Chapter Three: Part I

The morning after Pansy's departure another blizzard had occurred for two and a half weeks, ceaseless. The winds had been merciless, scourging the snow on the lodge, cars, store windows and doors, and it had reached a new octave in its high-shrilled pitch. The atmosphere had been quiet and sullen. The cast and crew found solitude in their accommodations. Hermione had spent much of her time composing two original songs for her Christmas album and two new songs she was still polishing.

Draco, however, was almost delirious. No one was there to keep him entertained, the telly wasn't working and he had read and re-read the six magazines that he had found around.

One evening, he cast his ever-growing ego aside momentarily and decided to lounge around with others who were probably sitting around the fire, telling stories. He took the lift down stairs and found the lounge warm with embers in the fire slowly fading.

"Where the hell is everyone," he voiced, glancing around and becoming aware of the placidness overwhelming him. For a brief moment loneliness shadowed his thoughts and a tinge of fear ripped through his veins. What if everyone had left him to die alone in this lodge? What if they'd all been conspiring against him all along? The entire lodge was way too silent to be inhabited by anyone else.

Pull yourself together, Malfoy, he scolded disgusted by his own trail of sordid thought.

Roaming around, he realized how vast the lodge was. Each room was occupied with something of importance. He tramped toward the last door at the end of the hallway. As he reached for the knob he heard soft piano playing and a sweet airy voice singing.

Vigilantly and quietly Draco pushed the door open and was welcomed into another lounge; this one furnished with a large black Marilyn piano, a deep red love seat that faced the fireplace, a glass table, portraits of people Draco didn't recognize and a small white fridge on the corner. The lights were dimmed lightly, with about eight scented candles flickering.

His gaze fell on Hermione's back. Her hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head so he got a view of her long bare neck. She was dressed in a purple and pink pajama tank top and guessed those were matching pants.

His footsteps were light when he stepped inside and softly shut the door, leaning against the wall to listen to her song:

As long as I shall live

I'll hold you dear

And I'll reminisce

Of our love all through the years

From now

Until forever and ever

My darling, forever

You will always be the only one

You will always be the only one.

She abruptly stopped, sighed then reached for the notebook beside her and scribbled in it.

Draco could only stare at her. Her knew her vocals were amazing, but to hear them at such close proximity was almost breathtaking. Her song was sung with such emotion and the lyrics were just as desperate. Looks like Troy left a bigger impression than she truly lets on, Draco thought.

Hermione flipped a page, straightened her spine and began playing. This time Draco realized she chose a different song, and as she sang it he almost fell into trance…

I don't want a lot for Christmas

There's just one thing I need

I don't care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true…

All I want for Christmas

Is you….

Draco could've sworn she was talking to him on the last bit of the song when her voice gradually dropped. At this close proximity, her words serenaded him, daring his body to go close to her and…and…

Do what? This question brought him out of his reverie causing him to stand straight.

"Darn," she whispered.

"That's not a bad song, " he stated.

The way she whipped around would've made him laugh on some other day, but instead his lips curled into a small elusive smile.

Her face went blank briefly, but recovered just as swift. She realized she hadn't spoken to him in almost two weeks. Last time they'd spoken they had not exactly left on happy terms.

"Thanks," she replied, watching him approach her. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, an indigo button up shirt and runners. "Was I playing loudly? 'Cause someone told me, I think it was Carole, the screenwriter, that this rooms was practically soundproof—"

"Ok, already," Draco chuckled.

A look of annoyance washed on Hermione's features. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Interrupt people when they're talking."

"Obviously because I'm not at all interested with what they have to say or I already know what they're trying to say."

"It's very rude," she said.

"I'll remember that."

Silence followed. Hermione felt ill at ease. She didn't know what to do with her hands, or where her eyes should focus on. They seemed to want to rest on his face, which looked enthralling, bathed in half the darkness and the dimmed lamp light. He caught her staring and immediately looked away, suddenly feeling flustered. Her heartbeat had increased. He's really attractive, she admitted to herself, sexy even.

"So, where's everyone." His voice sliced the silence.

"In their rooms. Have you seen the weather outside? If this weather keeps up then we're going to be here for a very, very long time."

"You sound devastated," he answered bluntly.

Hermione fought he urge to glare at him.

He leaned close to her then reached for the notebook he'd seen her scribble in.

"No, don't!" Her plea came out as a soft feeble moan. Goosebumps rippled on his arms. "You have no right to just grab my property."

"You're going to be publishing this stuff so I might as well have the honor of reading the songs first."

"They're just in little bits…. give it back!"

"Calm yourself. Is there something you don't want me to read?" His eyes explored her distressed features.

"No, but…"

"Then what're you stressing about?"

Hermione sighed and watched him skim through the book. Some of the songs she'd already made into albums, but the songs were quite deep and she knew for a fact he didn't listen to her music.

Draco stopped at a page that was titled Miss you most (At Christmas Time):

The fire is burning

The room's all aglow

Outside the December wind blows

Away in the distance the carolers sing in the snow

Everybody's laughing

The world is celebrating

And everyone's so happy

Except for me tonight

He looked up at her and found her eyes on him. Her soft lips parted and questioned, "What?"

His eyes dropped and he began flipping through the page. The last song's title Breakdown caught his interest:

You called yesterday

To basically say

That you cared for me, but

That you're just not in love

Immediately, I pretended to be

Feeling similarly

And led you to believe that it was

Ok to just walk away

From the one thing

That's unyielding and sacred to me

Well, I guess I'm trying to be

Nonchalant about it

And I'm going to extremes

To prove that I'm fine without you

But in reality I'm slowly losing my mind

Underneath the guise of smile

Gradually I'm dying inside

Friends ask me how I feel

And I lie convincingly

'Cause I don't want to reveal

The fact that I'm suffering

So, ohh, I wear my disguise

'Till I go home at night

And turn down all the lights

And then I breakdown and cry

So what do you do?

When somebody you're so devoted to

Suddenly stops loving you

And it seems they haven't got a clue

Of the pain that rejection is putting you through

Do you cling to your pride and sing, "I'll survive."

Do you lash out and say, "How dare you leave this way."

Do you hold on in vain as they just slip away

Draco looked at her with such emotion that she dared not breathe. "This song…Breakdown…is this how you feel?"

"I—of course not! It's just a song!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing the book back.

He motioned for her to make room on the stool and were soon both seated together, they're legs almost touching. "That bastard still makes you feel like trash?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she replied, straining to gain composure. "Why the sudden interest?"

Her tore his eyes away from her briefly. He didn't understand why he cared, but these lyrics did something to him. Of course it was just a song, but when he visualized Hermione crying and bleeding, something snapped. He didn't comprehend this feeling, but a sudden protectiveness over Hermione stirred and hollered.

"You're better off without him. You shouldn't let him make you feel like that."

Instead of asking him if he was suddenly ill (because he didn't look the type to give advice), Hermione heaved a sigh and said, "I know, but it's hard. I didn't realize I had given my all to him until he left me. And it's funny,"— she chuckled bitterly—"I'm usually in control and aware of what I'm doing. However, with Troy I tossed away some part of me…I don't know…" Hermione glanced at the window. She had promised herself she wouldn't waste energy on self-pity but she couldn't help whispering, "I guess everything was kind of my fault."

Draco's hand was pressed gently on her cheek, making her look into his eyes. "You're an intelligent woman; don't be stupid! You know you weren't to blame for what happened so don't waste your breath on pity."

As he gently stroked her cheek the atmosphere gradually fluctuated, the air sizzling with heat from the fireplace and heat being radiated by the passion swirling in their bodies. Involuntary or not, they both leaned in and their lips softly brushed. Her heart was pulsing rapidly, and his thoughts were in disarray.

He shouldn't be kissing her!

She shouldn't be mentally eager to firmly press her lips onto his!

They slowly pulled apart. The awkwardness was unbearable. "I better go," he whispered, a bit flustered.

Hermione could only nod as she watched him retreat hastily.

Her lips had merely felt like a feather in his palm; weightless, nearly non-existant. He couldn't savor her taste because it did not linger on his lips; Draco agonized as he lay in his sheets. The passion and desire that pulsed in his blood stream was ineffable. How was it possible for one being to undergo such raw emotions for someone you hardly knew? How could his body be seeking immediate and ruthless satisfaction from a kiss that had barely been a kiss?

Draco shut his eyes and tired to breathe.

Self control. He needed self-control.

Three days later the snow ceased falling and a few days following that, snow was cleared by men shoveling and using snow blowers. Bruce decided to shoot the last scene immediately and return to New York before anymore-unexpected snowstorms hit. Hermione had lost track of the days of the week so she concluded it was Thursday. She was dressed in warm clothing as she trudged up the icy path toward the cliff of the mountain, where the scene was taking place.

As she cautiously fought for leverage on the ice, her thoughts raced back to what had happened-or almost happened-between herself and Draco. A lot of unexpected things had occurred that night. She could still feel the heat of his hands on her cheek and the ethereal touch of his lips. When he'd left, her body had raged for more intimacy, it astounded her. But he has a girlfriend; she kept reminding herself. I just came out of a relationship and I don't need to be matted in somebody's web of lies.

They made it to the cliff, where the equipment had been set up. The frigid wind caressed her cheek and Hermione quivered. The sooner the scene was over, the faster she'd be out of Draco's company and back to her chaotic life.

"Alright, this is our last shot then we can call it a day and bid sayonara to this hellish weather," Bruce yelled out. His cheek had turned red and his breath came out in puffs. "Hermione, your position is near the edge of the cliff. Draco, you're behind her but out of the camera's shot. This is the last shot so make it good. I want to see a lot of emotion of confusion."

"Easier said that done," Hermione retorted. "It's like –20 degrees out here!"

"I have faith in you, Hermione," Bruce replied, to which Draco rolled his eyes. The make-up artist added a bit of chapstick on Hermione's lips, then walked away. Hermione stationed herself on the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down from where she stood. Peeping down, she saw a lot of foliage veiling the snow underneath. Her stomach turned. No one could survive a fall from here.

"You ready, Hermione?" Bruce called.

"Ready," she answered confidently.

"We're rolling. Action!"

……>>>

Veronica was standing at the edge of the cliff, her face perplexed. "How could there be a gold mine around here? The entire land is buried in snow. It would take month to burrow through all this ice!"

Her body turned without the need to pivot her legs and her eyes scanned the land. "Could there actually be gold here?"

"There never was any gold to begin with," Seth's voice answered with intent.

Veronica spun around to face him….

And that's when it happened. Hermione's turn was too sharp and she never got to complete it, as her foot slid on the ice and lost her balance. Somehow her body flipped over the edge and her gloved hands managed to clasp the icy edge for a solid three seconds. In an instant, Draco appeared and grabbed her wrists. Now he was kneeling over the cliff, her dangling life in his hands. There was a lot of commotion behind him, but he couldn't sneak a peak over his shoulder because the fear in Hermione's frightened him. The position he was in terrified him.

"Draco…" she spoke, her lips quivering. He noticed the hat that had been on her head was gone. Her jaw line was traced with goosebumps and her ears were coloring.

"You won't fall, hold on."

"Incase you haven't noticed there's nothing to hold on to. You're holding me!" she exclaimed. Oh god, she didn't want to fall. Her heart was palpitating in fear, causing her to pant.

"Bruce, damn it, help!" Draco yelled. He didn't know how long he could holdher and letting go wasn't an option. Out of the corner of his eye he saw figures running around, Bruce's figure shouting out commands. A dark haired man was approaching steadily. "No, don't! We don't need you toppling over too, damn it!" Draco shouted. Fool, he seethed. His gaze returned to Hermione who was conveniently gazing past her shoulder.

"Idiot, don't look down!" He didn't mean to be harsh, but fear was enveloping his muscles. His hands were moderately slipping.

Death flashed in Hermione's eyes. Desperation was etched in her iris. Realization was brutally dawning on her. She was going to die, plain and simple. Her life was about to end and she hadn't experience everything she'd hoped to: marriage, having children, releasing a number ones C.D; the premier of her movie, being with her family and friends, figuring out Draco…

Her eyes began pooling with tears. It was all over.

The look on her face would haunt him forever, Draco knew. She was already giving up, he glimpsed it in her eyes, and at the rate his hands were slipping…

"Please don't let me fall," begged Hermione. Her fingers were becoming numb and desperation and fear paralyzed her body. She prayed she wouldn't feel the contact when she plummeted to her death.

"Don't worry, I won't. I promise. You're not going to fall," said Draco confidently. His gray eyes were becoming watery. Her plea made his heart ache. He couldn't let this woman fall.

"Mr. Malfoy, hold her a second longer. Were bringing a rope," he heard someone shout. His heart was beating frantically. "Hurry!" he grunted. "Hermione, hold on, you're not going to fall. I won't let you…YOU'RE NOT GONNA FALL!"

"Please, Draco," she pleaded one last time before her hands became silk in his hands and slipped away. Her gloves came off and a final look of devastation flashed in her eyes. Her scream silenced the frigid atmosphere.

"HEMIONE!" Draco roared. His body became immobile. He had let her fall. He had allowed his hands to slip and thus letting her plunge to her doom. Oh god, oh god! His brain registered what he'd done. Shock exploded in his body. What had he done? His first thought was to leap over the cliff and follow her; but one of the crewmembers grabbed his shoulder. "Don't be stupid!" he said. His dark brown eyes were filled with tears.

"What the hell took you so long? We could've saved her!" Draco yelled roughly standing up and almost tripping. His fingers were balled into fists, his body quavering.

"We were there," said the frail looking man. He added quietly, " If you'd just held on a second longer…"

"How the hell could I? I had a weak grip on her!" Draco exploded. It was his fault. Everyone was looking his way with horror. Some of the crew looked away in shame and Draco's knees almost buckled underneath him.

The silence that followed was deadly. Hermione Granger, world's best vocalist/actress was gone. That sentence devastated Draco.

"We're sorry," whispered Bruce who was teary eyed.

"Sorry? Sorry? She'd dead! Do you think sorry's going to bring her back? She's fucking dead!" Draco screamed, his words reverberating eerily around him. And it was his entire fault.

He turned away as tears overwhelmed him….

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TBC

You have no idea how hard it was to write the last bit. Even now it's not as perfect as it should be but it's the best i could do. I haven't started on Part 2 yet but look out for it next week. I was going to post both of them together but i figured since i didn't update last week, i'll post this chpater and follow up with the next installment next week...or so. The title has changed to I STILL BELIEVE.