Hello again dear readers, a big thank you to anyone and everyone who's followed or favorited or reviewed this story so far. This chapter is your reward. Be prepared for a bit of a heart to heart, and... well, that's all I've got to say. As always, happy reading :)

6. Confession

'So let me get this straight.' Ginny Weasley was propped up on one arm; her legs sprawled out behind her as she laid on one of the grassy slopes in the Hogwarts grounds. She and Hermione were both sat outside, basking in the glorious September sunshine on their first weekend back at school. Hermione had finished the lengthy essay she had needed to write for her Ancient Runes class on Friday evening, so luckily she had a free weekend. Ginny, on the other hand, had a number of incomplete homework that she had received throughout the week, but in her opinion procrastination in the form of sunbathing was far more beneficial than being cooped up studying in her dorm.

For the past half an hour, all Ginny had been talking about was how Ron and Hermione had managed to fall out...again. This time it was pretty serious, as the two hadn't spoken to each other since Tuesday, the day Hermione slipped off to have her secret meeting with Draco. Although Ron, or any of her friends for that matter, didn't know where she had gone, that didn't stop him from being mad. The fact Hermione could not come up with a good excuse for disappearing on their trip to Hogsmeade made it much worse.

'Let me get this straight,' Ginny said again. 'You told Ron some old bat managed to drag you into Gladrags Wizardwear for a scarf knitting session outside the Three Broomsticks. Hermione, Gladrags is nowhere near the Three Broomsticks!'

'I know,' Hermione said, exasperated. She wondered when her interrogation would end- first Ron (although his methods were more brutal involving shouting and throwing cushions) and now his little sister. 'She was marching up and down the street asking for volunteers. She was so talkative...I didn't even know what happened and then I was in the shop.'

Ginny laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I don't believe you.'

'I swear it's true!' Hermione said, cringing. She hated having to lie.

Ginny laughed again, but she didn't sound angry in the slightest. 'Hermione, you've always been a bad liar. But don't worry, unlike Ron, I don't care what you were doing. I have my suspicions,' she said, wiggling her eyebrows, and receiving a friendly punch on the arm from Hermione, 'but as long as you're lying for a good reason, I won't pry.'

Hermione sighed. She supposed this was as good as it was going to get: you couldn't fool Ginny. 'Thanks, Ginny,' she said with a slight smile. 'I really do appreciate this.'

'That's ok,' Ginny grinned back. 'It's what friends are for, right?'

Hermione bit her lip. If only she knew. 'Right,' she confirmed with a curt nod.

'Hermione,' came a shout from behind. Hermione recognised the voice immediately- it was Harry. Both she and Ginny turned to look over their shoulders' at the dark haired figure running towards them. Harry skidded to a stop a metre away, pointing wildly back towards the school, panting heavily.

'Hey Harry,' Ginny greeted with a smirk, looking the gangly wizard up and down with prying eyes. It was a well-known fact that Ginny was into Harry- everyone but Ron and Harry himself knew it.

Harry gulped, trying to catch his breath. 'Um...hey, Ginny,' he said nervously. He'd never been very good with girls. It was well known that he liked Ginny, too. Well, Hermione had a suspicion, anyhow.

'Harry,' Hermione snapped impatiently, clicking her fingers to get his attention. Harry's focus eventually wandered to her. 'What do you want?'

'Oh, yeah,' Harry breathed, as if a light bulb had just flickered on in his head. Ginny sighed. 'Ron refused to come and tell you- you have a prefects meeting...in McGonagall's office.'

'When?'

'Oh...now.'

'Christ,' Hermione cried, leaping to her feet at his words. 'Oh, I've never been late before,' she complained, scooping up the pink hoodie she had been lying on. 'I blame you Ginny,' she said with false accusation. 'You distract me.'

Ginny batted her eyelashes. 'My pleasure,' she said. 'I'm just shaping the new and improved, rebellious, bad-ass Hermione.'

'Seriously?' Hermione retorted as she began her ascent up the hill and back to the school. Harry tuned to follow her but Hermione placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. 'Keep her company,' she commanded, nodding to Ginny, who gave her a thumbs up behind Harry's back. Without another word, Hermione turned and ran.

She'd practically memorised the route to McGonagall's office, which was on the first floor in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower overlooking the Training Grounds, so she found herself outside the door in a matter of minutes. Cautiously, she knocked three times.

'Come in,' came McGonagall's sharp voice from inside. Hermione opened the door to reveal McGonagall sat at her desk, wearing her usually emerald green cloak, her hair scraped back in a tight bun, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked exasperated. 'Miss Granger, you're late, which is not like you at all.'

'I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again,' Hermione replied, neglecting the fact she had not been informed of the meeting. There was no point answering back when it was McGonagall you were talking to.

In answer to Hermione's apology, McGonagall gave a slight nod and a small- but visible- smile in her direction. 'Please,' she said calmly. 'Take a seat.' She gestured to the row of chairs sat opposite her desk, and for the first time Hermione saw all the other prefects sat in them, twisted around in their seats to stare at her. And there was only one seat empty- one right between Draco and Ron.

Hermione almost turned and left the room right there and then. Both Ron and Draco hadn't spoken to her since Tuesday, and both conversations had ended badly. She hadn't even seen Draco since then, up until now. He hadn't been showing up to the meals in the Great Hall. Even now, the two of them were the only two not turning to face her. As she went to sit down, Hermione saw from Ron's expression that he was angry, staring stonily at the floor. Draco, on the other hand, only appeared to be wrapped up in thought, staring out past McGonagall's head whilst biting his nails, a gesture she noticed he did quite a lot when he was thinking.

Hermione took her seat in silence. This time, throughout the meeting, she tried her best to pay attention to what was being said. She made sure she noted the time and date of the next one, and when it was her turn to patrol the corridors at curfew. Despite this, she still found herself distracted by the tension she could feel emitting from the boys either side of her.

It was strange having a prefect meeting on a weekend, as everyone was in their own clothes. For some reason, Hermione found herself drawn to Draco. Maybe it was because she couldn't recall ever seeing him on weekends, and therefore in non-uniform. Whatever it was, she found her eyes kept sliding towards him. He was sat in his usual position: slouched lazily against the back of his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other slightly lifted as his continued to bite the ends of his spidery fingers. He wore a simple black turtleneck sweater and dark grey, faded jeans with tattered sneakers. Hermione wasn't in the least bit surprised that he was wearing a jumper of such a warm day- he would never wear anything with short sleeves for obvious reasons, unlike Ron on her other side, who sported an alarmingly bright stripy t-shirt. Hermione was surprised to find she quite liked what Draco was wearing. She thought it suited him, and she also found that she didn't feel as queasy when she looked at his complexion. On closer inspection, she saw that his fringe was slightly wavier today, and she wondered if it was naturally like that.

What am I doing? she scolded herself. Admiring Draco Malfoy? Whatever next? The thought was almost unbearable.

'...and that concludes our meeting,' McGonagall's voice came back to focus just as everyone began to stand up and gather their things. Hermione couldn't believe herself- she'd drifted off again. She couldn't for the life of her remember the last god-knows-how-many minutes of the meeting. She was angry at herself- she could have missed something important, for all she knew!

'Miss Granger?' McGonagall asked as Ron and Draco, the first to leave, banged out the door.

'Yes?' Hermione said. By the time she'd picked up her quill, parchment and jumper and answered McGonagall she realised that she was the last prefect in the office. Everyone else had left rather quickly, unusually.

'Could I have a word?' inquired McGonagall, beckoning her closer.

Hermione was startled. What could this be about? Her heart picked up speed as she suddenly thought of something. What if McGonagall knew about Draco, and was curious as to why Hermione hadn't noted the authorities? What if she knew something, anything? What if she was on to her? 'Why, yes, of course,' Hermione stammered, shuffling closer to the desk.

'Is everything alright?' McGonagall asked, staring at Hermione with a wise and meaningful expression.

Hermione's heart fluttered with relief. It appeared she had overreacted: McGonagall hadn't mentioned anything to do with Draco. 'Yes,' she said quickly. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Well, you have been late to every prefect meeting so far. I know it's not like you, Miss Granger,' McGonagall explained, keeping her eyes trained on Hermione as the Gryffindor tried to took everywhere else but the Professor, whose eyes were very scrutinising.

'I know, Professor, I'm sorry. Nothing's wrong, I promise,' Hermione spoke again, grasping that she probably didn't sound very convincing. She thought briefly about making up some excuse, but then she remembered Ginny telling her how bad of a liar she was, and McGonagall was even better at sniffing out the truth than her friend. Instead, she opted to deny anything was wrong. It apparently worked.

'Well, alright then,' McGonagall said slowly. 'But if you want to talk about anything, I'll be in my office,' she finished with a fond smile that made Hermione feel even worse about herself.

'Ok,' she said, trying her best to smile back. 'Thanks, Professor,' she added, before slipping out of the office.

She almost dropped all her belongings when she saw that Draco was waiting for her outside.

'You took your time,' he said with a wry smile.

Hermione didn't know what to say back. Should she smile or frown? Should she be angry? She didn't know, so she just stood there.

'Look,' Draco said, when she didn't speak. 'I'm sorry about Tuesday. Could we… meet in the tower in, say, 10 minutes?' He looked nervous, which was a first.

'What tower?' Hermione said stupidly, just as she remembered the room she and Draco had met in on Monday, the one he had unlocked with the stolen key. 'Oh, right, never mind,' she said before he could tell her.

At this she saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly, his usually dull grey eyes sparking faintly. He was trying not to laugh. 'Well...?' he asked, tapping his foot.

Hermione mentally shook herself. 'Ok,' she agreed. 'Ten minutes, although it might be a little longer if I can't find it.'

'You have a good memory, you'll be fine' Draco said, before walking off. Hermione's mouth fell open. Did Draco just give her a compliment? This really was the day for firsts. She supposed she was just surprised he was even speaking to her. Shaking her head, she began striding off in the opposite direction, planning to drop off her things and then try to make her way to the meeting point. As she walked away, she remained unaware of Ron, who was watching her retreating figure from behind one of the pillars against the opposite wall to McGonagall's office. And he did not look happy.

Hermione was pleased with herself. It was around 10 minutes since she had spoken with Draco, and she now found herself stood outside the door to the tower she remembered from her first meeting with him. It hadn't taken her that long to find it- all she had to do was head towards the Slytherin common room way and retrace her steps from there. Sadly, she hadn't found the books she had dropped that day, which were still missing. Hopefully someone had returned them or Madam Prince would not be pleased with her: she never forgave a student who lost one of her precious books. Rolling her shoulders back in an effort to relax herself, Hermione looked left and right to check the coast was clear before trying the door, which was open. Relieved, she entered and immediately began climbing the stairs.

If this tower room became their regular meeting point- if she and Draco were to have 'regular meetings'- one thing was for sure: she would be getting a good workout from climbing the spiral stairs that led to the room, for they seemed to be never-ending! By the time she reached the top she was panting quite heavily, and feeling very warm.

Draco was stood by one of the many barred windows, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, looking out over a view of the hills that surrounded the castle. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Hermione said, announcing herself. She made her way to his side, also taking in the scene.

'Yeah,' Draco sighed wistfully. He turned to Hermione. 'I see you made it. I, um, brought you some stuff,' he said, pointing over her shoulder. Hermione spun to see that Draco had brought up two chairs, which he had placed against the wall, and on one of the chairs he had stacked a pile of books- her books, the ones she had dropped when they'd bumped into each other.

Hermione beamed, she couldn't help it. 'I wondered where they'd gone.' She looked at Draco. 'Thanks, Malfoy, you just saved me from the wrath of Madam Prince.'

Draco smirked. 'No problem, Granger.'

'So...' Hermione began. 'Do we sit on the chairs? Please don't say you were planning a re-enactment of Tuesday.'

Draco flushed- something Hermione thought she would never see. It was odd seeing colour painted on his stark white cheeks. He rushed over to the chairs, handing the books to Hermione, and drawing them out towards the centre of the room so that they were facing each other. 'Yeah,' he said. 'We sit.'

Hermione obliged, taking a seat opposite Draco. 'Listen,' Draco continued, pulling at the selves of his sweater hesitantly. Hermione had to admit she enjoyed seeing his nervous gestures: the nail biting, the fiddling. They humanised the Slytherin. 'I'm... sorry about Tuesday. I got freaked out when that bitch of a waitress saw us together. I don't know what-'

'Malfoy, stop,' Hermione said firmly, sitting back and folding her arms. 'I get it. We've hated each other since the day we met. I'm not expecting you to suddenly start confiding in me willingly. You can take your time, I'll be patient.'

'Yeah, well, I overreacted,' Draco insisted. 'It won't happen again. I truly am sorry.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. Draco frowned. 'I'm just impressed you apologised to me,' she said with a light tone to his unanswered question. 'It's like Christmas came early.'

'So you're not mad?' Draco questioned.

'No,' Hermione confirmed.

'How are you so nice?' he asked in mock amazement, running a hand through his tousled hair as if he was genuinely confused.

Hermione laughed. Draco had a funny side? She thought the only humour he knew would be making fun of first years and abusing his prefect duties. 'It's a Gryffindor thing,' she said. 'God, that waitress was a bitch though. Did you see her hair? Major disaster.'

'I don't know much about girls' hairstyles, but I can tell when someone looks hideous. Her hair was frizzier than yours!' Draco laughed back.

'Oi!' Hermione cried. 'I know my hair is a little out of control but no need to be harsh.'

'It's a Slytherin thing,' Draco said with a shrug. 'It is weird though,' he continued, all of a sudden becoming more serious. Hermione stopped laughing abruptly. 'How different our lives are. Gryffindors are always so happy and full of life. Slytherins are all dark and subdued, and I used to love that about being a Slytherin, but these days it all feels...I don't know. Pointless. All we do is cause people misery.'

'That's not true,' Hermione said, although she wasn't sure if she believed herself when she said it. 'Haven't you seen the movies? Dark and mysterious- that's the thing right? You've got to love a bit of danger,' she added, trying to lighten the tone. She didn't know why she was trying to make Draco feel better; after all, all he had done was cause her misery throughout the years at Hogwarts. Yet she wanted to comfort him. Her enemy. And she didn't know why.

Draco laughed sharply. 'Yeah,' he muttered. 'The movies aren't real. And if you're on about that boy who's always dark and enticing- I don't feel that way. I'm not that kind of guy. I just feel cruel, and lately... I guess I'm getting fed up of myself, and this- this persona I have. I'm downright cruel. You've said it yourself! And Slytherins don't have any fun- our jokes are about other people's misfortune, not things that are actually funny.' He sighed dramatically.

'Maybe...' Hermione said slowly, 'it's your own misfortune that made you realise all this? I mean never in a million years did I think I'd be hearing you say you don't like being a Slytherin.'

'What I don't like is being a Death Eater,' Draco said angrily. 'Look,' he pulled up his left sleeve with a violent tug, revealing his Dark Mark. Hermione gaped, and it wasn't just because of the inky black symbol upon his forearm, it was because of all the tiny little scars visible all over his skin. She hadn't noticed them when she'd first seen his mark.

Without thinking, she reached out to run her fingertips lightly over the puckered skin, tracing the lines of every cut. All she could hear was Draco breathing close to her ear, and her own breaths as they grew louder and more uneven. Draco shivered- a movement that shook her to her senses. She pulled back quickly, tucking the brown curls that had fallen loose back behind her ears.

'Um,' she stuttered, not sure what had just happened. When she finally looked up at Draco, she saw that he looked as confused as she did. He drew his sleeve back down slowly. 'Um,' Hermione said again. 'How did you get those?'

'Remember that night in Borgin and Burkes?' Draco said quietly.

'Yeah.'

'Well, when my farther fired that curse at me and shattered all that glass...' Draco trailed off, his eyes wandering to his feet.

'You didn't heal yourself?' Hermione asked in surprise. She definitely remembered that little scene she had witnessed when Lucius had taken his anger out on Draco. It was one of her most vivid memories, one that had really opened her eyes to what was going on.

'No, I tried,' Draco confessed, rubbing his arm subconsciously as he recalled the memory himself. 'But the curse he fired, I don't think it was meant to necessarily hit me. I think it was meant to stop me from healing. I think when it hit the glass... I don't know...'

'Clever,' Hermione admitted sadly. 'Has your father always been like that?' she asked after a brief pause.

Draco's response to her question was quick. 'Yes,' he told her. 'Whenever I did something wrong he'd get mad. At first, it made me more like him. I was angry, and I took that anger out on others. He told me that I had expectations to live up to, as a pure-blood, and that I had to be punished...'

'That's horrible,' Hermione cut in, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat.

'He told us we were better than other magic folk like muggle-borns,' he said, looking anxiously at Hermione as he spoke.

She smiled back at him sadly, to show she wasn't offended. Maybe she should have been, but she wasn't. 'I bet he taught you to call us mudbloods,' she whispered.

Draco nodded, biting his lip. 'And I agreed with him. I thought I was better than you. I thought who you were made you impure and filthy. I thought, I thought...' he trailed off again, putting his head in his hands, his white blonde hair falling forwards.

'You don't think that now?' Hermione asked, her voice so low it was barely audible.

Draco shook his head again. 'Over the past summer, things started to get worse,' he said, his voice muffled by his hands. 'Father was putting more pressure on me, ever since he forced me to become a Death Eater. Officially.'

'He forced you?' Hermione asked.

Draco laughed; but the sound was like nails on a chalk board to Hermione's ears. 'It's not like I ever had a choice. From the day I was born... and I wanted to become one, for such a long time. But back then, I never truly knew what I was doing. I just wanted to make my father proud- I admired him. When I realised what it was really like, well, by then it was too late.' Draco's expression suddenly changed from one of sorrow to one of anger. With a grunt he pushed back from his chair, standing up and beginning to pace with hurried steps. Hermione stood with him.

'Why is it too late?' she asked with curiosity, taking a step towards the riled-up boy pacing in front of her.

'Because this,' he said, tapping his sleeve, 'binds me to the Dark Lord- it means I can never go back. Never. Whatever I do from this point forth he will know about. I am his slave, and he can bend me to his will. If I was to betray him, well...' Draco paused, an emotionless smile on his face. 'I'm easily disposable. I'd be dead before I knew it,' he said with disgust.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very unhelpful and very out of her depth. 'You can't remove it?'

'No,' Draco said sadly. 'It's like a brand. Permanent.' He stopped pacing, and lifted his head to meet Hermione's eyes.

She blinked rapidly, an odd sensation of rushing heat washing over her. Her emotions were in turmoil. 'I'm sorry,' she said after a moment of silence. To her ears, her voice sounded shaky.

'I hate what I've become' Draco said simply with a half-hearted shrug. 'I'm trapped, with no way out, and... I'm scared,' he confessed.

Hermione stepped forwards another pace, her soft brown eyes wide and sympathetic. She stopped right in front of where Draco stood. 'I want to help you find a way out,' she said.

Draco's grey eyes were stormy- brimming with so many different emotions that Hermione could not put her finger on. 'Granger, how can you help me?'

'I don't know,' Hermione admitted. 'Malfoy, I don't know. But I'm going to try.'