Chapter Nine – Fifteen Years Earlier

Hermione's head began to swim as she felt Draco kiss her for the first time. His lips were warm and gentle and they shot sparks to her very toes. Eyes closed, she felt as if she were falling, even though she knew she was already safe on the ground. But just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. Confused, she opened her eyes to seek his out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his forehead furrowed. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't mean to….umm." Draco broke off as he struggled to pull Hermione to her feet. He muttered curses to himself under his breath as he straightened her robes and then his own, never quite meeting her eyes.

"Why are you sorry?" he heard her ask. He stilled his busy hands and looked tentatively into her eyes. Relieved that he saw no recrimination, he was saddened to see tears swimming there.

"Because I didn't…I mean you never…It's just that I didn't mean to…ummm." He didn't know how to continue and he felt clumsy and foolish.

"Yes, we've established that much, Draco," Hermione replied, barely able to control the roller coaster of emotions she was riding. Straight from flying to thud in less than ten seconds. What was he doing to her? With a shake of her head and a tilt of her chin, she decided it didn't matter. She was going to take control of the situation whether he liked it or not. "Is it because you can't get past who I am, Draco, or because you can't get past who you are?"

Draco tilted his head as he measured his words. Merlin! She was intuitive. Slowly he reached out to take her hand. When she stiffened slightly, he hesitated. But then he continued and gave her hand a small squeeze once it was enclosed in his own. "We're friends, right?" he asked her earnestly.

"Yes," she replied, holding her breath.

"Good," he said as he nodded his head. "Because I think I'm finally ready to keep my end of the bargain." He noticed Hermione's eyebrows rise as she appraised him. "I mean, I don't think. I know. I need to tell you," he said. "I need to tell you everything."

Hermione's face relaxed as she understood what he was implying. "Okay," she said before turning, his hand still in hers. "I had Ron take our things to the Prefect Meeting Room." She waited for him to step forward to stand by her side. "Let's go there."

-/-/-/-

Draco waited for Hermione to make herself comfortable at the main table before he locked the door and placed a silencing charm upon it. "I hope you don't mind," he gestured toward the door. "Just don't want anyone to hear."

Hermione nodded solemnly. Wow, she thought. This must be pretty serious. She watched him linger by the door and wondered if he would ever speak. But she didn't dare disturb him. And so she waited patiently.

Slowly, Draco drew in a breath to begin. "You've met my father," he stated rather than asked – for he recalled only too clearly their meeting in Diagon Alley at the start of second year. At Hermione's slight nod, he cleared his throat and continued. "For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be like him. Strong. Proud. Powerful. Feared. He was the embodiment of everything I ever wanted to see in myself. At least, everything I thought I wanted to see in myself." Draco broke his speech to measure Hermione's reaction. She sat straight and still, her only expression of concentration. Knowing she wasn't repulsed gave him courage to go on. "You see, from a very young age my father taught me. He trained me. He molded me. He…he…he brainwashed me." At this, Draco began to pace. Merlin this is hard!

"Although I couldn't understand why I was never good enough for him, I just knew I had to make him proud. And so I learned to value pure blood and wealth at the expense of those without them. I learned to endure hunger and pain without the smallest of complaint. I learned to hide my own feelings while drawing out the feelings of others so I could prey upon their weaknesses. And I nearly got what I wanted. I learned to think like him, act like him and truly be like him…almost. And then he planned to break me entirely this past summer."

Hermione carefully schooled her features to remain neutral as Draco fought internally with the words to continue. The things at which he was hintingwere unimaginable, but she was even more frightened of what he was about to reveal. Had his father hurt him badly? Worse, had Draco truly become a Death Eater after all?

"This past summer was to be my initiation into The Dark Lord's ranks," Draco spoke with bitterness in his voice. "I was to be my father's greatest triumph – a gift really, a minion, a lackey to serve the purposes of the all-powerful 'savior' of the true wizards in our world. At first I thought it was what I wanted to do. And then…then I knew it was what I needed to do."

"Why?" Hermione's soft question jerked Draco from his thoughts.

"Why?" he responded in a harsh tone. "Are you really that sheltered?" he asked in honest disbelief. Hermione did not flinch under his angry stare. She had never considered herself sheltered before, but she was very obviously more naïve than she ever imagined.

"Power," Draco's voice reverberated through the paneled room. "Total, fear-inducing, gut-clenching, life-controlling power." He walked over to the table and leaned on it across from her. He needed to make her understand. "It's simple really. My father had it. I didn't. He owns me, just like he owned my mother. And when you are owned by someone with that much hate behind his power, you cannot and will not escape it…unless you die."

Draco stood motionless as he let his words sink in. Please understand me, he silently begged of her. Or don't, he changed his mind. I don't know how I'll feel once I let you in. He closely watched Hermione's face for any sign of rejection but saw only concentration. He dared not move or breathe as he watched her for fear of destroying the tenuous co-existence of their souls. If she ran from him, he would die inside. And if she stayed… He was so scared he felt nauseated all over again.

With a small gasp, realization dawned across Hermione's features. Her look of shock was an ironic complement to his of fear. Slowly but determinedly, Hermione stood and walked around the table to face Draco. She tilted her head back to allow him full access to her eyes. She had to make sure he was listening to her heart since he wasn't ready to hear her words of sorrow and comfort. And when she saw the flicker of understanding behind his eyes, she gave him her strength rather than her pity. "Tell me," she said to him simply. "Tell me about your mother. And then tell me whyyour father killed her."