Good evening guys! There's always some sort of great pride that you get when you're privileged enough to write a story such as this. I'm thankful that you all are reading this. Please remember to review – I love to hear from you guys. Also, the amount of followers has gone up so much in the little amount of time that this story has been up. I'm so excited! We are also at almost 2,000 views. Keep it going people! :D Tell your friends, most of them don't want you to know how big of nerds they really are! Frogster also asked how many women has Draco slept with. He's slept with quite a few, maybe upwards of 7-10. Don't look at him any differently, our poor boy was just going through his teenage angst.

Chapter 12: Grey

Hermione sat on her cream window seat, watching the amber glow of the torches on the frozen ground intently. Her hazel eyes blinked as she watched the laughter of a few students outside, holding hands and gripping onto one another to keep warm. She was still wearing Draco's shirt, and it was keeping her warm against the cool window. Her mind wandered as she stared outside. She could see a few of the towers and the reflection of the moonlight on the lake. It truly was beautiful, in an eerie and still way. Her fingers curled around her ankles as she watched outside for anything she could focus on, yet found nothing. Distraction to keep her thoughts of Draco at bay was essential, yet she couldn't find anything to keep her from thinking about him.

She had kissed him… Godric, had she really been that stupid? Uttering a small sigh, she remembered how she had felt when he softened his eyes and looked at her like she was the only thing keeping his universe afloat. She saw the flicker of horrid realization cross over Draco's eyes, and she saw his lips part, knowing that he would begin to insult her and go to cower in his room like he always did. But, she had stopped that. In her heart, it was what she wanted. And when she had pressed her lips against his, it was like a rush of purity, of happiness, or an intense shock that rumbled through her body. Hermione knew it was wrong, but Merlin, did it feel right…

And then his outburst. Of course, because he couldn't just leave well enough alone. For a few minutes, she didn't know how to comfort him, or if she would have even let him kiss her again if she wanted too. But, obviously her constant assuring him that things were going to be okay worked, because he let his guard down, allowing her to climb into the space between his legs and chest. At that point, Hermione was tired of him pushing her away and she just wanted comfort, the comfort that Harry or Ron would've been there to give her if her world wasn't so royally screwed up. She half-thought he would push her away, but he didn't, and that meant a lot to her. For the first time, she fell asleep that close to him. It felt right and just.

Awakening a few hours later, when it was finally dark outside, she realized that Draco had taken her to her bed and covered her. He also closed the door to leave her alone in her privacy, but that's not what she wanted. Even now, when she was curled up on her window seat, staring outside. How long had she been awake? Having not looked at the clock when she awoke, she didn't know. It seemed like forever.

Merlin, she missed the boys something fierce. It was almost as if the icy chill that lingered outside her window something traveled through the glass and intertwined itself with her warm body. She had grown cold thinking about them and the constant battle of if they were alive or not. If there had been any other way to keep this war from happening, Hermione would've taken it. But, since there wasn't, she was stuck here, back to her reality. That reality was so much colder than the cool air outside ever could be.

Draco had stared at his creation for a long while before realizing that he wasn't the stupidest bloke in the world. He had created a wonderful Stir-Fry out of the vegetables and cooked chicken in the freezer, complete with rice and two butterbeers. The question was: would it be an adequate apology? Saying sorry was never in Draco's vocabulary; actions undoubtedly spoke more than words did anyhow. He had set the meal in two plates across the table from one another, reminding himself of the way his mother set the table. It was the only way that he knew how.

It had taken him quite some time to prepare the meal without magic, and when he noticed that Hermione still hadn't emerged from her room, he became quickly logical. She would probably sleep through the night. But, then all of his work would've been for nothing and he wasn't about to let that happen. With quick strides, he walked over to her bedroom door and knocked twice.

Hermione's head perked up. Her heart was jumping out of its chest as she rolled herself off of the ledge and absently ran a hand over Crookshanks as she passed. She opened the door to see Draco, his normal nonchalant expression on his face. Looking up at him, she wondered what he could possibly be doing.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked. Then she smelled it. Food. Draco had prepared food. She craned her neck to see two plates with steam rising on them. "Draco, you made dinner –"

"Yeah, always the tone of surprise," he muttered, looking slightly embarrassed yet confident. "Why are you still standing there?"

Hermione walked over to the table to see that he truly had prepared a wonderfully delightful looking dinner. She took her seat across from him, seeing that he was still in his khakis, but his shirt was different: it was a dark navy blue that brought out the grey in his eyes. He watched as she picked up her fork and took a bite of his creation, worried that she would spit it back out, but she didn't. Her eyes gleamed as she chewed.

"This is really good," she commented and took another bite. "Thank you."

"Yeah," Draco said and took a bite himself. Not bad, Malfoy, you fucking prick. "When I was reading one of the books about wands, something came to me."

Hermione's eyebrows raised and she set down her fork. "What was that?"

"I think I know why Voldemort needs a new wand," he said, meeting her eyes. "You're not going to like it, in fact you're going to fucking hate it, and it's going to make everything a hell of a lot worse."

"Spit it out –"

"I need you to get something first. McGonagall should have a copy…"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco –"

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard," Draco reviled finally, holding his breath.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, very confused.

"How could you possibly not know what The Tales of Beedle the Bard are?" Draco demanded in shock. Then, he remembered that she was Muggle-born. "Right, I forgot that you were raised incompetently –"

"Is this a quite popular… collection of books?" Hermione asked, choosing to his ignore his insult.

"Book," Draco corrected. "And yes."

"I'll go get it now –"

"Bloody hell, Granger, just sit down," Draco barked, reminding himself a lot of his father at that moment. Hermione had risen halfway out her chair, but slowly sat back down, looking him dead in the eye with a surprised, yet intrigued that he had taken control like that. "You went this long without knowing, a little longer isn't going to kill you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her fork again, toying with her food. "Why are you trying to help us?"

Draco looked up, replying with a tone that was as cold and solemn as ice. "I am not trying to help The Order."

"So, why are you trying to help me?" Hermione asked. When Draco didn't answer her, she came to her own conclusion. "You hate him just as much as we do."

Draco looked physically pained to speak. "Why the fuck shouldn't I? He's the whole reason I'm in this mess."

"I know," Hermione said softly. She twiddled her fork in between her fingers, deep in thought now. "If Voldemort asked you to join him again, would you?"

A flicker of astonishment that she could even ask such a question went over Draco's sharp features, resulting in Hermione bracing herself for the inevitable argument that was sure to follow. Draco half looked down at his food and looked back up at Hermione underneath his light lashes.

"I told you I hate him," he growled dangerously. "My father was in Azkaban for a year because of him. The whole reason why everyone thinks I'm dead is because he gave me the mission to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione shuddered at hearing the words come out of Draco's mouth. The memory was still fresh in her mind, like a wound that wouldn't scab over. Draco put his fork down beside his plate, a sign showing that he was done eating. Done with the conversation. Done with her. Ever more so, he arose from the chair, making Hermione narrow her eyes.

"Don't do this, Draco," she said, rising to her feet as well. "Don't shut me out."

"Why would I tell you anything?" he snarled, brushing past her to beeline for his room.

"We were actually having a conversation –"

"A bloody stupid one if you ask me –"

"DRACO!" Hermione screamed from behind him. The scream stopped him dead in his tracks, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was a sound he would never forget: mixed with anger and panic. Anger that he was being a prat, panic that he couldn't give her a straight answer. "Do not walk away from me like that!"

"You don't understand," Draco murmured, not wanting to turn around for fear of what he may see. "You never will understand what it's like."

"Maybe you should stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something about it!"

"What can I do!?" Draco roared, turning around to face her now. She was panting, her curly hair had come out of the bun she had woven it into. "In case you've forgotten, I am STUCK in this shithole!"

"There's nothing we can do about that right now!" Hermione yelled back. "You have got to start acting like an adult, Draco! Why do I need to go get a book? Why can't you tell me now?"

"You need to read it before you understand," Draco barked. "And I am acting like an adult! You would be this way if you were in my situation too!"

"No, I wouldn't be! I would be looking for ways to prepare myself, just like I am now –"

"Prepare yourself for what?" Draco narrowed his grey eyes. "The Ministry falling? A battle? A battle that you cannot win, Granger!" He felt his heart constricting at that thought of her being killed at the hands of a Death Eater, inevitably one of his family members. "Don't ask me to prepare for something that you cannot win!"

"What if we could win?" Hermione asked evenly. "You underestimate us –"

"No, you underestimate him!" Draco shouted, his hands in the air now. "You don't know what he is capable of! He has no remorse, his head is so fucked up, all he cares about is taking over, and you have got to see that!"

"Of course I see that!" Hermione barked. "I've been living this hell too, Draco, since he came back three years ago!"

"Three years ago was different," Draco groaned. "He has thousands of followers now, and you have students!"

"We have The Order –"

"Who has their own agendas, mark my words –?"

"HOW DARE YOU –"

Draco's stare caught Hermione off-guard to the point of snapping her mouth shut. It was the look of seriousness, like he had seen something that she had ignored long ago. Draco knew – as well as Hermione – that The Order, as good of people as they were, also had their own incentive for this battle. Even though they were protecting the innocent, there had to be more than just that. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and peered at him through dainty eyelashes.

"What do you know that I don't?" she asked assertively.

"A lot, it's not that hard to outsmart you –"

"DRACO! This is important! If you know something I don't know about The Order now would be the time to tell me!"

"Like you would trust what I had to say anyway," Draco retorted. She made the fire arise in his chest again, warming his insides close to what hot chocolate did. For a moment, he couldn't get over how incredibly beautiful she looked: with her hair halfway out of its bun and his black shirt exposing one of her freckled shoulders. The way that she looked at him now made him feel so alive, yet so guilty. "Granger, look, don't you think it's odd that they've been keeping me around for this long?"

"No, they wanted to help you," Hermione said cautiously.

"Or they were betting that I would tell you what I didn't tell them," Draco told her, his tone driven now, almost fierce.

Realization dawned upon Hermione like a flame lighting touching a wick. She didn't say anything, just wet her dry lips from the yelling, and backed herself into the couch, sitting down slowly, and her hazel eyes still locked with Draco's. He noticed that she had visibly calmed down, so he took a few strides towards her and with great reluctance sat down next to her. His protective instinct was strong now. Salazar strike him down, if it was up to him, they wouldn't be in this situation at all. An odd idea came to him and he raised her eyebrows.

"We could leave."

Hermione turned to look at him in shock. "Leave? No, I can't, Draco. Harry and Ron –"

"I don't want you to be a part of this," Draco told her meaningfully. For the first time in a long time, it was something that didn't faze him or make him remember that he was truly a Slytherin. He meant every syllable; there was no doubt in his mind.

Hermione's eyes widened at his words. Maybe all the influence she had on him, from the arguing to the makeover to the living together was beginning to show. He cared for her now, and she saw it in his eyes. This time, there was no flicker of realization, no outburst, and just pure worry. It reminded her of the way Zac looked at her, yet more defined.

"I can't leave," she whispered, turning towards him. There was pain in her eyes and her heart that she hoped Draco could interpret. "I'm too far invested into this. You should understand that. I need to go get that book now…"

Draco didn't say anything as Hermione stood up and left the dorm. He found himself in his room not a few seconds later, petrified at the thought of losing her. The image of her dying as a green curse hit her in the chest played in his mind, and what was even more disturbing was that it was his father who cast it. Draco didn't feel the anger, just felt the wood that collided with his fist, the searing heat of the glass mirror breaking underneath his knuckles, and tingles that shot through his leg after he successfully kicked the dresser, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. He felt the leather covers of the books he threw under his fingertips and then the softness of the Egyptian cotton sheets as he ripped them seam from seam. He didn't stop until there were wooden splinters littering his bedroom floor, and his room was destroyed beyond recognition. It didn't soothe his temper, so he continued to destruct everything in his room, from the walls being dented to the curtains being torn off the rods and ripped into shreds.

Finally, he lowered himself onto the floor, every bit of his body throbbing with searing pain. His eyes were bloodshot from the splinters he had created, making his vision blurry as tears began to form. He rested his head against the front of his bed, running his fingers through his blonde hair and heaving air. Even after his rage-induced fit, he couldn't get the picture of Hermione, still as a statue, a smile on her face that was slowly fading, in a bright flash of green light. He followed that very light to the end of the black wand that belonged to his father, who had a look of pride in his grey eyes. Those grey eyes that reminded him so much of his own…

Draco had asked her to leave with him. It was a notion that he couldn't understand, similar to when he told Potter to get her to safety three years ago… At that exact moment, all he wanted to do was take her and run... as far away from Hogwarts as he could. The image of a small cottage on the sands of the sea looked like an ideal solitude. He could picture her walking along the sandy beach, the warm grains between her toes. Never had she looked so beautiful, in a long dress, her curls blowing in the breeze. She had someone beside her: a boy. A boy with hazel eyes and blonde hair…

A groan escaped Draco's lips as he clutched his hair. No… No… She was inferior. Her kind shouldn't be allowed to exist, let alone mate. Allowing another disgusted groan to escape his lips, he came to the conclusion that maybe Hermione was right: she was a person, a very real person, regardless of her blood-status. That meant that he, his family, had been brainwashed for generations from that evil creature preaching about eliminating Muggle-borns and half-bloods forever and having a race of pure-blooded wizards. Draco felt wetness sliding down his cheek, but he didn't even bother to wipe it away. If they had indeed been brainwashed, then he was redeemed, but his parents were not. The thought troubled him, knowing now what a great deal of danger that Hermione was in now. Somehow, it justified him wanting to touch her, to kiss her…

Draco didn't know how long he stayed against the bed, his head slumped back, and his hands still at the back of his head. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. His thoughts swarmed in his head, too loud and ornery for him to notice much of anything else. He just didn't know what to believe or how to feel anymore.

Hermione walked through the corridors, using her wand to guide her way to McGonagall's office. She had passed a few students heading to their knitting's, but hadn't engaged in conversation. Draco had asked her to leave with him… She wasn't sure whether she should be afraid or flattered. Even as she rounded into the Headmistress' office, her mind was wandering far away where it shouldn't have been.

"May I help you, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, seeing the young witch in the doorway.

Hermione jumped a little at the sound of her voice, but steadied herself quickly. "Yes, Professor, I believe I may have some important information to tell you."

McGonagall took off her glasses. "Go ahead."

Hermione sat down in front of her desk and clasped her hands. "Draco and I were talking, and he believes he knows why Voldemort is after a new wand."

"I thought I made it very clear not to tell Draco anything –"

"He's been trying to help, Professor," Hermione interrupted her. On any other occasion, she would've apologized immediately, but not tonight. "He's told me about his father, about what happened from his point of view, even about Horcruxes. He was the one who told me that Gregorovitch was a wand maker and a Dark Magic advocate."

McGonagall sighed and looked at Hermione sternly. "Somehow, I knew that it would happen eventually."

"It's what you wanted, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, not knowing the words left her mouth until after she had spoken. McGonagall kept Hermione's gaze, not breaking it even when she spoke.

"Hermione, you must understand how great of an asset Draco is to The Order. Voldemort does not know he is alive, which we can use to our advantage," she explained.

"So this entire time you've been using me to get information out of him?" Hermione whispered, in shock that the people she was so close to used her, forced her to go through hell and a handbasket, just to get information.

"He is a very great asset, Hermione," McGonagall repeated. "Please try to understand. Now, why does Draco think Voldemort is after a new wand?"

"I need a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard," murmured Hermione.

"Whatever for?" McGonagall asked with her eyebrows raised.

"Draco said he needs it to show me," Hermione replied. McGonagall looked at her like she was the maddest person in the world, but regardless arose to her bookshelf and skimmed through the shelves until she found a copy of the children's book. When she handed it to Hermione, Hermione could barely contain her shock and surprise that it was stories made for children. How would that help them?

"It's curious, isn't it?" McGonagall asked. "I wonder what Mr. Malfoy is onto."

"I don't know," Hermione murmured absently, running her hand over the cover of the book. "Thank you, Professor."

Hermione turned and left the office, her hand still stroking the cover of the book. Either Draco was messing with her head again or there was something truly useful between these pages. Absently flipping through them, she didn't notice a black rush behind her. It looked out from beyond the corner of the hallway, watching her every move. When it was sure that Hermione was deep in her book and not going to turn around, a green rush of light soared through the air, aiming to hit her right in the back.

"PROTEGO!" yelled a familiar voice, and Hermione yelped as her waist was grabbed and she was pulled behind a wall. She saw the shield absorb the green light, a chill racing through her body. When she turned to see who had pulled her away, they moved her to the other side of them before blocking another curse.

"Zac! What the hell is going on?" Hermione gasped, watching him duck out of the way of a purple lit jinx. Hermione pulled her wand out and peeked out of the corner.

"No, don't, they're after you!" Zac pushed her back out of view and fired a jinx down the hallway.

"What? Who is after me?" Hermione demanded, her heart beating incredibly fast in her chest. Zac backed out of the hallway and faced her with his back against the wall.

"I don't know," came his truthful response. His baby blue eyes were full of contempt and confidence. "Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Anyone been following you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Yes, I thought someone was following me, but it turned out to be nothing."

"Obviously that's not the case," Zac muttered as another spell hit the wall to their left. He reached his arm out and shot another jinx that hit the wall behind the mysterious figure. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving, Zac!" Hermione insisted. "Where's the staff? Someone should've heard this by now!"

"No idea," Zac replied and shot a Body-Blind Curse at the figure. Luckily enough for him, the curse hit the figure in the chest and it toppled backwards. Heaving a sigh of relief and hearing footsteps along the corridor, Zac straightened himself up and began moving out into the hallway. "C'mon, it's safe now."

Hermione followed him, their wands still bared, making their way towards the hooded figure. Their hood was pointed at the top, and their robes dark black. Hermione's heart jumped when she realized it was a Death Eater. Their mask was still upon their face, staring up at them with a shiny metallic grace. Zac and Hermione exchanged a look as Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick came from different directions.

"What have we here?" Snape asked softly, his gaze falling onto the stunned body on the floor.

"Oh my Lord," McGonagall covered her heart with her hand. "Hermione, Zacharius, you aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, ma'am," Zac replied. "Is this a Death Eater then?"

"It appears so," Flitwick chimed, holding his wand to the figure on the floor.

"Let's take a look and see who our friend is," Snape said, his tone a mere whisper. With a flick of his wand, the mask whisped away to reveal a very feminine face: solid in features because of the curse, yet easily recognizable that upon seeing her, Hermione was sick to her stomach.

"Parkinson," Zac said sourly, kneeling down beside her.

"What happened?" Flitwick asked the Head Boy.

"Hermione was walking down the hall, and I was coming around the corner. I saw a flash of green light, and Parkinson at the end of the hallway. I casted a shield charm and got Hermione out the way. We shot a few spells back and forth, and she seemed to only be aiming for Hermione," explained Zac. "Now, Hermione did say that she thought someone was following her."

McGonagall looked from Pansy to Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me, Miss Granger?"

"I thought it was nothing, Professor," Hermione replied sheepishly.

"You are lucky Smith was here, Granger," Snape told her curtly. Hermione looked to the ground, still clutching the children's book in her hands. "Obviously Ms. Parkinson was intent on killing you."

"Yes, but why?" Hermione asked, staring down at Pansy's frozen face.

"Many reasons, mainly because you are Muggle-born and a member of The Order," McGonagall replied, casting a glance at Snape. "She must've snuck in through one of the secret passages. Severus, see to it that they are all blocked off. Also, extend the wards and strengthen them. We can't allow an incident like this to happen again."

"What do you want us to do with Miss Parkinson?" asked Flitwick.

"I will handle that. Please escort Hermione back to her dorm, Mr. Smith," McGonagall ordered.

Zac put a hand on Hermione's back, leading her back down the hallway, wand still clenched in his right hand. As soon as they were out of earshot from the Proffessors, he looked at her, worry in his eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," Hermione said quietly.

"Don't mention it," Zac shrugged, like his actions were something he did every day. "I just worry about you. You're not even safe here anymore."

"No, I'm fine. McGonagall is taking the right precautions," said Hermione.

"They're not letting Muggle-borns come back after the Holidays," Zac told Hermione, to which she only sighed. "Are you staying here?"

"I'm assuming so since no one informed me otherwise," she said softly. They came up on her dorm, and she turned to look at Zac. "I'm sorry I've been so rude to you lately, Zac, I've just got so much on my plate with the boys, the D.A. –"

"Hermione," Zac took her left hand, the one not gripping the book. His eyes were warm and inviting, almost to the point of which Hermione wanted to stay with him. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize because I just saved your life."

"I do, though, it was awfully brave," Hermione confessed, smiling a little. "Thank you. I'm not used to being, uhm, saved."

Zac chuckled. "Go get some sleep. I'll come get you tomorrow morning before class."

"Okay," Hermione agreed and mumured the password for to unlock her dorm door as soon as Zac was around the corner. Even with her heart beating a million miles an hour, she managed to slip inside, where she knew she was safe. But, her blonde counterpart was no where to be seen. "Draco?"

Draco hadn't heard her come in. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even see her. When she found him, he was slumped against his bed, overcome with his thoughts and emotions that he didn't know how to control. Hermione's eyes were wide anguish and worry when she saw Draco against his bed and the room around him torn into pieces. So much had happened tonight that her chest was physically strained, but she knelt in front of Draco, pushing his blonde hair from his forehead. Her concern for his well-being had come quite naturally for her, even as she could've just been killed not ten minutes prior. Hermione's hands drifted to his cheeks, turning him to face her, and he met her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking around him to the mess he had created. Hermione had taken out her wand and began to drift things back into place, mending the objects he had destroyed. There was something very ironic about it, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He watched her as she did so, studying her face, seeing that she herself was just as struck as he was.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, leaning down in front of him once again. The room was tidy now, as though his tempter tantrum never happened. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What, Granger?" he asked, allowing her to pull him onto his bed. They sat opposite one another, Hermione's eyes wide and scared. "What happened?"

"Pansy tried to kill me," Hermione whispered, still not all convinced that the events of ten minutes ago occurred.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Draco asked, his heart skipping a beat. "Why?"

"She left over a month ago, Draco, with almost all the seventh year Slytherins," Hermione told him, her hands weaving around one another in her lap. "She was stalking me, I was just to naiive to realize it."

"Do you think she knows about me being here?" Draco asked, his eyes narrow.

"No," Hermione replied. "But, she was trying to kill me whether that be on her own accord or by someone else's. She was dressed as a Death Eater."

Draco's eyes went from narrow to wide. "Pansy was?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," he mumbled, adverting his gaze away from her. "I just… don't know what to say."

"It's fine," Hermione said softly, purposefully not mentioning how Zac had saved her life, realizing it wouldn't have been a good idea with the current situation on both their sides. "I brought you that book."

Draco's eyes glanced up and over to the book behind her. He grabbed it off of the sheets and began to page through it. "Here."

Hermione, interested in what he had to show her, leaned over to him, where he was pointing to the beginning of a story.

"The Tale of the Three Brothers," Hermione mumured, running her fingers over the page. "That's what you wanted to show me?"

"I'm going to read it to you," Draco replied, his eyes warning Hermione not to question his logic. "Pay attention, Granger. This will change everything."