Hello! Thank you so much to all those who have read the start of this story, with a special thanks to my reviewers! I'm quite amazed my little stroy has impressed you. I still own nothing, nothing at all so with out further ado - here's chapter 4!

Chapter 4

Draco woke to the sound of singing. It was beautiful and angelic. He thought Hermione had bumped him off in the night and he had managed to bribe St Peter into letting him in upstairs. Not that he believed in that muggle nonsense. As he rubbed his bleary eyes, he heard a very contented cry of "yes!" and the smell of bacon and eggs flooded his nose. Bacon and eggs? Now he knew he was still dreaming.

Hermione smiled at him. "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier! We were taught simple food transfiguration in first year! And what is the point in being one of the brightest witches of our generation if I can't make a decent breakfast?"

"Out with modesty, in with bacon. I think I can handle the change," Draco jibed softly, praying she wouldn't take offence.

"Modesty Draco? I didn't know that word was even in your vocabulary," she shot back, a playful smile on her lips.

Draco never believed that his day was real. No Death Eaters came so he and Hermione had a long uninterrupted chat. They teased and bullied each other, talked about everything and nothing at all. They both had enough tact to stay away from any sensitive issues, but every trivial fact Draco learned about the girl of his dreams seemed the most important thing in the world.

The next few days past like this. Food arrived, still one portion but the two shared without comment. Hermione would attempt to transfigure it into some delicious delicacy and most of the time it worked. The time it didn't, Draco took one look at the greyish slop and just fell about laughing. Hermione never dreamed that Draco Malfoy would have infectious laughter, but only seconds later she too was consumed with hysterical laughter.

The Death Eaters stayed away as well. Both welcomed the reprieve, but it began to prey on Hermione's mind. She knew that if they were not here they would be out hunting and killing innocents. One night, or what felt like night, she braved Draco with her concerns.

"Draco," she began timidly.

"Hermione"

"You know how there haven't been any Death Eaters in a while, well …"

"You really don't want to know." Draco couldn't bear the love of his life to know of the barbaric 'games' he had taken part in.

Hermione sat up on her knees, facing the boy she had known for the past seven years, but had never really known at all. He was the brutish, arrogant boy who had made her life a misery any opportunity he could. But he was also timid and sweet. She knew then that she could not judge him for what he had done. Some part of her she didn't know existed took over her, as her hand reached out and took his. His skin reminded her of a snake; it was so soft and silky, but so cold.

Her touch was like nothing Draco had ever experienced before. There was no politics behind it, no cordial alliances, only concern and, hopefully, a spark of affection. They locked eyes, silver melting into hazelnut.

"You will hate me when I have told you the exploits your fellow students now embark upon. Don't interrupt me or tell me its fine because its not. We can not all save the world, Hermione. Some of us are told we are doing wrong, but have the message that this wrong will lead to a glorious right drilled into out very souls. If the Death Eaters are not lording it about upstairs they will be out murdering muggles or mud- muggle-borns. That should be enough information for people, but you Miss Granger always wanted to know more so I don't see why you should change your ways now."

Hermione's eyes seemed to bore into his very being. He had to look away before continuing.

"They will round up their victims like cattle, murdering some instantly, taking others prisoner so they can torture them at leisure. The muggle killings were hellish. At least with muggle-borns they know what to expect – they can run or fight back. They can survive. But the muggles just think we are freaks in masks, until the first spell is cast. Then its just pandemonium. It was like shooting animals." Draco looked down at himself in disgust. He felt Hermione begin to shiver, her hand now loose in his.

"Does no-one object?" She whispered, her voice filled with blatant horror.

"Object? Why would anyone do that?" Draco stood up and began to pace up and down the cell, like a caged lion. "Those cowards! Why would they object to the murder of inferior races when it may cost them their own pathetic lives? Refusal means death. Or worse."

"Worse?" Her voice was just a distant husky breath.

A sallow smile crawled over Draco's face. "Worse indeed. Humiliation. Incarceration. Regular torture. The surprise of being locked up with a well known enemy. Although that bit can be strangely tolerable. I mean, you haven't tried to kill me," his hand touched his shoulders, which still carried the bruises from her arrival. "Well, kill me very well."

Hermione sat lost for words. Draco was lying. She could not what he had just told her. He had acted bravely, nobly even, and saved a life at the expense of his own. The Draco she knew would never have done that. She remembered the greasy haired 5th year, his Inquisitorial Squad badge shining as he hauled her out of the room of requirement. He had apologised for that, though, on that bizarre far away first night.

Draco looked at her, expecting more questions, more emotion, more… anything. He knelt by her side, tucked a beautiful curl behind her ear. "He was our age," he was whispering now, the warm breath tickling her neck. "He had just watched his parents being tortured to death. It was just him and his sister left. Someone grabbed the girl; she was younger than him, blonde. The boy just grabbed the creeps arm and told him 'no'. No-one was paying any attention to the prisoners in the corner until the snap of the Death Eater's arm was heard, followed by the boys calm voice, "I told you, no". The hall went quiet. We were used to pleas and hysterics, but this was new. No-one had ever been this sure of themselves before. He stepped forward and as calm as anything told the whole room that we were all sick. He said that if we made his sister suffer we would live to regret it. He wasn't naïve. He knew she was going to die. He told us that we could rip him to pieces and sew him together again as long as she died quickly and painlessly. The dark lord just laughed. He looked at me and told me to deal with him. The boy stared at me. He had the most terrifying eyes I have ever seen they were the eyes of someone so desperate they would do anything to protect the ones they loved. And he knew he couldn't save his sister. The thing was, all I could think of was Weasel and Weaselette. He would have done that for Ginny. Hell, you golden lot would have done it without hesitation. I looked around that hall and saw not one person I would sacrifice myself for. I couldn't kill the boy. He was so calm and strong but so full of emotion. He was everything I want to be but I know I never will. So I said no. I put up a fight. Not as eloquently as that boy had done but I was rather pleased. Until the dark lord killed both the boy and his sister. A least it was quick. He got his final wish."

Hermione turned her eyes red, tears streaming down her face. Her hand reached out and traced his hard jaw line, the high cutting cheekbones, the pointed chin. Her eyes never left the stormy pools of silver. He was so human. So fragile. She leant forward. He was not real. Her tears flashed in the low light as her heart took full control. Her lips brushed his, too terrified this boy would vanish if they stayed.

Draco's heart leapt at the sudden contact. He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Hermione's hand dropped, and she was left with her face cradled in Draco's soft hands.

Draco felt the air rush from his lungs as he met Hermione's lips. Years of longing had led to this moment, perfect in ways he would never have imagined. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her.

They broke apart, eyes shining. Hermione wanted to laugh at this beautiful, perfect cliché. Draco had never felt so alive, even though they were both facing certain death. They did not know how long they had together, but they knew that they truly loved each other. They lay, arms wrapped round one another, both praying that night could last for an eternity.