiting for him in the hallway, "and he seems his usual annoying self to me."

"Ron," said Hermione curtly. "He's been in there for nearly two hours. I'm really worried." Her eyes darted back to the closed door.

Ron watched the play of emotions on Hermione's face and he found himself getting upset. He had observed whatever this thing between Malfoy and Hermione was develop for a couple of months now, but he couldn't just sit by and let her slip away from him. "Look, Hermione," he said as he took her hands. "I know you want to be his friend, but Malfoy has got issues and I don't want to see you get hurt by trying to help him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione exclaimed as she tried to pull away. But Ron held on a little tighter. Searching his eyes she asked him, "Ron, what are you going on about?"

"I'm worried about you, Hermione," he said sincerely. "You have such a good heart and you want to help everyone and now you're all mixed up with Malfoy and he's just not good enough for you – even as a friend – and Harry and I don't see you as much anymore and I, well I…" Ron swallowed and flushed to match his hair. And Hermione finally realized where the discussion was going.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione softened toward her friend. She shook her head slightly and wondered what to say. But she couldn't truly get her thoughts together. She was too worried about Draco at the moment. "Ron," she said softly, "I appreciate that you worry for me and I know we have lots to discuss. But we need to wait to have that talk. Right now, Draco can't wait. He is in desperate need of a friend. I need to be there for him. You understand, right?"

"I'm telling you, Hermione, I think he's okay." Ron really wanted to finish what he had started. But Hermione had other plans.

"Ron, I need you to do a favor for me right now, please." She searched his eyes, trying to make him acquiesce. "I need you get my things from my table in the library. And can you pack Draco's too?" She smiled reassuringly as Ron looked at her like a little lost puppy. "Please, Ron, I need you to get them and take them to the Prefect Meeting Room. Can you do that for me?" Hermione watched Ron nod solemnly before adding, "Thank you, Ron. I appreciate it."

Hermione turned and walked toward the door to the loo but stopped at the sound of Ron's voice. She turned to see him grinning half-heartedly. "You aren't allowed to go in there, you know. As a prefect I might be forced to deduct house points."

Hermione returned his smile. "Oh come on, Ron. I think it's only fair I get a little peek. After all, you did get to see the girl's bathroom a few years back."

"Don't remind me," Ron shuddered and turned to do as Hermione asked as this thoughts returned to that night. "Moaning Myrtle," was all the more he said as he put his head in his hands and continued up the hall.

-/-/-/-

Draco listened as Ron exited the loo. The last thing he heard before the door closed was Hermione's declaration of concern. He didn't want pity. He hated it. And coming from her, he wasn't sure he could stand it. He needed to escape and to do it with dignity. And so he got up and made his way to the sinks to wash up. After a few splashes of cool water, a scourgify for his teeth and a well-placed straightening charm or two for his hair and cloak, he considered his reflection. "Horrendous," he whispered to himself. "But it will have to do."

Quickly he crossed to the door, wrenched it open, and flew across the threshold, only to run headlong into Hermione. "Oof!" With a thud they went down, Draco landing unceremoniously on top of her. After recovering from the impact, they noticed the compromising position in which they found themselves. Draco smirked a bit as Hermione raised her chin high in defiance.

Please get off of me, Draco," she requested as primly as she could, despite her circumstances. Merlin, his eyes were mesmerizing!

Draco felt strangely stuck in her gaze. His stomach twitched as he looked into the chocolate depths of her eyes and saw fire sparking within them. "What in the devil are you doing lurking outside the boys' lavatory?" he demanded less harshly than he had intended. This girl was foiling his getaway plan.

"Waiting for you, you great idiot," she shot back at him, trying to sound angry, but succeeding in only sounding wistful. The feel of his body molding hers to the floor made her pulse race. Feelings she hadn't known before were coursing through her blood and she found herself at a loss for any other coherent thought.

Draco mistook the tone of her voice for pity and he instinctively hardened his features. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, Granger," he muttered severely. His return to her surname acted like a physical slap and she winced. The look of pain on her features confused him. Had he been wrong about her motive?

"Sod off, Malfoy," she spit back at him as she struggled to escape their physical position. "I cannot believe I even cared. What an idiot!" she chastised herself aloud as she fought to get free. But he pinned her arms to her side. "Get off of me!" she demanded.

"Not until you calm down," he said as he pushed his body down to still hers. The softness of her curves welcomed him and he nearly groaned aloud. What a moron I am. I should have known she'd never… Why am I pushing her away? Merlin, I don't deserve her! But I need her. How could I even consider…?

As his inner monologue raged on, Hermione fought her own internal battle. She was angry with him but the look on his face told her more than his words had said. The intimate feel of Draco covering her body with his own was enough to make her quake with an indefinable need. Somehow she didn't even care that they were on the floor of a darkened hallway. She just wanted to continue to feel this amazing feeling he was giving her. She watched with confusion and anticipation as his eyes traveled to her mouth and back again to her own. Involuntarily, she shuddered.

"Draco?" she breathed in an almost silent question.

"So beautiful," was all she heard before he lowered his mouth to her own.