A/N: Hello, I am still here! I appreciate you if you are sticking around. My original plan was to update every two weeks, but it turns out that when you have a husband in graduate school, a one year old, and a full time job all during a global pandemic, you are lucky to get an hour of good writing time a day. But I am definitely still here and am going to finish this fic. I will confess that I am over this chapter, I don't think it's one of my best. As I have stated before, much of the latter 2/3rds of this fic is written and amazing (little self plug there), but getting to that point has proven to be a bit of a challenge. So I ask you to stick around for this crazy ride of mine and R&R, it really encourages me.

XxXxX

"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

-Kahlil Gibran

XxXxX

"Here." Hermione said shortly as she shoved Draco's jacket over the parchment he was writing on. It was now Sunday evening and they were in their study room in the library, and she had gone back and forth over what to do with the stupid thing all day. She'd dug it out of her wardrobe three times only to hide it again before finally shoving it in her purple beaded handbag so she could give it back to him. Now she just wanted it gone.

"You're welcome?" Draco responded sarcastically. He pulled his hands out from under the jacket, which promptly slid to the floor.

"Also...I wanted to thank you." She continued slowly. "For...yesterday."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You mean how I stopped a seriously creepy wizard from dragging you into a back alley and raping you?"

"Yeah. That." She said shortly. "So why did you?"

Draco looked offended. "Granger, I know you don't have the highest opinion of me. But I would hope that even you don't think I'd sit by and let something like that happen."

Liar.

The taunt rang in his head, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little.

"To me? Maybe." She said matter-of-factly. He could tell she was trying to be nonchalant at the idea, but Hermione had a glass face and she couldn't hide much.

The voice in his head was back. And what do you think will happen when the Death Eaters get their hands on her?

He shoved the thought out of his mind.

Hermione seemed to be struggling with something. Her lip was trembling and he couldn't tell if she wanted to scream at him or cry. He slowly slid his hand down towards his wand in case she decided she wanted to hex him, but then he watched as her legendary control won out and she slung her bag into her chair. "We need to go."

"What?"

"It's our turn to help cover evening rounds. We might as well do it now."

Her tone indicated that she wasn't any happier about it than Draco looked. After the incident in Gryffindor tower, Dumbledore had mandated that Draco, Hermione, and all of the prefects perform their rounds in pairs. Unfortunately, the prefects tended to stick with their own houses, which frequently left Draco and Hermione to patrol the castle together. To Hermione, it was almost as though Dumbledore thought his two Heads weren't spending enough time together.

Draco stood up and straightened his robes. He then crossed in front of Hermione and opened the door. "Of course. After you."

The casual politeness in his voice caused Hermione to give him a suspicious look before exiting the study room. It was only nine o'clock, but it was pitch black outside, which meant all students were required to be in their dormitories. The corridors were lit alternatively by giant magical torches and flickering candlelight, which gave the castle a strangely cozy feel. Hermione found the darkened corridors tranquil and a pleasant change from the crush of students during the day, even if she was stuck walking the halls with Malfoy.

"I bet you never thought you'd be wandering the halls after hours with a Slytherin." Draco interrupted her thoughts casually. They waited for the staircase to get to their level and stepped on while it swiveled in the direction of the fourth floor.

"Somehow it never quite made it on my to-do list." Hermione said. "I'm guessing you saw where we're supposed to go to the Ministry on the 10th?"

"I did."

He was looking nonchalantly over the rail, clearly done with the subject. Hermione clicked her teeth in frustration. Why the hell was Dumbledore making her do this, and with Malfoy of all people? She'd have better luck teaching Grawp to curtsy and sing 'God Save the Queen' than getting Malfoy to behave in front of a Ministry panel. "Well, don't you think we should…"

"Not really." Draco cut her off. "We'll get together a few days before we leave and put something together. 'We all should get along, Mudbloods are our allies'...pretty much the gist of it, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I know there's no universe in which you would ever take this seriously, but if you could at least try to pretend to care…"

"Oh, relax, Granger." Draco said breezily. "I can get up in front of a bunch of Ministry pinheads and argue for the rights of Mudbloods with a straight face."

"Getting that word out of your vocabulary would be a good place to start." Hermione pointed out. "I mean, I've been called a Mudblood so much at this point that it's lost all meaning so I personally don't care, but I doubt that will make a good impression at the Ministry."

"Please. You're practically as famous as Potter these days. I doubt anyone has dared to you that in months."

Hermione crossed her arms and scoffed. "You would lose that bet. Because Pansy literally called me that yesterday."

"Well, she has Blaise now to keep her preoccupied."

"What ever happened there?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Why aren't you two together anymore?"

"You really are hung up on Pansy." Draco said evasively.

"I'm not hung up on her." Hermione countered. "But I spent the better part of five years watching you guys all over each other and now she's with someone else and I'm a curious person."

"Some would say nosy." Draco pointed out.

"You're still not answering me." She shot back smoothly.

They stepped off of the staircase and Hermione pulled open the door that led to the fourth floor corridor. It was a long hallway that led to one of the castle's towers, and the right side was lined with enormous windows that boasted a stunning view of the grounds and forest. Outside there was a full moon, and the castle was so isolated in the Scottish Highlands that the moon and stars were exceptionally bright and they filled the corridor with an ethereal light. Draco looked out the window as they walked. "Pansy is one of the best people that I know."

Hermione snorted.

Draco shot her a look. "I know you guys are probably never going to braid each other's hair or go to the same slumber parties…"

"Could you be any more sexist?" Hermione interrupted.

"...but she knows what I need without even having to ask." Draco paused. "She makes me laugh. And when I feel lonely…she's comforting. But as much as I like her...I don't like her."

"And what does she think?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. "The feeling is pretty mutual. So when she started dating Blaise, I gave her my wholehearted blessing. It's not like it's going to matter much, anyways. I'm sure her parents are already arranging her marriage for when she finishes school."

"Are pureblooded marriages really still arranged?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Ron mentioned something about that, but I honestly didn't think he was serious."

"Well they don't care about blood purity the way the rest of us do." Draco told her. "But yes, most marriages between pureblooded families are arranged. Most of the time it's when the kids come of age, but sometimes it's way earlier. It's how families keep their wealth intact, forge new alliances...that's why the Weasleys don't come into play. They're so dirt poor so it's not like they have anything to offer anyways."

Hermione bristled at Draco's frank analysis. "And you do?"

Draco grinned. "Oh, I have a lot to offer, Granger. I'm the only son of a wealthy family, so my social status is secure. There are plenty of families who are eager to have their daughters marry into the Malfoy family…"

"Poor girls." Hermione muttered, feeling more and more irritated.

They had reached the History of Magic classroom. After a cursory check to make sure Professor Binns wasn't floating around, (as a ghost, Hermione wasn't sure exactly what he did when he wasn't teaching but she was pretty sure he didn't sleep), they both illuminated the tips of their wands and entered the classroom.

Draco walked up to the front of the room and sat on the desk where Professor Binns kept his globe. He spun it contemplatively. "There is no girl for me, though. Not yet, anyways. Like I said, my position is pretty secure so my parents are in no rush to commit to anything."

Hermione made a neutral sound in her throat at that little piece of information, and murmured a quick spell under her breath. A large gust of wind shot out from her wand, rattling all of the desks in the room. But she was met with silence; the classroom was empty.

Draco hopped down from the desk and walked past Hermione to exit the classroom. Once he was back in the corridor he turned and looked at her over his shoulder. "Speaking of, are Potter and the she-Weasley ever going to seal the deal? I mean, it's obvious even to me, and if I cared I would tell them to just get it over with."

Hermione followed him out and sighed with her own exasperation over the Harry and Ginny situation. "Talk about being hung up on someone. You bring up Harry all the time."

They rounded a corner and Draco illuminated a large statue of a knight on horseback. He circled it carefully; it was a popular hiding spot for couples wandering the halls after hours due to the sheer size of the thing and Draco could remember vividly the things that he had done there, but tonight it was deserted. "He gets on my nerves. Plus it gets you riled up, which is always fun."

Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against one of the stone columns lining the corridor. "You know what you sound like? A jealous boyfriend."

Draco's head peeked out from behind the statue indignantly. "I've told you before, I don't do…"

"Girlfriends. I know. Your bedpost must be covered in notches."

Draco glowered as he rejoined Hermione and they walked down to the end of the corridor, where they were met with a dead end and a winding staircase. Hermione raised her wand and sent up a jet of red sparks, but the tower was silent. They turned around and headed back past the statue of the knight and towards the Grand Staircase. Draco glanced over at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. The moon was full, and whenever she walked past a window she was bathed in bright moonlight, making her skin look luminous and highlighting the many curls and tangles in her hair.

"You know, I really haven't dated that many girls at this school." Draco told her bluntly.

She laughed at the defensive tone in his voice. "I forgot, your definition of dating is different from most people."

"Granger." Draco whined. "I'm serious."

"So? Am I supposed to be impressed?" Hermione asked lightly. "Whether it's five girls or fifty, I'm not going to be one of them so you can get that idea right out of your head."

This time it was Draco who raised an eyebrow. "My, you're full of yourself. Who said that's where this conversation was going?"

"What other motive could you have? You've never cared what I thought about you before." Hermione said calmly.

"Because...maybe I don't want you to think I'm such a bad guy. Being looked down on all the time gets old after a while."

"I don't...look down on you." Hermione said, surprising herself. Hadn't she been looking down on Malfoy since they arrived at Hogwarts? "But you don't exactly make it easy to be nice to you."

"C'mon, Granger. You don't go anywhere in this castle without Potter, and he and I are always about five seconds from hexing each other's heads off. If you actually spent any time with me alone you'd realize what a nice charming young man I actually am."

Hermione laughed out loud at that one. "'Nice and charming'? You've been nothing but horrible to me for five years. I'm a Mudblood, remember?"

"You're also quite pretty." Draco offered honestly. "Of course, if you tell anyone I said that...well, it doesn't matter because nobody would believe you."

Hermione exhaled deeply. "Wow, Malfoy. You really are bad at this. Maybe you should go back to seducing your Slytherin girls."

"I don't want any of them."

"Well then you have a problem. Because you aren't getting me."

Draco cut in front of her, and she nearly ran into him. "I'm going to level with you, Granger. When I found out that I was going to be sharing Head duties with you this year, I was beyond pissed off."

"You flatter me." Hermione said wryly.

Draco held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "But I have to admit, I am enjoying myself. It's nice talking to someone as smart as I am and who isn't afraid to call me out. Also, someone who doesn't go weak at the knees just because I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Are you complimenting me for having good taste?" She asked, amused. "Why do I still feel like you're trying to flirt with me?"

"Is it working?" He asked. He looked as innocent as a lamb.

Her smile got bigger. "No. But I respect the attempt."

They had completed their round and they were at the end of the corridor. For a moment they both just stood there and stared at the large wooden door that would open up to the Grand Staircase. "I guess we'd better head back to the library." Hermione said finally.

"Do we really have to?" Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Of course we do. It's part of being Heads, that we meet every week and discuss…"

"I know." Draco interrupted her. "But do we really have to go back to that stuffy room? Let's do it here."

"Here?"

"Well, here." Draco gestured at a bench that Hermione hadn't noticed. It was nestled against the wall facing the enormous windows through which they could see down to the Hogwarts grounds that stretched from the courtyard to Hagrid's hut and beyond to the Forbidden Forest. It was small, and could only just fit two people. Maybe only one person, if you were the size of Crabbe or Goyle.

Draco sat down and patted the cushion beside him. "Come on, Granger. The sooner we talk the sooner it'll be over."

Hermione was still skeptical. "You want me to sit there? With you?"

"I don't bite. At least, not unless you ask me to. What are you afraid of, someone seeing?"

She hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him. She crossed her legs defensively in an effort to keep a small amount of space between them and keep their legs from touching. The gesture was not lost on Draco but all he did was smirk.

Hermione jiggled her foot absently. "Alright. Well, I actually don't think there were any new fights this week, at least not that I'm aware of, but I definitely heard some…"

"Do you always need to talk, Granger?" Draco interrupted her. "It was a quiet week, and I don't really have anything special to discuss, do you? Let's just sit here."

Silence descended upon them, and Hermione was quietly amazed at how refreshed she felt. She would never admit it to him, but Malfoy was right: it was a nice change talking to someone who actually challenged her. Who wasn't afraid of making her mad and didn't care when and if he did. Merlin, she even liked him flirting with her because it was so meaningless she could blow it off without worrying about hurting his feelings. Even Harry, as smart as he was, pretty much always deferred to her. Of course, Malfoy couldn't be trusted and probably most everything that came out of his mouth was a lie, but that just meant that she didn't have to care what he thought of her because he already despised her. It was a strangely freeing feeling.

"I've always thought that the sky around Hogwarts looks like Van Gogh's Starry Night." Draco said pensively. "What do you think?"

Hermione slowly turned to look at him, her face a mixture of shock and amusement. "Okay, how do you know anything about Muggle art?" she asked.

"I have an aunt who took me to a Muggle museum once." Draco answered, not taking his eyes away from the sky. "I couldn't have been more than seven. But I remember wondering how Muggles could create something so beautiful without magic. But it was only the one time because of course when Dad found out he was furious. I guess you could say it's a secret interest of mine."

"And you like Van Gogh." Hermione said. She was having a hard time imagining Malfoy having an appreciation for Muggle anything, much less art.

"He's my favorite. I like Matisse too, but you can't see the passion in his work like Van Gogh."

"Can I ask why?"

Draco paused, and ran his fingers through his hair. "He was tormented and depressed and spent much of his life thinking he was a madman but...anyone can paint pain. It's the way he used his pain and torment to portray the beauty and joy of our world...there's nothing in the Wizarding world that can compare."

Hermione was silent for a moment as she considered the boy beside her. "I would have never taken you for a fan of Muggle art."

There was that annoying superior grin again. "Granger, how many times do I have to tell you to not jump to conclusions?"

"Right, because Van Gogh and Draco Malfoy just go together, right?"

Draco didn't answer but chuckled. Several more minutes passed in contemplative silence before Draco seemed to remember something. "By the way, what time is it?"

Hermione looked down at her watch. "It's almost ten."

Draco jumped to his feet. "Then Granger, as lovely as this evening has been, I'm afraid I have to go. There's someone waiting for me at my dorm."

"Someone? You mean another Slytherin girl?" Hermione frowned.

"Ravenclaw, actually. I'm branching out a bit." Draco grinned wickedly. "Oh, and don't worry. If you get any reports of screaming in the castle tonight, just ignore it. We're fine."

XxXxX

In another part of the castle, Severus Snape was making fierce strides towards Dumbledore's office. He moved quickly; he wanted both to avoid Dumbledore and get to his office quickly; at least then he could get it over with. If there was one thing he had learned over the years, dealing with Dumbledore was a double-edged sword. More than once he'd thought back to that night he'd come to Dumbledore pleading for Lily Evans' life. Considering that Lily had died anyways, Snape often wondered if he'd made a mistake.

Dumbledore wasn't at his desk, and Snape couldn't see him anywhere, but he knew better. He could sense the older man's presence. "Albus?" He called.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Severus." Dumbledore's disembodied voice called out from the loft of his office.

There was a cacophony of rustling books and crashing instruments as Dumbledore made his way down while Snape walked over to the desk to wait. It was littered with books and vials, and in the right corner was an object that made Snape flinch.

"I thought you got rid of that." He said distastefully, pointing at the remnants of Marvolo Gaunt's ring with his wand.

Dumbledore winced as he sat down at the desk. "I kept it as a reminder...of what happens when you become too ambitious. How long did you say that I have?"

"Perhaps eight months before you begin to feel the effects. The enchantment I placed on your hand is strong, but so is the curse. It can only be contained for so long."

For a moment Dumbledore looked impossibly old. He looked down at the items assembled on his desk: the ring, the remains of Tom Riddle's diary, a battered copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art, and several silvery-white vials of memories. "The answer is here, Severus. I know it is. I feel like I'm getting so close, but someone must be ready to continue when I'm gone."

"Sir, now is hardly the time to start thinking about that."

"Now is the only time!" Dumbledore said emphatically, smacking his good hand on his desk. "Eight months is not nearly long enough, Severus! And perhaps it is less time than that, if your latest reports are to be believed."

"I told you, nothing is finalized yet. The Dark Lord wants to strike the night of the Ball, but there are others who doubt Draco's ability to complete his part of the plan." Snape argued as he sat down, massaging his temples.

"Then perhaps you can help Draco with his task. The Dark Lord trusts you."

Snape looked up suddenly with a glare of disgust. "Did it ever occur to you that you ask too much, that you expect too much? That maybe I don't want to do this anymore?" He snarled.

Dumbledore held his gaze unflinchingly. "I will not argue with you, Severus. We made a deal, one that you have yet to complete."

"A deal that involved keeping the Potter boy safe, not inviting Death Eaters into the castle to wreak all kinds of havoc..."

Dumbledore's calmness was infuriating. "You and I know that will not happen. The Death Eaters may be a lot of things, but they value their blood, and do you really think they will attack the castle with so many pureblooded children dwelling within?"

"Then what's the point?!" Snape's eyes flashed.

"You have said that they want to weaken Harry by removing those closest to him. The Death Eaters will come but I suspect they will have only one target, and with Mr. Weasley gone, that leaves Miss. Granger. Severus, they must not get her."

"Yes, but Draco will be the one they expect to hand her over. Surely it would be easier to stop one seventeen-year-old wizard than challenging twenty adult Death Eaters?"

"It would, but I believe that the Death Eaters are right about Draco. I don't think he will be able to hand Miss. Granger over knowing the torture and certain death that would await her. I'm afraid that when he fails to procure her, he will have to offer a consolation prize in order to escape terrible punishment. I believe that only Harry or I would suffice, and I think we can both agree that Harry is way more valuable than I."

The implication of Dumbledore's words hung thick in the air, and Snape swallowed heavily.

"Do you really mean to offer yourself up as a sacrifice?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We both know that I'm dying, and as skilled as you are, it is only a matter of time before I begin to feel the effects of this curse. The idea of a drawn-out and painful death does not appeal to me, and I mean to die in a way that is beneficial. And since I assume that they will want Draco to do it, we must circumvent that as well. There is only one solution. Severus, you must be the one to kill me."

There was a long silence. Then Snape said bitterly. "You have planned this all out perfectly, haven't you?"

"I have planted the seeds, but I must trust a great many people to ensure its success." Dumbledore corrected him. "I must trust that Miss. Granger will be able to bring out the goodness in Draco Malfoy. I must trust that the Death Eaters will accept me in her place, and above all else, I must trust that you will step in for Draco when the time comes, for I would not have the boy's soul be damaged."

"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"

"Only you know if it will damage your soul to save an old man from pain and humiliation." Dumbledore said gently.

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, but he didn't say anything. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small flask and tossed it onto Dumbledore's desk. "You will need to continue to take the potion until then. Like I said, it won't stop the curse. But it should keep the pain from becoming unbearable."

"Thank you." Dumbledore picked the flask up and put it in his top drawer. "For more than just the potion. I know that none of this has been easy for you. I don't think anyone else will say so, but I am grateful to you."

Snape nodded stiffly. Then without another word he turned on his heel and left the office.

Yes, there were times when he really hated Dumbledore.

XxXxX

There was a trail of clothes leading from the door to Draco's dormitory to his bed. A half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey and two tumblers sat forgotten on his night stand with a blue and bronze tie draped over them.

Draco had enjoyed taking that tie off. He hadn't even needed to use his hands.

He was undressed from the waist up and his date, a Ravenclaw seventh year named Madra, was down to a black slip dress. They had been fooling around for nearly half an hour but Draco was in no rush. In fact, the longer they were together the longer he felt better afterwards. It was a strange conundrum that Draco never thought about too deeply because he honestly didn't want to know what it said about him. He just knew it worked.

Sitting up, Madra reached for his belt and began fiddling with the silver clasp but Draco grabbed her wrists and rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head. The bed rocked and there was a loud clinking sound. Distracted, he glanced up, but it was just his bedpost bumping the whiskey tumblers. Madra slipped an arm free and reached up for his neck and pulled his face back towards her. Then his mouth was on hers and her lips tasted like cherries. His hand slid up her thigh, pushing the slip up past her navel. But as he did so his eyes opened and he wasn't turned on he was…disappointed.

This was too easy.

Draco stopped. He pushed himself onto his elbows and rolled off of Madra. For a moment he just lay on his back, breathing heavily.

Madra turned onto her side and looked down at him. "You okay, Draco?" She asked.

Draco didn't answer. He sat up and reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass that he downed too quickly. He grimaced as the alcohol burned his throat.

"Draco?"

Madra leaned in towards him and slid one arm across his waist. Her lips had just brushed his neck when he finally spoke.

"You can let yourself out."

He could feel her tense in surprise. There was a long silence, then he felt the bed bounce as she got to her feet. She fumbled for her clothes and slammed the portrait behind her on her way out. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and poured himself another drink. He swirled the liquor around in the glass for a moment.

Then downed the whiskey in a single gulp.