DEVASTATED

Author's note: Hello everyone, I'm sure you're very curious about this chapter. It's an extremely long one today. I wasn't sure whether to break it up into two chapters, but in the end went for a single whirlwind. Prepare yourself. As always, JKR is the secret keeper of our childhoods.

The Manor loomed up in front of him, shrouded by a dense cloud of mist. The weather was just as foul here as it was at his cottage. Draco strode impatiently up the drive, cursing the cold as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself. It was strange how his life had become divided into two very different worlds – he spent his weeks crossing between the blissful retreat of the cottage, and the hellish nightmare of life at the Manor. It was getting more and more tiring to reconcile the two parts of himself that existed in each world.

When Draco entered the foyer, he looked around him with a frown. It was suspiciously quiet. There wasn't the usual hustle and bustle of elves running around, and no groups of Death Eaters conducting meetings or generally being a pain in the ass. Despite being late morning, it was dark in the corridors as the heavy curtains blocked out the greyish sunlight from outside.

He wandered around the Manor, visiting the rooms where he was most likely to find his mother at this time. Once he had used up the other options, he finally sighed and made his way towards her bedroom. Narcissa and Lucius slept in different rooms – with a house this big, pureblood couples weren't required to share their private space. Draco thought that was quite depressing; if he chose to share his life with someone, he wasn't sure he could deal with the same level of apathy his parents had for each other. He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to wake up next to his wife every morning because she made him happy. Shaking his head he creaked the door open to his mother's room with a soft knock on the ornate wood.

"Mother?"

There was no answer, but as he entered the room he saw his mother standing in front of the open window that stretched onto her own little balcony. She was wearing a white nightgown that flowed gently around her legs as she swayed from side to side.

"Mother," he repeated, trying to get her attention. She heard him and twisted around to face him as he approached her slowly. As he neared her he saw that she had a vague, stiff smile on her face. His mother wasn't very well known for smiling. She had given him moments of affection when he was younger, but had never been outwardly demonstrative in public or private. That didn't mean she didn't love him. He had always felt drawn to his mother's simple if a bit clumsy way of comforting him. Whereas his father usually threw money or power at any problem that came his son's way, his mother could calm his hurt feelings with just a couple of words. When he had been slashed by that Hippogriff in third year, his father had instantly jumped at the opportunity to exert his power with the ministry to literally murder the problem. But when he had gone home for the holidays with his arm in a sling (which he didn't really need but got a lot of nice sympathy for) his mother had just looked at him in her quiet, meaningful way and said, "Chin up, Draco. Don't let them see your fear."

He frowned at the drastic change in her now. Beneath the draping fabric of her nightgown she was thin, skeletal even. And her eyes were wide and unfocused as if she wasn't really seeing him properly. It broke his heart to see her reduced to this state. She had always been such a proud, regal woman, and now she was wasted away by her fear and guilt.

"Hello, Draco darling," she said in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

"Mother," he replied with a concerned frown, stepping close to her to run his eyes over her bony form, "What is it? What's happening? The place is completely abandoned."

His mother reached up and touched her fingertips to his cheek. Her hand was freezing.

"So many questions, darling. You know people are always visiting for parties and tea. But no one calling today. No guests. They must have gone on a picnic instead."

Draco swallowed and stared at his mother. He knew she was becoming a bit disjointed, but it was always shocking to hear the inane babble that came out of her mouth. He didn't like to think of his mother as a crazy person.

"Okay," he said slowly, "So they're all gone today. That's not unusual. But what did you need me for?"

Narcissa reached up past his cheek and ran her hand gently through his blond hair. Her dark, deep-set eyes that she had inherited from her Black ancestry were regarding him very closely.

"You have grown into such a handsome young man, my darling."

"Mother, why am I here?"

She didn't answer him, just continued stroking his hair.

"Mother!" he prompted, and her eyes sparked briefly with recognition.

"I asked you to come."

"I know," he said very slowly as if speaking to a child, "But why? Are you feeling alright, mother?"

Narcissa smiled widely at him. It looked strange on her face. He had never seen her lips stretch like that before. She was one of those women who had always smiled with her eyes instead of her mouth.

"Draco…I'm so proud of you."

He stared at her, confused, as she continued to smile. Reaching up he grasped her hand, which had been playing mindlessly with his hair, and held it between his palms. Maybe he could warm up her icy fingers a bit.

"Mother…"

"You are a good man. Promise me that you won't let anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise."

Draco was starting to feel uncomfortable with her direct, emotive gaze. He felt a little shiver go up his spine but couldn't identify exactly what was unsettling him. His mother had lost her marbles months ago, but now she almost sounded lucid despite the melodramatic words.

"How can you say that?" he asked in a soft voice, wondering if he could draw her out of her normal comatose shell given her current state, "I'm a Death Eater. Father made me into a Death Eater. Do you understand what that means?"

Narcissa shook her head from side to side, her eyes blurry and unfocused as she stared somewhere behind him as though she were looking right through his body to the wall behind him.

"I mean in here," she placed her other palm against his chest right where his heart was, "your soul is unbroken."

Draco grit his teeth and clenched her other hand tighter. He wanted to yell at her, anything to ruffle her or break her out of this creepy mood. Had she asked him here just so she could have a maternal moment with him because she was feeling sentimental?

"Yeh, well, it doesn't always feel that way," he muttered bitterly.

"Love will save you," she replied with a certainty that surprised him. He looked at her curiously. Her eyelids were drooping and she leaned closer to smell his shirt, which was pretty weird.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, thinking it was a strange coincidence that she would refer to love when he knew very well what, or who, was waiting for him back at the cottage.

"A mother always knows," she said in a whisper as her eyes closed completely.

Draco's frown deepened as he looked down at her. Was she hallucinating, or did she really know about his feelings for Granger? Maybe it was just a coincidence. He realised that she was getting very pale. In fact, her lips had turned from a pasty white to almost blue.

"Mother," he grabbed her shoulders and shook them gently, but she just hummed in response and leaned even further towards him. Draco became alarmed, as he feared she was not able to support her meagre weight on her own. He held onto her tightly so that she wouldn't tip over.

"Mother," he repeated urgently, his whole body going cold. Her seemingly random declarations were falling together like puzzle pieces in his mind, and he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest as he squeezed her shoulders so tight he would probably bruise her.

"Mother, what did you take? What have you done?" his words were panicked, rushed, and his voice croaked like he had a throat full of gravel. Her eyes remained closed and her lips were definitely a distinctive tinge of blue now. She was going into some kind of toxic shock. But despite the obvious signs that her body was shutting down, she still looked peaceful, happy even. Slowly, they both sank to the ground, him supporting her tiny weight and cradling her to his chest. She was taking in gasping breaths as if she simply couldn't get enough air into her lungs, and her eyes were roving under the lids.

"PETAL!" he screamed the name of his mother's personal elf at the top of his voice. But when there was no response, he looked around the room wildly and saw quite clearly that she hadn't appeared. He tried again, louder this time. Narcissa drew in a rattling breath, a dazed smile still lingering on her face.

"She won't come. I gave her clothes. I gave them all clothes."

Draco's mind was spinning frantically now. He didn't know what to do. Her body was shaking so hard that he had to hold onto her firmly to stop her from hurting herself. But that was just a short-term fix, he needed to get whatever poison she had taken out of her system. He managed to stop shaking long enough to raise his wand.

"Accio bezoar."

A small wooden box came whizzing into the room and he just managed to catch it with unsteady hands. He quickly flipped the lid open and stared in total panic. It was empty. He stared in despair at the empty space inside where there should have been a stone. They had always kept one in the medicine cabinet in one of the bathrooms just in case.

"Oh shit…shit, mother. What did you do?"

He threw away the box, feeling the satisfaction as it broke in two upon impact against the stone interior wall.

"Draco-" she rasped out his name through wheezing breaths that didn't seem to be actually sucking in any air. He twisted her body so that he could roll her onto her side. He had read something in one of his muggle books while searching for a method to heal Granger's arm. It was called a recovery position, and if he managed to make her vomit, he could maybe get whatever she had taken out of her system. As he raised his hand to her mouth, he felt his mother's steely cold fingers grasp onto it. Considering how weak she was becoming, he thought it was strange that she could clench it so tightly.

"I…lov…y…"

When he bent closer to her, he could hear her speaking and her words made him shudder and renew his determination. But before he could untangle his hand, her fingers suddenly went loose and released him, and her whole body seemed to go slack. He could barely see her face now as he realised tears were streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision, but he did register the slight nose-bleed, and the almost purplish tinge of her lips and tongue. With one hand that was quivering so much it tingled from pins and needles, he reached forward and pressed two fingers to the vein in her neck.

There was no pulse.

"Oh fuck…mother…No! No, no no no no…"

But even as he shook her violently, she didn't move or show any signs of life. Draco wasn't sure how long he laid there on the floor with her, crying into her tangled, unkempt hair. Even though his body was wracked with violent sobs, inside he was completely numb. After the episode on the bathroom floor at his cottage, Granger had explained to him something about seven stages of grieving that muggles believed in. And Draco felt like he was racing through them all in a matter of minutes, or maybe it was hours. He was furious at Narcissa for taking her own life and not staying around to help him. He was angry at himself for not doing more to protect her. A part of him still thought briefly that she would take a deep breath and wake up again, even though rationally he knew that wasn't going to happen. He begged the beyond to stop her and send her back before she could pass through. And at some point he finally crumpled up on himself and clamped his eyes shut as he accepted the knowledge that she had simply lost the will to live. He could hardly blame her. While he was off living far away in his ideal cottage, she had been stuck here day in and day out as her own home was turned into a barbaric killing ground. He had failed her. And now she was dead, and despite all the personal guilt that ate away at him, there was really only one other person he truly blamed.

….

Eventually Draco heard footsteps on the wooden floorboards outside. He wasn't sure how long he'd been huddled up on the floor holding his mother's body, but her skin had started to turn even colder than it was before. And while some of Draco's tears had dried, the sticky skin of cheeks and stinging in his eyes were symptoms of his grief as new tears kept washing away the remnants of the old.

Finally the door banged open to reveal his father standing there with a look of complete shock on his face. Lucius took two steps into the room before he froze at the tableau that lay before him.

Draco was sniffling a bit now and trying to dry up his tears so that he could lay his mother's body down on the floor. As he went to stand, he finally raised his eyes to observe his father, and the expression on Lucius's face made him see red. The look in his eyes was not sorrow, or regret, or even confusion. Just disgust. He stared down at the figure of his wife's body and was clearly repulsed by her, as if she would spread her sickness to anyone who touched her.

"She killed herself," Draco muttered quietly, his tone completely flat.

Lucius let out a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet his son's. He seemed to consider Draco for a moment before he pursed his lips in a familiar sneer. It was the look he gave people at the ministry who stood in his way. It was the look he gave to the snatchers, as if they were a constant nuisance he had to put up with, but were ultimately so inferior that they were barely worth a second thought. And then he spoke.

"Yes, well, she was always so… weak."

Draco felt all the blood rush through his brain, his ears pounding and blocking out all other sounds except the internal wailing of grief and anger. In a few quick strides he breached the gap to stand before his father, knowing that he was now taller than Lucius in both height and in the potent strength of his fury. Before the other blond could say anything else, before he could spit any more venom from his hateful lips, Draco pulled back his arm, his fingernails piercing the skin of his palm as his hand clenched into a tight fist. Then he hit Lucius square in the face. It was a fierce blow, and the sound of knuckles meeting skull made a sickening crack echo around the room. Draco's impotent rage had finally boiled over into a single violent punch that sent Lucius sprawling on the ground, clutching his nose as blood began to pour from his nostrils almost immediately. The younger blond was shaking so much he could barely stand still, and he just managed to stop himself from spitting on the crumpled figure of his father on the floor.

He could have taken the time then to yell at Lucius. His father wouldn't have been able to argue back or stop him in his current state of pain. And a part of him badly wanted to shout accusations at the older man, to release all his pent up fury into a storm of vitriolic words. But another part of him – which he thought sounded suspiciously like Hermione Granger – told him that Lucius simply wasn't worth it.

Draco's eyes flickered over to the body of his mother still laying several metres away, her face serene in death. He had to get out of here. Now. Otherwise he would lose his mind, and he thought that murdering his father with his bare hands was likely to draw the wrong kind of attention from the Dark Lord.

"Tilly," he called in a hoarse voice, wiping his face quickly with the bottom of his shirt sleeve as it was still damp from tears.

The little elf appeared with a pop wearing her brightest tutu. Thankfully Narcissa hadn't been able to dismiss Tilly because technically the elf was owned by Draco. Tilly took one glance around the room, starting at Narcissa's body and over to Lucius's huddled form where he was nursing his broken nose and spitting profanities.

"Ma…Mast…" she croaked in horror, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"Tilly, I need you to listen to me very carefully now, can you do that?"

Tilly nodded fearfully and curtseyed as a nervous habit.

"I would like you to move my mother's…body," he forced the words out through clenched teeth, "The other elves have all gone away. She needs to be interned at the mausoleum in the northern garden. There is a gardener there who is in charge of the upkeep. He will help you. I can't…I can't stay, I…just-" he took one more quick look down at Lucius and felt his anger swell again, reaffirming to him how urgent his departure from here was. Otherwise he might not be held accountable for his actions.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think you can do that?"

Tilly observed him for a moment, before she looked over at Narcissa once more with sad, wet eyes.

"Yes Sir. Tilly is taking very good care of Mistress. Tilly will dress her and brush her hair too so she looks pretty…"

Draco nodded with relief, almost breaking down and crying at the elf's thoughtful acceptance of such a bleak task.

"Thank you," he said with a weak, grateful tone.

Before he could race out of there and away from his father, who was starting to scramble to his knees, he regarded Tilly once more with serious eyes.

"Tilly- if my father even starts to look at you funny, or makes any move towards you that makes you scared, I want you to apparate straight to me. That's not a request, it's an order."

Tilly nodded solemnly, her eyes flickering distrustfully over to the elder Malfoy, whose blood had by now soaked into the front of his shirt. Draco felt a sick sort of satisfaction from seeing his father's pain, but it wasn't enough. Realising that it was now or never, he turned on his heel with one last guilty glance at Narcissa. As his eyes observed her wraith-like body for the last time, he couldn't stop a final wave of nauseating rage rise up inside him. At the last minute he spun back around to face Lucius who had now reached his feet, and hit him again, sending him flying back onto the floor. Now he was ready to leave.

….

Draco had been standing in one spot for a very long time. The rain had completely drenched through all his clothes, and he was frozen right down to his bones. The cottage door was in front of him, but after he had apparated to the front of the property he had made no move to enter the house. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. What was considered normal behaviour for someone whose mother had just killed herself?

The clouds had gathered in a dark cluster that was hanging so low over the area that it looked like a blanket smothering the countryside. And the rain was beating down on him steadily. He liked the feeling of the droplets on his skin. The tingling sensation was a very small distraction from the numbness inside.

He figured he was probably standing there for around half an hour before the front door creaked open slightly. A pair of worried brown eyes peered through the narrow gap.

"Draco?" she asked in a worried tone.

He swallowed. Granger was looking him over as if to reassure herself that he wasn't injured. He must look like shit, he thought. He was dripping wet and his hair was sticking out in all different directions. And he was sure his emotional turmoil was plastered all over his face. He felt like he hadn't blinked in about two minutes.

"Draco… what happened?"

He shook his head curtly, not willing to say the words. He didn't want to have to say it again like he had to his father. Just thinking about Lucius's callous response made him want to disapparate right back to the mansion and wring the bastard's neck with his bare hands. He was the one who had driven their family to this. A husband and father was supposed to protect his family, wasn't he?

Granger obviously sensed his distress. Maybe she even saw that he was having difficulty just doing simple things like walking to the damn door. Why couldn't he move? With a quiet nod of her curly head, she slowly approached him. She was moving cautiously as one would towards a wounded animal, and she even had her hands up, palms facing towards him in a gesture of peace. When she reached his side she looked at him intently. Draco shuddered a bit under her gaze, unable to look away from her anxious brown eyes. After a while she offered her hand to him, wriggling her fingers in a gesture of encouragement. He stared at her hand for a while before finally, with a noticeable tremor, he placed his fingers in hers. Granger's hands were so warm. Either that or his were so cold that it was just an illusion. She gently tugged on him until he obediently followed her into the cottage, still not having spoken a single word. She drew him along at a fairly slow pace until finally they reached the living room. Draco just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now that the adrenalin had passed, he felt sluggish and dazed. As they entered the room, he saw that it was fairly dark except for the dusky orange glow of the fire, which was burning cheerfully in the grate. The contrast of the merry fireplace and the raging storm outside felt like a reflection of his tumultuous mood.

"Here, sit down," she murmured, and Draco let himself be coaxed onto a wooden stool right near the fireplace. It was so warm, he felt the first of his shivers fade and he closed his eyes briefly to soak it in. When he opened them again he couldn't see Granger anymore. She had disappeared for a moment, and he twisted his head around as he realised she had left him alone in the room. He wasn't sure why, but he started to panic a bit when he didn't see her there.

"Hermione?" he croaked, swivelling his head around and searching for her in every corner of the room as his heart pounded. Was he going mad too?

"It's alright, I'm here," her calming voice stilled his panic instantly as he saw her return from the bedroom carrying a box that he recognized as his medical kit. He flushed a bit in embarrassment at how he must look to her, afraid to be alone. But she didn't look at him with any judgement or pity, just concern. Which was understandable, he supposed distantly, considering the state he was in. She strode over quickly to kneel in front of him, and he watched in a sort of detached way as she opened up the medical kit. He gazed down at her as she quietly got to work. She removed a couple of cotton swabs and splashed some disinfectant on them. Draco was surprised when she began to dab at some gashes on his knuckles. He hadn't realised that he had hit Lucius so hard he broke the skin on his own fist. A loud crack of thunder rang through the cottage and Granger almost spilled the contents of the disinfectant as she jumped in shock.

"You called me Hermione," she murmured quietly, peering up at him from beneath thick lashes as she began to bandage his hand. His skin ached where their hands met. He was feeling a sensation like hunger all over his body at the feeling of her touching him so softly; like his skin craved her contact. He just nodded in response to her statement, realising that he had indeed called out her first name when he had been worried that she had left. The word had felt…nice, as it left his lips. He wondered whether she liked it as much as he did when she called him Draco. He doubted it. Hearing her say his first name conjured up all sorts of fevered ideas.

When Granger had finished strapping up his hand and putting away the contents of the kit, she stood as if to return it to the bathroom. As she turned to leave he quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist. She froze and her eyes widened in alarm. Draco shook his head and finally spoke again in a throaty whisper.

"Don't go."

He wasn't sure if he was talking about right now, or their earlier argument, but it didn't matter. Granger's worried frown deepened and she used her free arm to reach over and place the medical kit carefully on a shelf.

"Okay," she said slowly, not protesting when he used his grip on her wrist to pull her an inch closer to him. He wanted to get just a tiny bit closer so that he could smell her sweet apple scent. Maybe it would sink through some of the numbness. Eventually she spoke again, and this time he felt the little puffs of air on his face, which was still drenched with rain and tears.

"Draco, please…tell me what happened. I want to help you."

He shook his head vigorously a couple of times, not wanting to voice his pain. But when Granger voluntarily stepped closer in towards him and raised her hand to cup his cheek in a gesture of support, he lost the battle.

"I…she…when I arrived she was…" he was struggling to say the words. Every thought that came to mind was instantly dismissed as too abrupt, too cold, too thoughtless. How were you supposed to say it?

"Your mother…" Granger prompted gently. He took a deep breath and rallied up all his courage.

"She had taken poison. I couldn't…I couldn't help her in time."

When his meaning sunk in, he heard Granger gasp in horror and then groan as she slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh Merlin-" she finally whispered in a muffled voice, "She didn't really do it with you there…" she reached out with both hands now and pressed them to his cheeks to force him to look at her, "She asked you there so that you could be with her, didn't she?"

He nodded silently, fat tears forming once again like ice against his cold lashes.

"Oh…oh Draco," she said in a hoarse, pitiful tone, "I'm so sorry."

And then she drew his head towards her, and he caved. Just like the night on the bathroom floor, he felt his head become nestled into the soft, sweetly scented arch between her neck and shoulder. But this time they were standing, if a little bit unsteadily on his part. As she held him they rocked together a bit, and Draco let his tears flow freely once more. He wasn't making a sound, just crying and shuddering silently against her. When he closed his eyes all he could see on the backs of his lids was the sight of his mother looking so damn happy as she died, like she was finally at piece. Despite the pale, almost translucent skin, and the streak of blood pouring from her nose, she had looked so calm, so peaceful.

But now, for the first time since he had held his mother's body, which felt like hours ago – it probably was, he had been pretty dazed – he felt other sensations start to finally pierce through the numbness. He felt how silky her curls were against his cheek, how her fingers traced lazy circles on his back in a show of comfort, how soft the curves of her body were pressed against his.

He grasped onto the feelings eagerly, so glad to just feel anything else besides the consuming anguish that was ripping him apart. He concentrated on all the different sensations of being held by her, and it forced his mind to start working again. It had been ticking away so lethargically that it was a relief to become more cognisant again of his own thoughts and actions.

Draco started to catalogue all the parts of Granger that he was feeling, from her intoxicating scent right down to soft feminine bow of her waist – it wasn't a distraction so much as it was a catharsis from his pain. As he did this, he became dimly aware that she was becoming more and more wet from his drenched clothes and hair, which were seeping into her slowly. Worried that he would give her a chill, he pulled back from the embrace to apologize. Which was a huge mistake. When he stared into her eyes he was overcome by her expression of anxiety. Her brow was creased deeply in a frown of compassion that only she could be capable of feeling so acutely, and her eyes were shining with tears.

She was crying for him, Draco thought. She didn't even know his mother, which meant that she was welling up at the thought of his pain.

It felt like after hours of having a fist clenched tightly around his heart, it was suddenly released and had started to beat again erratically, almost painfully. He gazed at her for a timeless moment, peering at her features through the shadowy light from the fireplace. His eyes flickered down to her lips as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Draco…" she began to say in a whisper, but whatever words of comfort she was going to give him were lost. As he heard his name sigh hauntingly from her lips, a shudder overtook his whole body. Without thinking, just seeking that desperate need to feel more of her, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

As soon as they touched, he felt and heard her quiet gasp of shock, but he didn't pause or let up. For the first time in hours he wasn't thinking about his mother's weak body falling to the ground, wasn't picturing her laying there. It was such a relief. Tilting his head, Draco opened his mouth and drew her bottom lip between his, caressing it gently. She tasted divine. His eyes clenched shut as he felt like he wanted to roll them back into his head in amazement. It was like rich black tea, chocolate and underneath all that was her. It tasted the same as her addictive scent that he had become hooked on like a drug, only it was more concentrated, more potent than just her smell.

His mind was spinning with a million thoughts, but the one that crystallised and forced its way to the front was the simple fact that she had not pulled away. She hadn't pushed him off her or shuddered in disgust. He registered faintly that she wasn't actually making any move to kiss him back, but that was just a small hurdle.

Draco drew his lips ever so slowly back from where they were caressing her bottom lip, but before they could separate completely, he dove back in. This time he kissed her a little harder, tasting more of her, and at last he heard her release a soft little whimper. He could feel her breaths panting against him, and he angled his head to kiss her again and again. They were smooth, delicate kisses that he kept repeating over and over, exploring every part of her lips, and the more he tasted, the more the weight on his chest lifted and seemed like a distant memory.

After what felt like an age, he felt Hermione open her mouth just a little to kiss him back. He shivered with excitement, but slowed down, searching out her now pliant, accepting lips for a long, drawn out caress which she returned.

Draco raised his hands, stroking his fingers across her cheeks and then running them back further and into her hair. He had been wanting to touch her hair for so long; he had dreamed of feeling its soft weight curled around his fingers. He couldn't stop the moan from escaping him that sounded like part desire and part anguish as he used his grip on her hair to turn her head to the side and kiss her more deeply.

Draco felt the blood rush from his head and he lost his balance a bit. Using the momentum, he pushed her backwards and they both stumbled towards the bookshelves. Her back hit it after a second, and the shelves made a creaking sound beneath their combined weight. Hermione made that whimpering sound again that sent a bolt of lust right through him, and he groaned in response. As he pressed his body into hers, he let his tongue dart out and trace it over her bottom lip while he sucked on it.

As the kiss heated up and gained a lot of intensity, he noticed the exact moment when Hermione started to squirm against him, and not in a good way. She wriggled her body a bit, using her forearms to gain some distance as she broke the kiss. Draco nodded, not wanting to push her, and pulled back away from the kiss. But he didn't want to go too far. He was still a bit worried that if he wasn't touching her, he would break down again and all those feelings of grief would return in full force. So he leant his forehead against hers and took a few moments to catch his breath, and she did the same.

"Hermione," he sighed, and he felt her shiver a little bit, "I'm sorry," he murmured the words that she probably deserved to hear, even if he wasn't the least bit apologetic about kissing her.

She leaned back a bit against the shelves, and he saw that her eyes were still a little damp as she sniffled. He could only imagine what he looked like. Dishevelled probably didn't quite cover it. But her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and as he stared at them he desperately wanted to lean in and claim them again.

"You're upset," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have let you-"

"No," he interrupted, reaching up and placing his hands on her cheeks again, forcing her to look him in the eye, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time."

He saw her swallow and blink a couple of times. Then she reached up and took his hands, bringing them down from where they held her face.

"This is a bad idea," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her. He shook his head at her, but she ploughed on, more firmly now, "we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" he asked, his voice coming out as a rough croak.

"Because I'm not…I'll be leaving soon and...it's completely illogical."

Despite the pain that shot through him at her words, he couldn't help but smirk outwardly at her need for logic and control.

"So you're still determined to leave me?"

Granger looked up at him sheepishly, her guilt written all over her face, and he reached up again to run his fingers across her jaw.

"It's ok, you don't have to answer that," he murmured, "I know," he said in a resigned whisper as his fingers traced patterns absently over her soft skin. She frowned at him.

"Draco… your mother…" he felt his jaw clench as she brought up the one thing he was trying to avoid, "you can't just shut it out."

"I can try."

"No," she insisted, "It's not fair to her memory to simply ignore the pain…" she paused a bit before she set her mouth in a stubborn line and continued, "And it's not fair to me, either."

Draco stared at her for a moment as he absorbed her words. He instantly felt terrible for making her feel like he had taken advantage of her. It was obvious she thought he was simply using her to forget his grief. Wasn't he? Of course, she didn't know the full extent of his feelings, which meant all she had to go on was one impulsive, if amazing, kiss. He sighed as he let his fingers trail down from her jaw over her neck and finally came to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "You don't know everything…" he let out a heavy breath. It wasn't right to bring it up now, not when he felt so raw with grief. If he said any more and she rejected him or even just accepted him out of pity, he wouldn't be able to recover easily, "but now is not the right time," he eventually added in a soft murmur, finally releasing her and taking a couple of steps backwards to give them both some space.

He saw Granger take a deep breath of air in relief, and he flinched a bit.

"You look terrible, Draco," she said with a tired frown, "You need to rest. We can deal with all this tomorrow."

He wasn't sure he liked being let off the hook, but he supposed he really wasn't equipped emotionally right now to deal with anything. But before she could turn away from him he shot her a last look filled with intensity and promise,

"This isn't finished, Hermione," he said, feeling her name roll off his lips pleasantly. He was gratified after a long immobile pause to see her hesitant nod of approval.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, before she stepped forwards away from the bookshelves that she had still been pressed flat against.

"You take the bed," she said softly, "I'll sleep on the couch," then she paused a little bit before she continued in a gentle tone, "Draco…is there anything else I can do for you?"

Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge how far he could push her comfort levels today. He knew he would be playing on her compassion, but right now he was willing to do anything to not be alone. If he were alone, then he would be haunted by nightmares of his mother gasping for breath, her lips blue from lack of oxygen, her skin ashen white. He shuddered and felt his eyes prick again just at the passing thought.

"Please, Hermione… can you just stay with me tonight?"

Maybe it was the look of anguish in his eyes, or her own feelings of sympathy that made her agree, but after a long pause she finally nodded, and he gave her a shaky smile of relief. As they headed into the bedroom, both of them a bundle of nerves and heartache, he thought back to the words his mother had said just before he realised something was wrong with her.

Love will save you.

He hoped to Merlin she was right.

….

Phew. That was exhausting. This is a real game-changing chapter, so please leave many reviews. Thanks for reading!