A/N: Wow wow wow. I'm so honored with all of the amazing feedback. From the readers who have been reviewing since Chapter 1, to the people who've binge-read over the past week, to the Guests that I can't respond to - Thank You. I'm so glad that you're all enjoying the story, and I'm excited to give you Draco's perspective after TRTTD is finished.

Enjoy!

It was the first Saturday after classes resumed, and Hermione's brain needed a break. The Christmas holidays were relaxing enough, but getting used to the Time-Turner again after that break was taxing. That and the boys were not speaking to her. Again.

Between Scabbers and the Firebolt, neither Ron nor Harry felt very inclined to spend much time with her. That was fine. Telling Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt was the right thing to do.

She'd slept in past breakfast, and finding no one waiting for her in the common room, she headed to the library. There was a fiction book that she read at least once every six months to relax or to stimulate her tired mind. Today would be a wonderful day to get lost in it.

She waved to Madam Pince - who did not wave back - and headed to the fiction stacks, looking for the second shelf from the bottom, left side, twelve stacks back. She scanned the second shelf for the green and gold spine. It was not there. She looked to see if some idiot had replaced it incorrectly, but it was not found anywhere.

She approached Madam Pince and asked if the book had been checked out, and after being hushed, Pince told her that it was not.

Hermione frowned. So, someone was currently reading it in the library. She looked about. It was the kind of book that very few people would find entertaining. It had no pictures. Hermione smiled to herself. She had suggested that particular book to several people whenever they tried asking the bookworm for a book recommendation. Not Parvati, not Justin, nor a strange girl named Luna had found the book interesting enough. She had caught Penelope Clearwater with the book one Wednesday evening in the library, and after gushing about it, asking Penelope who her favorite character was, did she laugh at this part, etc., Penelope let her know that she in fact "couldn't really get into it" and was returning it just then.

Perhaps the person who had it had grown bored with it and left it off the shelf. She searched the tables and happened upon her favorite table, occupied by Draco Malfoy, reading a book with a green and gold spine.

Hermione sighed. Life wasn't fair.

Her favorite table. Her favorite book. Her least favorite boy.

She took a seat at a neighboring table and glared at him, hoping maybe he would feel her hateful gaze and do the honorable thing. Leave.

She pulled a book off the shelf to look busy and took out her notebook and quill. She watched as Malfoy flipped a page and his eyebrows shot up.

Damn him. He was actually interested in the book. Her book. She strained her neck a bit to figure out what chapter he was on. It looked like he was about a quarter of the way in, and Hermione figured that he would be getting to the part where the prince is transfigured into a dog. The reactions of the rest of the characters were so absurd and the writing was so precise that it was the funniest two pages Hermione had ever remembered reading in her life.

She glared at Malfoy. He wouldn't find it funny. He didn't deserve this book. The main character was a young woman who lived in the Muggle world and was pulled into a different realm. How would he possibly connect?

She huffed. He would put it down soon. He wouldn't laugh as she did, covering her mouth, giggles bubbling from her as the situation worsened. He couldn't—

He smiled. She watched the grin crack his lips apart, showing his teeth. He caught himself and pressed his lips together. Hermione frowned. Perhaps he was laughing at how awful he thought the writing was, making fun of the author in his head.

A puff of air burst from his closed lips, and he pressed his knuckles to his mouth. She could just make out the corner of his lips, pulling upwards. She'd never seen him smile like that. His smiles were always cruel, more of a smirk really.

His eyes were bright with joy, and Hermione read the book through him. The prince had just been transfigured into a dog, and the Queen laughed, commenting on how much more handsome he now looked. One of the trolls said he smelled nicer too, and then the dog took off, running through the castle, barreling through the feast, confusing the guests, and then the wizard said Hermione's favorite line in the book –

Draco chuckled. He immediately looked up, embarrassed, and turned to find her watching him. She looked down before he could snarl at her. It was so much nicer to see him smile and laugh. She didn't want to ruin it.

She heard him shuffle a bit, close the book, and she peeked as he stood and left the table, taking the book with him. She watched as he checked it out with Madam Pince and left the library.

She stared after him, wondering what she would do now.

Hermione ran from Malfoy Manor like someone was chasing her. She flew through the iron gates that she recognized from "that night," stopping only to test if she was clear to Apparate. When she could not, she ran again toward the top of a hill. Once she tried from there, she popped away.

She reappeared in her living room. She panted, sucking air in and forcing it out. She dropped her bag and put away her wand. She paced the room, trying to catch her breath.

He wasn't going to buy you. He was going to save you.

She pressed her eyes closed. She felt the cold of Azkaban on her skin, Lucius's eyes itching at her pores.

It's only a matter of time, Hermione.

Narcissa's warm arms and her friendly gaze. Was it all a game? A plan?

She darted to the bathroom and flipped on the shower. She stripped, still panting, and jumped in before the water had heated.

She scrubbed at her skin under the cold water, shivering. The water ran down her face, mixing with tears starting to drip from her eyes.

So, tell me, Granger. I've been curious. Had events played out differently last spring, could I be 35,000 galleons richer?

She turned off the water and grabbed for her robe, wrapping it around herself. She headed to her bedroom, and collapsed on the bed, wet hair dampening her pillows.

One of them was lying. Draco told her he would sell her. Lucius said Draco planned to save her. Draco hissed at her that she was worth 35,000 to him, while Lucius plainly stated that Draco went to Narcissa's mother requesting 35,000 as a backup plan.

She blinked at her bedroom ceiling. This line of thinking was unnecessary. The Auction did not take place. The 35,000 galleons were hypothetical, regardless of who was paying it. What bothered her now was Narcissa informing Lucius that she and Draco were soon to be engaged.

The tears returned to her eyes. She took a shaky breath. How embarrassing. Every single person knew that she loved him, and every single person wanted them together. Ginny knew. Harry knew. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy knew. They had their own fan club, rooting for them, lead by Rita Skeeter and Morty –

Morty!

Hermione sat up, gasping. She checked her clock. 10:10AM. She cursed and jumped from bed as a pecking at her window caught her attention. She opened the glass and a small little owl flew in. Hermione grabbed up the note and found Morty's handwriting.

Miss Granger,

I hope you are well. Don't worry about coming in today if your appointment has delayed you. I will take care of the shop in your absence.

Please let me know if you are healthy so I can stop worrying. And don't fret.

Morty

Hermione screamed, crumpling the note. She could not remember the last time she'd been so distressed that she'd missed work, or an assignment, or class. She'd survived a war and still managed to maintain her grades. She was heaving for air again, pressing her palms against her eyes.

Hermione couldn't breathe. She was the most intelligent person she knew. The Brightest Witch of Our Age. And she would always be two steps behind the Malfoys.

She sucked in a slow breath, pulling her hands away from her red eyes. She focused her gaze on her wall, healing her mind, releasing her breath.

She was Hermione Fucking Granger. And she would get answers.

She wandlessly flipped on all the lights in her room. She grabbed a quill and wrote Morty back, saying she was very sorry, but the appointment did not go well at all and she would not be in today or tomorrow. She was perfectly healthy, but needed a day or so. She attached the note to the bird, and when it looked at her, begging for a treat, she glared at it, magic crackling. The bird took off.

She summoned her wand from her pile of clothes in the bathroom. It flew to her and she waved it at the wall facing her bed, removing pictures and mirrors. She pointed it at the chest next to her bed, and up flew all the newspaper clippings Ginny had cut for her, and those she had secretly saved herself.

Starting from the left, at the spot next to her door, Hermione pasted the article announcing Draco's trial date that had come out while she was at Hogwarts for her 8th year. Then Skeeter's "DRACO MALFOY: A FREED MAN" article, she stamped just to the right. She continued until she had a timeline.

As her eyes ran over the articles and pictures, Lucius's face glared at her from the article printed on her birthday. Draco had visited Lucius at Azkaban on September 18, and had walked away upset, according to the picture. He'd asked Lucius about releasing the inheritance, and Lucius had provided "a small amount" according to Draco. The rest would be released on January 1, "contingent on a few things."

Hermione wondered what kind of ultimatum Lucius had given him that day, and if it was anything like the ultimatums she'd received that morning.

She gnawed on her thumbnail as she read through the rest of the article – a habit she'd gotten rid of years ago. Draco had gone on a date with a French girl that night. Something teased at her memory.

Going on dates with that Bulgarian half-blood every time the two of you are pictured together in the paper.

What an assumption, Lucius. She scanned over every picture of Katya Viktor, finding "DRACO MALFOY FINDS LOVE." Their first date was just before he started work at the Ministry, before she and Draco were ever pictured together.

She found the second date with Katya. The article was actually published the day of Antonin Dolohov's trial. The day Draco told her about the Auction. He'd taken Katya to lunch the day before, only a handful of days after Draco visited his father in Azkaban. Her eyes scanned and found the first time Draco kissed her in the papers. It was a week after Narcissa, Draco, and she had sat down at Fortescue's. The most recent date was just last night. She ran her eyes backwards over the timeline and found the last article published about Draco featured the brawl with Ron, and their heated conversation in front of the cabins.

She filed this away. It wasn't much of a pattern, but Lucius still seemed to think that it meant something. He said nothing in that meeting today that wasn't meant to be heard, to be analyzed.

She stared at the article about the brawl from last week. She had questions. She took a quill and wrote notes directly on the wall, drawing arrows, circling words. Her eyes landed on the pictures from Fortescue's. He'd told her not to return home.

Tomorrow, she'd start there.

Several hours later there was a crackle and a whoosh from the living room. Harry. She'd owled him about twenty minutes ago asking him to pop in after dinner.

"Hermione?"

"Back here!"

Harry entered her bedroom cautiously, and from the way he looked at her, she could tell it was a disaster.

She sat on the floor in front of her bed, a carton of Chinese food she'd ordered earlier on her lap, chopsticks still clicking together in her fingers. She was still wearing her bathrobe, and her hair had dried naturally, which meant it was a tragedy. His eyes took her in, and then cast on the wall.

The Malfoy Wall, she'd named it.

His eyes were wide but cautious as they came back to her.

"What's happened?"

"Not a lot, and yet everything all at once," she replied.

"Did you go to work?"

"I took the day off to figure out a few things." She kept her eyes on the wall, not wanting to see his face now.

"What things?"

"I'm trying to spot a liar. And I need you to fill in a few gaps for me." She clicked her chopsticks together.

"…Alright –"

"What do you remember about that night at Malfoy Manor?"

He was quiet, and she looked up at him. His eyebrows had jumped and he turned to look at the Malfoy Wall. She'd expanded it quite a bit, adding in notes and questions to the printed articles, but then also continuing the timeline in reverse, working backwards from the first article and writing on the back of the door. Harry was seeing this now, she realized.

"I… I mean, I think I remember quite a lot. What is it that you don't remember?"

She jumped up, taking her chopsticks with her. "Do you remember anyone mentioning anything about an Auction? Or a monetary exchange for prisoners?" She turned to him. "Anything Wormtail or Greyback might have mentioned?"

"An Auction? No, nothing like that. The Snatchers were looking to turn us in for money, I think, but…" He faced her again. "Do you mind if I take your temperature?"

"Yes, I do mind." She walked to the wall and, with her chopsticks, stabbed the picture of Ron and Draco fighting. "Do you know why this fight started?"

He stepped closer to her, a timid smile on his face. "…Because it was someone's bright idea to let Ron and Malfoy on a Quidditch pitch together? Can I get you some water?"

"Ron said that Draco baited him. That if I'd heard what Draco said, I would have punched him, too. Did you hear it?"

Harry took a breath and looked away, which meant he was about to lie. "Er… not really, no."

"Harry Potter, does it look like I'm playing games today?"

Harry took her in. Pink bathrobe, one sock on, hair rising away from her head, dark circles, and still clicking a pair of chopsticks at him.

He sighed and looked away from her. "Well, I guess Ron accused Draco of showing off for you, or trying to score just to humiliate Ron. So, Ron told him to stay away from you, and… they started fighting." Harry looked at the picture, watching as the image of himself came into frame to pull Draco off of Ron.

"And you don't remember what Draco said to him?" she said.

Harry paused. "No."

"Would you prefer to give me your memory of the event? I have a Pensieve here."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a little crass, is all."

"Harry, I promise you, it won't even make the list of top ten most shocking things I've heard today."

Harry scratched his jaw, and stepped up to the pictures of the fight. "Well, Ron told him to stay away from you. He said something, like, 'you should find a new bookstore to patronize,' and 'stay away from Hermione.'" The moving picture on the wall repeated itself, starting from the top of the fight. Harry continued, "And then Draco said, 'Why? You've stayed away from her enough for the two of us.'"

She watched Draco's lips move in the picture, standing still and calm. Like his father.

Harry said, "And then Ron shoved him, I think – yes, right there." He pointed at the picture as Ron shoved Draco. "And Draco said…" Harry trailed off, and the picture continued. Draco's lips moved and then Ron punched him in the face.

"Harry?"

Harry looked down. "Well, I heard him say, something like, 'Ireland's a long way away. I was just keeping her warm for you.'"

Harry shuffled his shoes, blushing. Hermione watched as Draco regained his footing from the punch and snarled as he took Ron to the ground, attacking him.

Hermione laughed. Harry looked up at her while she giggled. "Oh, Merlin. Boys…" She shook her head pressed a thumb to her temple. Harry stood in silence while she watched the whole scene play out again, now knowing the dialogue.

To buy her.

She bit her nail. Watching as Draco treated her sexuality, and coincidently her virginity, like a commodity. It could have been to buy her.

Harry ran into frame, pulling Draco off of Ron, and Ron sucker punched him. Hermione winced. Or this Quidditch squabble could have no meaning. Just Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy finding another reason to hit each other in the face.

"Hermione," Harry said, and she looked at him. "I'll stay and answer more questions, but I'm going to get you some tea, alright?"

"Fine," she said, waving him away.

She heard him pad out of the room and start rummaging in the kitchen for the kettle. She grabbed up her quill and wrote on the wall, Ireland's a long way away. I was just keeping her warm for you.

She stepped back and looked at the Wall again. She considered making a graph of To Sell, To Buy, To Save, and marking little ticks under each every time an event or memory supported one. She looked for space on the wall and found she'd run out. She took another step back, taking in her room. This was lunacy.

She felt a headache coming on, and tears prick her eyes. How ridiculous was this? And she'd let Harry see her craze?

She heard a crackle and whoosh from the front room. Had Harry left? Had he abandoned her?

Voices from the front room, and then footsteps. Ginny opened her door slowly, pajamas, slippers and sleeping mask around her forehead. She looked around the room and Hermione blushed.

"The fuck is this?"

"I… I don't know. I think I've lost it." Hermione started sucking in air, about to break.

Harry poked his head around the door. "I didn't know what to do. She's been like this all day it seems," he whispered to Ginny.

"I got it, Potter," Ginny said, taking the tea from his hands.

"You're supposed to be in Istanbul. You have a game tomorrow morning." Hermione tried to pull her hair away from her face and off her neck, getting it into control somehow.

Ginny ignored her and turned her attention to the Wall. Hermione felt the heat creep up her neck as Ginny examined her madness and Harry stood like a guard at the door. Ginny turned to her.

"What did he do?"

Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't Draco. It was Lucius." She heard Harry shift in the doorway. Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "But it wasn't Lucius only. It's all three of them." Hermione sighed and sat on the foot of her bed, facing the Wall.

"How is Lucius involved?" Ginny asked, after she was sure Hermione wasn't going to elaborate.

"I went to see him in Azkaban today." Hermione closed her eyes when there was silence in the room, not wanting to see her friends' reactions to her gullibility. "Narcissa set it up. She said he just wanted to thank me for speaking at Draco's trial, but instead he was drawing up the marriage contracts."

She looked up and Ginny was staring at her with wide, greedy eyes. Harry's brows were drawn together.

"Well," Harry said, "That escalated quickly."

She told them about the list, about Narcissa and the ring. She told them about Lucius's insistence that there was a romantic relationship between Draco and her. And when she got to the Auction, she stuttered, and looked over to Harry. Ginny sent him out of the room, much to his confusion.

"And so, you decided to make a serial killer wall?" Ginny questioned after Hermione had told her the rest. Ginny sat next to her on the bed.

"I just… I'm so tired of being confused and not understanding. I'm trying to understand."

Ginny nodded, looking over the Wall. She turned to her. "Do you remember what was on his 'list?'" She smirked.

Hermione looked at the Wall. She'd purposefully avoided writing the list on the Wall, as she had no intention of abiding by it. But, of course, that meant that she had it running through her head for several hours now.

"Graceful, table manners, good at hosting, witty, charming, social leader, beautiful, fashionable, level headed, financially knowledgeable, obedient, trained in décor, practiced dancer, intelligent, cool tempered… and pure-blood."

Ginny laughed. "Come on, Granger. What's difficult about those? Several of them come to you naturally, like 'obedient' and 'cool tempered.'"

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you're here Gin, but I wish you hadn't come. It's late in Turkey now."

Ginny waved her off and said, "Well, from the way I see it, Granger, you have two choices." Ginny stood and pointed at the Wall. "You can take that thing down, get some sleep, and tomorrow, choose to move forward from the Malfoys. Choose to ignore Draco Malfoy and treat him like a co-worker at best. Not your ex-fiancé."

Hermione grimaced, and Ginny continued. "Or, leave it up, sleep in my room so you can rest, and when I'm back on Monday we'll start going through this together, while you ignore Draco Malfoy and treat him like a co-worker and not your ex-fiancé."

Hermione rolled her eyes. And Ginny said, "I'd prefer you choose option one, but I think it's option two. But, either way, you're not to begin looking into any of this alone. Do you hear me, Granger?"

Hermione nodded.

Twelve hours later, Hermione stood on the sidewalk in front of her childhood home, alone.

She could feel the magic humming from just two paces away from the front yard, and knew Malfoy had not been playing with her. Something happened here.

She looked up and down the street, now regretting that she'd come during daylight. She knew none of her neighbors would recognize her anymore, that's why she hadn't erased their memories as well. She'd been gone for so long.

She stepped onto the drive, and felt a buzz course through her. Someone had cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm on the house. And it hadn't been her. That would explain why the house had not been sold or touched.

Moving to the front door, she shielded her wand from view, and muttered, "Specialis Revelio." Nothing. There were no hexes or charms waiting for her inside. She took a breath and opened the door.

It was exactly as she expected. Nothing. The end table beside the door where her mother would drop her keys and her father would forget his umbrella was gone. There was a faint outline on the wall where the picture of the three of them in London used to hang.

She closed the door behind her and tried, "Homenum Revelio." Nothing. She closed her eyes. There was no hum of magic.

Hermione stepped forward, poking her head around the entrance to the front room. All furniture removed, and the outline of pictures on the wall. She continued on into the kitchen, and found it bare, several drawers left open and the steady drip of the faucet her father could never tighten. She took the route from the kitchen into the living area, and turning the corner, that was when she found it.

Splashed across the wall above the fireplace where the pictures and greeting cards used to sit, where her mother and she would hang garland at Christmas, were glistening red letters, dripping.

Mudblood,

You can run, but they can't hide.

She shivered. She turned around herself quickly, making sure there was no one lurking behind her. And her eyes landed back on the words, clearly written in blood, the "y" in "they" had dripped down past the scrawl and had just reached the bricks of the fireplace before it dried.

She just received a letter from Monica Wilkins last week. It had said that the two of them were fine and just getting over a cold. They were going snorkeling next week for their anniversary. She knew in her brain that her mother and father had survived, but her heart needed reassurance.

She needed to know whose blood was winding down her walls.

She raised her wand and said, "Dominus Sanguinem." The letters shook and peeled off the wall. They twisted around each other in a little red tornado, heading toward her wand. They spun as they formed a red silhouette, shaping into three-dimensions.

It was a man, and Hermione's heart leapt as she waited for her father's thin jaw line to appear or his thin eyebrows.

The features morphed into a pointed face, with a firm jaw and eyes she knew were grey, and she watched as Draco Malfoy's blood swirled into a visage of himself.

He had been here. And he had splashed blood on her living room walls.