He was only a boy.

Despite everything, he was only a boy. A teenager. He wasn't as powerful or big he thought he was. He wasn't Voldemort; he hadn't learnt or lived enough to be Voldemort. Voldemort had lived a full of regrets and rejections and beatings and bullying. Voldemort lived a life where he'd seen his father with his new Muggle son, only a year younger than himself, also named Tom. The two brothers could nearly have been twins – until Voldemort, himself, had killed him and his father, barely seventeen and crying all the way through it. Voldemort had found his mother's body hanging from the ceiling, when he'd been only ten years old. He'd been put in that orphanage because his mother had been so unsteady, and she'd finally topped herself, just as he'd come back into her life.

Draco was different than Voldemort.

Draco was only a boy.

He was the same age as Weasley here. He was in the same year, and he had been in the same school. They'd sat in the same classroom and lived in the same castle for many years. How were they really different? Apart from different houses, different friends, and a different upraising, they were still only two young men.

Draco had tried too long now. He didn't understand life any better than he had before becoming a Dark Lord. He didn't understand anything, nothing was clearer. He could make his father kneel at his feet, he could even kill him, but did it really change anything? Did it really take away those years of cold distain and unrelenting disapproval and dissatisfaction? Did it really make his father like him any better? Did it really make Draco care anymore?

Draco realised he should have listened to his mother more. He had one parent that loved him; he hadn't needed another.

Being a Dark Lord wasn't even fun. He didn't need any amazing talent in magic. The Death Eaters were merely sheep, flocking from one leader to another. They contained no loyalty, only fear. The fear they'd been given from Voldemort had transferred with minimal effort on Draco or Harry's part, and suddenly they had their followers. Being a Dark Lord was easy. The followers didn't have to be clever; they just needed to be there, in numbers. All they were to Draco now, was self-functioning wands.

Killing people was something Draco was able to do, but something he disliked. Killing was messy and unnecessary, and he avoided it as much as possible. Blood only reminded him of his own, pure and useless.

He was only a boy.

But she was only a girl.

Hermione Granger. There was nothing special about her. Nothing! She was just…Hermione Granger! She didn't have any amazing beauty or any quick wit or any special talents. She didn't even possess pure blood. She didn't have any great connections or any large inheritance he could gain from. Her parents were Muggles – dentists – and the only thing she had shown compassion for involving him was his library.

So why?

Why, if she was but a girl, was he suddenly risking everything for her?

An image flashed in his mind. Her, at the ball. It had all changed there. She'd been so warm in his arms, and her skin had been smooth. The light reflecting in her pupils had mesmerised him, and her voice, not her words, had told him strange things about himself.

Why was she suddenly the only thing he cared about? Suddenly everything just seemed silly and fruitless. What was the point in being a Dark Lord, if there was no enjoyment in it? Why was he bothering to impress his father, if his father had proved unable to be impressed? Maybe, after all his efforts, Draco hadn't really been trying to impress his father after all. Maybe he'd been trying to impress himself. Maybe this was his one change to prove to himself – and Hermione – that there was more to Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter was just a boy too. The Boy Who Lived.

"Hello, Draco."

"Harry."

"I must ask," Harry asked calmly, "what you doing with my friend, Ron. See, Draco, I believe we had a deal and you, you're not going by the rules." Green eyes flashed. "You can't change the rules, Draco."

"Why not, Harry? Let's make it more exciting, shall we?"

"There's only one way our deal with change, Draco. An exchange. Hermione for Ron. Just like before."

Hermione for Ron…

The thought was laughable to Draco.

"No."

"Why not? Surely you're tired of Hermione by now?" Harry was talking casually but he was watching Draco very, very carefully.

"I'm not."

"Not yet?"

"Not ever," Draco replied. Now, where had that come from?

Harry said nothing, but watched him silently, like a cat ready to attack.

Draco stayed in the silence for a minute, than continued to lift Weasley to his feet.

"I must ask you to stop." Harry's wand was raised and pointing at Draco's forehead. "What do you want with Ron anyway? If you wish to play with him, you can do so right here. I would like to watch."

"No, I want to take him back with me."

"Why?" Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "The deal is this: Hermione from Ron. I have an idea. How about Ron and Ginny for Hermione? Ginny, come here." Out of the shadows lurched a small creature. Draco thought it was a house elf for a moment, than, with the sight of long vivid red hair and wide terrified brown eyes, he gathered himself and knew it to be the youngest Weasley. She was dressed, cruelly, in a pillowcase that covered barely anything, as a House Elf. She was chained by her ankle to Harry's wrist, and had been hiding in the darkness.

"No."

"Draco, I thought we had this clear. You must have had your use of Hermione now. I tire of waiting. I need her now. I…I always wanted Hermione from the start, but I thought I'd let you have your way and have patience. Not anymore. The deal is this: Hermione for Ron, Ginny and your own life, for I do have you on wand point, if you've failed to notice."

"No." Draco's answer was quite, low and definite.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Draco was silent. He did not, after all, really know.

Realisation slowly spread on Harry's face, flooding lethally. The shock seemed to melt and Harry began to laugh, a deep laugh that came from the hollow of his throat. Draco just stared, uncertain as to how to act.

"Oh Merlin no!" Harry said through his laughter. "Oh please no! You love her. You love Hermione!"

"Don't you?" was Draco's only reply.

Ron's eyes were wide, but he seemed unable to actually say anything to express whatever he was thinking.

"You…you really love her," Harry said now, and his mood changed suddenly, his laugher going as soon as it had come.

"I don't know," Draco said truthfully. "She…she makes me happy." This was a funny thing to say, because all she had ever brought him was misery, she had truly messed everything up for him. He hated feeling this way about her, and still partly hated her, herself. Maybe why he thought she made him happy or could do so, was because she was breaking down the life for him that he hadn't the bravery to break down himself. Maybe that's why he loved her; because he shouldn't. Because it was so impossible…

"It's actually quite sad," Harry said. He watched Draco with a gleeful look in his eye, and he looked as if he was about to deliver the final blow. "You loving her. You haven't got a clue, have you?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco snapped coldly.

"I can't believe she could be so merciless…but then, I've always thought she had it in her, ever since her Rita Skitter days. She's quite something, isn't she? Just when you think you have Hermione Granger figured out, she surprises you…"

"Potter, what are you going on about?"

"She's been leading you on, Draco. She must have known…it's so obvious, really, I can't believe I didn't see it…. she's been leading you on, making you fall for her the same way I have. That bitch!"

"You're crazy," Ron breathed. "Both of you are crazy."

Draco felt inclined to agree with the red head.

"You don't understand, Draco. She's been using you. Ever since the ball…she's been a spy. A spy for me. She betrayed you…just when you were getting so close." Harry's voice was full of scorn and mocking.

Draco didn't want to believe it. But how could he ignore it? They had disappeared together for such a long time, and what proof had Draco that she wouldn't do something like that? How could he not believe that she didn't have any feelings for Harry, after all those years of friendship and all Draco's years of teasing?

Draco felt a flourish of rage soar through him. This must have shown, as immediately after, Ron, who was still in Draco's grip, began pulling away from him. For a Weasley unable to move a few minutes ago, Ron was making such rather good efforts now. Draco, however, did not let go off him, tightening his grip.

Hermione had just been falling to sleep, when there was the large sound of someone apparating. She pulled herself up, once she saw the two people.

"RON!" Disbelief racketed through her.

"Hermi-"

"C'mon," Draco said and, with a harsh pull, dragged her from the bed and apparated them again.

Once the dizziness subsided, Hermione found herself at the feet of a very, very amused looking Harry Potter and, behind her, a murderous looking Malfoy. On the ground beside her was a crumbled, messy Ron and, beside Harry, a starved looking Ginny.

It was going to be a very long night.

This last chapter for the story just doesn't want to be written. Sorry it's getting so broken up; I just can't get the whole thing all out. I'm so tired lately! What do you think?

Thanks to:

Seghen, Phantom-Chick, AnonymousHatred, Mystical4, Crazy-White-Rabbit, MagicalFlame and HermioneTheSlytherinPrincess.