Ok here it is as I promised. One of the big secrets that draws Hermione and Draco together. I hope you enjoy. Please please review! I've had rough couple of weeks, and your comments will revive me! Thanks! Phae

Chapter 11

Desperate Confessions

Pansy looked down at her shaking hand, and realized the only way to get back at Hermione was through Draco. She returned her wand to her pocket, and with a flip of her hair walked back down the hall towards the Dark Arts Club room.

Draco continued to lead Hermione back to their common room. She made no sound, only silent tears proved she was still alive. Draco whispered the password, and guided Hermione through the narrow passage. He walked her up to one of the couches and gently turned her around. He forced her to sit and looked at her downcast face. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Don't move." He told her. Draco walked to his room and came back moments later with a silver flask engraved with his family crest. He set it on the small table closest to his patient. The couch sank under Draco's weary weight. He conjured two small glasses and began to pour the fiery looking liquid into them. when they were both equal he picked one up and pressed it into Hermione's hand.

"Drink this, you will feel better." He instructed. Hermione stared down at the glass, and memories of her father's pitiful existence flooded her thoughts. She knew her father was a slave to the drink, and here she sat, next to her greatest foe, about to do the very same thing. A tear slipped down her cheek as she brought the glass to her lips. The strong odor of the liquor cleared her sinuses, and made her eyes water even more. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"If this dulls my father's pain, perhaps it will dull mine." She whispered and she tilted the cup back. The red liquid burned a path down her throat, and she stifled a gag. She was determined not to stop until the glass was empty. Draco looked at her, and raised his eyebrows in shock. Hermione finished the rest off and slammed the glass onto the table. A disgusted look crossed her face as she brushed the back of her hand over her mouth.

"Done this before Granger?" Draco asked playfully. Hermione took it as an insult and landed the palm of her hand on his left cheek. Draco made no sound. She left her hand on his face and her eyes grew wide with terror. 'The liquor is quick' she said to herself. She cold feel the drink swirling in her stomach, warm, flowing through her veins. She looked into Draco's steady gray eyes, and was no longer afraid. She grew more bold with every beat of her heart. Her hand began to move delicately over the flesh she had assaulted. She traced small circles with her fingers. Draco reached down for his own glass and in one fluid movement downed all the contents.

Draco felt the soft touch on his face again. 'Her touch is so light' he marveled. He pushed his face deeper into her palm, until she was cupping it and making tiny circles by his eyes with her thumb. Draco breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He had a sudden urge to draw her closer to him. He wanted to hold her near, and just take it all in. Then he realized that she was drunk, and had she been sober she would still be hitting him. The thought cooled his head, and the blood rushing in his veins. He softly grasped her hand and brought it down to her lap.

Hermione stared at their entwined hands and sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what has come over me. For a second there I could think of nothing but you, and being in this moment." She slurred. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had heard words that meant so much to him. He lifted his eyes to hers and smiled. She returned the gesture with a faint tint of rose gracing her cheeks.

"Hermione I wanted to talk to you about you mother, and this plan of yours." He started. "It is impossible, I should know. I only told those students that I could teach them that to ensure their attendance. That group is a little hobby of mine." He explained. Hermione remained silent for several minutes. Draco debated whether or not to continue. 'This is stupid, she will never understand. And even if she did, what would change? Nothing.' He battled with himself.

"How do you know there isn't a way?" She finally asked the hands folded in her lap.

"It's a long story Hermione, you will just have to believe me, I watched my mother do the very thing you are starting. Desperation is a horrible thing." Draco said.
He swore to himself 'Damn, I have already revealed too much.' He knew Hermione's curious nature would get the best of her. He looked at her flushed cheeks, and couldn't help but appreciate their flawless texture.

"I want to hear the story. Did your mother lose a parent?" She asked softly. Draco took a deep breath and reached for his flask. He took another long swig of the strong spirit. He shook his head as if to relieve some of the thoughts.

"Hermione, I have never told anyone this before. You will be the very first. I swear to you that if you tell anyone what I am about to reveal I will kill you." From his tone Hermione has no doubt that he was being completely serious. She nodded her head in a silent agreement.

"I...um..." Draco was unsure where to start his story. "Ok, I had a twin sister, named Persephone." He blurted out. Hermione raised her eyes to meet his, and he could read the shock.

"Your password..." She whispered.

"Yes, I loved her very much, we were inseparable." He told her.

"What happened?" Hermione braved the question.
"My sister and I both received our Hogwarts letters in advance upon my father's request. He had always been a very ambitious man. He not only wanted the best for his children, but in turn he wanted us to be the best. He was determined that we start off school being ahead of all the other first years." Draco paused and sucked in a deep breath. He was digging up memories that he had long since buried. "He bought us each a top of the line broom, and told us we would be the first students with flying experience on our first day. I took to flying right away, I loved it, the absolute feeling of being free." Draco smiled a bit as he thought of the joy his broom had brought him. "Persephone was not as good as I was. We always had a petty little competition over who our father would praise more. Back then he was a much kinder man, a man who loved his children. One day we were out in our yard, and he was being a little harsh to Persephone, telling her that all the other students would laugh at her if ten feet was all the higher she could fly. the truth was that Persephone was terrified of heights, but she never told anyone that but me. She was a proud girl. She grabbed the broom with determination, I can still remember the look in her eyes. She soared high above the ground, even higher then I had ever gone. She whirled around in the sky, and I laughed and clapped. My father was telling her what a good job she was doing. We both looked away for a moment, and she fell. We heard he screams, and we heard her delicate body hit the ground."

Hermione was in utter shock. She didn't even feel the tears running down her cheeks. Draco looked away from her and dashed away the tears forming in his own eyes.

"We took her to every magical hospital we could, but none could revive her. We buried her on our property by her favorite grove. My father was so ashamed, so furious with himself. He didn't want anyone to know what had happened to his daughter. He didn't want to carry the guilt. He made me swear that I would never tell anyone that I had a sister. A sister that my father's ambition had killed. My mother was absolutely devastated. Persephone was everything good in our family. You would have liked her. She was so smart, and beautiful. She never had an unkind thing to say to anyone." Draco's voice began to crack as he remembered his sister's perfection. "I adored her more then anyone. When she died, a piece of me died too. I decided against being emotional and sensitive, and turned towards anger and superiority. After her death my parents went crazy. My mother would lay in Persephone's bed and play with her toys in the dark. My father grew increasingly more bitter. In their desperation they turned to the dark arts to bring her back. My father had swore he would never again go to the dark side, but his guilt, and I suppose the love for his slain daughter, outweighed his oath. My parents were heavy in the black magic. It seemed to intoxicate them. My mother spent three years in utter isolation trying to bring my sister back. I couldn't even recognize her. My father has it even worse. He wants me to carry on the tradition, you know, trying to bring back my sister. He has told me that if he doesn't find a way soon that it would all be up to me. This is the legacy my father is leaving me, one of guilt and futile efforts." Draco finished by resting his weary head in his hands.

Hermione slid across the couch and placed her hand on his back. She began to rub slow rhythmic circles over his robes. She felt his muscles tense at first, and then slowly relax. "How did your mother get over it? I mean, How did she finally stop trying?" She asked.

"I'm not sure, one day she just told my father and I that she was better, and that everything would be back to normal when the time was right. She threw away all of her spell books, and burned all the supplies she had been using. She barred Persephone's room, and became her normal loving self again." He shrugged. Hermione moved even closer to Draco, her lids feeling heavy, her body tired. Her mind reeled at what she had just learned. She felt a peace come over her. Someone understood, someone felt the same way that she did. At this point Hermione did not even care that is was Draco who shared her pain, she just could not bear going through it alone.

Hermione felt her head descending upon Draco's shoulder, she waited with her breath held for him to move away. He didn't even flinch. All Hermione wanted was someone to hold her, make her whole again. Draco gently grasped her head and brought it down into his lap. She faced the dying fire. She put both legs up on the couch and slowly closed her eyes. Draco sat rigid in his seat, softly stroking Hermione's hair. The moment was tranquil, but their thoughts were in turmoil.