A/N: As usual, thanks for your reviews. It really means the world to me that you take the time to tell me your opinions and suggestions.

Special Notes:

willow fairy: Thanks for pointing out that mistake. I guess traveling makes my grammar go crazy…

Draco'sBlackRose: Thanks for your review. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Darktwistedpoet: I don't plan on making Hermione sick from the bite. We'll find out more about that soon. I made his eyes so different to differentiate from the Malfoy blue--to make a contrast that he is very different from Draco, not to imply he is evil. Eyes like are gorgeous, you lucky one!

golden lion: What a wonderful compliment, just what I love to hear. Thank you so much.

Rilicious: I got home last night at 2am from my flight and first thing checked my email. It's kind of pathetic, haha.

Yellowrosesinateacup: Thanks! You are an awesome reviewer.

Antanaqui: Narcissa drowning the baby would have made things a lot easier--but that would be no fun. evil laugh

Yomiko Clone: Thanks! I am sorry you are busy/tired/sick. Hope it all calms down for you.

She was frozen. Digging her toes deeper into the knit blanket, Hermione shivered. She rubbed her eyes gently, her arms covered in goosebumps. She could see, in the darkness, the silhouette of Draco, his slim torso haphazardly covered by the thin sheet. His chest was rising slowly with each deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamed. She sat up, scooting back against the wall and sighed. Her sleep had been substandard, marred by the frequent, ghosting images of Lucius Malfoy and Tynan. She stood, the floor boards creaking, and ran a hand through her hair. A freezing sweat had stuck her curls to her cheeks and forehead. Claustrophobia overcame her senses as she peered about the room. She made a beeline for the door, silently creaking it open, and slipped out unnoticed.

Hermione wandered the halls, hoping desperately that she wouldn't stumble upon a maid, a house elf, or even Lucius. She was placing her life on the fact that Draco had said he'd be drunk in bed by this hour. Her bare feet felt cold against the smooth floor as she explored various rooms--a bathroom that rivaled the Prefect's, a contemporary-looking office, and finally a library. The library was much simpler than any room she'd come across thus far. Almost too simple--like the room didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. Apart from the bookshelves lining the four walls and a leather couch in the center of the room, it was devoid of much else. Hermione ran her fingertips along the bindings of the books, smiling. Books were her comfort above all else. Books were finite, they didn't play guessing games. She pulled a thick, hard-cover book from the shelf and held it tightly in her grasp. Hogwarts, A History. She smiled softly. The book's presence had warmed her to the core, making her feel a little bit less foreign in the Malfoy Manor. She slid it back into the shelf and continued her walk down the shelves, inspecting the books. Most of the books were ones she'd seen before, many of them being novels from the restricted section of the library.

Hermione took a few steps back and sat down on the leather couch, crossing her legs. Something was amiss in the library…she could feel it. Her eyes scanned the bookshelves searching for something to tip her off. She only saw the binding of books…some worn and some new. And then she saw a row of six or seven books that looked neither new nor old. In fact, they didn't even look real. Hermione stood and crept over to the row, peering closely at them. She pressed her hand against the book, not surprised to find that it was actually a skillfully painted canvas. She gripped the edges of it and pulled gently. It was locked down by a two tiny silver locks attaching the top and bottoms of the painting to the wood. She pulled out her wind from the chest pocket of her nightgown. "Alohomora." She whispered and the two locks clicked open. She lifted the canvas up and set it on the floor. The picture seemed to have been hiding a row of used books. She grabbed the first one and opened it, flipping to an earmarked page. The symbol that had marred Tynan's smooth skin was splayed across the page in full color, a small caption beneath it.

Il marchio di malvagio is a direct translation from an Italian prophecy circa 1403. It prophesized a birth of evil, seventeen years subsequent to a birth of divine good. Many scholars have dedicated their life's work to the study of this symbol, either in awe or terror of it's meaning. Most experts agree that the symbol will represent a figure that will be dedicated to destroying all non-pureblood life forms.

She could feel her breath catching in her throat. Tynan, the cooing baby in the bassinet the night before, a terror? Slamming the book shut, she returned it to the shelf and began to scan the other books for any information. It was then that she heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. She replaced the painted canvas, not finding time to lock it, and dashed behind the opened door, desperate for a hiding place. Just second after she'd hidden her form, two men sauntered into the room. One, she didn't recognize. The other was Lucius Malfoy, his piercing eyes watching the other man like a hawk. They sounded as if they were arguing.

"You know very well I don't like loose ends, Harris. He's a danger to the family!" Harris shuffled on his feet a bit and swallowed.

"I know, Lucius. He didn't mold quite as well as we'd all…hoped."

"He's downright defiant. He refused my invitation last summer. It's an honor to be asked to join the Death Eaters as such a young age and he about spat in my face. It's that Dumbledore's doing. He's trying to turn my son into a sniveling do-gooder,"

"Tynan won't need to go to Hogwarts, sir," Harris piped in, his voice hoarse.

"And for that, I am glad. I won't place a special boy like him under the nose of Dumbledore."

"A disgrace," chortled Harris, "An utter abomination. What are you plans for the other, Lucius?"

"Keeping him around is much too dangerous. The Dark Lord won't have that at all. He knows too much. I kept him around after his refusal to join us only in the vain hope that he'd change his mind. But now…" Lucius trailed off, a grim smile gracing his lips.

"Of course, Sir. I'll get someone on it."

"No. No. I think this is a personal assignment." Lucius was rubbing his chin. "That's all, Harris. You may go." Harris let out a relieved breath of air and departed. . Lucius remained for only a few minutes before he too turned and exited the library.

Hermione fearfully stayed in place for another few minutes before creeping her way back to the attic room.

"Where were you?" Draco whispered as Hermione shut the door behind her trembling figure.

"I was...wandering."

"Wandering? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"That's not any matter, Malfoy. The symbol--I know what it means."

"What? How?"

"Your father has a secret stash of books in his library. I found it in one those. It's called il marchio di malvagio. It supposedly marks an evil child, born roughly seventeen years after the birth of a good child. The child is thought to be made to, God forbid it, purge the world of non-purebloods."

"I suppose the prophecy is in reference to that damn Potter again?" Hermione nodded.

"I think so. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"Tynan bit you."

"Yes, yes he did. And he nuzzled you. Perhaps he knew I'm a muggle-born."

"You're saying this kid can sense the blood of a wizard?"

"Yes. It all fits together."

"This is all too much, Granger." Draco sat back on his bed and Hermione joined him.

"There's something else, Draco."

"Why did you just call me Draco?" He brought his eyes up to meet hers. Her brown eyes looked remarkably dark as she stared him down.

"I heard your father talking to some man named Harris. I think…I think he may harm you." Hermione frowned, deep crease lines marring her forehead. To her surprise, Draco's face didn't register a look of fear or shock. It didn't even seem to have a change of emotions.

"I'm not surprised." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Did you really refuse membership of the Death Eaters?" Hermione felt the question roll off of her tongue before she had a change to stop it.

"Yes. Shocked?" Hermione nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. But, honestly, why would I want to do that? A bunch of lunatics they are. Plenty of them are highly respected, rich…why do they feel the need to throw away a perfectly good life" Death Eaters are after a cause even I know is impossible. They all just end up dead, in hiding, or in Azkaban. I was made for better things."

"I understand." She didn't think much before she leaned forward. She didn't plan it all out in her head. She just leaned forward, pressed her lips chastely against his, and that was that. It wasn't full of grandeur or passion, but it wasn't cold either. It was warm, safe, bemused. And when she pulled back, her tiny hands falling to grasp his, he wasn't frowning. His mouth was pressed together, the corners slightly upturned as he considered her face.

"You keep kissing me." He whispered huskily, their faces still so close that she could feel his hot breath fanning on her nose.

"You kissed me last time." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I think you find me attractive, Granger." He leaned in, pressed a warm kiss below her ear, and squeezed her hand. "I don't blame you."

Hermione snuggled deep into her bed sheets, afraid to venture down into the common room. The backlash for her Halloween messup had been worse than she'd imagined--as she and Draco had entered the Great Hall, she'd been met with icy, cold stares. Even the professors seemed relatively annoyed that she'd ruined their Halloween festivities. Even worse, she couldn't give much of an explanation to anyone. The only people speaking to her at the moment were Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Draco. Of course, Ginny, Ron, and Harry had been disappointed about the whole thing, but they'd been kind to Hermione. Ron had been the only one to pry. He'd heard the news that she'd arrived with Draco and this was the part that had him fuming. Nonetheless, he was being perfectly civil to her. The rest of the Gryffindors, however, were another story. Lavender and Pavarti had been whispering nasty things about her all week and refused to speak to her. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had resorted to stealing her books whenever she left her things alone in the common room and spreading rumors behind her back. Due to the backlash, Hermione rarely ventured from the dormitory. She only left for mealtimes, classes, and to tutor in the library.

Hermione found it humorous that her only true confidant at the moment was Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her this only six months ago, she would have laughed in their face and told them to lay off the firewhisky. However, it was true. Ever since their escapade at the Malfoy Manor, he'd been perfectly nice to her. He was, of course, his cocky self, but he had spent less time directing it towards her and more time at Harry or Ron. They hadn't shared any more moments, but she caught herself wishing they had. She wasn't sure why, but the kiss they had shared in the attic had become tattooed in her brain as the last time she was happy since everything started. To top it off, Draco hadn't seemed nearly as worried as she was about his father's plans. He was more preoccupied with the concept of Tynan, doing all the research they could. So far, they hadn't expanded much on what Hermione had learned in the library, but he seemed to think it was worth a try. She found herself more worried with the idea of Draco's safety and was constantly watching around them, paranoid, when they sat alone in the library.

She leaned back into the pillows of her four-poster, sighing. She couldn't wait until everyone stopped hating her. That was, if they stopped hating her.

"Draco," Hermione was standing in the doorway of his dormitory, tears welling in her eyes. It was to his happiness to find the dorm was empty of it's usual occupants. She was dressed in her nightclothes, her hair in two plaits as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He felt himself asking.

"No," she sat down on his bed, frowning.

"Spit it out." She stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, hands wringing the hem of her white nightgown before finally speaking.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me." She gripped his cheeks, her palms pressing heavily on his chiseled cheekbones. He obliged, crashing his lips against hers. The warmth of her mouth against his, hot and wet, was like an explosion. He grabbed her and in one fluid motion, pulled her body into his lap. He ran his finger through her silky hair as her hands explored the muscles of his back.

"Fuck." He mumbled the words as he playfully suckled on her lower lip, enjoying the feel of their bodies molded against one another. As one hand caressed her cheek, the other moved to push up the hem of her nightgown, the tips of his fingers free to explore. He ran them gently along the plane of her belly, in awe of the velvety skin he found there.

"Draco…" she whispered his name softly as he flattened his hand out against her abdomen.

"I love you." He felt himself saying this into her hair, his heart swelling to an incredible intensity. "God, I love you."

Draco jerked up, his forehead narrowly missing the knob of his four poster. He was drenched in an icy sweat, his heart throbbing madly. And then, it all came back to him. The dream that had made him react so. He drew his knees to his chest, rubbing his temples in a frustrated attempt to forget. Oh fuck…

A/N: Thanks for reading, again. Please--if you are reading this story and enjoying or hating…let me know. Review! It's the only way I can get better. Don't be a lurker--click the review button.