Chapter 3

Draco's idea of a heavenly dream was quickly becoming a hellish reality. Being so close to Hermione only made it clear how painful unrequited love could be.

Hermione was quiet and distant. Her mind was in turmoil. Every time she looked at Malfoy, no, Draco, her opinion of him changed. Her curiosity burned. She was desperate to know why the son of one of Voldermort's most fanatical followers was languishing in the dungeons beneath his own home. Her reason and logic told her this was a trick. He was in here to lure her into a false sense of security so she would reveal the location of her friends. That she would never do.

Food and water had been regular since Hermione's arrival, which greatly concerned Draco. Nevertheless, he ate thankfully. Then one day, only one portion arrived. Both prisoners were ravenous. A particularly vicious Death Eater, the one who had brought Hermione here, had 'visited' them that morning. Both Draco and Hermione knew they had to eat if they were to survive many more curses.

Draco wanted to give it all to Hermione. He didn't care if he survived. She was all that mattered now his friends and family had left him to his fate. He grimaced inwardly. She would never accept it. For all she knew this was a trap and this was the Dark Lord's opportune moment to strike, feeding her veritaserum, making her betray Potter and the Weasel.

Hermione wanted to reach out and grab the plate, but she couldn't. She knew Malfoy was the enemy. She knew she had more of a right to eat than this monster. He had chosen his side long ago and made sure everyone knew. It was his actions that lead to the downfall of Hogwarts and yet, as she looked at him, she knew she would never let him starve to death. He was Draco now. He has always been Draco, you moron! she chided herself. A change of name does not affect your personality. However, there was a distinct difference between Malfoy and Draco, a difference almost as big as that between Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. When had she started calling him Malfoy? She had made it a rule that she would not succumb to the silly idea of calling people by their surnames. It seemed far too Enid Blyton for Hermione's taste, but she had made an exception. No, she really wanted to ask herself when did she call him Malfoy and mean it. When had she decided he didn't even deserve a first name?

Her stomache growled, disturbing her thoughts. This spurred Draco to break the silence. "Table etiquette maintains that the lady must eat." He pushed the plate towards her.

She pushed it straight back. His suspicions about her suspicions were right. She trusted Draco as far as she could throw him.

"It's fine, honestly. When I was on the road with…" Hermione closed her eyes, summoning the will power to say their names without crying, "…With Harry and Ron, I normally gave up some of my rations. They never found out, they wouldn't have accepted it, but Ron was used to big meals and you could really see all of this getting to Harry." She stopped before she became hysterical and gave Draco a half-hearted smile.

"You shouldn't have had to do that. God those idiots didn't deserve you", Malfoy muttered to himself.

Hermione's head snapped round, her eyes blazing. She had misheard Draco's quiet aside, catching only a few words. She was sure he had just told her that "You should have done that, idiot. God you didn't even deserve them." Which had a very different meaning to Draco's whispered compliment.

"Here I am trying to stop you miserable excuse for a life ending, but all you can do is bring up the fact I'm muggle born! You would be quite happy letting me starve, knowing it's all right because you're the superior race and deserve to live more than me!" She screeched at him.

"If you bothered to remove yourself from your plinth of self-righteousness you would have listened and realised I said nothing like that! But no – I am the evil person and you are the persecuted," Draco spat back. Hermione looked on the verge of tears but Draco could not stop his tirade. He loved her so much, but her indifference to him drove him to the edge of insanity. "Now then, as you are so keen on the issue of our differing social background lets really make it obvious who is the superior race. Let's see… How about some good old fashioned segregation?" Draco was on his feet, tearing round the cell like a whirlwind until he found what he was looking for. He picked up the small stone and drew a shaky line down the centre of the cell. "Brilliant!" He cried in a sickly, sweet voice, "Right, you stay in your side Granger, that's the filthy mudblood side of prison, and this is the pureblood side. Ah, it feels better already," his lips curled into a sardonic grin as he saw Hermione's tear streaked face. "Well you know what they say – the sun only shines on the Purebloods. Shame I'm never going to see the sun again, but it rings true all the same."

Hermione just stared at Draco, as he sat down against the wall, panting. She had been so angry with what he had said, so hurt, that she didn't hear the bitter sarcasm that had laced his words.

The plate of food lay discarded by the door. The two occupants of the cell lay in their newly designated half of the room. Neither tried to make eye contact. The tension in the room was almost visible.

Draco could not sleep. His careless words echoed around his head. He looked over at his dream, his every fantasy, curled up in a ball. The tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about just how much he had hurt her. No wonder she would never look at me twice, he thought. He punched the wall behind him in frustration. This was all he had ever wanted, not including the torture and looming death, but he could not stop himself from messing up!

His eyes moved back to Hermione's sleeping figure. "Hermione," he whispered. She didn't respond. "I take it you're asleep then." Again, nothing. "Thank Merlin. You probably don't want to listen to another rant from me, and this is the only way I could ever say this to you. Damn my cowardice." He grinned to himself. Bravery had landed him in here. He wasn't going to resort to being brave again. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. "I've always been a big fan of soliloquies. Mainly because the sound of my voice is just so damn appealing. At least this way, you'll only register what I'm saying in some obscure dream that you will forget in the morning. Mind you it will be a damn fine dream, possibly with some ravishing blonde god with a rather irresistible voice." He paused, searching for the right words, all arrogance put to one side. "The thing is Gra-Hermione, I want to apologise for everything. For every time I made you cry, which I know has happened, although you would loathe admitting it. I was bang out of order before and I understand why you think I'm a prejudiced moron, although I dare say you'd be less polite. The thing is I didn't mean a word of it! Can you remember that time in second year, the first time I called you that awful word? Well I can. The way your face seemed to just crumple has been etched in my mind. I never knew how awful a term it was until then. I just thought it was the term you used, it was what father called the servants, not that naivety is a good enough excuse. I then continued because it won me the respect of the other Slytherins. I will admit, the guilt didn't appear until after the memory of the Weasel vomiting slugs faded." Draco smiled dryly. "It must be a good feeling knowing you have friends who would defend you like that."

Hermione lay curled up on her side, eyes wide open. She lay there, barely daring to breathe as Draco apologised for every name, every slight, every bit of hurt he had caused her since they were eleven. She could hear the seriousness and gravity in his tone. She could feel the self-loathing in his tone. She could feel herself accepting every apology and forgiving him completely. And she could feel her heart reach out to his.