A/N: I was shocked at how many of you thought that may have actually been the end! No way! When it's over, I'll actually write THE END at the end of the chapter, and more likely than not, it'll be at the end of an epilogue! Okay, so I'm having fun writing this, tried to get it out as soon as possible!

CHAPTER 16: "It doesn't matter."

The wind howled in victory as she fell. But something was wrong, and she found out what as her left arm (her good one) was nearly torn out of its socket (or at least that's how it felt). A strangled moan fell from her lips at the pain. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" A familiar voice said as she was hauled up onto the roof again.

Rubbing her shoulder, she turned away from Draco, not wanting to look at him. "What did it look like I was doing?" she snapped as she began to walk to the door.

Long fingers wrapped around her wrist and held her back. "From where I was standing, it looked like you were trying to kill yourself," he told her softly. "And on the first morning of the New Year too."

"And so what if I was?" she asked, annoyed. "If you ever really cared for me, it's not like you do now. Or anyone else, for that matter. Once Ginny knows, she'll hate me too. There's nothing else left." She wrenched her wrist from his grasp and walked back over to the door, wanting nothing more than to get away from him.

"There's plenty left, Granger. Don't you want to be Head Girl next year? You can do it, I know you can. And what of your mother? You're still her daughter no matter what you do or have done," he growled at her.

"So we're back to that now, are we?" she asked, tears filling her eyes. He'd used her last name again. Stubbornly, she held herself tall and kept the tears in check as she made her way to the door again.

"Did you expect anything else?" he drawled, sounding so much like his old self.

"No." She answered truthfully and didn't wipe away the tear that fell as she finally jerked open the door and collapsed on the stairwell. "But I had hoped for it," she told the door behind her as she dragged herself to her feet and rushed down the stairs in an effort to get away from the tower as fast as she could.


Seeing Hermione in the dress she had worn to the ball had brought back memories to Draco. Particularly holding her in his arms while he told her he loved her. He angrily punched the low stone wall as his eyes welled up with furious tears. Until she had almost killed herself, he had never known how much she meant to him.

Sinking against the wall, he brought her up in his mind. She had looked exactly as she had several nights ago, with her hair short and straight with a slight flip, lighter than it was normally. Her mask had obscured part of her face, but he had seen how she had carefully not looked at him. He picked up her cloak, which she'd dropped to the ground before beginning to dance, and held it close.

"Oh, Hermione. You have no idea how much that broke my heart. But I just…can't. I can't stand not being able to be there for you," he told the cloak, blinking quickly to dispel his tears. Sighing, he stood and addressed the wind as Hermione had before, "I nearly fell prey to you once as well. I understand her want for death. But you will not get this chance again."

It was a promise, and one he would be sure to keep.

Sighing, he made his way back down to his common room, and sat by the fire for a long time, thinking.


The next morning, Hermione awoke shivering. Looking around, she saw that she'd fallen asleep on top of her blankets in her dress from the night before. With a soft groan, she fell back on her pillows as she remembered, and all her aches and pains returned. By now both her shoulders hurt, and the right side of her back, and her jaw, and…groaning again, she pushed herself out of bed and got out of the dress, pulling on Draco's jeans and tank top again.

I should give them back, she reflected as she snuggled up under her blankets. But I don't think I will just yet. After all, I do need to get them washed first, she thought with a smirk.

Looking at the black rose on her nightstand, she fell back asleep.

Waking later, Hermione decided to do some cleaning. She put all of the things Draco had ever given her in a small pile on her bed before changing into something more casual and going out to search for a house elf to wash Draco's clothes, feeling insanely guilty all the while for making a house elf do it. But the house elf didn't mind in the least, and it lessened her agitation somewhat.

She sat glumly on her bed for the rest of the day, going over the break up in her head. Somewhat later, a house elf appeared and gave her back the clothes, and she thanked it gratefully and put them under the pile of his other things. Hermione sighed. She was ready to do this. Fumbling in her trunk for her too-long cloak, she was surprised to find it gone. Annoyed to no end (she must have left it up on the roof last night), she took her other cloak and packed his things in a box, which she then shrunk to fit in her pocket.

Hesitatingly, she went down to the dungeons, unsure of her welcome. Unsure, she snorted to herself. I know what kind of welcome I'm going to get, and it's going to be a lousy one at least. But I need to…I need to give his stuff back, at least. Passing the Great Hall, she saw it was lunch time. Her stomach didn't even protest, and she continued on, confused. I haven't eaten since…since he broke up with me. But why don't I even feel hungry?

Shrugging it off, she came to the blank wall that was the entrance to Slytherin. Leaning against it for support, she made the box back to its regular size and said the password, edging in. The room was empty. "I guess they're all at lunch," she murmured as she made his way to the sixth year boys' dormitory. She clumsily opened the door and walked in, placing the box on his bed.

Using her wand, she etched out the words "for you" on the box. Looking at the scorch marks, Hermione smiled in satisfaction and turned to go. "What are you doing here?" Draco asked, his voice and face expressionless.

Hermione froze at the sight of him. He was just so handsome, and she ached for him with every fiber of her being. They may not have been together long, but it didn't matter, because she was in love with him, and it hurt. Suddenly, she remembered to breathe and looked away from him, knowing she wouldn't be able to control herself if she kept looking at him. "Returning your stuff," she told him as she brushed past him to the door.

"Oh, it's you. Wait," he said, realizing she meant to leave. She stopped but didn't turn around. "Here's your cloak. You left it up there last night," he said, and she grabbed the black cloth that presented itself at her side. Not trusting her voice or her words, she clamped her jaws shut and inclined her head slightly in thanks as she skirted out of the room.

Out of the Slytherin common room, she burst into a run, and pushed herself out into the snow outside, crying up a storm. "No," she sobbed loudly, "it's not over. It can't be!" A hand was on her shoulder, but when she turned around, it was only a concerned fifth year. Gathering herself together into a somewhat-composed posture and demeanor, she thanked him for his concern and stiffly walked back into the castle. There was nowhere she could go.

Stumbling into a prefect's bathroom, she locked the door behind her and quickly stripped, falling into the tub ungracefully. Bitter tears melted into the water, but she found she could not be mad at him, even for all this pain. She sat in the steaming water for a long while, and didn't even think. All Hermione did was breathe, and it was enough.

After nearly three hours, she pulled herself out and dried herself off, examining herself in a mirror. She was startled to see her hair short and dirty blonde, and she laughed at herself for forgetting. "Oh, Draco. I wanted to look so pretty for you. And I wanted to feel it again last night, even if you wouldn't be there," she murmured to her reflection miserably. "Except that you were, and it only made things worse."

"I think it looks good like this." The fragment of memory stuck in her mind, and she fluffed her hair just as he had. Frowning, she used a spell to grow it out again, and changed the color back. "Maybe someday I'll leave it like that for you, Draco," she said quietly into the silence.

Dressing again, she left the bathroom and wandered the halls only to find herself at the library.

Running a hand through her hair, she considered. "Well, I know it's Christmas break, but even so, there's homework due after the holiday that I could work on. It may not be much, but it'll keep me busy." Having made her decision, she went up to her room to get her school supplies and then went back down to the library to immerse herself in homework, mentally thinking how typical it was of her to study in order to forget her pain.


Draco carefully stalked Hermione for the rest of that day, mentally keeping tags on where she was at what time. He would not let her die, and she would not get the chance. Looking at her from behind a bookshelf, he felt a now-familiar twinge of his heart. He had been telling her the truth when he said he loved her. He still did, in fact, he just couldn't deal with her.

Carefully, he set up a spell and cast it on Hermione, who didn't even blink. Good, she didn't even notice. Tapping a page with his wand, he muttered another incantation, and then he saw a solitary black dot on the page. Draco snuck away and went to another library table, and then cast the spell on himself as well. Another dot appeared on the page, this one a vibrant green.

Grimacing at the color, he used the green dot's position to mark out the boundaries of the library on the parchment. He mapped the way up to Gryffindor tower, then also to the Room of Requirement just to be safe before going down and mapping from the library to the Great Hall. It was a lot of work, and took almost four hours to complete, but by the end of the day, Draco was the happy owner of a rough map of Hogwarts that was keyed in to two people: himself and Hermione.

Sitting on his bed, he watched as Hermione went past the boundary line and into Gryffindor tower. Smirking, he murmured "Gotcha," as he set up one final spell and cast it. This one was keyed to Hermione alone, and would set off an alarm of sorts if she passed the boundary line of Gryffindor. Smiling wearily to himself, Draco fell into an uneasy sleep.


Hermione fidgeted, unable to sleep. She knew what the problem was, and refused to think about it as she sat there and thought about nothing. She mentally began to make idle lists in her mind until she fell prey to a troubled sleep, unaware that Draco was sleeping badly as well.

When morning came, Hermione yawned and stretched. She was still really tired. Grumbling to herself about not getting much sleep, she dressed and was happy to hear her stomach give a slight protest at the lack of food. Well, then, she was at least a little hungry (after not eating for two whole days, she couldn't say she was surprised). Heading down to breakfast, she sat down as far as she could from Harry and Ron and found herself staring at all the food on the table with a slightly queasy feeling.

Still feeling sick, she managed to choke down three bites of toast before the nauseous feeling overwhelmed her and she couldn't eat anymore. Sighing, she put down her toast and left, ignoring Ginny's concerned glance.

Before long, she was in the library once again. Hermione read through all the stories from Wizard Mythology, and had great fun at it. She particularly paid attention to Ishtar and the Angel's story. It was quite interesting really. Apparently, even though Ishtar had become nearly as immortal as her Angel, after over thirty years of being together, she fell off a cliff (no one knew whether it was suicide—Hermione shivered as she remembered her own almost-death—or whether she had been pushed), and so her Angel went on a killing spree.

After that, the tale got foggy as several different endings were made. One text had made the mention of Ishtar's ghost coming back and comforting her Angel into peace. Another said that he turned his own sword against him. A third noted that he wrecked a whole town seeking revenge for his loved one and became a vengeful angel who sought out injustices and dealt retribution for the wronged.

That's so sad, she thought. It's amazing how much he loved her. I wish…I wish I could be loved that much too, she wondered bitterly. But how could anyone love what I've become? This creature of darkness, who willingly tortured someone to death. Who allows Lord Voldemort to be her father. Who is in love with her friends' childhood enemy. Hah! Friends. Not like I have any of those anymore.

But maybe…Maybe I can make things right…Can I? Standing up, she began her search for Professor McGonagall, her own doubts swarming in her mind. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck as she got the feeling that someone was watching her. Ignoring the feeling, she picked up her pace slightly and was happy to run into Professor Flitwick. Not exactly the person she was aiming for, but he would do. "Professor? I need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent," she told him.

"Miss Granger! Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Um…kind of. But not something you need to worry about. I just need to see him right away," she said uncertainly.

"All right then. Follow me, please." She did as she was told, and as they walked, he struck up a conversation. "Now, I wouldn't normally do this, but you're such a good student, and I trust your judgment. Plus, you're a prefect. You wouldn't be doing this to pull a prank," he said, eyeing her as if she might indeed do so. Hermione looked offended, and he smiled at her as they reached a statue.

"Canary cream," the short professor told it. The statue came to life and leaped aside, and Hermione was taken up the revolving staircase. Though she'd read about the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts: A History, she'd never been in it before, and peered about excitedly as Flitwick knocked on the door.

"Come in," Professor Dumbledore's voice said. They entered, and she gasped in surprise and excitement at all the little silver trinkets in the room. "Ah, Miss Granger. I have been expecting you for some time. Please, have a seat. Thank you for showing her the way, but you may leave now. We have some important business to discuss," he told the professor. Looking amazed and confused, Professor Flitwick left the room.

"Professor, how…?"

"Miss Granger, I know everything that goes on at my school, or nearly everything. This was to be about you and your relations with Mister Malfoy, no?"

Hermione noticed she was trembling and gripped the armrests of the chair as she shook her head. "No, actually. Sir, this was going to be about Lord Voldemort," she said shakily.

"Really?" he said, and his silver eyebrows arched high.

"Yes, actually. Um…sir, I haven't been…completely honest with everyone this year at school. Because…" she took a deep breath, the words lodged in her throat. She exhaled and looked at his pale blue eyes, and felt like crying. She took another very deep breath and then said in a rush, "I've been working for him this whole school year."

Professor Dumbledore didn't say anything, and she found that she could not bear to look at him. Hermione took another breath. "I mean, I haven't been doing much, but…even so. I've become a Death Eater, and he even calls me…he calls me his daughter, and the Dark Lady. And it was good at first, I didn't mind it. I've tortured and killed, and it took me months to realize that he really didn't care about good people versus bad people. He would kill them all for the sheer joy of it. I didn't know he would attack the school with dragons, although I expect that was him. And if I had known, I would've said something, honest."

"I believe it was him," Dumbledore acceded in suspicious tones.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, although Hermione suspected he already knew.

"I don't…I don't want to be with them anymore. I want to be good now," she pleaded. "I know it was wrong, and I should have from the start, but I was just all off and I thought, 'hell, why not' and he was just so…I don't know, but he didn't seem so bad at the time! In fact, he seemed a lot like me! But I guess that was his point. Sir, do with me as you see fit, but I do wish to be on your side now."

"Yes," Dumbledore breathed, and she looked up at him, startled at how easily forgiving he was. "All right, then. But you will tell me everything he tells you, and come to me whenever you two have contacted. I cannot risk another attack on the school."

Hermione fidgeted in her seat a little uncomfortably. Dumbledore gave a sort of chuckle. "Yes, I know it was you who was hurt by the dragons, there's no need to try and hide it," he informed her. "I liked you and Mister Malfoy's costumes, by the way. Your idea, or his?"

"Well, mine," she admitted. "But he was the one who mentioned something that made me think of it."

"I see. Well, unless there is anything else you'd like to tell me, I believe this meeting is over."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Hermione nodded and pulled herself out of her seat, feeling a whole lot better for having confessed. Before she could open the door though, Dumbledore added, "Remember though, you have to at least pretend to be on his side though. If he tells you to torture someone again, you will do so. You are the one who signed up for this, and you're going to see it through, no matter the personal cost," he warned.

This is my punishment, she thought bitterly as she replied, "Yes, sir," and left.

--

Draco's hand began to tingle uncontrollably. Excusing himself from the lunch table, he prowled out of the Great Hall, whipping out his makeshift map on the way. Immediately, his hand stopped tingling, and he saw Hermione's dot moving along down the corridor from the library. He dashed up all the stairs and finally found himself in the same hallway that she was. Stalking her quietly, he followed her until she ran into Flitwick, begging an audience with Dumbledore.

Draco plopped down in an empty classroom. So she had been serious about going to Dumbledore and becoming good. Sighing, he went back down to finish his lunch, unsure if he would join her or not now that they weren't together.

But he still loved her, and needed to take that into consideration as well.

--

Pleased with the result of her meeting with Dumbledore, Hermione went up to her dormitory again. She really wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, to tell the truth. Without Draco, she seemed to have lost touch with the world, it was as if she was looking at the world through Harry's glasses and everything was out-of-focus. She pulled out a notebook and wrote a letter to her mum, something she'd been meaning to do for a while.

Dear mum,

I hope you have been doing well while I'm at school. I'm sorry it took me this long to finally write to you, but I've been busy with my work. I can't believe it's 6th year already, but I'm very excited and can't wait until next year. I've been keeping up my grades so that I may get Head Girl next year.

There was a ball last week, and it was a ton of fun. I went as Ishtar, and my date went as the Angel of Death. They're from Wizard Mythology, and it's quite an interesting story. It was a lot of fun getting dressed up, and my Angel even grew real wings for me. I think he may have been able to fly if he wanted to.

That's about all that's been going on here. What all has been going on at home? He has moved out by now, right? And how are you doing?

Lots of love,

Hermione

With a feeling of satisfaction, she put down her quill and waited for the ink to dry, and let her thoughts wander. My life is such a mess, she thought miserably. First I'm on Voldemort's side—the result of my own terrible judgment—and then Harry and Ron find out about it, and when I need him the most, Draco leaves me. And then there's Dumbledore, who is forcing me to stay with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. I even have to do everything they tell me to!

Maybe it would be better to have just stayed neutral in this war. Sighing, she mashed her pillow against her face in annoyance. This is all just great. Brilliant. And all my fault too. I told Voldemort I could follow him, and now I'm going to have to. If I don't, what kind of spy am I? Certainly a spy without any good information, which would give me the rank of 'useless'.

Grumbling to herself, she stretched out on the bed, and was soon asleep without meaning to be.

Waking later (it seemed her sleep was riddled with wakefulness recently), Hermione stood and loosened her muscles. She looked at the progress of the bruises on her shoulder and upper arm to see that they were getting better, by now a dull yellowy brown with age. She spotted her letter to her mum on her nightstand and decided she could mail it some other time. Her stomach grumbled a protest. "Yes, I have been abusing you, haven't I?" she murmured softly, thinking. I haven't eaten anything but a couple bites of toast in three days.

Pulling on her long cloak, she slipped down into the common room. There were still a few people there, so maybe it wasn't as late (early?) as she'd thought. Hermione decided not to sneak around and boldly walked to the portrait hole and clambered out. It was only now that she snuck, and she stuck to the shadows as she made the long walk to the kitchens.

The few house elves who were awake immediately came to her side, asking what she wanted. "Um..I don't know. Do you have any leftover dinner? A little bit of cold chicken maybe?" she said. They brought out a huge plate of chicken, and she looked at it, beginning to feel queasy. "Thank you," she murmured, taking just a small bit of chicken. Fighting nausea, she ate it slowly and felt a little better when she had. I'm sorry, she thought to her stomach, I just can't eat it. I hope you forgive me.

Thanking the elves again, she turned and walked out the door only to run into Draco. "You." She said.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked back to his common room. Hermione went back to her own, thinking. Maybe…maybe there's still a chance for us. Who cares? There's no one left that matters anymore. We can be together now, and there's no one to stop us. Ginny already knew, sure, but Harry and Ron were the real reason that we weren't openly together. Well, and all of Gryffindor would see me as a traitor, but I just don't care.

Pulling herself into bed, she fell into a restful sleep, with hopeful thoughts buzzing in her head.

--

Morning again. Hermione had lost all track of time by now, and only knew night versus day. Dressing, she remembered her thoughts from last night and felt a little lighter. "This may work," she thought aloud as she pulled on a robe. "Maybe we can openly love each other."

"Ooh, who are you talking about?" Lavender squealed, and Parvati was instantly at her side. "A lover? You must tell! We haven't talked to you in a while."

"Really Lavender? She was talking about a lover? Spill," she ordered Hermione.

"Can't," Hermione said simply. She picked up the letter to her mum and turned to go.

"Oh, I hope he isn't beating her, look at that bruise on her jaw," Parvati whispered pityingly as she shut the door. Rolling her eyes, she went to the owlery.

Picking a reliable-looking school owl, she remembered Draco's promise to let her use his. She sighed and tied the letter to the leg, telling it where to go. Task done, she left the owlery to see a blonde person whisk around the corner. "Draco," she murmured. She would know that walk anywhere. She ran to catch up, but when she turned the corner, he was gone.

Grumbling to herself, she made her way outside, then a thought struck her. What if he's following me? To make sure I don't try to kill myself again? Maybe… her frown turned into a victorious smirk. Maybe if I go up to the roof again he'll follow me?

With the desperate hope a shining beacon in her heart, she trudged up the stairs to the roof. Licking her lips with indecision, she tried to piece together what to say. But he came all too soon for her personal comfort. "Draco," she murmured as he approached. "We need to talk."

As if catching her mood, he took a step back, "No, Granger. We have nothing more to talk about."

"Listen to me," she begged, but he turned his back on her and went back down. Panicking, she followed him. "Draco, stop, wait! We don't have to keep quiet anymore. We can just be us. Who cares if anyone finds out! It doesn't matter!"

As if he could not hear her, he continued on his way, though she could see his pace was rushed. "Draco! Stop! It doesn't matter anymore! We don't have to keep secrets. There's no one here to worry anyway, no one that matters! Draco, it doesn't matter!" She clutched at his sleeve somewhere on the second floor hallway. He shook her off, and she fell to the floor, staring blankly at his receeding footsteps.

Halfway down the stairs... Hermione picked herself up off the floor and ran to catch up with him. She tripped on the last step but didn't care. "Draco, stop! I love you," she said from where she crouched on all fours on the ground. Hermione could practically hear the halls gasp with amazement, and she was sure she saw Draco pause in his steady gait. But then he just walked away...

On the ground, Hermione punched the tiles. "Damn him," she mumbled, pulling herself to her feet. If you're not mine again in three days, I'm going to make the jump, she promised herself. I have no one left here, and I can't do this alone. I wish I could tell you this deadline, but I know I can't, because if I did, you'd know the ultimatum attached, and you may come back just to keep me alive.

And I don't want you to play with me like that. If you love me, her thoughts whimpered, come back. But if you don't...

Shaking her head sadly and closing her mind to these dark thoughts, Hermione glared hard at all the staring students and stoically walked back up the stairs to her room.


Please just don't play with me
My paper heart will bleed

"My Paper Heart" All-American Rejects