Chapter Six

I'm glad you liked the flashback! More answers forthcoming. More dramione development. More everything. Enjoy! As always JKR is the master of all things.

….

They had both taken a seat on the bed, during which an award pause seemed to stretch out for far too long. Draco knew that they were both remembering that brief, unexpected moment between them in the hospital wing. He watched Granger gnaw anxiously on her bottom lip, a crease appearing in her forehead as she contemplated the wall next to them, struggling to meet his eye. He wondered what she thought of that whole night. Her expression gave away nothing except for her nervousness at talking about it.

Draco himself was trapped between feeling relieved that they would finally discuss it after months of bottling it all up, and mortification at the memory of his behaviour that night. He had certainly not painted himself in the best light. A snivelling, sobbing mess was not exactly the image he wanted to portray here. But it wasn't like he could change it, and the emotions that night had been raw and real.

Draco could perfectly recall the weight of his dread after the incident at the ministry. He had felt sickness in his gut at the thought of what might happen. For years he had spouted his beliefs blindly, replicating his father because he wanted to be just like him. But he felt hollow inside. When confronted with the looming prospect of being fully enveloped into the world of Lord Voldemort and his followers, his hubris had cracked and fallen to pieces. He was scared. In his heart he knew that world was not appealing to him. He knew he simply couldn't do the things his father did. And why did he have to be like Lucius anyway? The older he got the more he came to appreciate the flaws in his father's dogmatic, superior attitude. And then he had suddenly seen the weakness in himself. When faced with such a horrific situation, he discovered that there was not one single person at school who he could genuinely call a friend. Who could he go to and share his deepest fears? They were superficial cronies and fellow schemers. Not friends.

He supposed that was why he had broken down and talked to Granger. She wasn't his friend, but there was something open and candid about her. He barely knew her really, but strangely he actually trusted her. She wasn't pretending to be anything other than who she was.

It had all been moot though, as he had been embroiled in Voldemort's plans against his will anyway, to teach his father a lesson supposedly. All he could do was plaster that fake sneer on his face that he had perfected years before and try to survive. Maybe he would be free one day, but not yet, he thought.

Draco observed the curly haired girl in front of him calmly. Where she was concerned, that night had been a revelation. He could still clearly remember little details about her that should have long since faded. Like the subtle smell of her skin pressed against his as she embraced him. Or the feel of the angry red puckering of her scar beneath his fingertips.

But most of all her soft, sweet lips tenderly pressed against his.

Is there anything I can do?

She had asked that in a voice that trickled over him as a mere husky whisper, stripping away all his usual defences. Her kindness had worn him down and her pity had inflamed his feeling of doubt until it burned. That night had changed things for him, he had admitted that to her himself. He had gone from being completely lost to feeling quietly determined about the months stretching before him. Before then he had been consumed by his fear. Madness threatened to break down the cage-like walls of his mind and send him into a tailspin. But the thought of Hermione Granger of all people accepting his kiss, kissing him back, offering her caring words of support, it was like a balm to him. He had decided then and there that he would endure whatever torment Voldemort had in store for him. He would face it head on and he would wait patiently for his opportunity.

But in the back of his mind Draco worried that he had relied too heavily on those memories of her to cope, and that they had warped into an obsession. Not a day had gone by since that interaction in the hospital wing when he hadn't thought about Hermione. It had become his lifeline; his one connection to sanity and the possibility of receiving affection. Nobody had ever held him like she had that night, or touched him with such gentleness.

He had returned in sixth year branded with the dark mark and entrusted with a task that he dreaded. But still he treasured that memory and held it close every day. He had studied her that year. His attention had been drawn inexorably to her and to the simple humanity she represented. He watched her answer questions in class with enthusiasm and precision. He saw the way she flushed with pleasure when awarded any compliment from a teacher. It ate away at him when her eyes were downcast and she sat alone in the Great Wall, separated from her friends by petty squabbles. She spent a lot more time in the library than ever before. Those were the most trying times. Wanting to go over to her but knowing that he couldn't. He even once spent hours staring down at her from a window on the seventh floor as she helped Professor Sprout and Neville Longbottom plant some new shrivelfigs in a patch of soil one windy Saturday afternoon. It amazed him how she could carry on helping others and keeping her chin up while the world darkened around her.

Hermione folded one leg under the other as she shifted on the bed in his little room at Grimmauld place. He noticed that she was finally looking up at him with a hint of stubbornness in her eyes. Draco pursed his lips and took a deep breath, returning her gaze as evenly as he could without being too deeply drawn into her impossibly dark brown eyes.

"That night…" she began in an unsteady voice. She paused as if unable to articulate what she wanted to know. He waited patiently as she struggled to form the words, "You already knew then that you didn't want to be a Death Eater."

It surprisingly wasn't even a question, just a statement. It wasn't what he was expecting either, not since other, more bizarre things had taken place that night too.

"I already knew, yes."

She frowned at him, tilting her head at an angle.

"Then why didn't you ask for help? Why not confess what was happening to Dumbledore? He could have helped you."

Draco shook his head, feeling strangely at ease with the question.

"No, by then I'd already been chosen. The moment Lucius failed at the ministry I was marked by the Dark Lord to be used to punish him. And my mother was trapped under the watchful eye of her sister Bellatrix. I couldn't leave her to face them alone."

Hermione nodded slowly, accepting his logic even though it did not soften the frown on her lips. She considered him closely.

"So why did you tell me? What made you confide in me that night?"

Draco grimaced.

"To be honest at first I'm not sure I even meant to. It just kind of spilled out…" Hermione snorted with a shake of her head, making her pretty curls bounce. Draco shrugged, smirked ruefully and continued, "Then when it dawned on me who I was talking to…I dunno…I guess I was actually glad it was you. I don't think there was another living soul in that castle or anywhere else who I could have been so open with."

"Really?" the crease on Granger's forehead deepened. Her eyelashes fluttered once or twice as she blinked in confusion.

"I don't have any friends, not really" he said a bit blithely, trying to sound too casual and probably failing, "The teachers all hated me, my parents were off limits since one is a zealous bigot and the other was too unstable at the time. And you were the only one of that sodding annoying Gryffindor bunch who would actually be compassionate enough to give a damn about the feelings of a past bully and future Death Eater."

Hermione's eyes held a great deal of pity, but he also noticed the slight blush that blossomed across her cheeks at his compliment.

"I'm sure there must have been others who would have been kind to you."

"Don't kid yourself," he retorted dryly, "They didn't hold a candle to you. You were so predictably…well…good."

"Good?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow and the barest twitch of an embarrassed smile. Draco returned the smile and nodded.

"Yeh. You know… moral and kind and all that bleeding heart bullshit."

She considered him closely for about a heartbeat before smirking.

"It's strange because your words suggest that you're attempting to pay a compliment but your tone is filled with so much contempt!"

"You're a Gryffindor," he commented with a wry quirk of his eyebrow, "It's not my fault I find it difficult to praise you."

Hermione scoffed and shook her head indulgently. She dropped her eyes to the quilt beneath them and he watched her finger trace a few patterns nervously around the stitching.

"So…um…why did you…kiss me?"

Draco swallowed. He knew this question was coming eventually. He was surprised she hadn't asked it sooner. But he had mentally braced himself for it ever since he had seized his chance to surrender to the Order. Maybe even before that. She was still not looking at him. Her fingers plucked at a loose thread in the quilt.

"Because I wanted to."

He knew his answer would probably not be enough for her, but it was all he had been able to work out himself. He honestly didn't know what force had compelled him to press his lips to hers that night. He had been drowning in her scent and the softness of her skin and it had completely overwhelmed him. All he had known in that moment was that her lips looked so lovely and pink and he was desperate to feel them against his. Other than that he couldn't explain why.

But he was younger back then and more easily fooled by weak words of self-denial and years of pretending. Now, staring at her on this rickety narrow bed and seeing the way her skin darkened ever so slightly with a pretty blush, the thought drifted across his mind that he wanted to kiss her again. It wasn't the first time he'd thought this. Or even the tenth. Or the hundredth. He had lain awake too many nights, blocking out thoughts of Death Eaters and vanishing cabinets by imagining those perfect lips kissing him and caressing him in places that made him too embarrassed to admit to himself later.

But now that he was here, now that he was temporarily free from the darkness that had shrouded him for too long, he could actually open himself up to it. He could relish the thought without pushing it away. And her lips looked so damn inviting.

"And afterwards?" she asked in a slightly croakier voice, raising her eyes to his at last.

"I was scared."

"So was I," she confessed in a whisper. He shivered slightly at her hoarse tone and realised he had also started picking at the quilt beneath them in his uneasiness.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or frightened in any way… that was not my intention."

Although his words were apologetic, he knew deep down he certainly didn't regret the kiss. It had been too important for him; a torch he had left burning through all the fucked up times that followed. But maybe he could have been slightly less intimidating about the whole thing, especially given his callous parting words when he left her that night.

"It's alright, you didn't. I was just… surprised."

"So was I," he said, repeating her agreement with a wry smile.

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly and shifted on the bed to pull herself a few centimetres closer to him. He clenched his jaw as her knee brushed against his, trying to ignore the tingling that ran up his leg in response.

"Malf…uh…Draco-" she began, stammering out his first name in a fit of sudden boldness, "I need you to tell me about that locket. It was once my grandmothers and it means a lot to me. But I lost it at the end of sixth year and now you show up wearing it months, almost years later... you owe me an explanation."

Draco let her say her piece. He knew he was going to have to tell her eventually and now seemed like as good a time as any, considering they had both been so honest with each other. He thought back to that other fateful night, months later, when things had spun out of control. When he had been seized by a desperate impulse. He took a deep breath and began to recount it for her.

….

Draco skidded to a halt as he turned a corner, resting his back against the solid dungeon wall and gasping in breaths of cool air. He had sprinted down here as fast as he could and his lungs burned with the effort.

It was done.

It would all be over soon. And there was no going back.

The Death Eaters were inside Hogwarts castle. Thanks to him. He had finally fixed that damn vanishing cabinet and succeeded in his task. His mother would be safe.

Fuck, where was Snape?

The greasy bastard was his only hope now. He knew the promises his godfather had made. He knew how he wanted this to go down. But for the first time all bloody year he was nowhere to be found. Draco had raced down here as soon as the other Death Eaters' backs were turned and a fight with the aurors had distracted them. He needed Snape. Dumbledore would be returning to the castle any minute now and they needed to be ready.

A sudden jumble of voices echoed down the corridor and he jolted into action once more. The tiny squeak of the Charms professor was the first tone that he actually recognised, coming from a room just off Snape's potions storeroom. He raced towards it.

Draco paused again as he neared the group of people. It was unmistakeably the tiny Professor Flitwick, panting and out of breath but still shouting something at the slick haired Potions Master in front of him. Behind them, peering curiously around the door and watching the scene unfold were two students. Draco almost groaned out loud as he recognised the back of one curly head instantly. Hermione Granger. The other girl, judging by her flowing blonde hair must be Luna Lovegood.

Why now? Why here? Draco thought with a barely audible, panicked whine. He didn't want Granger anywhere near this fight. And here she was right in the thick of things, following Snape around like a guard dog probably. A feeling of urgency rose within him like a viper, firm and protective. He knew what he had to do. Too many months he had spent watching her, needing her presence like oxygen just to survive each day. If she was hurt now he wasn't sure he could continue. A flash of soft lips and the smell of apples and honey roused his senses, remembering their kiss in the hospital wing almost one year ago. He had to act.

While the other three had their backs turned, he saw Snape's obsidian eyes flicker up to spot him. His glare was intense and questioning. Draco nodded sharply in confirmation of what they were both thinking.

"Quickly Severus! There's not a moment to lose, they're approaching the Astronomy tower as we speak – a whole horde of them in robes and masks!" Flitwick urged, gesturing wildly out the door. He was practically dancing around on the balls of his feet. But not for much longer.

With a quick nod of acknowledgement to synchronise their actions, Draco and Snape both flicked their wands briskly, stunning all three occupants of the hallway. They each fell to the ground in a boneless heap. A stiff pause followed as Snape's face whitened and he seemed to rally his courage for what was to come next.

"Where are they?"

"They were nearing the base of the astronomy tower when I left. They're surrounded by aurors…"

"And the headmaster?"

"Left the castle. We will wait for him to come back up there. Draw him to us with the dark mark in the sky above it."

Snape nodded and stepped roughly over the prone form of Professor Flitwick.

"Let's go. We have no time to lose."

Draco went to follow him before he froze and closed his eyes in a momentary spell of indecisiveness. He took a few gulping breaths and turned back to stare at the slumped form of the curly haired Gryffindor on the floor behind him.

"Draco, hurry-"

"Wait…" he murmured indistinctly as he stepped towards Granger. Snape growled impatiently but he was completely focused on the sudden thought that had gripped him. He leaned over and crouched next to her still body. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. Draco hadn't been this close to her in a year. He had only been permitted to watch her from a distance lately, and it almost hadn't been enough to hold onto. Now he could drink in every detail of her features. He still wasn't sure how he felt about her or what she had come to mean to him, but he knew he needed the thought of Hermione Granger to cling to in the months to come.

Draco let himself look at her this one last time. His eyes traced over the gentle curve of her jaw and the tempting pout of her bottom lip. Shaking, he reached out and did what he had been longing to do all year. He stroked his hand lightly over a few silky curls, wrapping one curl around his finger. Granger didn't even twitch, she was out cold. His fingertips drifted over the smooth skin of a cheekbone down towards her pink lips…

"Draco! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

He felt Snape's hand grip his shoulder in a vice, moving to pull him up and away from the girl.

"Just give me a moment-" he growled, shoving his godfather away, "I need to do this."

Moving away from where he had been caressing her skin, Draco lowered his hand to the collar of her t-shirt. He knew what he would find there and his fingers trembled with uncertainty. As he tugged the material just slightly downwards he saw it. The gold glint of an antique chain.

He hastily tugged on the chain until he had managed to pull it free from her shirt and reveal the glimmering sapphire stone at its heart.

Draco couldn't explain what was making him do it. He just knew that he needed some piece of her to keep with him, to cherish. And this deep blue shaded gem in its leafy, intricate gold casing evoked such poignant memories for him. Images of huddling on the floor of the hospital wing, tracing the pendant with his fingers, his cheeks still damp as they explored each other's lips. It would be a tether to her somehow, he thought. A way to hold onto the goodness in the world even when he was surrounded by darkness.

Draco gently tugged on the chain to pull it from her neck, releasing the clasp. He clutched the metal in his palm, warm from the skin of her chest where it had rested against her beating heart.

"Draco…"

He grit his teeth, drinking her in one last time before he rose and turned his face away. He couldn't prolong it any more or he'd never have the courage to leave. And he needed to do this. As he swivelled hurriedly away, his eyes were stinging, but he stubbornly refused to let any tears fall. Especially not with Snape watching. He had been hoping the older man would just assume he was committing one last act of petty theft against his most hated mudblood enemy. That he was stealing the locket for his own nefarious thrills. But the expression on the potions master's face was terrifying. He appeared both predictably thunderous with anger and also anguished, as though he carried a great burden. Draco had never seen this kind of bleak, stricken look there before.

"Do you realise what kind of game you're playing here?" the man hissed. Draco just blinked and nodded, his face tense and serious.

"You have no idea," he muttered, pushing past Snape and making his way back up the corridor and away from Granger. His footfalls were steady, deliberate and swift. And with every step that led him away from her, the darkness drifted over him more and more until he almost couldn't breathe. He refused to turn around. He refused to slow down or meet Snape's eye. He just kept walking out of the dungeons and into the hellfire that reigned above.

….

Hermione stared at the blond boy before her with a vague sense of disbelief. She blinked a few times and tilted her head to one side as she considered his story. His words had washed over her a little bit numbly, as if she had almost known all along that this had happened while she was stunned. She could distantly recall discovering that it was missing later that night after Dumbledore's body was found. Hermione raised her hand and toyed with the pendant that now hung once more from her neck, pressed against her sternum. The gem was smooth and warm on her fingertips. She imagined Draco wearing it himself all these months and she shivered.

"So…" she began in a voice that croaked against her will, "what now?"

….

Well there's the truth about the necklace! Plot moving forwards next time! Enough backward glancing for now! On and on. Please review and let me know what you think of it so far.