To Myself I Turned - Chapter 9

Hermione walked back down with her hair down, curly as ever, and very beautifully dressed in a blue sweater with some comfortable jeans. It was such a casual outfit yet she defined elegance and looked absolutely gorgeous. Draco lost his breath when he stared at her.

It was thought-provoking for him to look at her beauty the way that he was. Taylor and Hermione were on two different ends of the spectrum in comparison to beauty. Taylor was like an exotic animal; enchanting and rare. She was the type of girl that you only see once and only for a split second making her a mere memory, a mirage that you can never have. Draco and her, in regards to appearance, were certainly a couple whose looks were quite appealing to all. Hermione, on the other hand, was not enriched with a rare beauty that had all basking in it. She had a girl next door charm. No, more than that, she was the older sister of the girl next door that you could never get. Her smile had an aura about it that just sparkled in the moonlight making Draco weak at the knees. Yes, her and Taylor were very different, but in the name of Merlin they were both incredible.

He didn't know what kind of feelings he was having for her. A part of him really cared about her as a girl who was being beaten by her husband, a husband who was no more of a man than his own father. Another part of him was caring about her as her. He cared about Hermione. In the name of bloody Merlin, snap out of it!

"I feel better. Not all grimy anymore," she said with a smile.

"You never were," he pointed out making her roll her eyes and widen her smile. "You damn well know I'm right so if you keep talking that way about yourself then you can get the hell out of my house. I do not tolerate stupidity in here." She laughed out loud which in turn made him smile.

"Thank you Draco."

"You can keep all those expressions of gratitude. You're welcome in this house."

"I wish that there were more guys like you in this world."

She sat down on the couch which had really become a sort of companion for her in the house. It was large and extremely cozy, the kind of couch that easily could have been a worthy replacement for a bed. She pulled her short legs up and threw her hair back. Draco couldn't help, but notice that the lighting only accentuated her splendor; her gorgeous skin, beautiful lips, and very voluptuous eyes that no longer showed fear, but a mere contentment that Draco hoped would never leave her again.

Hermione looked over and caught his eyes which were brimming with a sort of easy haze, a serene daze. He was so striking. His blue eyes had that gray tint making them glow as if they had in fact been blessed with the lightning of Zeus himself. His platinum flaxen hair was radiant against the fire that was now burning with such a force that his pale skin was somewhat flushing from the heat considering how close his body was to the red flames. Oh Merlin, those lips. She was entranced by the pink lips that had in fact been upon hers only the night before with such a passion that not even a siren could have resisted his touch. Oh yes, he was beautiful.

She bit her lip and he, with the speed of any former seeker, noticed the simple act immediately.

"Why are you suddenly nervous?" he asked breaking the silence that had been encompassing them for several minutes having both been lost in the magnificence of the other.

"What?" she asked attempting to pull herself away from the trance, but to no avail. Her eyes were still focused on Draco.

"You bit your lip. You bite your lip when you're nervous."

Hermione was thrown completely from her trance to the point where it could have made her head spin and her eyes suddenly became extremely glassy. Before Draco could say another thing, tears were cascading down her face. They fell freely which confused him. He could not understand how such a tender moment between the two of them could switch so quickly. He rose from his sitting position near the fire to move swiftly across the room seating himself next to her.

"What did I say?"

"It's not you. Well actually, no it is you," she whispered, her voice seemed almost weak which actually frightened Draco.

"Well what did I do?"

"Just…" she began, but abruptly stopped. It seemed as though she was trying to find the right words to say to this man, this wonderful man, sitting right next to her in the presence of nothing, but hope and sincerity. It was in fact those feelings which were causing her eyes to leak with tears. "I've been married to him for five years. He never noticed anything like that about me and I mean, even with his occupation, I knew he never would but in a way still hoped. Nothing about my facial expressions or the way that I walk or speak or anything. All he did was tell me how hideous I am and how I did this to myself. It was a punishment, a planned lifetime punishment, for having been friends with, and standing behind, Harry Potter. I've been here with you for only a short amount of time in comparison to my time spent with him and yet you already know that about me. It's just overwhelming."

She looked down away from his eyes to stare at her fingers which were twitching and almost flinching in her own lap. She was not scared of him, but was scared of herself; she knew she was getting far too attached then she should. What she didn't know was that Draco was having the same thoughts rummaging around his head only he hid it better. His guarded eyes were keeping her from seeing that.

It was then that he realized that he had his arm around her pulling her close to his body. His stomach was a mixture of chaos and upheaval, him clearly unable to think with proper coherency. He was confused. He was vexed. However, he was pushed over more by his thoughts of apprehension in an approach to this melancholy creature laying next to him.

"Hermione..." he whispered in her ear sending chills up and down her body, but stopped realizing all too late that he had no way of putting into words what he was feeling nor did he even want her to really know. Honesty was a hard concept for either of them to be able to communicate to one another, but it seemed as though he could not bring himself to tell her about his fears. Those fears were what, in a way, were keeping him from admitting to himself that he felt so much more for her then he was leading on.

Her eyes, the color of burnt umber and bronzed metals, were looking up at him asking silent questions and pleading for a response. His eyes, the color of shiny gray and icy steel, were looking down at her with such a candor, alerting her that he was putting down his emotional shield, that it was making her weak at the knees (lucky for her, they were pulled up on the couch).

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but was silenced by Draco who had cupped her cheek and pulled her lips to him. He kissed her lips fiercely as if drinking her in, taking all that she had as though she could disappear if he were to let her go. Nothing had felt more right before than having her lips upon his. She put her hands to his neck as his arm held her closer making the heat of the room rise. His tongue nipped at her lower lip making her moan softly into his hot mouth. His right hand rubbed her cheek wiping away the residual tears that were still lingering on her supple skin.

It was their hands which made their minds wander back to reality. His right hand had left her cheek moving down the pliable fabric of her turquoise sweater clinging to her body from the all the heat between them. He grazed the skin of her stomach making her quiver and squirm beneath his gentle touch. Her hands were moving through his baby fine hair enriched with the color of platinum ivory. Draco realized what the both of them were doing and pulled back leaving them both gasping for sufficient air.

"We can't...I can't..." panted Draco who was looking away from her feeling a sufficient amount of guilt rising up inside of him. "You're vulnerable. This isn't the real you."

"If this is a matter of vulnerability then you're all wrong," said Hermione looking up to his turned face. "This is me. You've seen the real me. You've seen me down and up. You've seen me lie and be honest. You've seen me be a good and you've seen me be bad. So far, I think you're the only one who has seen the real me."

"I can't do this," he croaked in a hoarse voice.

"Why are you being this way?"

"Cause the last time that I felt strongly about someone, I got her killed." Draco rose from the couch and paced around the room running his long fingers through his pearl-like hair. Hermione rubbed her face trying to keep her eyes from emitting more tears, but it was difficult to suppress her emotions. She was already an emotional person to begin with, but Draco's reaction to her kiss and his reasoning behind it was breaking her apart.

"You didn't kill Taylor."

"Hermione if it weren't for me, she would still be alive."

Draco looked away from her again and approached the window taking in the scene outside of stars, snow, and midnight blue. It was the type of night that perhaps if he were still seventeen he would have grabbed his broom and flown throughout all parts of the sky. However, he was not young. He was one year away from being twenty ten (A/N: A way of saying thirty by the way) and looking at his reflection in the window...Merlin he had never thought that he looked so old.

He wasn't old though. He shouldn't feel the way that he did and Hermione knew this considering she was having those same wicked feelings. They were two souls that had aged years upon years in a short amount of time. They were haunted and together the ages that their souls felt could match that of Merlin himself.

"Draco you need to remember something," she said making her presence known again, him having been engulfed in his own thoughts. He faced her as she said, "You let her really live life. By being with her, she experienced love which is more than I can say."

If Draco felt awful before, he felt down right appalling after hearing her words. She was looking down at her feet which were curled up in white socks gently rubbing against the material of the couch. As he saw her weeping there openly in front of him he felt his heart crack.

"I want to be okay Hermione. I really want to."

"Then try..." she whispered looking up at him seeing his eyes, though guarded more than ever, were making her feel rather lightheaded. "Draco I've changed since I've been here. Before you let me stay, the only thing that I knew was fear and pain. I was scared everyday to have my husband be near me, to touch me, to do anything to me. You made me realize that it's not right. I should want to spend time with the person that I'm married to. I should want to love that person. I should want to feel safe and I should feel safe. Right now, the only one I feel safe with is you."

"I want you to feel safe."

"I do, but only when I'm with you."

Draco bit his tongue, nearly drawing blood, in an attempt to keep from cursing the man who had done this to her. How could someone break her this much? How could someone hurt somebody so bloody beautiful? Merlin Malfoy...you can't deny it. You bloody well know you care about her.

Draco walked back over to the couch sitting back down next to her. He knew that she was hesitant, but he put his hand to her shoulder gripping her firmly and pulling her into him. She leaned her head on his shoulder as his grip around her tightened. She looked down unsure if she should say it, but she knew she needed to. Being honest with him was something she realized she needed to do from that point on. She looked up at him.

"I'm not here to take your wife's place," she began making him let out a rather heavy and haggard sigh. "I'm not here for that, but I am staying here because I'm starting to feel something for you."

Draco nodded feeling her body shake next to him. He had her pulled so close to him that there was no way that his body heat was not enough to keep her chills at bay so he knew that her shaking was due to the sobs she was trying to hold back.

"I feel something...I'm feeling something for you too."

"I truly don't think it's because I'm vulnerable or anything. Something about you…that charm that has always been in you since our school days. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't think you were attractive back then. I hated you then, but now…"

"I know."

"I've learned so many things from you during my stay, but the thing that has clung to me the most is saying what you feel before it's too late. You may never get another chance again which is why I'm going to say this..."

Draco held his breath as he looked down at her letting their eyes focus on one another.

"I've fallen for you Draco."

Draco had sensed it, knew that she was going to tell him that, yet he still felt a boyish leap in the pit of his stomach.

Alan walked out of his bedroom with a fit of rage spread all across his face. The marble stone beneath his feet echoed as he walked through the manor into the main lounge on the first floor to find several figures cloaked in black.

"We have a situation," pronounced Alan in a low voice hiding a slight amount of fear.

"Does it concern that filthy mudblood?" asked Bellatrix who was looking down at various pieces of parchment containing the whereabouts of a few people that she needed to speak with.

"Yes it does. The bitch opened her mouth."

Suddenly every pair of eyes were burning into Alan who was standing tall keeping his eyes locked on Bellatrix. The consequences of his actions, in regards to allowing Hermione enough leeway to leave, would be treacherous.

The events that lead to this situation would be ones that haunt him forever...

"Hermione I expect you to be better next time. I'm sick of your defiance as a wife. You gave yourself to me and you will continue to do that!" barked Alan slapping her across the face. Hermione, who was laying naked beneath the green sheets, did not touch the bruise that was forming on her cheek for she had grown accustomed to such brutal morning wake up calls. He was angry at her for not pleasing him the night before, but that was something that he too was use to considering she never pleased him. She never wanted to and even with all of the pain that her life was swamped with, she refused to give into something such as that.

"Clean yourself up. You look disgusting you filth and when I return tonight I expect you to look the way that I want." he mumbled before walking out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him. Hermione sat up quickly listening as best she could to hear when his footsteps had died down. She removed herself from the bed tiptoeing towards the door before pressing her ear against the wood. Silence. That silence was a beautiful sound.

"He didn't lock the door. He didn't lock the bloody door."

The young woman who was once so full of life walked without a sound back to the bed. She got down on her knees and began knocking her fist into the floor until she finally heard a hollow sound beneath her. Hermione's weak fingers lifted up the loose floorboard to reveal a year-long amount of work and five years of hope.

"Merlin let this work. Please...let this work."

She pulled out the black box that had been underneath the floor for so long now that dust had piled itself on the metal. She opened it to reveal clothes, the clothes in which she wore on her way to get married before she had changed into a wedding gown. She had managed to keep them safe and guarded away from the wrath of her husband who would never let her have such things. She was allowed anything from her "prior life" as he called it.

She looked over her shoulder feeling so much paranoia and adrenaline running through the course of her body. She had chosen such a day to carry out this plan and attempt this escape because Alan had made a crucial mistake and one that he would probably regret for a long time (or until he finds me and kills me screamed the back of her mind). Magic must be on her side for he had chosen such a day to forget to lock the door. He was out on business meaning he would return home extremely late. She hoped that it would be enough to time to get out.

After pulling the clothes on which felt warm and good against her skin, she stood up and paced for a few minutes. She bit her lip drinking in the moment and wondered whether it would actually work.

"Hermione you can do this. You are the smartest and most cunning witch of the age. You damn well can do this."

Her pep-talk did nothing to lift her spirits, but it should have seeing as she was the smartest and most cunning witch to perhaps come along in over two centuries. She was probably the only witch, or even wizard for that matter, who could be in such a situation and make it out without a wand by her side. She was going to have to act swiftly and never look back if she wanted to make it out of the castle alive. She would worry about what to do afterwards, but her focus needed to be on leaving the castle.

Hermione knew that she had to be realistic, a habit from growing up such a sensible person, and getting out seemed to be far out of reach. However, she also had to have hope. In the name of Merlin she needed some bloody hope if only to keep her sanity.

She bent back down to the box and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, one in which she had been working on for the past year. Based on all of the areas she had seen of the castle when her husband had dragged her around were drawn on the shabby parchment. It had taken her so long to figure out each level, but Hermione was definitely a planner. If she weren't then she probably would have rushed out of there after the third day, but she could not do that. If she was going to get out then by Merlin she wanted to make it out alive.

Hermione was thankful that she was a keen listener on one particular day when she was having dinner with all of the death eaters in the castle over a year ago. Her husband had revealed, though completely unintentional and unaware that Hermione had even heard him, that there was a secret exit on the second floor that would lead to the lake surrounding the stone castle. Hermione knew that it would take a lot of effort to get from the fourth floor room she was in to the particular room which held her escape, but she had to try.

"Okay. It's now or never."

Hermione peeked her anxious eyes out beyond the door to find the hallway empty aside from a few flickering candles. She held her breath for a moment before stepping her cold feet (her shoes were objects that her husband had kept her from keeping) onto the icy mortar. She shut the door silently and quickly making sure not to make a single sound. She may be a Gryffindor, but certain traits that belonged to Slytherins had in fact been bestowed to her upon birth. One must remember that Hermione would have done well in every house considering her traits were remarkable.

She crept through the hallway peering over her back every few moments keeping her back to the wall. When she reached a corner, she realized that she had to choose which way to go. Each way could lead her to a means in which to lower herself to the third floor, but the question burning her mind was which way would be best for her to go? She understood the layout and could control which way she went, but she could not control who she came upon.

Hermione did not go for the sensible thing which would have been to listen carefully, monitor each direction with her eyes, and then go with her gut. No she chose the "Ron approach" which she thought only seemed fitting as to the situation she had gotten herself in.

She crouched herself down wincing in the pain that her body was in having been abused for so many years before placing the map down on the ground. She whispered to herself, "Whichever way the crumpled end points to is the way that I'll go."

Hermione spun the parchment around watching and waiting for it to stop. Upon finishing four circles, it pointed towards her left, the darker of the two ways. She wanted so much for it to land in the other direction, but she was not a witch to go back. She was also a Gryffindor and Gryffindors do not cower down in fear even if they didn't have a wand or knew exactly what was lurking beyond that hallway or had proper means of safely getting away or...well you get the point.

She picked up the map and began walking steadily down the hall making sure to be as quiet as possible. She wanted so much to clamp her hand firmly around the wood of her wand, but that was not possible at that moment. Her wand was far away and well protected. She only had her intellect and cunningness to rely on putting her in a better position than most would be in if roles were reversed.

Hermione rounded the corner listening to all the noises around her noting that nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the fourth level. She heightened her pace significantly to the point where she was almost cantering down the hallway which seemed to stretch for miles. The candles that burned around her seemed almost black, an eeriness about them sending shivers up her back. She could not think about the fear though. She had to remember that she was going to get out there. She was going to save herself from the darkness that was eventually bound to overtake her.

The stairs were in front of her, dark and creepy, but she did not falter. She pressed her ear against the top step feeling for vibrations, but there were none. She held her breath as she stepped down each cold step expecting, almost waiting, for the words of the killing curse to happen.

Upon reaching the bottom step, her fears were confirmed when she heard footsteps approaching her. She remained quiet, not even bothering to breathe.

"...that is to be expected now that his identity has been revealed. He did this to himself."

"Yes, but who would have thought that he would have been able to take down someone with him. I must say that I have regarded him as a coward myself, but he managed to kill one of their members before his own life was taken. I am, I guess, impressed."

Hermione looked over her shoulder fearing that another would cascade down the stairs and since there was no place for her to hide, she would surely be caught. She hoped to Merlin that the ones walking towards her would pass.

"Who did he kill before he was cursed?"

"Someone that Bellatrix had planned on ending, Neville Longbottom."

Hermione clamped both hands over her mouth trying with all of her might not to scream out in both shock and miserable despair for the loss of her friend. She had known and befriended Neville since she was eleven years old and now she finds him to be dead...she felt a bit of the hope that she had in her fade.

The figures past and Hermione would have been happy and eager to continue forward had she not heard the news about her friend. Her body collapsed on the bottom step overwrought with emotional agony. Poor Neville...oh you poor man. First your parents and then you...you deserved better than that. Merlin you deserved a world better than that.

Her heart told her to stay and sulk in her anguish, but her brain was telling her to carry on and continue what she had waited for five years to do. Since she was Hermione, she listened to her brain.

She stood up bracing herself for balance against the wall before she looked out to see the hallway was empty again. The saddened girl took in a deep breath before she walked into the open hallway at another heightened cantor. She had to get across this hallway in order to get to the next set of stairs. Please do not let me come upon anyone else. Please do not let me come upon anyone else. Please do not let me come upon anyone else...

Hermione moved swiftly with her heart beating in her ears. Her breath was coming out in short, erratic pants making it more difficult with every step to hide her presence. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and thankfully saw nobody. However, when she turned back around, she came face to face with a young man who seemed just as shocked as she was.

She was not quite sure what enticed her to do it, but she suddenly only knew the word Stupefy which began repeating in her head numerous times. Suddenly the young boy fell back laying flat and unconscious in front of her. Wandless magic? No possible way. I haven't used magic for years and–no time to bloody think about that! Keep moving!

Hermione stepped over the unconscious figure and descended down the steps leading to the second floor. She held her breath again as she pressed her ear to the wall once again feeling for vibrations. She felt them this time only they were coming from up above. Run! Her body reacted to what her mind told her to do and she ran, never looking back.

She ran as quickly as she could to the nearest room which she knew was nothing more than a broom closest. She remained still and motionless in the dark desperately trying not to move anything. She could hear whispers in the hall.

"There is somebody in here who does not have permission. Find that person and then bring him to me," said a low female voice. Hermione recognized it as Bellatrix Lestrange, the one she had been determined to capture all those years ago.

"Yes my Lady," said another voice belonging to that of a meeker, more-than-likely new member.

The whispers died down as she heard rummaging through various rooms and heavy doors slamming. The door opened and Hermione was met by yet another young death eater, but she had shielded herself with a cloak in the closet so well that the figure seemed to not even notice her. The door shut and Hermione let out a sigh of relief as more doors were opened and closed, progressing further and further away from her.

Once she felt that it was safe for her to reemerge from her location, she opened the door gently and peered out to see the hallway empty again. She knew that the room she wanted was the very last room. Her mind only knew that destination.

She had reached the final door and stared at it for a brief moment in sheer amazement. Had she not done as much planning as she did then she certainly would not have made it that far or at least in one piece. She turned the knob slowly fearing that there would be a presence behind the door, but there was none. The room was a simple bedroom, one in which looked quite similar to her very own which she shared with her husband.

She stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind her, before peering around in hopes of finding her exit out. She was deeply confused. "He said that this was the room. Damn him, he said that this was the bloody room..." Panic overtook her body as she looked around trying to locate something that would lead her outside. There was no window, no other doors other than that which belonged to a closet, and nothing there which allowed her outside entry.

"No...n-no..."

Her knees gave way making her tumble to the floor in a rather large heap. Her face met her hands as tears evaded her eyes again knowing that she had failed to get out of the castle. She was going to die at that spot, her body far too weak to attempt to get back to her room. She was going to die right there–

Her leg nudged against a piece of metal on the floor. She looked down to see a small, barely visible to the naked eye but there none the less, silver hook. She pushed herself back and yanked on it pulling up a door which led to nothing, but darkness. Hermione thought about everything and decided that she would take her chances with the darkness.

Her legs were weak, but she placed them at the edge of the door preparing to fall down whatever it was going to lead her to. With a large intake of breath, she jumped down instantly feeling herself fall down that of a slide. Nearly every time she turned she hit her head, but she did not cry out. She pulled her arms closely to her body to protect them knowing she needed her bones in solid condition when she landed, wherever that may be.

SPLASH!

Hermione opened her eyes to be met with freezing water stabbing her all the way around like a thousand daggers. She quickly realized that she was in fact in the lake. Her husband did not lie when he said that the door did lead to the water, but she did not think he meant it so literally. Her legs kicked with all the strength they had left in them and her arms frantically moved her to the surface where she inhaled a deep breath of night air.

It took her a moment before she regained some sense and started to paddle her way to shore. She was naturally a strong swimmer, but her motor skills were lacking due to her decreased strength and the coldness of the water surrounding her body on all sides. She maintained her paddling though knowing that she would surely drown if she were to slow down at all.

The shore had never felt so good and she laid in the dirt for what seemed like a few seconds, but had actually been several minutes. Her elbows held her up as her sleep-deprived eyes stared at the castle as the sun began to set. I set off on this quest at mid-day and already it is dark? How long did it take to get out of there? She did not linger on those questions for she knew that she had to get out of there.

Apparation seemed like the logical thing, but she was scared to do it. Not only had she not done it in so many years (the castle had enchantments and charms on it which kept her from doing so), but her body was physically not in the best of conditions to do so. She was shaking rather violently from the cold and she was sore from head to toe. The likelihood that she would splinch was rather high, but it was better than the alternative of being found dead in the woods or worse...found alive.

Her thoughts were put on the house that she had left behind all those years ago. She held her breath as the familiar rushing feeling overtook her body and the castle spun out of view. When she opened her eyes, she found herself miraculously in one piece in front of an old cottage covered in snow with all of the lights turned off.

Without another thought, she threw herself to the door breaking it open with all of her weight landing hard on the floor. She looked up to see that her house had not changed since she had left it five years ago to marry her husband. Her first thought was to find her wand which she was planning on retrieving after the marital ceremony, but that obviously never happened. She picked her body up and walked around to the back room which had been left undisturbed. Her wand with mahogany wood never looked more appealing. Grasping it, gripping it tight, it was as though she could literally feel her magic restored to her body and that was one feeling that she would never forget.

"Never again...n-never again..."

Her body ached for rest, but her mind warned her what was to come. Surely her husband would expect her to return home or venture over to her old friends. She would not let him find her. She would die before she went back. Her legs began to move again taking her to her closet where she grabbed a fresh pair of clothes. She put them on quickly bundling up as tight as possible. It was as though the warm fabric around her body had brought back some life in her, life which she had thought died years ago.

She went back out into the small living room to the table in the center where she found an old box filled with galleons in the side drawer. Harry had given them to her long ago for emergencies and she hid them knowing she'd never use them, but at least letting Harry feel better by keeping them with her. She had never been so grateful to have such a kind and true friend.

With one final look around the room, she faced forward and thought of the place she missed most; her childhood home in London...

Alan's thoughts fizzled back into present time feeling more anger rise up inside of him. He had let her get away and now he was going to pay the price for that.

"You were to punish her for all eternity and now that filthy rat is out informing everyone of the occurrences here?" asked Bellatrix knowing the answer already. Alan remained quiet with all eyes still focused on him. "Well you have made a mistake. Find her, bring her back, and then we'll discuss what to do with her."

Alan nodded towards her. He had joined the clan after Draco's time, but he was of high ranking there. He did not obey many, but Bellatrix was one of the most faithful supporters and followers of Voldemort. Everyone knew that if Voldemort were to have taken a wife, it would have been someone like Bellatrix if not the woman herself.

"Alan one more thing," she began making the man stop dead and face her. "I want her alive. Whoever she is with, I want them as well. It is obvious that she now has outside help and I want them brought to me. Once all of them are disposed, we shall discuss your punishment with the Dark Lord. Now leave."

Alan did not bow like other followers would, but quickly vanished into the darkness of the castle. He returned to his room to look over the letter again growing angrier by the moment. He began to nod with a small sadistic smile creeping over his mouth.

"You are so dead Hermione. You'll beg for mercy by the time I'm through with you."

Hermione fell asleep in Draco's arms on the couch hours ago yet Draco remained awake. He stared at the clock watching it turn to midnight. It was Christmas day. Three years ago on that day he lost the love of his life. Three years ago on that day he lost himself. Three years ago on that day he thought that he would never love again.

Yet there he was, cradling another woman in his arms.

A/N: Wow this chapter took a lot out of me. I came up with three different ways to go and scratched all of them when I finally came up with this. I'll eventually use the other three ideas, but just for different key parts of the story. I needed everyone to know how she got out of the castle. I tried to stay true to Hermione's character who does have patience, ingenuity, and courageousness which were key elements for getting her out. I wanted it to be believable. I also needed Draco and Hermione's bond to grow. Come on people...you all knew it was coming :)

Also, I was watching the fourth Harry Potter film when I was writing bits of this. Is it me or does Tom Felton look better each time he is on screen? Lol the boy is gorgeous! Love him and hate him I'm afraid...

"To Myself I Turned" is a song by the band Lacuna Coil. I had intended on a different title, but this song was playing when I finished the story and it just kind of called out to me. I guess J.K. Rowling and I differ since she comes up with titles in the shower (Supposedly she thought of one of the three titles she has going for the seventh book while she was taking a shower in New York) and I come up with them will listening to my iPod. Whatever works, right? Well this song is perfect since it is about someone who manages to make it through a horrific event strictly on their own. Hermione did just that.

READ AND REVIEW!!! If you can read it, then you can review it.

Iris is a work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.