Hey guys! Thanks for all of your continual support! I'm going to try to do a chapter a day now that I'm back to work. That'll hopefully make for some fairly quick updating. I've had some speculation on the relationship between Hermione and Zac. Basically, it's showing that Draco isn't the only one interested in Hermione, and it throws her for a loop. Personally, I love writing Zac. He's such a persistent, witty, and fun character. And there will be some confrontation of him and Draco later on, like way later on. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to comment and as always, review me!

Chapter 8: The Last Hope

The moment McGonagall sent for her, Hermione was out of her dorm faster than Draco's eyes could blink. He watched her leave with intensity, dying to be a part of whatever was going on outside that door. She needed to leave though, and for some reason, he understood that. Muscles aching from sitting against his headboard all night, Draco pushed himself out of bed, convincing himself that now was as good of time as any to take a shower.

Not making good use of his alone time, Draco walked slowly to the shower, taking in the wind rushing against the windows. He peeked out: the sky was growing a nasty shade of grey, and he could see the trees and bushes blowing below him. A part of him wished he were out there, patrolling the grounds, but then he realized it would've been much too cold for that, and headed back to the shower.

Aimlessly lost in his own thoughts, he turned the water and let it warm for awhile before undressing himself. The warm mist from the tub lingered in the air, soothing him. But, the cool air from outside the dorm made his skin tickle, and for some reason, he had always enjoyed goosebumps on his skin. He left the bathroom door open. Hell, he was alone. Maybe a bath was in order…

Climbing into the shower carelessly, Draco's right foot slipped against the slippery bottom of the tub. With a shocked breath, he realized he was going down, and hit his head on the faucet. Stars oversaw his eyelids, and a heavy black was coming onto him before he realized that he was going under… Where was Hermione… He tried to part his lips, tried to call out for help… But, before he could form a thought, a deep black sleep overtook him, and the last thing he remembered was how good the warm water felt against his skin.

Meanwhile, Hermione found Neville and Ginny in the fourth floor corridor, talking about a class assignment. Hermione grabbed both of them by their shoulders and began to push them to McGonagall's office, explaining on the way. The trio broke into a run halfway there, only to run into Seamus and Parvati sitting on a bench, Seamus giving her a look that any woman would dissolve over.

"Seamus!" Ginny reached out and grabbed the shoulder of his sweater, pulling him with them. Seamus quickly apologized to Parvati, and joined his friends in their running through the castle. "Where's Dean?"

"With Shacklebolt," replied Seamus, out of breath. "This better be bloody worth it, Hermione –"

"Shut up, Seamus!" Neville barked, only to get a cold stare from him.

As they rounded the corner into McGonagall's office, they saw that Snape was there, along with Remus Lupin. There wasn't time for greetings, however, as the air was as cold and tense as it was outside the castle walls. The friends skidded to a halt, taking in the looks on their elders' faces. Hermione felt her stomach drop subterranean, and she knew what Snape said, almost before he had opened his lips.

"Ollivander is missing."

Ginny's shoulders hunched, and a little moan escaped her lips. Seamus and Neville exchanged a glance, and Seamus slowly put his arm around her shoulders.

"We believe that the Dark Lord is after a new wand," Lupin explained, his eyes taunt. "Do any of you have any idea why?"

Hermione didn't think it was meant to be an accusation, but she took it as one none-the-less. "No, but we had come to the same conclusion."

"Do you know who Gregorovitch was?" Lupin asked, now sitting himself halfway on McGonagall's desk.

"He was a wandmaker," Neville replied uncertainly.

"Yes, but he was also an advocate for Dark Magic," McGonagall said. Hermione should've been impressed by herself that she had come to the conclusion long before, but it diminished when she realized that she had known because of Draco. McGonagall's fingers came to brush the bridge of her nose. "Which means that Voldemort is seeking an army."

"An army?" Seamus asked. His voice was slightly open, and his face aghast. "Are there really that many people out there that would follow him?"

Snape turned his attention towards Seamus now. "Mr. Finnigan, during the first Wizarding War, it would do you well to remember how many species the Dark Lord had siding with him."

"Severus is right," Lupin nodded in agreement. "The first time, Voldemort had an array of creatures at his will: giants, spiders, centaurs, dementors… They would undoubtedly follow him into battle again."

"Okay, so how do we try to stop them?" Neville asked. His tone was courageous, and for that Lupin could only smile.

"Right now, there's not much we can do, Neville," he replied. "Our main priority is finding out why Voldemort needs a new wand, and finding Ollivander. Until then, there's not much we can go on. I've sent word to Harry and Ron to see if they can give us any more information, but that's unlikely in case their owls are intercepted. I want you four to work on scenarios, anything that could possibly help us. Ginny, Hermione, will you stay please? Seamus and Neville, you are dismissed."

For a moment, the boys hesitated, but under the stern gaze of the three Order members in front of them, they sighed and left the office. Hermione watched carefully as McGonagall once again held the bridge of her nose, and Snape stepped a tad closer.

"Is there anything you two want to say to Harry and Ron?" Lupin asked. "I think we've found a way to contact them without being intercepted by Voldemort."

Ginny's face lit up, and Hermione's stomach tumbled with delight.

"Will you tell Harry I miss him?" Ginny asked Lupin. Lupin nodded with a small chuckle. "Also, tell him to watch out for Ron and that although he's a downright git for leaving, I still love him."

"Alright, and you, Hermione?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Tell them that I miss them, and we're trying to help them as best we can."

"I will pass the message along," Lupin nodded. "Is there anything else that you needed to say to the girls, Severus? Minerva? Very well then, off you go."

When Hermione and Ginny were safely out of earshot, Lupin turned to Severus with a look that only the two men could understand. McGonagall turned to face them, her lips in a curt, straight line. Lupin ran his hand over his face, feeling the stubbly pricks of hair on his chin and neck, and then through his messy brown hair.

"Is he turning, Minvera?" asked Lupin.

"From what Miss Granger has told me, he is beginning to let his guard down. That doesn't mean he's turning, Remus. Blood is always thicker than water," she answered. "If the Ministry falls, we will have to move him. He won't be safe here."

"I agree," sighed Lupin. "That boy may be our only hope. Do you plan to send him to me, Minerva?"

McGonagall's eyes closed momentarily. "Yes, Remus. If Miss Granger didn't turn him by then, maybe his friends will."

"It won't be long before the Dark Lord makes his move," Snape told them. "You must be ready for him at moment's notice."

"I'll prepare a Portkey," Lupin agreed. "Don't give me that look, Severus. We will keep him safe."

"Where will Miss Granger go if such an incident is to occur?" Snape asked.

"Where do you think, Severus?" Lupin chuckled. "She'll go after Harry and Ron."

When Hermione returned to her dorm, it was nearing nine o'clock. Her heart was racing with happiness and sadness at the same time, and she didn't know how to react. Things were becoming much worse on the outside, and she knew that before long, her solitude would be over and war would be on the horizon. With a sigh, she opened the door to her dorm, and heard the water from the shower going. Relieved, Hermione walked further into the dorm, and saw a trail of water heading out of the bathroom. Curiously, she followed it, seeing the bathroom door open. Odd… She continued to follow it, seeing the shower curtain hanging loosely in the water, and an arm hanging out the side of the bathtub. It was overflowing with water. Hermione waited at the door for a few moments.

"Draco?" she asked, but there wasn't a reply. The arm didn't even flinch. That's when she panicked.

Hermione flung herself towards the tub, one hand pulling back the shower curtain, and the other grasping onto Draco's cheeks. He was floating in the water, a peaceful expression on his face. For a moment, Hermione could've guessed that he was sleeping until realization came over her. He had fallen: that's why the shower curtain had wrapped around him. Panic hit her abdomen like a sword: he looked ghastly, almost dead. His ivory skin was reflected in the water, but the loss of color in his face and lips gave it away.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Draco, Draco!"

Hermione quickly grabbed her wand. She had to get him out of the water. She released with a shaky breath that this had been an accident, a pure accident, but what if she hadn't come in? Merlin, she didn't want to think of that. Raising her wand, she quickly enchanted him to levitate, a foul sensation swooping over her when his arms and legs dangled from his body. Quickly, she moved him to his bed, where her first instinct, as a Muggle, was to give CPR.

"Shit," she murmured, fumbling with her fingers, interlocking them over his heart. She pressed down, one two three, and then without hesitation, touched her lips to his, breathing into him, filling his lungs with precious air. Never once did she think about what she was doing, just that it was necessary. He couldn't die, absolutely not. She pulled herself back: he was warm… So incredibly warm… And his lips… So soft…

It took her a few times, and by the third, hope was beginning to fade, but when she drew her lips, she saw his lungs constrict, and then darted away as he began to cough up water. Relief rushed through her: he was alive! Smiling like a child on their birthday, Hermione couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck and squeeze him.

"Bloody hell, Granger, get off of me!" he sputtered, still choking on warm water.

Yes, he was certainly alive. Hermione released him, a grin upon her lips. Draco's grey eyes were still wide with bewilderment and shock, and his breaths were ragged and unsteady, just like both their hearts. Their gazes met, and Draco realized what had just happened. Looking down at his naked body, he pulled the blankets tighter around his chest.

"You need to rest," Hermione said, her anxiety on how he would react now creeping through her. "I don't know how long you were out."

Draco still hadn't completely focused, and he fell back to the pillows on his bed, letting the darkness overtake him again. Hermione knew this time that his body just needed to recover, but in her worry for him, she sat on the bed for a good hour just staring at him.

Never in her almost seven years of knowing Draco Malfoy had she ever seen him so peaceful. There wasn't any hint of crude ignorance, nor arrogance, or unhappiness in his features. Dare Hermione say it, but he almost looked… Normal. She reached out a hand and brushed his snow-white hair to the side and ran it over his cheek. He was warm. She allowed herself to run her fingertips over his lips and to the other side of his face, where she just continued to stroke him. A few times, she heard him groan or sigh, but she never pulled away. Though the past fifteen minutes had felt like just a few seconds, Hermione knew that he was aware that she had saved his life, even if it was only by a freak accident. Something, maybe it was her womanly instinct or just that she found herself caring more and more about her Slytherin roommate, told her to stay with him, just in case he stopped breathing again.

She slipped off his bed, and grabbed the chair from across the room by his dresser. When she curled up in it, she realized that she had kissed him. Her gut began to ache again, but this time it was from embarrassment and anxiety. She kissed him and brought him back to life: her air was in his lungs. His lips were so warm, so inviting… With a sigh, Hermione buried herself with a blanket. This would inevitably change things. The question was… How?

It was early when Hermione awoke to the wind howling against Draco's bedroom window. She clenched her eyes shut in annoyance: she was getting really sick of all this wind. Though, she peeked her head up to check the time: it was almost seven thirty. Somehow, she had managed to sleep all the way through the night on this chair, something she was really quite impressed at.

Hermione turned to see Draco on his bed, the covers pooled around his waist, and a relaxed look on his face. She could hardly remember the details of what had happened last night, just that she had saved him, and he had yelled for her to get off of him. And that she had kissed him. Thinking about it made her feel slightly nauseous. But, she found herself staring at his peaceful form for quite sometime before he began to wake up.

Really, she didn't want him to wake up. She wanted to run as far away as she could – which meant to her room – and avoid him waking up altogether. Draco's grey eyes blinked a few times until they were fulling open. Just as Hermione was about to jump out of the chair and run for her room, their eyes locked on one another. All she saw in them was a softness she had never seen before. Maybe it was a way of him saying thank you, or maybe he wasn't aware enough to put enough rage into his actions. Whatever the case was, Hermione found herself smiling.

"What are you smiling about, Granger?" Draco demanded, pulling himself up to lean against his headboard. His voice startled her, and Hermione blinked a few times so she was fully conscious.

"Nothing. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think? Shitty," Draco replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Hermione studied the wizard: his upper chest was tense, and she found herself glad that her handprints from last night had faded because his ivory skin was reminding her of soft vanilla. He looked anywhere but her eyes, purposefully avoiding them. Maybe that would mean they could avoid talking about what had happened. Even if it was an accident, Draco didn't want to be reminded of it. Or that she had saved him.

And now, for some reason, she was leaning towards him, her hazel eyes wide. Merlin, could she just back off and give him some space? His head felt like it had been hit by a Bludger, and his body was tense and sore. But, her look of genuine concern made him feel a tad better, but then it was overtaken by his usual realizations of how humiliating it was to have a Gryffindor express concern for a Slytherin. It was almost too much to handle, and it made his head throb even more.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he muttered, running his hands through his blonde hair. He felt bloody dramatic, telling her everywhere hurt and acting like a stupid little Hufflepuff, admitting to his pain. "Damn it."

"It wasn't your fault; you fell and that's absolutely normal—"

"I know that, Granger, I've fallen before," he replied harshly.

Her hazel eyes widened at the bitterness of his words, and he couldn't help but feel the guilt rise back up into his stomach again. Why did she have to do that? Make him feel this way? After all, he felt bloody embarrassed. She had come back to him floating unconscious in a bathtub. Although Draco knew there wasn't anything he could've done, he still felt degraded. He wanted her to leave, to get as far away from him as possible, and for a moment, all he wanted to do was break everything in this room. Maybe that would help him ease the pain, but more so, the guilt.

"You didn't have to help me, Granger," he muttered, his grey eyes focusing as far away from the witch as possible.

"I did, though, Malfoy! If I hadn't, if I had just been a moment longer, you would have died," Hermione snapped back. This time, the bitterness of her words made him flinch.

"Should've just let me," he retorted, rubbing his temples again. "It would be better than being stuck here anyway." Hermione huffed at his words, disgusted at his un-appreciation of what she had done. Then again, should she have been surprised?

"Why would I wish for anyone to die?" she asked quietly.

Draco's grey eyes rose to met hazel ones. "You hate me, Granger. I am your enemy, remember?"

"I don't think that's true," Hermione insisted. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, more to himself than to her.

"I just don't think that's true," she replied, this time a little forcefully. Draco spied a challenge with her, and even though his head was throbbing, he wanted it… needed it… needed to see that fire in her eyes.

"No, let me set this straight for you since last night's incident obviously clouded your vision more than mine," Draco hissed. Hermione straightened herself, her eyes almost in narrow slights. "I am a Death Eater. You are a member of the Order. We are enemies."

"Draco, you are not a Death –" Hermione stopped speaking when Draco pulled his left arm from beneath the sheets. Her breath caught in her chest, and all she wanted to do was look away, but she couldn't. Horrible memories came back to her: the World Cup, Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, above the Astronomy Tower… Hermione shuddered, and looked up at Draco's eyes: cold and relentess.

"I am! It is in my blood!" he yelled, flexing his forearm where it had been burned into his skin.

Hermoine's shoulder sagged and she felt tears forming in her eyes, threatening to sting her cheeks. "That's your family, Draco, not you –"

"Piss off, Granger, don't act like you know anything about –"

"Shut up."

"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing?" he barked, as Hermione moved closer. Something had peaked her interest about the inky carving on his skin. He observed her warily as she moved closer to him, and before he knew it, she was beside him on his bed. Her face was dangerously close to his forearm, and the guilt came back, chasing the anger away.

No… He didn't want her to see it, let alone examine it. Merlin's Beard, what had possessed him to show her? Obviously it had triggered horrible memories, and it did for him too. Most of the time he was able to ignore it, and that was good enough for him, but why in the world did he just do that… A part of him wanted to apologize, to cover it again, but Hermione was too busy observing his emblem to do that. Still wary of her actions, he felt her soft fingertips grasp the skin around his forearm. A soft breath made his stomach tighten, and all he wanted to do was look away. He didn't want to witness her disgust at him, at his choices. But, Draco couldn't. And Merlin only knew why.

"Why are you looking at it?" he whispered.

Hermione was rather intrigued by the Mark. She had seen it multiple times, each time with a distinct memory that caused her anguish, but never before on a person and seeing it on someone was an entirely different concept. Her soft fingertips brushed along the outside lines of it, and she swore she saw the tail of the snake twitch.

"I've just… never seen it on a person before," she answered lamely.

"Doesn't make for a very good body decoration," Draco replied and tried to pull his arm away but found herself stuck in her grip. "Bloody hell, stop looking at it, Granger!"

"Stop," she murmured softly as she trailed her fingertips over the Mark. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Then why did you flinch?"

Draco didn't know how to answer her question, his mouth locked in bewilderment. He had flinched because for a moment, it felt as though her light and purity passed over the evil the Mark represented and blew it into a million pieces. He felt bits of resentment leave his body, his mind, and his heart. Little did she know that when he was branded, it was only out of sheer anger to remove his father from prison. He never wanted too, never would have, if the circumstances weren't what they were. Even in his attempt to win back his father's respect and love, nothing had come of it. He had been set up, used, thrown into hiding, and now his family thought he was dead. Sleepless nights because of the nightmares, feeling disgusted with himself, and now… this.

"Your fingers were cold," he murmured bleakly.

"Your family doesn't define you –"

"Shut up, Granger, I'm not in the mood for a lecture –"

"No, listen," she insisted, and Draco clamped his mouth shut. "Your family doesn't define you. You may have a Dark Mark, and so do members of your family, but you are a person, and you are able to make your own choices."

"I will always be a Malfoy," Draco retorted, trying to find bitterness, but couldn't. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Hermione let his arm go, and immediately, he found himself missing her warm and gentle touch. Their eyes met, and Draco saw a very understanding look in her eyes. Forcing himself to look away, he sighed and put his arm under the blankets again, half in disgust for himself, and half because he couldn't bare her to look at it anymore.

"You're right, I couldn't possibly understand. But, I do understand being inferior." Her words hit him like a jinx to the chest, almost knocking the wind out of him. "Maybe we're not so different."

Draco looked down at the covers. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just lamely sat while she looked at him. "Ollivander is missing."

"What?" Draco asked, his head raising. "Why?"

"We think that… Voldemort is trying to find a new wand," Hermione answered, studying his face. She knew that he knew more than what he was saying, and she could tell by the look on his face.

"Why would he need a new wand? Do you know how bloody stupid that sounds?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, but it's a good place to start," Hermione shrugged. Draco began to damn all the things around him, especially himself for wanting to help her.

"Merlin's Beard, Granger," Draco muttered. "Do you know fucking dangerous he would be if he got a new wand?"

"Yes, that's why we must stop him."

Hermione hoped her words nudged him in the right places so he would tell her what he knew, but he didn't. But, she noticed that he too, in that moment, was afraid of Voldemort just as much as she was. That in itself spoke in huge amounts.

She pushed herself off of his bed, and stole a glance behind her before she closed the door. It made a shiver shoot straight up his spine. Draco leaned back in his bed, his head hitting the soft pillows, and he took a deep breath. Fuck this, fuck her, fuck his feelings, fuck her feelings… This was too much. Now, he was even indebted to her because she saved his life. Fuck… So, that's how the morning was going to go.

That afternoon, Hermione was told by McGonagall that she and Zac were able to go to Hogsmead that weekend in case they needed anything from the village. She also told the pair to begin planning for the Yule Ball, as the whole goal was to keep spirits high. Zac looked overjoyed at the duties, but Hermione was less than amused. She had bigger issues to worry about than planning a stupid Ball or going to Hogsmead… though, the change of scenery may be nice. She found herself wondering about what Draco would do if she was away when Zac began to walk in pace next to her.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," he commented. If Zacharias Smith was anything, it certainly wasn't shy. "You've been working so hard, Hermione, all of the D.A. lessons, plus classes, plus trying to help Harry and Ron… I think you need a break."

A break? That was highly out of the question.

"I don't have time for breaks," Hermione mumbled.

"Hermione," Zac insisted, and stopped walking. He side-stepped her so he was in front of her, his radiant blue eyes gleaming. Hermione sighed, staring up at him. She realized he had her pinned from all sides, but was still trying to desperately find a way around his clutches. "I know you're going to try to get out of going to Hogsmead, but I must insist you go. If anyone in this castle deserves a little time away, it's you."

"Thank you, Zac, that's very kind of you –"

"Hermione, I mean it," he said sternly. "You're always so focused on doing everything for everyone else, like making sure that the third floor girls lavatory is clean after that damn pipe bursts all the time. Or making sure Ginny is doing okay with being away from Harry. Or making sure everyone is ready to fight in case the worst happens. Hermione, you are one of the bravest, smartest, and beautiful women I know. Please."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Suddenly, she was second-guessing Dean and Seamus' comments about how all Zac wanted was to get into her pants. The Head Boy seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being, and it wasn't a feeling she had since Harry and Ron had left months ago. Offering Zac a small smile, she realized that maybe she did need a break.

"Okay, fine," she agreed. "But, just this once."

"Perfect, when should I come get you?" Zac asked, almost too anxiously.

"I will meet you in the Great Hall on Saturday," Hermione replied.

"Great! Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm?"

"No, that's okay. I'm going to go spend some time with Ginny," Hermione said. "Thank you… for making me realize that it's okay too…"

"Have a life?" Zac chuckled. "No problem. You won't regret it, trust me."

Hermione sighed sadly as Zac walked down the hallway. He did express genuine interest in her. Though she wasn't the best looking witch in her year, she knew she had somewhat of sex appeal, or at least Viktor Krum and Cormack thought so. Zac also accepted her for who she was, and what she was… He was also smart, quirky, and witty, with a subtle charm that only Zac could possess. As she stared down the hall at him, a familiar feeling of anxiety popped up in her tummy. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated.