Word Count: 4595
Beta: Yet the same amazing people: Manda, Michelle, and Cklls. Lots of love!
Notes: [Edit 2018] GOOD NEWS. This was originally published in 2011, and I re-edited in 2013, but apparently 2018 has bunnies flying around and I'm BACK. Which means, at the end of what was originally a three-parter, I'm adding MORE chapters to the end of this :). Will be updated very shortly.

Their Secret: Two

Fourth Year
January

Afterwards, she remembers his glances being more discreet, less frequent, and a lot more exhilarating than the ones previous. She'd attempted to catch his gaze more often, to catch it and hold it and tell him that she'd find him later, so they could talk, be friends, as was her plan.

But the months pass, and she gets no closer to him than in their first three years at Hogwarts.

Spring opens up, finally, and she watches as summer falls around them, until she is at home and with her parents. Draco plagues her mind throughout the summer months; she thinks of what he's encountering now, if he has thought about her at all either, and whether he will finally have the gall to search her out again.

Or, perhaps, war has already taken hold, and there is no hope for that anymore.

Until after everything, like he said.

Fifth Year
August

Hermione goes back to Hogwarts with more uncertainties than when she left all those weeks ago.

Of course, he still watches her, occasionally passing her in a class and grazing her on the hip, hand, or fingers. She'd shiver, glance around, belatedly remember he is living on the fact he hasn't been caught yet, and shifts away instead, scowling to hopefully carry on the illusion of hatred. She relies on these, to remind herself that yes, the alcove really did happen, and yes, he is still there for her. Or something like it.

There is no doubt they have a connection now, larger than before, but how he wants to utilize it is beyond her. He'd held her, and touched her far more than any other boy had in the space of just under an hour, and yet it seemed he had no ulterior motives beyond friendship. She isn't sure what she thinks of him—the embrace they'd shared had been rare, she thinks, because it had showed a part of what he'd (they'd) wanted to do since the glances had become electric, meaningful. Lustful, she is hesitant to add, because it isn't so much lust as it is longing to know what it would be like to be closer, to be able to talk, etcetera.

Despite this having made a difference - where she wants to find him too, talk to him—months go by instead, and she finds herself slowly getting more and more annoyed with him. Not only because he hasn't spoken to her - not counting the times in the hallways with her friends when he spits her name as if he really, truly hates her - but because he is also actively part of Umbridge's Squad. In the alcove, he'd basically shown enough of himself, of how he could be, to make up for the hurt he'd caused her in the years before, but now…

Now, he is bringing them down, discovering their cunning ways, and stopping them before they can get through any further DA meetings. She is having a hard enough time keeping Dumbledore's Army a secret while dealing with the unfairness of Umbridge herself, her classes, and then the reality of everything else. Yet she has not seen him, like in The Alcove, since last year, and his absence only heightens the personality he has shown as of late.

It hurts her sometimes. She will think back to how long ago he'd started everything—to the days he'd warned her, back in second and fourth year. How subtle those warnings had been in front of Ron or Harry, how she hadn't even known he meant good by it until the incident in The Alcove. She remembers all the insults, and the utter relief she'd felt once he'd shown, just a little bit, the details behind his behaviour. And how, really, he can be different.

Other times, Hermione wants to pull him out of the life he's starting to lead, the life he has to lead, because she can see how much he is changing day by day. She wants to be there for him, tell him he doesn't have to listen to his family—for she can only assume that is where he's getting his orders from—and that she is here for him. For the boy who has held some sort of fascination with her for years, manages to ignite her with just a simple glance, but plays the part of the perfect enemy; meanwhile, not acting on the very obvious inclination—on both their parts, she's forced to realize over and over again—to seek the other out.

However, she is more annoyed with his behaviour than her desire to do so.

She watches fifth year pass by—not as slowly as she would have imagined, and busies herself in keeping the DA together, well-informed, and secretive, and focuses on taking down Umbridge. She also avoids Draco Malfoy at all costs, lest she get the overwhelming feeling to drag him into that alcove again, or worse, slap him for not doing so himself.

When the Inquisitorial Squad catches them and brings them to Umbridge's office, she feels the tension to the very bottom of her bones. She can detect his gaze, scattered for subtlety, but always there as Crabbe holds her hands behind her. Hermione can barely think past the fact that they are all in the same room together—Ron, Harry, Draco—and the urge to turn around, to say, "Let us go, Malfoy. Please!" is nearly as consuming as having his eyes on her in this particular situation.

She wonders what he'd do, but realizes not a moment later that he'd, of course, act like the flawless enemy he has always been. Hermione isn't sure how he pulls it off so well, so convincingly, when just standing here is reducing her usually logical thoughts to chaos in a matter of seconds. She knows, if the roles were reversed, that she'd crumble under his pleading; listen to it, reason with it, and then let him go if he'd asked.

It is the difference between how she sees their relationship to how he does, and she's uncertain if that makes all her previous revelations about his character, his reasons behind his actions, redundant.

Maybe he doesn't want to get to know her as much as she thinks, or as much as she wants to get to know him in return.

Maybe he doesn't want that at all.

If anything, the end of the year creates even more indecision, confusion, and questions regarding his character, his thoughts, and the growing feelings within her. She can't help but think it is the ultimate forbidden relationship, but it is so tangible that all he wants is to be in her company, or something close to it.

His gazes can't mean anything else.

It is the only thing connecting them now, but she still thinks it isn't enough.

Not after how he'd made her feel in The Alcove, the conflicting emotions fifth-year provided, and the emptiness she felt the moment she stepped onto the train in Hogsmeade, off at King's Cross, and away from him for the remainder of the summer months.

Or the loneliness that followed.

Sixth Year
July

It is the third time Draco Malfoy's presence makes her heart stutter, but it is more pronounced than before because, for once, she is the one watching him while his own eyes are trained elsewhere, oblivious. She, Harry, and Ron follow him throughout Knockturn Alley, and the sole thing that stays her mind is wondering how, precisely, he'd morphed into the man she sees in front of her.

How in a little more than a year and a half, the edges in his features sharpened, the muscles in his back and arms grew, and the inches he'd gained in height had morphed that image of a boy into a young man. More importantly is from where the distinct aura of maturity, of sadness, of regret, and the startling expression on his face that only resembled determination came.

He is on a mission, she thinks, already worried where he will lead them and what information she will find out from what ensues.

She's not sure she wants to find out, quite frankly, because of how linked they already are, and how many nights she knows she'll stay up thinking about what he'll get up to this year. Hermione is still sore from knowing how ridiculous he'd been the year previous, or that he didn't even attempt to search her out, ensure she knew it was all for show, and didn't even so much as hint at remorse besides the glances he sent her way whenever he could.

They aren't expecting to find him with his mother, to see them making a deal together, but it is what it is, and Hermione's heart drops to the pit of her stomach at first glance - "Things are starting to go wrong. With family". Said years before, but still as fresh in her mind as ever. She recalls being confused by his proclamation, but it isn't until now that she realizes it's not only his family that is influencing him, but Voldemort that is starting it all.

It would only make sense, given his lineage.

The urge to let out a cry is stifled by her hand, and if Harry and Ron notice at all, they don't say a word. It is already dangerous enough since they are trying to listen through the cracks of the windows, but Hermione's vision is too blurred by tears for her to concentrate on anything aside from wondering how he could have let this happen in the first place.

Relief floods her—literally washes in, surrounding her, and her shoulders sag in the aftermath—when Harry finally arrives in the Great Hall. But it is too soon replaced with anger, sheer anger, when he explains who had injured him, and how Malfoy's plan to send Harry back would have worked had Tonks not found him.

She searches for Malfoy in the expanse of his table, intent on catching him already looking at her, but is shocked to find that he is not in his usual seat or anywhere. Curiosity swims through her, briefly, but she is madder than she's ever been at him, and, on second thought, is more relieved he isn't there at all. She has a feeling that if he'd been boasting, or happily talking to the other Slytherins, she would have marched right over there to give him a piece of her mind.

And then some.

She lets out a breath, surprised to feel the overwhelming and almost painful urge to find him now, demand answers to her precious questions, and then figure out why the hell he thought it pertinent to send her best friend away from Hogwarts. But it is the Opening Feast, and no matter how many reliable excuses she could come up with at other times, there are none for tonight and she is forced to sit, slowly eat her food, and wait through the annual speech.

Hermione uses the mass of students heading to their dormitories as an escape route, jogging off before Harry and Ron notice she'd ever have the need to leave, and she sincerely hopes as she struggles her way through the crowd that they'd have the mind to wait for a couple hours before alerting McGonagall or Dumbledore to her disappearance.

Now, to where he could be.

The Alcove is her first stop on her trek, though she is very doubtful he is in there at all. When she is met with silence, darkness and emptiness, she chokes down the feeling of nostalgia, of choices they could have made differently, and of memories she's been suppressing as much as she can since it happened. To forget, as easily as she can, the feel of him in her arms, the sound of his voice when he isn't sneering, scowling, or spitting in her face.

The friendship she could have had with him.

She doesn't know where this yearning was born from; if it had all started the moment he pulled her aside, or back in second year when he'd set the precedent of their relationship. She just knows it escalated, grew enormously, once she'd seen a part of him she'd never seen before, and the unavoidable difference in how he could be with her compared to how he acts in public.

Hermione feels unlucky because of this. He has kept this going, never stopped after their encounter, and she is reminded every day of the fact that he is holding onto something that he apparently can never have, not with his family dictating his choices. Not with the supposed beliefs he must have, utilize, and always represent.

She is left to realize that she can never be friends with him, either.

But his actions against her best friend require a confrontation, friendship or not, past or not, enemies or not.

She rushes out of the space before she can think more on the subject, finds the anger deep within her once again, and makes her way up to the Astronomy Tower. It has been rumoured for years that Malfoy frequents this specific spot, sometimes with girls, but he'd scowl and insult any visitor who tried to go in at the same time as him.

And he doesn't let her down.

"Get out."

He isn't even looking her way from where he's propped up, and she realizes that he probably has no idea who's just walked through the door. Hermione steps forward, unafraid, because yes, even though there have been several signs that he is different, altered from the boy that pulled her aside years ago, she knows that he has still been watching her—or at the very least, during last year, which isn't that long ago at all.

"I'm not leaving," she says, loud enough for him to hear.

He turns toward her, slowly, and she sees his eyes flicker a few times, slicing through emotions, but she can barely tell the difference when, moments later, he is back to the Draco Malfoy she sees in the hallways, in classes, and not the one who glances her way almost out of habit now.

Her stomach drops.

"I won't. Not until I get answers." Because it is important he know why she's here.

He returns his gaze to the night sky, and she steps closer when she doesn't feel the weight of his concentration anymore. She can see the tightening of his jaw, one of his fists clenching, but she isn't ready for the raw emotion he speaks with next. "Why are you here, Granger? You know…I can't…Jesus,"—he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in agitation— "You need to leave." He rises, muscles rippling behind the white button-down of his school uniform. His cloak, she sees, is underneath him, but her focus is stolen when he starts toward her. "I can't have you here. This isn't… Go!"

"What is..." she trails off, shaking her head. She suddenly feels the anger he's encompassing, combined with her own, and grasps onto it the more she sees it affecting him as well. "Why are you doing all this, Draco? Why are you," —roughly, she swipes at her forehead, dazed at the pure emotion she feels— "You don't have to do this! You aren't…this…this boy who hurts other people, who breaks their noses, and leaves them on a train to bleed to death. You aren't…I didn't think that— After all this, after what you said years ago, I had thought you would deal with this better. That you wouldn't let it affect you as much, that you'd at least try to fight it, that you didn't want it. Or that you wouldn't be as cruel, to me, to Harry, to everyone. And now you're…tainted. Corrupted. I can already tell, and—"

"You don't understand, Granger! And you'll never get it. I can't…I can't discuss this with you. You need to go. I can't." He turns his head away, and she watches him swallow, like it hurts, and she feels her heartstrings being tugged horribly closer to him.

"You're not letting me understand!" She stamps her foot on the stone, and she feels a little childish after, but it is not often that she suffers from how angry she is at him.

One full day hasn't even passed yet, and she has already noticed the large difference in him—a dangerous one, she's afraid to admit. He is pulling his weight by himself, and she can see the effect it's having on him: the lack of life in his eyes, the worry permanently etched in his face, and the determination set further back than all of that, showing through.

He is hurting horribly. She can tell just by his silence.

Hermione has always set her goals aside to help another in need, but she feels propelled even further by him because of their past, and the likelihood that besides herself, and possibly Pansy Parkinson and a few others, he won't let anyone else help. She hopes, at least, that he will let her in and can only assume that is the case, with the complications of his family and her heritage getting in the way.

She raises a hand to his arm, but before she can make contact, his eyes dart toward her, glaring, and she halts in her tracks. There is a moment, paused between them, that she thinks to bring him close anyway, touch him and see his reaction, but she feels too awkward, inexperienced with him, and she pulls away at the last second. She breathes in, nervous, and thinks to leave, but she has come here for a reason and if he can stop that with a simple rejection, then she really does have a problem with how he makes her feel.

"I had thought…that you would at least keep in touch, Malfoy. That after fourth-year, you'd…be different. But you've only gotten worse, much worse if this first night is any indication, and I can't just…stand by, being me, and with the past we have. And you're troubled. With— Merlin. With Voldemort-"

His scoff cuts her off. "You know, Granger, I think that's why I started it in the first place. Because you were hard-headed, not afraid to match people's arguments with your own, and the fact you don't give up. But I must admit that it's more of a nuisance now."

She crinkles her brow, astounded. Of course, she knew that he must have changed in the year and a half she hasn't talked to him, but he is much more sinister and unfeeling than she would have thought possible.

"You don't mean that."

Because maybe he is just saying these things, and she doesn't have to lie in bed, awake, blaming herself for not doing what she could a year ago, for not making him see reason then, for not doing anything at all.

"Don't I?" He shakes his head, almost as an afterthought, and narrows his eyes at her. "What did you expect to find? That I'm hurting inside? That you can help me, and I'll come to your side? You knew this from the very beginning, and I tried to keep my distance the moment I realized you were undoubtedly going to be Harry Potter's best friend forever. Fourth-year was a mistake, and if you think it changed anything, it didn't. I just…couldn't not, okay?" His jaw clenches, and she can see the conflicting emotions in his eyes, so unlike the front he'd put on just minutes before. "I was dealt with this life when I was born, and I've been coping just fine so far. The longer you're in here, Granger… I can't. You have to leave."

"I won't. Don't you get that? You've injured my best friend, all for some silly Dark Lord, and I've come here to find out just why you seem to be taking his orders, or your family's order from him! You're losing yourself, Malfoy. You've just…lost it. That's why you're not talking to me right now, or pulling me into alcoves again…"

She almost wants to slap herself for her hesitation, the awkwardness that follows, and the blush that takes over her features. They have never talked about their relationship, let alone talked at all, and her assumptions of being closer than a foot apart (touching, hugging) take over the silence between them. It brings them out of the seriousness of war, of choices, and into the discomfort of girl and boy interactions.

Hermione turns away, embarrassed, but fills the silence before it eats both of them alive. "I don't expect anything, but it's a little ridiculous to continue this thing if you've already made your mind up, or chosen to follow Voldemort. I'd…help you, if you wanted, in whatever way I can. But if you're going to be like this, then–"

"We can't. I can't. Ever. Whether I chose this future, or had it forced upon me, I can never converse with you! Or come to you if I ever needed, and Merlin, ask your advice! I shouldn't be associating with you at all, but… I can't stop."

"Why?" she exclaims, exasperated, rounding on her heel to look at him. "Do you know what it does to me? Do you even understand how it makes me feel, Malfoy? All those nights in the beginning, I had to sit there and believe that you wouldn't cause me harm, that I wouldn't turn a corner one day, find you with your wand aimed at me, and have to hope I was going to live past the age of twelve. I wasn't ever sure! And then…then fourth-year…" She feels her eyes tear up, and she sucks a hurried breath in, frustrated with herself for being so honest with him. For finally letting him know exactly how broken down she is by his actions. "What I thought of you after… You were better than I imagined, and I couldn't… I couldn't just forget that. I was never able to forget that, not with you reminding me every day! I hated you last year for once again being the enemy, and this year— I knew something was different the moment I got on the train. And already, you're causing me havoc. If you're going to continue whatever this is, you can't be plotting to kill my best friend, or even anyone! I just— I couldn't handle that if you did."

She watches him shake his head, once, twice, before he steps past her and toward the exit. "That's exactly why you need to leave. I'm not a good person, Granger. I won't ever be. Not for you, not for anyone. I can't. I have family to be loyal to, instead of trusting a frizzy-haired girl who thinks she can help even the most pitiful of people. Nothing will change me, and I'm not going to let another person down by letting them believe I'll change for them, because I can't. I can't for you either."

Hermione nearly chokes on his words, but she sees the reasoning behind it, and that is what pushes her forward. She can barely think of everything all in one piece in that moment, and she imagines that if she did, her only reaction would be to cry for the lost confidant, for all the memories they could have made, or the friendship she'd felt growing between them after The Alcove. For maybe the first time in her life, she forces the thoughts down, away, to be reopened again when she isn't in the presence of someone who'd turn her away rather than hold her, if only because his family forbade it.

Draco is the enemy—always would be—and it'd be bad to forget that amidst the impulse to cry.

Just before she's out the door, she feels his hand again, and his eyes instantly pull her own in. The pure emotion in them causes her breath to hitch; they contradict the words, the impression he creates with everything he's said to her in the last ten minutes. It keeps her from rushing past him in anger at the turn of events, to listen to his last words.

"You need to stay away from me. You can't search me out again. I can't… I can't be near you, and I can't touch you because I'd never let you leave. It's why I can't stop looking at you, making sure you're there, or…any of it. Go… and never come back."

Hermione gets word of Ron's poisoning from Harry, and that he is also in the Hospital Wing, recovering.

She feels numb, because she has been refraining from believing the truth from the beginning, but this is more than glaring her in the face—it is destroying her life, her friends, and her opinion of him. She could have convinced herself before that he couldn't have possibly done such horrible things to a student, to Madame Rosmerta, to anyone, but she is forced back to reality once his actions affect Ron, hurt Ron, and nearly kill him.

She does not take that lightly.

For weeks afterward, she glares, shoves his shoulder when she has the opportunities, and refuses to look him in the eye when it is obvious he's trying to get her attention. She has watched the deterioration of his health, his livelihood, and his persona, but he has gone too far, and like she said months before, she couldn't handle that. Hermione felt obligated in the beginning to search him out, her anger surpassing what she'd felt when he'd injured Harry, but had stuck her feet in the ground and stayed further away from him than before.

She'd only end up killing the idiot.

Though she doesn't condone what Malfoy did to Ron, she doesn't condone killing anyone either.

Hermione still feels his glances, and though he is much less passionate about them now, they still ignite her system into awareness. She hurts for him, more than she ever thought she could for someone doing so many bad things, and she wishes she could take the pain away. Wants to persuade him to change sides, fight for what is right, instead of what his family believes in. She wants to tell him she'd be there for him, always.

But he has made it clear they cannot do that. That he can't, and she doesn't want to be the downfall of his life—the one he is fighting so hard to have. It is why she doesn't search him out when she hears of Ron's near-death experience, or why she doesn't hex him forever, either.

It is later, however, that she realizes just how much she is silently yearning for Draco, having placed him in a part of her heart that she does not acknowledge for a year. She isn't sure how this happened at all, and it changes everything when Harry almost kills Draco just months later.