A/N: Finally decided the format of this thing. The last chapter was the present, this one is the past, and the next will be the future. This part is the suck, but I promised ithilienwoods it would be up by ten-ish today, so it is.

Last part up on November 14th.

Redemption Series – Part Two: Despondency

She knew what being stuck in Malfoy Manor had done to him – it had broken him. His inability to leave or talk to anyone other than Order members had broken what was once the sharp, over-confident, sarcastic Malfoy, and left the silent, bitter, uncaring Draco. And through the holes in his shell, Hermione had seen the boy in him – the part that wanted to be loved, the part that craved attention and care, and the part that no one else had seen, not even Narcissa. There was a word for how he was feeling, but she couldn't remember it.

"Hermione?" he had looked at her almost longingly, with that same feeling she couldn't remember the name of, silver eyes showing how much he was thinking.

"Hmm?" she moved closer to him on the leather couch, and she could see something was bothering him – something he didn't want to tell her.

"Nothing." Draco was fickle with his emotions, but Hermione knew he wanted her to work for it.

"What is it, Draco? Come on."

"Fine. Your mother is a crack-whore. There. Happy?" He sat up straight, as if the sofa didn't have a back, and were he to lean backwards, he would tip off. He sounded slightly amused, but a hint of bitterness tinged the words.

"I don't appreciate your jabs at my mother, especially considering she makes you dinner." The words were out of her mouth before she realized the effect they would have on him.

He hated it when someone reminded him of how dependent he was – just how much he had to rely on other people, even muggles to stay alive during the War.

"Of course." He growled out, and although he didn't move away from her, she could feel him withdrawing.

"Draco. Draco." She was insistent now. "Look at me."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, not turning his head. "What?"

She could sense the presence of The Feeling again. Slightly exasperated, she moved his shoulders so he was forced to look at her. Looking into his eyes, she moved forward.

And kissed him.

Along with the wonderful taste of, of all things, lemons, she could still taste the feeling, and she had seen it in his eyes before she had…you know, kissed him. Her first kiss, at eighteen years old, with Draco Malfoy, of all people. They pulled a part barely a centimeter for air and he pulled her into his lap before their mouths met again, and this time she knew what the feeling was called, because she remembered feeling it when Ginny was killed.

She tasted despondency.