Chapter 3:

She wondered why she had done it, by all accounts Draco deserved to be dead. He asked for it day in and day out and he especially asked for zero mercy from her, yet here she was, sitting by his bed in the hospital wing. It had been a freak occurrence, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been with Hagrid on a jaunt through the forbidden forest when the loose horntail had discovered them. They were able to out maneuver it, but were unaware that Malfoy and his gang of buffoons had been trailing them.

By all accounts Hermione should have let him get what was coming to him, but she couldn't watch them die. By all accounts Hermione shouldn't even be here now, sitting beside his bed reading her textbook on Magical Creatures. She should be with her friends, helping Harry cope with the news of Voldemort's return. She should be with them and yet here she sat watching the time tick away on the clock while she studied for an exam that was once again canceled. She wondered sometimes if they would ever have exams, based on the last couple of years and the impending future, exams should be the last thing on her mind yet…

Draco moaned as he shook awake, his gray eyes cracking open just slightly as she let her book fall to her lap. He took a shuddering breath as the light of the day pierced his vision and then they shot open and he jumped up.

"Woah," she said as the textbook clattered to the stone ground. He turned to her, eyebrows pinching as he looked at her up and down.

"What the hell are you doing here," he growled.

"Good to see you to Malfoy," she snorted, reaching for her book.

"What happened," he asked and then surveyed his body. He had been mostly healed thanks to Madam Pomphrey.

In truth, Hermione originally stayed because she had been intrigued with the work she did in magical healing charms on Malfoys half singed body. She moved so delicately in order to prevent scarring and honestly Hermione became entranced in wanting to watch her do her work. She was even considering checking out a class on healing charms in the next school term in order to learn some battlefield healing, just in case.

"You were injured. We brought you here and Madam Pomphrey healed you," she said.

"And you stayed to gloat, have you," he hissed.

"I didn't think that was necessary considering the stupidity it took to even get in this situation," she snorted.

"Think it's funny do you?" He barked.

"Hysterical," she retorted. "If you hadn't been a pathetic medaling prat you wouldn't have even been in this situation."

"Why don't you bugger off," he said, crossing his arms sullenly over his chest.

Hermione took a strangled breath, ready to lay into him even more, but…

"Fine," she said, packing up her book bag.

"I never asked for your pity, Granger," he bit out.

"And I never offered it," she bit back as she stormed from the hospital wing.

Draco sat, unmoving as he surveyed himself. He was intact considering how dodgy it got. He remembered running through the forest with Crabbe and Goyle as they trailed the trio and that big oaf. They had planned to give them a little scare, especially after Potter's little show at winning the goblet. Draco figured it was the least he could do considering how dull school had been since the incident. He did not expect the missing horntail to make an appearance, he had also not expected Hermione Granger to be his savior.

It left a nasty taste in his mouth, the image of her jumping in front of the horntails blast, wand in hand. He would have preferred to have been singed than have to live his life with that over his head. With a debt he never wanted to pay, but he knew from his father that debts always came due.

He took an angry breath, right as Madam Pomphrey came out of the back door.

"Oh look at you," she said cheerfully as she approached with a cup of tea in hand, placing it in front of him. "Good to see you're finally up. How are you feeling?"

Draco sneered at the tea, turning back away from her.

"Well I suppose that is answer enough. The tea has honey," she gestured. "It will help with swelling in your throat from the heat inhale."

"My throat is fine," he said. "I don't like tea."

"Oh, well, fine. I will leave it for Ms. Granger. Where has she run off too," Madam Pomphrey said as she surveyed the area and Draco cringed.

"Bloody hell if I know," he growled. "Away hopefully."

"My boy, that girl sat with you the entire time you've been here," she snapped, grabbing the tea. "She brought you in and didn't leave once."

Draco's insides clenched at that. His debt was getting bigger.

"My friends," he asked, but somehow knew none of them even showed up.

"She was your only visitor," she said as she walked for the door. Draco's insides clenched again.

"Did you even alert my father," he barked, surely he would have come.

"Your father was alerted of course," she said as she walked through the door. "But he didn't bother to visit either."

His father knew. His friends knew. Yet he was all alone. No, worse than alone, he had Granger as his only company. He would never hear the end of this and yet, something strained in his chest.

How had no one else come? How had his father not even sent word? His mother?

Draco had always felt alone, but this was an all time low.

Draco hated being in debt to anyone, but especially hated it when it was to someone he loathed beyond measure. The thought of himself having that over his head, of any of them having that over his head, was nauseating beyond belief and so when he was released from the hospital the first thing he did was walk straight to the library. He guessed he would find Hermione reading in her favorite corner, which at times was his favorite corner as well.

Luckily he was right. He entered the library, not another soul in sight, but he saw her hunched over a large text entitled Field Medicine for Everyday Use. He rounded the corner, but she didn't seem to notice. She was too enthralled in the text. Draco scoffed and she finally looked up, cringing when she beheld him.

"Malfoy," she hissed, slapping the book shut.

"Granger," he hissed back.

"Something I can help you with," she snorted, dropping the book and hopping off the windowsill.

"I didn't realize you worked here," he said jokingly, but she didn't laugh.

"Sure I do," she said, stuffing the book into her bag. "If you're looking for a reference guide on not how to be a twat, check between bigot and silver spoon stuck in your arse."

Draco laughed, his smile stretching across his face at the joke and it surprised them both.

"That was good," he said. She looked at him skeptically. "I'm not here to fight Granger, just pay a debt." He pulled a coin bag from his pocket, money that he had been stashing away every time his mother sent him a card. He reached his hand out, but Hermione didn't take the money.

"What is this," she asked.

"Debt. I don't like owing people and my father says to always pay your debts," he said, shaking it at her. She reached for it, holding it at arm's length.

"How much is this?"

"Greedy aye Granger," he said. "It's 100 gold galleons."

Her eyes widened as she held it still away from her.

"Malfoy, I…"

"Is it enough," he asked.

"I…I can't take this," she said, pushing it back towards him.

"It's a debt Granger, not a gift," he sneered.

"You're paying me for saving your life," she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Is this all you think your life is worth Draco," she asked seriously and something inside of him paused. Had she ever said his name? The way it fell off of her lips like water in a pool. Something in Draco's chest tightened.

"Hermione," he was able to choke out. "Please, just take it."

She stared at him and he stared at her, he prayed she would just take the money and leave. He wasn't even sure what the hell he was doing here, but the air in the library seemed to sucked out. They stood in the heady silence staring at one another and for the first time ever Draco let himself look at the muggleborn girl. The way her normally rutty hair had grown and softened. The way her delicate fingers held loosely to the bag. The warm rosy cheeks of her face, so soft and lush along with her perfectly shaped lips. Lips that made him wonder what they felt like to touch.

"I should…" she stammered finally and it broke the trance.

"Right…" Draco said before turning on his heel.

"Draco," she called after him and he stopped to look back. She was looking at the purse of money in her hand, weariness in her eyes. "I would have saved you either way."

His chest tightened again, but he didn't say another word as he hastily exited the library.

Hermione sat on the top stairs of Gryffindor tower, her trunk and bags packed for the return trip home. She looked out of the common room at the hustle of her classmates making their way towards the train and a somber feeling fell over her. Something had changed this year, not just at Hogwarts, but in her. Things were bound to change as they grew and especially with the worsening threats to her friends and people, but it was different now. She was different.

She watched Ron and Harry chat with Seamus Finnigan, laughing broadly and it made her happy to see Harry healing from the torture of this year, but she knew that there was still more to come for her friends and her. She turned to her satchel purse, reaching inside and clutching the coin purse towards the bottom. Her eyebrows pinched at the memory of Draco handing her the coins. Half a fortune in gold and yet it felt wrong to have. She hadn't expected him to give it to her, hadn't expected the interaction feeling so…heavy and yet making her rethink everything she thought she knew about the Slytherin prince.

It was never enough to forgive him for the torture, but she had never given herself the chance to contemplate what it must be like to be in his shoes. She fiddled with the coin purse in her bag and then decided what she must do. She stood, throwing her satchel over her shoulder and hurrying down the steps, before it was time to leave Hogwarts again.

Draco sat beside his trunk, waiting for his mother and fathers arrival to pick him up. He normally took the train back to London, but after a word from his father that they would pick him up personally at Hogwarts he opted to hang back in the Slytherin common room for their arrival. His stomach twisted in worry as his parents had never taken the time to get him, something had to be wrong.

"Draco," a voice called and he turned to find Goyle walking up the stairs to the common room. The fire danced across his fat cheeks as he approached.

"I thought you left for the train," Draco said.

"I was, but then someone dropped this off for you," he said, reaching his hand out with a small box. Draco looked at the box and wondered if his parents had changed their minds and sent him a 'sorry we didn't care enough to show up' gift as they normally did.

There was a small note on the top of the box and he took it off the packaging and opened it, preparing for anything beside what he saw scribbled on the paper.

Draco,

Your life is worth more than this.

Hermione.

Draco stared at the paper, confusion and anger rising in his gut as he pulled the lid from the box and surveyed the bag of gallions he had given her.

"Who's it from," Goyle asked.

"No one," Draco, said crumpling the paper. That stupid git had given it back. She had known it was to settle a debt and still she was too dumb to just take the money and run. He hated Hermione, hated her for her stupid holy than thou bullshit. He hated her.

3 Years Later

The soft silk bag dangled between his fingers, the fabric wearing in some places from the amount of times he reached for the scrappy piece of material. There wasn't a sickle or knut inside but the bag, but it still weighed heavy in his hand. He felt the worn strands that he had ran his fingers over on countless occasions. It comforted him in a way that a stuffed animal or blanket comforted a child. His grip tightened for he shoved it deeper into his pocket, burying it along with the rest of his feelings.

Hastened footsteps had him straightening, adjusting the lapels of his jacket and pasting on the best cold expression he could muster. He knew by the thunking of the black heels better than the beating of his own heart.

"Draco," she crooned as she threw open the library doors. "Where have you been hiding?" She said as her she eyed him up and down with those cold dead eyes.

"Bellatrix," Draco said as a way of greeting.

"Oh come now nephew, haven't I told you to call me aunty," she smiled with her jagged, rotting teeth. It had his insides twisting.

"Is there something you wanted," Draco said dully.

She smiled wickedly at him as she twirled a lock of her matted hair. "You're needed in the drawing room."

His stomach sank. He knew what that meant. "I'll be there momentarily," he gritted.

"Now," she hissed, turning on a heel and scurrying down the hallway. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air and strength for what he had to face.

By the time he had made it to the drawing room he had inhaled as much strength as he could muster, before throwing open the doors. The dark figures standing around the back window made him wish he had inhaled more.

"Draco," the serpent hissed, the long O running off of his tongue, skittered down his spine.

"Lord," he said, bowing to the figure before him. Lord Voldemort in all his grandeur appeared thinner than he had last seen him. The war was weathering him, Draco noticed from beneath lowered lashes. The lord's veiny fingers gripped his chin, lightly lifting his face to meet him.

"Draco my boy. There is no need to grovel," he hissed at him, cold eyes devouring him like a meal. "Stand."

The word was a command and as every command that Lord Voldemort gave, you obeyed. He stood and didn't meet his eye, as he looked towards the ground. His hand rubbed up his arms, eyes devouring him as if he were a meal. If Draco was honest he probably was a meal to Voldemort, one he was waiting to cash in on after he had outlived his usefulness.

"I need your help Draco," Voldemort said before turning back towards the other assembled group, Fenrir Greyback and Peter Pettigrew stood beside Severus whose face was stone cold. It never surprised Draco that Severus was looking for a way back into the Death Eaters fold but what he had done left a terrible taste in his mouth.

"Take a seat Draco," Voldemort gestured to the chair in front of him. Draco sat stiffly, letting his hand twist in his lap, fingers tangling nervously as they always did. Another pair of twisted fingers flashed in his vision. He pushed the image down. He didn't want his mind wandering back towards her. He inhaled and pushed her away, just like he always did.

"Draco, I have…a little ask for you," Voldemort said as he slid into the chair beside him folding his fingers together in front of him.

Draco flinched as something slithered past his legs, making a shiver snake up his arms as Nagine slithered through his legs and right up to his master, tongue flicking out as if he could taste the lies he was about to spew. Draco nodded.

"It's a simple task, Draco," Voldemort said, sliding a folder towards him. The green worn paper envelope scratched along the hard surface of the table. He didn't reach for it, he looked up towards Severus whose face was as cold as his masters.

"I want your help in finding some…old school mates," Voldemort hissed, reaching to open the folder and what he saw set his blood thrumming. The curling brown hair that he recognized as much as his own, makes my heart stumble and I can't help the gasp I take.

"I need your help, Draco," Voldemort says as I stare up at him, inhibition to the wind as he smiles darkly at me. As if he knows something that I never dared tell a soul. As if he can read my reservation and is now waiting for me to fall at his knees and beg.

"Where should I start," I ask tasting the lies falling from my mouth the way Nagine is tasting them in the air.