A/N: I apologize if it took me so long to upload this chapter. I actually finished this last week and was excited to upload it right away, but I encounted problems when I tried doing so and it was driving me crazy not able to upload! I tried to upload everyday since last week and all i got was this uploading error. Finally, today I get to upload it. I hope it was worth the wait on your part. Let me know what you think :)

This chapter is Draco-centric. I know, it's vague, but I promise I'll explain everything when the time is right.

Again, I would like to thank everybody who reviewed and added this story as a favorite.

I still don't own Harry Potter.

Draco lay awake on the less than comfortable bed the Toulson's had provided him with when they welcomed him into their two-storey home on the farm. It wasn't anything grand, they were simple people in a simple town after all. The house even looked worn down, but was still livable. You see, the Toulson's, in their mid-sixties, didn't have any children. And Richard Toulson didn't have the stamina he used to, to manage the farm by himself. So when this young stranger suddenly appeared in town with no memory, no friends and family to claim him, no money and no place to spend the night, he and his wife grabbed the chance and offered him food and shelter until he regains his memory in exchange for his help on the farm.

Richard and his wife, Margarette had learned of the stranger's name and thought how peculiar it was to name someone after a dragon. In the days that Draco had lived with them, they had discovered that he was really a nice young man who was smart and had impeccable manners, although with a really bad temper when he was frustrated. They figured that he was well-off by the tailored clothes he wore when they found him and the fact that he didn't seem to know how to work to save his life. It took a few weeks for him to settle with the farm work, complete with the outbursts of his temper, but they were pleased to see that he was a very hard working and determined lad.

Draco roomed in the basement along with the belongings the couple had kept into storage. They offered him the guest room, but he didn't want to impose on their privacy so he settled with the basement. Richard told him that he could utilize anything he could find useful in the basement and so he did. Draco cleaned up the basement and rummaged through heaps of junk, kind of reminding him of the Room of Requirement when he was fixing the vanishing cabinet.

He made a comfortable space for himself. It was simple; a bed with a lumpy mattress was situated under the only window on the upper half of the room, an old trunk where he kept his "stuff", a wobbly study table which he repaired and a bookshelf filled with moth-eaten muggle books which had been his company in the last two years.

His current accommodations were far from the comfort of his room from the Manor, but he figured it was a small price to pay. He'd actually learned to love the life on the farm, it was peaceful and no pressure at all. Everything around him was so serene in contrast to his life back at the Malfoy Manor that it was as if he was breathing fresh air for the first time. All the Dark Arts in the Manor was drowning him. He found it fulfilling to have work done by his own hands rather than having a house elf do all his biding. In fact, he hadn't used his wand in a year. If his father could see him now, he'd probably have a heart attack.

Thinking about his father made him miss home even more, especially his mother. He hadn't seen his mother in a long time and he missed her terribly. He missed how his mother would shower him with affection and spoil him rotten even though he was a young adult already, but he left for a reason. He was tired of his life, of the things that were expected of him. He knew he was a coward for running away, but he just needed time for himself, a time to re-evaluate his life. All he wanted was to escape his past, the wrong decisions he made, the people he hurt and the sins he committed, but never had he imagined that he would run into someone from his past, let alone her. Maybe it was fate or that so called destiny that brought her to him and he didn't really believe in all that divination crap, but the Gods must be smiling down on him.

He was staring blankly at his ceiling for who knows how long. It had been hours since he took Hermione back to her cottage and the moon was now high in the sky, moonlight hitting his immaculate face. He didn't really have a headache, but he didn't want her to get suspicious. He had mastered the art of occlumency that he could've just planted false memories, but he didn't want to lie to Hermione anymore than he already did. This was supposed to be his fresh start and he didn't want to start it resorting to his old Slytherin methods.

Ever since he was young, he'd lie his way out of anything. He was good at a lot of things, but this was something he excelled at. He was smart and he knew how to play the words right, making everything that came out of his mouth seem plausible. But the biggest lie he had uttered was telling her that she was nothing but a filthy, little mudblood. True, he'd been raised to hate muggle borns and he'd believed everything his father had told him, but he realized that they weren't at all what his father had said.

He met this girl, a muggle born on his first year, and he'd hated her for her birthright. It wasn't his own opinion, but his father's. Slowly, he'd begun to see the lie that he grew up believing in. She wasn't all that different from him, but still he'd preach that lie. He forced himself to believe it, for the approval of his father, but something had changed in him.

He was in his third year and he couldn't believe that she had punched him. Instead of hating her more, he'd developed this admiration for her. She was the only one who ever stood up to his bullying. Somehow he felt jealous of her, jealous of her courage to stand for what she believed in no matter what everyone else thought. He wished he was like her. It could've saved him years from his father's bullying, but he didn't have her Gryffindor courage. All he could do was admire her from afar, hiding his real feelings with the hate he showed her.

Draco could feel his eyelids growing heavy, the rhythm of the gentle breeze blowing through the trees and the chirping crickets, lulling him to sleep. There was a lot of buzzing in his mind and it wasn't just because he was getting drowsy. He also had his own questions for the Gryffindor. Why in the world would she say that they were friends back in school? Though he was glad she did. He knew it was a lie, but at least, even for a little while, he felt that he wasn't alone all those years in Hogwarts.

He saw Hermione's face before he finally surrendered to unconsciousness and he knew, he had to tell her the truth. Soon.

A/N: Don't forget to review. I want to know your thoughts. Thanks :)