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5k words so, make sure you don't cry or worse, die with all the fluff and ofc, trauma. I really like this one, hope you will too.

Fuck, let's start.

The initial shock of the whole ordeal didn't settle in with the pale boy until McGonagall had put a hand to his shoulder— a reminder that she was there, and that this all was real, painfully, horribly and undeniably real. Narcissa's limp hand with sleek and thin fingers stayed trapped in between Draco's, he refused to let the mere memory of his mother vanish, dropping his hand from her own was going to be just that— the moment he would drop her hand, it would all come crashing to his mind; that the woman who had brought him into this world, the woman who had raised him, more or less, the woman he loved despite everything she put him through, despite all their differences, the woman who was now dead, and the woman who was now lying limp in her chair with eyes absolutely blank, that this woman, his mother, was dead.

Dead.

Funny word, Draco had always imagined it to be.

One didn't know the consequences of its aftermath once they had a one on one with the frightful monster themselves. It was easy to say that someone died, it was even easier to feel little to no pain when it concerned someone else; but when it was someone you loved, someone you knew all your sodding life— the tables were quick to turn in death's favour, dumping all sorts of griefs on you, as if death itself is yelling at you, "So I took them and you can't do anything about it."

"Draco," truth was, Minerva didn't know what to tell the Slytherin before her. Should she tell him that it's alright and that deaths of family members are just as natural as anything else in the universe or should she tell him that he can talk to her about it? Certainly none of the above stated, she thought. Instead of saying anything, she assured herself to remain calm and silent, as if she hadn't just witnessed the death of someone she knew, even if not well, right before her eyes. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes felt like prolonged hours and yet, Draco still didn't move a muscle from his place of being crouched next to his pale and dead mother in the lavish seat. His head was bowed in a tired slump and his body was visibly calm to the eye, not shaking even one bit.

Minerva allowed him to gireve, he did, after all, lose the last person he could call family.

And on Christmas, what a day to grieve.

After what felt like decades, Draco raised his head to look one final time in the blank eyes of his mother, a sigh escaping his lips. Slowly, as if he was afraid that she'd break had he moved any faster, he unwrapped his fingers from around her wrist, letting her frail hand fall in her lap. He closed his eyes briefly before reopening, revealing the slate grey orbs behind his hooded eyelids.

Not even a single tear, not one.

Ever so gently, he ran his cold hand over her eyes, shutting the eyelids of his once beautiful mother— the woman he admired all his life because despite everything, Draco still held more love in his heart for his mother than he held hate. Maybe it was an ounce or two bigger than the hate he had tucked away deep down in his heart, but it was always more than the loathe he held for her.

He pressed his lips to her forehead as he closed his eyes at the sharp and cold contact of her skin with his own. "Goodbye, mother."

And then, he had already turned around, walking away from the scene without sparing as much as a second glance at his dead mother in the love seat.

The fact of losing his mother on this day took Draco down his memory lane—Christmas holidays at The Manor. He had gotten all the gifts he had ever wanted, all the toys and books, everything. He would run down the stairs on Christmas mornings until he was 12, look around, locate his presents and actually enjoy the day. After 12, it became a burden— seeing his parents at the Manor with their odd conversations in hushed whispers about you-know-who and dark magic, it didn't feel like Christmas anymore. By the time he had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the next break, his parents had stopped writing to him. It wasn't the same, it really wasn't after all that happened. What he remembered most about his last Christmas with his parents was his mother smiling down at him once in a blue moon, telling him that she loved him and that despite their rocky relationship, he could still come over for Christmas at least and spend the day with her, if not anyone else. She had promised him that she'd always be there, if not on any other day then at least on Christmas.

And now she wasn't, she had been taken away the same day she had promised not to leave. It was all that he remembered, and God, how he'd wish to give anything to not remember.

In a parallel mind to his, Minerva took her time, casting sad eyes on the dead woman, she sighed, turned on her heels and walked off to where Draco had just gone. She hadn't known Narcissa except for being the wife of a deatheater and the mother to one of her students who also, for the record, happened to be a deatheater in the past— it felt inappropriate to voice untrue words of sympathy and eulogies like they had been fast friends in their time.

"Mr. Malfoy," Minvera approached him standing right next to the pillar outside of the room they had just exited, the room where his mother laid dead now. Draco had the calmest expression on his face, even his placid body agreed with his restful brain.

But dear God, his eyes.

A whole storm, of grey and silver ready to collide with the rocks and cause complete havoc in mere minutes.

"I will send someone over to collect her and proceed with the burial duties," she informed him, not noticing the storm in his eyes, or maybe she did— "I would understand if you want to go back and come back another day, it's been..." she calculated her words, "A rather unusual day."

Draco didn't speak.

McGonagall sighed, "We can always come back another day. Answers can wait, grief and a little emptiness is permanent." she told him in a wise tone, as if she was lecturing a child. "Let us go back to Hogwarts, I promise you, I'll ask around about the deathmark through my...acquaintances. I'm confident that we will get a lead. The information your mother supplied us with has indeed, helped us in a way or two. At least now we know what is going on and dare I say, it is absolutely frightening and at the same time, impossible." McGonagall realised she got off track, realising this, she sighed once more. Dealing with the emotions of her students wasn't really her cup of tea.

"I promise you, we will have a lead soon. Your mother wouldn't have died in vain." With that, she flashed a portkey from her bright green robes and looked at Draco right in the eye.

With one final glance at the closed double doors of the drawing room, Draco touched two fingers to the portkey, spinning and spinning until he finally landed on all fours in the head mistress' office.

All he knew now, was that he wanted to curl up into a ball and cry like a little baby who had just lost his mother in Digon Alley, except, he wouldn't be able to find her this time.

_

Hermione's leg bounced impatiently against the coffee table of her dorm room.

Draco had been gone too long now— it had been nearly twelve hours. When McGonagall had come to take him, presumably to one of her trips to Digon Alley. As it was Christmas, she figured that the headmistress needed him to run some errands, it was only normal. She had also come to realise that Hermione had been replaced by Draco again. She didn't ask him anything, didn't ask McGonagall even as to why she was replacing her with him (sounded too much of teacher's pet question even to her). When the headmistress had asked her to fetch the Malfoy heir, she had made a beeline for his room, knocking once and then twice before saying "Oh sod it!" and going inside herself— coming to an abtuot stop (or maybe she did see it coming) that Draco was in the midst of putting on a black button down which contrasted perfectly with his pale skin. Draco had just secured two of the buttons when Hermione had smiled slyly at him and walked right upto him, pushing the confused slytherin down on the bed.

She had climbed over his body, her limbs caging him in as her wild curls sprawled over his face. "Aren't you a naughty, naughty girl, Granger." it wasn't a question, rather a statement. She had dipped her head and kissed him briefly but sweetly on the lips, not knowing where all this sudden confidence was coming from, her best guess had to be that Draco was starting to rub off too much on her with all his flirty gestures and spontaneous making out.

Draco had just tugged on her shirt when she realised what she had come in for. With a sigh, the witch straightened herself, pulling up the blond with her. She took the liberty to straighten his shit and fasten the remaining buttons like a caring wife.

Giving him a quick once over and approving (given the glint in her eyes) she played with its collar as she grazed the tips of her fingers at the column of his throat. "Professor McGonagall is here to see you."

And that, had been what had killed the mood.

Draco had scoffed and whined like a child, predictable, thought Hermione.

"I need to teach you a thing or two about flirting." Draco had told her teasingly as he put a hand to the doorknob, "First lesson: never mention your teachers."

And now, she was getting worried with every passing minute.

Her eyes kept snapping to the wall clock to her right, seeing the seconds tick away, turning into minutes and then, hours.

She didn't know when she put her head on the coffee table, wild curls sprawled all over the place, asleep thinking of his return.

Hermione's right eye cracked open some time around dawn, judging by the canvas of sunlight painted across the dorm walls. She put a hand to her head to control the spinning, a futile attempt at savoring some peace. She forced her eyes open and looked around. When the familiar settings of her surroundings settled well with her, it was only then that she realised what she had been doing prior to sleeping like a baby. The reality of the situation kicked in pretty quick after that; she shook her head as if trying to clear the remnants of her angsty dreams, her eyes roamed around the place as she stood up on her feet. A little dizzy, Hermione made her way towards Draco's room on instinct, her chest tightening with every step she took towards the inviting wooden door.

With a jolt, she pushed open the door completely losing it when her eyes settled on the boy curled up at the foot of the huge four poster bed. Whatever remaining dizziness and sleep she had, had been flung out of the window after that sight.

Forcing herself to be silent, she tiptoed her way inside the cold room. Hermione's eyes didn't look away from Draco's lean body helplessly resting there, his back straight against the post of the bed and a single arm dangling over his hunched knee with eyes closed. Hermione had little to no time to celebrate the fact that he was, at least, here. The Gryffindor made her way towards him, eyes softening at the mere sight of his drained body helplessly collapsed into an elegant mess of limbs and white pale skin.

Hermione realised that she had stopped in her tracks.

She watched the Slytherin ever so attentively before her eyes. The way his shoulders slumped in a defeated manner, the familiar light blue and purple bruises dusting his pale skin under his eyes, his soft hair a complete mess of silver threads sticking up in different places, his body sagged— it looked like he had been through hell and over in the time he was away.

So certainly it wasn't Diagon Alley.

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had already gone over to his side and cradled his hot face in her petite hands. She allowed herself to run her fingers through his distraught hair in an attempt to not only make it look decent but also, for the sake of his sanity itself, her thoughts paid off when Draco sighed a content breath, his eyes still shut. The panic was starting to grow in the pit of her stomach as all kinds of questions washed over her.

Where had McGonagall taken him?

Why was he so tired?

Was he okay?

What had happened last last night?

His grey eyes fluttered open like two half moons in the placid sky. His lips had small cracks to their sides, upon seeing this, she conjured a goblet of water and cupped the back of his neck with a hands simultaneously while she nudged the goblet closer to his lips. In an additional attempt to soothe him, she etched her fingertips on his collarbone, creating random patterns as her fingers grazed the chilly skin of his body. She looked into his eyes as he took a tentative sip from the goblet before pushing it away, her fingers itched to go south from where they were resting now, it was dangerous but so tempting at the same time. She had missed being close to him, missed the proximity of them being able to be so close to each other and pretending that they didn't know about the mutual feelings they shared for each other, they way his eyes spoke so many emotions and thoughts when his tongue betrayed him but she understood; she always did.

Hermione reluctantly popped open the first button of his button down, then another, and another, and then another until she could see small and sparse golden hairs on his chest. Two more buttons undone revealed a barely visible stream of golden hairs etched onto his stomach and going south to his abdomen.

By now, Draco was fully awake. What little sleep he had in his head was kicked out of the window the moment she had started touching the skin around his collarbone. He would be lying if he were to say he didn't enjoy this kind of stuff from her, or that he hadn't missed her in the several hours he was gone.

It completely terrified him to his core that he couldn't even last a fucking day without thinking of her. All the time he had been in the Manor, his mind had refused to think of anything else except the girl he had left behind in the dorm to come to this god-forsaken place. He could have very well enjoyed the remaining days of Christmas break tangled up in the sheets with his girlfriend as they slept into oblivion but no, this just had to come up. This shit with the dark mark and his deatheater past had finally come to bite him in the arse. Draco wasn't stupid, of course he knew his actions would have dire consequences on both situations— if he joined the Dark Lord or even The sodding Order. Either way, it meant getting killed. Maybe the Order would have pardoned him eventually because they were just so nice but the Dark Lord would've killed him, he would've killed his family because he was ruthless and honestly, a shitty fucktard who'd have done it just for the fun of it. He had only hoped that the rest of his years would be somewhat less chaotic than the first 18 years.

But again, hope was a dangerous thing to have.

Just like it was dangerous for him to cling onto that single thread of sanity dangling from thin air.

In the end, the dark mark hadn't been worth it. It had taken his virtue, sanity and all hope of a better life ahead.

Granger had been looking at him with her big doe-like eyes, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Easily, he let the shirt loose, feeling the cool air hit his torso as the fabric slid off his hot body. Hermione was edged closer to his form, her forehead pressing against his. Carefully, as if he was a porcelain doll which would break if touched too hard, she let her lips brush the skin on his jaw. The cold pair of lips coming in contact with his skin like the calming east wind.

"You're burning up."

"Does it matter?" came the response in thin air.

Hermione slightly raised her head to see him in the eyes. To her much dismay, Draco's eyes were closed. Instead of speaking, she decided to settle on a more intimate gesture than the power of words— she took his hand in her own and ever so slowly, without looking away from his closed eyes, she pressed it flat against her breast.

At that, Draco's eyes shot open like wildfire, burning bright. She watched him with calming breaths, afraid she would lose it if she didn't force herself to be calm. Draco's hands didn't move from her chest. It was merely a gesture to get his attention to Hermione, she hadn't meant for it to go any further, so when Draco urgently placed his lips on hers, to say that she was a little taken aback would be an understatement. Draco's hands flew from her chest to cup her face, pressing into her sides with a frenzy she didn't know he possessed. His eyes were clear, anyone could look into his eyes and see the storm within. Draco's lips never left hers, only pulling half inch away to catch his breath before nipping at her bottom lip again.

Gods, how he had missed her.

The pump of adrenaline coarsing through his veins, the electricity passing through his body at her comforting touch, the calmness it brought him, he had missed it, all if it, all of her. Breathing rigid, Draco kissed the column of her throat, urging himself to stay there as long as he could, feeling the familiar soothing sensation setting in. His hands came to rest on either side of her, trapping her fragile body in between like a caged animal.

Hermione audibly gulped, the impact of which Draco felt heavily because of his lips on her throat.

His eyes opened, he heard her gasp slightly.

"I'm hiding so much from you, so much that it's beginning to kill me from inside." whatever she was expecting to hear, certainly wasn't this. Her mind wondered all kinds of fucked up theories that could be bothering him, each worst than the previous one. Hermione didn't know what else to do except intertwine her fingers with his, cold skin again warm— oddly though, this time, Draco wasn't the one that felt like cold snow.

It was her.

Fear did that to people.

"What are you hiding from me, Draco?" she all but calmly spoke, letting her fingers run through his hair. She was quite fond of running her fingers through his soft threads, having done so on many similar occasions when they had shared a bed; it was oddly enjoyable to her.

"I can't tell you." his heart broke a little at the trust he was putting in her. Truth was, it was not about trusting her. Granger had had a major panic attack that day when she found him burning up on the floor because of his dark mark. To say that she had seen a ghost, wouldn't have been wrong, judging from how frightened she had gotten. Draco had never seen someone worry so much about himself, not even his mother. Funny how Granger waltzs in his life four months prior and completely turns the tables. It wasn't true, no, Draco trusted her more than he trusted himself— it just seemed an endangering thought to put her in this chaos right now. He himself didn't even know what the hell was going on with him, how could he tell her? What would he say to her?

Talking about his feelings was the hardest thing he had to cope with, hell, even Voldemort couldn't top that list.

It was just that complex.

"I can't tell you," he repeated, eyes softening at tye sight of Granger parting her lips slightly. Draco tucked a loose strand of her curl behind her ear, "I can't tell you." his lips were pressed to her forehead, lingering there for a second or two longer than usual. "I can't put you in this danger, no, not again."

Hermione, who had been silent all this time, had a quizzical expression on her face; a frown and drawn together eyebrows.

"Danger?" she voiced, voice cracking at the end. "What danger? Draco, what is going on? What aren't you telling me? Are you alright?"

No, I'm not alright.

He hated to be in this position.

Over the past few months, he had grown to tell Granger almost everything. From his first broomstick experience to his favourite colour, from his first kiss to his favourite books to read on a rainy morning, from his finest childhood memory of getting his first broomstick to his favourite girl in the world, ever so balantly kissing Hermione to prove his statement right afterwards.

"Oh." was all Hermione had said, her blush had made him laugh and only kiss her harder in the aftermath.

But this was different.

So much more different than the rest of times they had fooled around.

This could kill him.

And if he wasn't careful, it could kill her, too.

"I need you," he shook his head vigorously, as if a child waking up from a nightmare in the middle of the night. "I need you Hermione, I don't want you, I need you, do you understand me?" he shook her by the shoulders, feeling the need to prove his point. Instantly, both of them were up on their feet with Draco pulling her up on his own. Hermione's head hurt at his words but so put up a good show of not letting that show. It looked like he was fighting a battle with himself the way his eyes kept flicking to her eyes and then down her lips and the finally, head hanging down in defeat.

Hermione didn't know what was happening nor did she have the faintest clue of the importance of words he had just uttered so did what she had to, kiss him on the lips like she meant it, her mouth covering his as she cried into the kiss, cried her fucking heart out because the meaning of his words finally settled in then. Tears rolled down her cheeks like waterworks but she didn't stop them, made no effort whatsoever.

A sob, and then another, followed by one more.

I love you, Draco Malfoy.

But her tongue betrayed her.

Not now, no, not now, Hermione told herself.

"And that's—" His shaking vocie brought her out of her little reverie. Her throat felt like or had been tied in a knot for she couldn't speak. Muffled sobs escaped her lips as Draco's cradled her body against his, close and warm. It was the first time she felt this way; content, complete— like a missing puzzle piece had finally been pieced together, the epiphany was overwhelming.

"And that's exactly why I can't tell you." Draco finished, his voice breaking as his arms wrapped tighter around her waist, pressing her closer to his body. Hermione's arms looped around his neck as she tried her hardest to stand tall on her tiptoes still falling short of the boy before her. Draco cupped her face, gazing into her eyes for one split second and then, calmly kissing her forehead again.

"I'm asking you to trust me on this." he didn't pull away from her forehead, hands still cupping her cheeks. "Can you do that for me?"

A lengthy pause.

And then, a soft kiss to the crook of his neck.

Draco sighed.

"Yes."

The common ground they both shared spoke volumes on their behalf. The mutual understanding they had was a silent proof of the feelings they both shared but didn't bring on their lips.

"Thank you." Draco picked her hand in his, admiring the skin as if he wasn't familiar with every inch of it already.

Silence, followed by Draco swiftly dragging her to the enormous four poster bed, pushing her slightly so that she settled on the plush material beneath. He crawled his way towards her, inching now only a few centimeters away from her as he hovered over her with his palms flattened. "I got you something."

She smiled crookedly, all attention focused on Draco. The fact that he didn't have a shirt on only made her blush harder. It seemed like a scene straight of out a cliché romance book where the guy came over for "studying" by secretly climbing through the girl's bedroom window, sharing little intimate moments as the night went on. Hermione knew all about it, she had read it in many Muggle books and frankly, the images invading her brain at the moment did little to nothing to calm her down.

She pushed herself into her elbows, supporting her weight. "You did? Why?" her expression was of genuine shock lacing her soft features— Draco didn't remember seeing something so pure ever before.

"Relax, it's not a ring, we're not getting married, well, not any time soon." he added just for a teasing effect. It paid off when Hermione only flushed, groaning as she smacked his arm. Draco, on the other hand, only laughed. It was genuinely amusing to see her like that; all flushed and embarrassed.

The laughter died down and soon enough he was looking at her with that star-crossed expression he always did when he thought she wasn't looking. Little did he know, Hermione had caught him on her own time, twice, or maybe it had been more, she didn't know.

He leaned forward, brushed his lips against hers yet again and smiled at her.

Heemione felt the air leave her lungs for a second at the sight.

Carefully, she watched him fish into one the front pockets of his pants, pulling out a little piece of square paper. Draco brought the paper in front of her so she could see for herself as he unfolded the crinkled white sheet before her focused eyes.

Draco was satisfied to hear the gasp leaving her mouth when her eyes settled on the item which had been securely wrapped in the paper just seconds ago.

"Draco, I—" she couldn't form a coherent sentence and Draco realised how much more satisfying it made the whole situation for him.

"Don't talk, just kiss me, I'll understand." he supplied cockily, the corner of his lips turning up in a low grin. As per request, Hermione was quick to kiss his lips again, it was an exercise she was willing to do for as long as he allowed her, it was just that simple. With one final nibble to his bottom lip, Hermione pulled back, eyes never leaving his.

She watched him in a daze as he lifted the silver chain from the paper and ushered her to turn around with a jerk of his head. Obeying, Hermione turned around just a little to give him access to her neck. Draco wasted little to no time in devouring her neck with playful bites and kisses before securely fastening the article of jewelry around her neck. He brushed her hair to one side and kissed her just below her earlobe earning a low moan of approval.

Hermione finally turned to her original position, shifting her body closer to his. She crawled into his lap just when Draco opened his arms for her to settle in them. Hermione was filled with awe, a feeling she had overcome many times when she was with Draco.

But this.

Dear god this changed so many things.

Hermione touched the pendant dangling from the beautiful silver chain, her fingers caressed the shiny material in complete content. Attached to the chain was silver key with encrusted green gems on the handle, (how very slytherin, Hermione noted) but even in her right state of mind, she couldn't find herself to complain, she just couldn't.

"It's the key to my wounded heart," Draco drawled from the side sarcastically, but Hermione caught on the little joke soon, too. "Congratulations Granger, you've just opened one of the many dark chambers within." He kissed her cheek, Merlin knew what could happen any moment with all that's been going on lately. He had to make sure that what little time he had would be made the best use of.

Hermione cloud not keep her eyes away from the little gift Draco had given her. It was a small gesture but spoke volumes— not only about his feelings but also about her own. She had, after all, accepted it with the same feelings as he had given her with in the first place.

The feelings were mutual here, she realised quickly.

Tucking away another curl behind her ear and then kissing her forehead in a protective manner, Hermione felt her lungs constrict at this words.

"Merry Christmas, Granger."

PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, I HOPE THIS CHAPTER MADE UP FOR MY LACK OF INACTIVITY.