A/N down below.

Warning: personal discussion ahead.

As always, enjoy

.~.

Let it Burn

Chapter Seven

Place of Refuge

.~.

Wednesday September 25th, 1996

Draco stared at the envelope until dawn broke over the horizon. Its content remained a mystery until his better recollection got the best of him and his mind demanded that he look inside. He knew without question that whatever it was it couldn't be good and that it was written in his handwriting. He knew the questions he would ask, the sneering voice he would make, and the disapproval that would be laced around his words. He has heard it so many times that he became slightly accustomed to receiving the letters; he could almost hear his father's desperate voice through the curves of the letters and his mother's frantic inquiries about his health. Most of all, he could hear them and their pleas as they tried to reason with him.

Time was wearing unbearably thin.

The air was conspiring against him, becoming an unbearable weight upon his shoulders. Crisp, channeling, and forbidden, it beckoned to even the numbest of senses. It restricted what valuable oxygen that his body was able to get, filling him with toxins that just would expel from his body. Deep in the catacombs of his mind, he couldn't let go of the night's events that transpired just hours before. He was lost in a time loop, forever blessed to live the last few hours like a drifter in the wind. With all his being, he hoped that the memories wouldn't become lost to him and he would be able to hold onto something that would allow him to go about his days as numbly as he has been since months prior.

Oh, yes. The months have not been kind to him. Ever since the end of last term, he's been stuck in perpetual darkness and worry. The guilt, the heart pleading guilty and nausea has been all he has known. He can't remember the last time he's been free of anything, of being watched, of being able to do as he pleased and go about his day without trepidation and care. His movements since then has not been his own and whatever he's been able to keep had to be recruited and transformed into something it was not. It was all consuming. Maddening, really. The only thing that he could account for was the simple fact that he was well on his way to something extraordinary, and in the grasp of something fiercely refined.

Draco looked back at the concealed letter, hoping that he would find some answers within the pages. He knew his mother could write tomes filled with her activities and transient musings; his father on the other hand was a different story, and not something he wanted to hear at a moment like this.

Instead, he allowed his mind to pull away from him. The letter remained on his desk until he came up with enough courage. Until then, it would remain there and hopefully he would have something good to report back.

Which he did.

Draco turned from looking at his bed and back to the letter. He would have to tell them that he found the Room. Mother would be absolutely livid with gratitude and father would find some resemblance to pride at the news of his son finding what their Lord has been searching for months now. The twin to his cabinet; yes, he would be very pleased to hear it.

There had been a time when he had to close everything that he experienced off, to lock it away as to ensure their safety. It was times like this that made him glad that he had lost them, that he hadn't allowed the ruining effects of evil to touch them. What she had shown him was the sweetest thing he has ever seen and has become one of the most amazing memories he has to date. Not a lot could compare, and as fearful as he was, he was ready to see what sort of lands that she could create next. It had been mind-blowing. He was beside himself with complete astonishment that it tricked him into believing that he was new to magic and that it was the first time he had every witnessed such a thing.

He lay on his bed, pondering what he had just saw and what he could do to protect it and the girl that gave him one more reason to live and to fight.

He couldn't get over the magnificence of the place. For something like the Room of Requirement to be created in such a way that it tailored everyone's deepest desires was the most amazing thing he has ever heard. He could still see her. He leaned back in his chair as he watched her reach out and caress every curve and swollen object that came within her reach. There was a type of hypnotic trance about it. Like floating on air, high above the clouds while at the same time attempting to grasp the fear of falling. It was breathtaking. Heart-stopping. In that moment, he had decided that nothing was more beautiful than seeing her and the world that she had created.

If the eyes could become bewitched, then soul would soon follow.

They had walked the deserted but groundbreaking corridors of Hogwarts in silence. The only thing that kept them afloat was the breathless sighs that issued from her lips and his never wavering gaze that easily became transfixed on her movements. Hermione moved with fluid motion previously unknown to man. Like a sweet current, she rocked her body rhythmically to the strum of her own violin, too preoccupied to notice that he had stopped following and was watching her from a distance. He, too, became absorbed, but not with their surroundings but the girl who could effortlessly captivate him with even the smallest of gestures. She was a goddess with every sense of the word, and he couldn't wait to see what sort of dance she would present him in the interim.

He never took his eyes off of her. Hermione's hand was warm in his. He relished in the touch and the thought of it dispersing sooner than he wished was a sickness upon his weakened mind. He frowned at the thought, looking at their entwined fingers while at the same time fearing what would come after their rendezvous. Even when they turned a corner and broke into a run when the sound of Ms. Norris' purring echoed in the corridor, his eyes remained solely on her. It was hypnotic to watch her. She moved with grace; she was everything that he wished he could be and more. How she did, he couldn't say. All he knew what that he never wanted to look away. Not even for a moment.

Conversation was becoming more natural between them. There was no topic left untouched. As they walked, she engaged him in whimsical explorations. She fiddled with mind like one would fiddle with an instrument. Experimentally at first until the notes began to fill her mind and she was able to pry a kind of resemblance to music that she was dying to hear. He became lost to her. Mind-blowingly smitten once again by how easy it was for her to turn him. It was not like all those other times where he lost his temper and he had to face the reality of what he had done. She was gentle, like the kind of zephyr he wanted to feel every second of the rest of his life.

What he told her about being a providing spirit was not a lie. In fact, it could not further from the truth. She had opened up so much, let him see a side of her that no one else was able to see. Like a flower, she embellished him with her nectar. She showed and told him things that would never have crossed his mind if their paths hadn't crossed in turn. If he hadn't reached out and showed her that there were good people out there in the void that she wouldn't dare to explore, he would not be with her today.

"It's just down this corridor," she told him, her voice no louder than a whisper.

Draco looked at her, caught between keeping quiet or ruining a perfect moment.

A perfect moment for them, or for him, he wasn't quite sure. Granted, he was thrilled that she was able to trust him enough to show him her special place. Not people could say they've had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with him, and those who have were not worth a moment of hs time now. He was ecstatic but fearful. On the other hand, he felt tainted, devastatingly cruel to have manipulated her in such a way that forced her to give up her secrets. He didn't know to be delighted or to throw up.

Instead, he chose not to reply.

Hermione was a perceptive young woman, however. She was able to see through his demeanor and pick him apart like a dissected Niffler. That's what one got for having a genius as a girlfriend…

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes widen with concern. "Is it something I said?"

He shook his head, remaining silent. How easily she could pinpoint when something was amiss. He had to hand it to her, she was quite spot on. If he talked now he might as well tell her everything that has happened in the last several months and Circe knows that he wasn't ready for that. Not now, and possibly not ever. All he wanted to do was listen to her voice. She could easily talk enough for the both of them.

"It's nothing."

But, why did it mean something?

She took it as a que to continue, to pry. "Are you sure?"

He nodded numbly, holding his tongue and forbidding his lips to move. If it hadn't been the reassuring squeeze of her hand on his, the innocent little smile and simplicity of the briefest nudge against his shoulders, his lips would have betrayed him. Thankfully, they hadn't. And that was a blessing all in itself.

"You know, you have become less talkative." Hermione looked at him. "It makes me wonder if I really have said something to offend you."

As silence fell between them, Draco was left to the shattering discourse of his thoughts.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep up with the charade. The longer he played, the more he fell into the influence of the Dark Lord. Days and nights mingled together into one jumbled mess, creating and endless loop that even Apparition couldn't break. He was a fixed, continuous player in the life and death game of chess, forever cursed until another piece captures and breaks him down. He walked without direction and only with the guidance provided by the witch beside him whose own audacity and stupidity could cost her life. It was that and his selfishness that would do the ungodly honors of killing them both.

Draco took the chance to look at her. It was in these private moments that he was able to fully appreciate her, even when she was completely unaware of his gawks and stares. Her hair was a fragmented mess, though he couldn't understand how it got so windblown. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and there was the slightest hint of an approved smile on her lips that demanded his attention. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she was hiding something herself. With unapprised planning or simple contemplation, he wasn't sure but he would give her the world just to know what she was thinking, and it was apparent she would do the same as his gaze met hers and he saw the plea in her eyes.

She was pleading with him. To tell her what was going through his mind even though he knew damn well he should even breathe a word of what was torturing him or lest he receive a hundred days of beatings. He would suffer honorable for her, but that was not his intention this night. Tonight, he planned to savor every moment she gave him before he had to lock them up and become devoid of life once more.

He could still hear the words of his Godfather during their first meeting echoing in his mind…

-Add more-

"Worthless," he hissed bitterly.

Professor Snape slammed his pupil into the wall before backing away in complete disapproval. Shadows danced around them. Their haunting reminder was why they were there. For hours they had been at it, and it was finally then at past midnight that the Potion's Master had finally had enough. He walked away from where he left Draco, his eyes glittering in the darkness. What he had seen had been a private moment, granted. But, it was exactly that he was trying to protect.

Obviously, he thought he was foolish.

He was going to have to work harder to ensure that his Oath and life were not wasted. The boy was going to learn.

"In all my years," he began slowly, drifting over to the furthest corner of the room to where he laid an assortment of healing potions," had to be the worst example of closing one's mind. Why is that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You didn't say you were going-"

"The Dark Lord will not stand there and tell you when he is about to invade your mind," he seethed, thrusting several bottles into his arms and walking back, his eyes watching him as he looked at the bottles doubtfully. "Drink!"

Snape whipped around without giving him a single glance. He could feel the tension build between them with merciless progression. If he didn't show any signs of improvement or endurance, he would have proven his unworthiness to do the task that their Lord has given him.

He would have failed his family.

"I must advise you," he said rather softly, an uncharacteristic gesture on his part," to close your mind even to the smallest of interactions."

"You want me to become some brainless lunatic." Draco deadpanned.

"I did not say that." He pronounced each word with long, deliberate strokes. "I merely advised you to-"

"I know what you said!" he seethed, rising from his position on the floor and walking over to the open veranda on the adjourning side of the Potion's Master's chambers. Inside, he could very well see the labors of his ways. Small clusters of orbs say planted in darkened soil, making him wonder exactly what he was harvesting, if he was harvesting anything at all. These thoughts helped significantly to silence what diminutive thought that patrolled his mind.

He could feel his Godfather's eyes on him and he bit his lip.

"You act like it's the easiest thing in the world to do."

"Do you want to protect the girl?" he drawled, the knowledge of not understanding his passion clear in the depths of his eyes. "If so, you will do as I say."

"Do you think it's just that easy?" he asked, shaking with anger. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to just shut down these thoughts and act as if they don't exist? To act like the girl you love doesn't exist?"

Draco found the error of his accusation a second too late. Before he had time to act, he was pressed against the wall, a strong arm pressing against his chest, dark eyes seeping into his. He had struck a nerve with him.

"Do not talk to me about how hard it is, boy." He seethed. "You do not know what true hardship is."

This memory was just another added burden upon his conscious. That night had dragged on forever and before either of them knew it, dawn had come to pass. They were weathered down, and by the time they crawled out of his chambers, they had come to a startling conclusion and had indeed made some considerable progress. He had been able to close his mind, and with the help of Snape, he was able to retain what he was scared to lose.

But, it wasn't the only thing that he left with.

In his possession was an object that had him too afraid to speak. The object itself was forged from sea foam green opals the precise age and grandeur of ripened stone. Harvested from the deepest reached, it had been fastened in such a manner that gave it the illusion of sophistication and luxury. Heavy to the touch as well as light as a feather when worn, the necklace was the epitome of corruption and the bane of his existence.

Since receiving it, Draco has been speculating its almighty power. Drowning in dread, he has been unable to decipher its meaning and what the Dark Lord could possibly want him to do with the ancient necklace. Taking another look at Hermione, he couldn't bring himself to even think about all the horrible things that he planned for him to do; even if he could, he had to protect her.

At all costs.

"It should be just around the corner." Hermione said as she led him down the same corridor twice already and they were well on their way to passing the same set of painting when she touched his arm and yanked him closer to her. Without a sound, she placed a finger on her lips and indicated to the wall in front of them. He looked at her like she was mad, completely convinced as she whipped her around and waited for the sky to fall, which it did not.

Instead, the ground began to shake.

Then the walls roared to life. It started with a great rumbling that moved from the ground, through the sharp corners of where they stood, and finally the ceiling. The paintings on the walls were disturbed, some exclaiming their anguish while others cursed under their swollen breaths. A canvas of a calm sea surged into a powerful onslaught and the earth felt as if it were just seconds away of splitting apart. Every ounce of his being was held on edge and there was a mixture of anxiety and cautiousness that swam through him to likes of which he never felt. Though, he has been in some frightful situations and thus occasions have scarred him beyond repair, something as simple and comical as magic was far beyond his scope. He was at war and the splitting and noise was the ammo that would kill him.

Draco was in the midst of a panic attack. Having never really been previously exposed to such highly controversial emotions, he didn't know what to do with them or how to expose of the world in which he believed was the firmest of deities. Some preconceived notions were bombarding him, threatening to wreak havoc on his life. Like a war drawn hero, he was having brutal flashbacks of things that he had absolutely no control of.

That's when Hermione chose to intervene. When his mind was running rampant, her gentle hand was enough to bring him back from the brink of total hysteria. Draco was wholeheartedly grateful for her. He suddenly found the strength to face whatever lay behind the moving walls that had to be the Room of Requirement. If it was not for the delicate state of his mind and the lack of reliance, he would have surely ran and never come back.

"You alright?" she asked, grabbing his hand and moving closer to the wall as two large doors came into view. "You don't look so well."

"I don't feel as such."

"Nightmares?"

"You can say that," he breathed, grabbing hold of her and bringing her closer to him. "These halls don't look familiar."

"Well, you did spend the good part of the term during our fifth year chasing us around trying to get a glimpse of it…"

"One simply doesn't remember all that they have done." He said, thinking. "I don't think I've apologized for that."

"You weren't in your right state of mind, Draco." She said softly, smiling. "Now, come on. There is something I want you to see. I've been trying to conjure it for some time."

"Is that part of the reason we've walked around in circles for the last hour?"

"Part of it."

"What have you been doing?" The urge to tease her was powerful and he couldn't resist it. With a grin, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. "What could you possibly have thought of when showing me the room is good enough for me?"

Hermione moved around in his arms in an attempt to get a better look at him. When she did, she looked at him with those wide, caring eyes that he's loved for so long. He could stare into them until he was not of the world anymore; he was just that devoted, just that committed.

"Some people deserved to be shown care and doused in love." She told him simply. "Besides, while you and your little friends were running around off your character, you missed the bigger picture."

"Running around?" he smirked, feeding off her choice of words. "So, you were watching me, eh?"

She swatted him on the arm, giggling. "Never you mind."

"But, I do mind." He laughed before asking," What picture are you talking about?"

Hermione looked at him, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. She wanted to ask him something but was afraid how he would react, as to be expected. He hasn't been the most kind of people. Even in her company he would sometimes snap at her. She would just blow it off or ignore it, which bothered him greatly. How can she still be so kind when even he couldn't hold his tongue and be kind in return? That always eluded him.

"Do you remember what we were taught about the Room of Requirement?"

Quickly thinking, Draco began to go over everything that was taught about the room. There wasn't much to go on except that it resided on the seventh floor and stood opposite of a very interesting tapestry. Other than that, he couldn't remember much about it.

He wanted to tell her that he overheard Potter talking to her about it, that it was some magical gateway to paradise, if needed be. It could be anything the seeker wanted. So long as they had the thought and held onto it with all their heart, the room was everything and anything. He wished he could say that his intentions were pure, but he couldn't. It would have easily been a lie. Like lying to a child, he felt wrong to tell her that, so wrong in fact that his anxiety was becoming a burden once more. Somewhere along the line, he had convinced her otherwise of his worthiness and that broke him to pieces everything he thought about it. There wasn't a single deserving bone in his body and he bloody well knew that. Any moron with a half working brain could see that, and it tickled him senselessly that Hermione couldn't put two and two together. What was her problem? How was it possible for her not to see it?

"You're absolutely right, you know." She smiled.

How can she be so jubilant when he was lying right to her bloody face? Her smile was what drew him back in. Every time he was pushed into the unreachable escape, she was there to bring him back. His mind cleared up and he was able to focus back on what she was saying.

"It's a wondrous place, I supposed." He shrugged nonchalantly, not giving her the pleasure of seeing past his façade despite how eager he was to see it.

One thing at a time, a voice said. He agreed.

As soon as he said those words, she broke down into a jumble of hypothetical equations. This sparked a frenzy of detailed description and open minded hope.

She told him of what she wanted him to see. The Room of Requirement wasn't just so named that, and she knew that with everything that she was worth. Evidently, she's been giving it a lot of thought and somewhere between wanting to show him and scared of what kind of reception she might get, she found the solution to her heartrending problems. She wanted to show him the magic of the place, the splendor and have him open up in way that he has never opened up. There was something inspiring about the way she told him about her ingenious plans, and something terrible frightening. While she talked, a dark shadow fell over him.

Thrice they have passed it, and in all that time she was trying to conjure up something that she knew that would pike his interest, that he would be interested and wholly appreciative for.

I see you, boy.

No, he thought quietly, Hermione's voice now a murmur in the background.

Oh, yes.

Whether it was his overactive mind or it was indeed the voice of the Dark Lord, he could not say. Either way, he felt that same strange sensation wrap around him as he tried to get a grip on reality. Sleep deprivation had not taken a toll on him physically, but mentally as well. He didn't know where up start and down ended; everything from the start of term has been a big, unrecognizable mess. He even had trouble making sense of things that he knew for certain that was happening. Real time, dream, nightmares- who was to say that he was in one now, tossing in his four-poster bed, screaming at the top of his lungs and begging for Hermione to run, to save herself while she could?

He looked at her, palms sweaty, a huge lump forming in his throat.

She looked so happy, so carefree. He winced at the sight. Yet another unanswered question popped up in his mind. He swatted it away before it could do any real damage.

He was trying to break into his mind. It was a good thing that he was prepared, or surely he would have succeeded. Draco showed him what he wanted to see and allowed him to listen to what he wanted to hear. Otherwise, their conversation was useless banter in the background, something that he could discard and still keep at a moment's notice. Instead of focusing on his presence, he engaged Hermione, hoping it would hinder the Dark Lord's attempt to reach his mind even more. The doors were just finally taking form, which hindered him even more. The words that he had tried to fabricate died on his lips, and his eyes found a new focus.

Twin doors the size of the walls came slowly into contact. It was like watching a moving picture with the sound all the way up but being too engrossed with the picture to even care. They welcomed him, as he was sure he would welcome them once he knew what lay on the other side. He was apprehensive; he was sure that he hadn't shared enough about himself to warrant her attention. Well, even if he didn't, he knew that she would be able to pull what he has told her and present himself truly amazing.

And, she did.

The scent of flowers struck him before their physical state did. The doors opened and he stepped inside, expecting a small array only to be escorted to what he could only what was a small fortune of a garden. The floor was abundant with lush grass, and as far as the room was concerned, thousands of flowers lay sprawled out on the neatly manicured carpet, small troves of mushrooms sprouted out here and there. Once in a while, a small gnome would pop its head out and greeted them before dashing away in fear that they would use them as a ball to play with. Old cabinets were lined up against the glassed walls, vines clinging to their isolated form. Iron gates ran the perimeter of the enclosure, inside as a stream the size of a small pool.

Although quaint in its simplicity, it spoke volumes. He became aware of a time when he told her about his deepest secret, to which she responded with questions and hounding results. He had laughed at her, of course. For someone with a mind like hers, he found it so amusing that she would try to educate him to something he already knew all too well. Malfoy's weren't into the sort of things that he had grown to enjoy. Much to his mother's liking he had acquired a strong taste for the indigestible. His father was not all too happy. He stomped most of what his mother taught him, only living a fraction of the wonders that she had introduced him to. One of which, it seemed, Hermione had made a reality.

Draco walked around, his eyes wide. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" he asked, voice wavering. He sounded completely different. Surprised, oh yes. Desperate to know what she could have possibly wanted to come of this, most definitely. He turned and looked at her, completely at awe. He couldn't quite believe that the girl standing before him had anything to do with the sort of enchantment that had taken place. Thrice they passed the Room. Thrice she had time to reflect on what she wanted to create.

Hermione brought her hands behind her back, a smile on her lips, her eyes combing the room and laughing as a butterfly landed on her shoulder.

"You told me that you had a garden back home. Your mother didn't have much of a green thumb and your father, forgive his hateful soul, despised flowers of any variety." She took a breath, centering herself. "I wanted to recreate that garden you had. Even if it was the eastern center of the-"

Draco silenced her with a hug.

His arm came around and it was all she needed to know that he was eternally grateful for the world that she was able to create.

He walked around in a complete daze for over an hour. For the longest time, he didn't allow anything to obscure his view on the indoor garden until Hermione came around, finished with feeding the birds that came to reside in the cozy little heaven. She stood up from the grass, dusted herself off, and made her way over to the stream where she pulled out her wand and proceeded to make refreshments from the natural spring. Cool crystal clear waters turned into two steaming cups of coffee. The cakes were from normal creation, which he was happy to partake in either way.

As he leaned against his arm

"You know we won't be able to do this for long," she said with a slight giggle. "People may think we're up to something."

"We most definitely are." He said, eyes still searching her form. "Let them think whatever the bloody hell they want."

"Don't you care?"

"What people think?" He gave her one of his infamous smirks. "Of course, but that isn't the point."

"Then what is?"

"I enjoy spending time with you, Hermione." He breathed. "You give me life that I never realized I was missing. Just like this room, you make the air I breathe crisper. You are the kind of refreshing rain I've been searching all this time."

Hermione stared at him, overcome with some raw emotion that she never knew she could feel. "I like spending time with you, too." she murmured. "You're different from the image that you project. You're gentle, kind and incredibly insightful."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm being serious." She frowned at his cockiness.

"I know you are, "he laughed. "Relax."

Hermione shook her head laughing herself. Though it was at her expense, she found funny and that was all that mattered.

"I do have a question, though." When she said nothing, he carried on with his inquest. It had been bothering him since the beginning of their courtship. Sure, the letters he received were well enough, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that there wasn't something she wasn't telling him. He didn't like secrets; that didn't mean he would keep his own from him, either. His untrustworthiness hadn't been detected and his was just being mended. Not a lot of Slytherins could say that about their Gryffindors. Although it was other guise, jealousy was a horrendous thing and he would soon pay the Dark Lord's snake a visit then have to deal with something he's never felt before. So, thus his need to know was born.

"What is it?"

"That guy, the one who's been sending all those letters. What happened to him?"

She tilted her head and thought back to the last time he sent a letter. It had only been two nights ago, he knew. He was expecting a reply shortly. Even if he spent the entire day with her, Draco was inclined to sit by his window and wait until her blasted owl came by to drop it off. He was just that ardent and foolish. If there was a place to sit, there was no telling how long he would wait just to hear word from her.

"The letter guy?" she asked, dumbstruck that he would bring it up of all time. Hell, he was surprised himself but he had to know.

Was his handwriting that obvious? Had he said something that would clue her in on who it was that has been sending her the letters? He needed to know.

"I… I still talk to him"

She sounded so conflicted. Even if there was a chance that she found someone who was more suited to her, she wouldn't go off and leave him in the dust, would she? Draco couldn't think of any instance that would prepare him for rejection; it wasn't something he has ever had to deal with and he didn't want to know what it would feel like if the girl he loved ran off to be with someone else. He was sure he would be thrown in a rampage. He would be resentful toward Hermione, angry at the boy who dared try to break them apart. Jealousy was another thing he never had to deal with. He wasn't too sure what that felt like, but every time he looked at Hermione, he felt a pang in his chest and his hands instantly balled up. If jealousy was anything like wanting to throw them off the top of the Quidditch towers, then he found his mark. He was jealous of himself!

"Was just curious." He shrugged. "Last time we talked about him, you wouldn't say much about him."

"You're jealous." She deadpanned.

He almost choked on his pastry. "W-what?" he coughed up a lump of crumbly cake and spite into onto his napkin. "W-what did you just say?"

She reached on and patted him on the back. "You heard me. Unless, of course, your cockiness has gotten to your head already."

There was a retort playing on the tip of his tongue but he chose not to say it. Instead, he asked," What brought you to that bloody conclusion?"

"Well," she bit her lip, making sure he was alright before confessing some secret he knew that she was keeping from him," I've been talking to him longer than I have been talking with you. I thought you wouldn't be too keen with me talking with him, although I still don't know who he is."

"You haven't gone around and compared handwriting, have you?"

"Not yet," she teased with a little smirk. "No, I haven't. Still, whoever he was, he came out of nowhere and offered a friendly hand. I only wish he would come out and tell me who he is so I can thank him. He's been really sweet."

"Sounds like a keeper."

"So, you don't mind?"

"I don't care who you talk to, Granger,"

Shit.

He only used her surname when he was pissed or hiding something. Fortunately, she still hadn't figured it out. It was for the best because he was nowhere close to revealing his identity, especially when he was just one step close to getting what he truly wanted.

She made herself comfortable once more, all the while, Draco began to wonder exactly what he had been thinking and if she truly had read between the lines.

The Marauder's Map laid spread out on his sheets, his chin rested just above the swell of the fifth floor corridor. He had been watching their engagement, curious to see them together when Slytherins and Gryffindors were not scheduled to patrol on Wednesdays. At first, he didn't think much of it because they were Prefects, now, he believed, he was just beginning to see past Hermione's dismissiveness.

There was something going on between them.

If it wasn't for them vanishing off the map entirely, he would have guessed Malfoy was up to something as childish as teasing her, but that wasn't the case. No one just disappears from the map or go through the walls unless they were a ghost or walking around searching for something that shouldn't be searching for. They were not dead; their names never reappeared on the other side of the shared wall, perfectly intact and only one thing could have prevented their voyage.

He was thinking of the Room of Requirement, of course. Of all people he knew the room could turn into anything it was desired for it to be. How Draco had come to know that was what was troubling him. Had he bullied Hermione into telling him, abducted her so he could draw out his little plan? Threatened not to take off points in exchange for her corporation. Whatever his father was making him do was an increasing sort of interest that became the object of his obsession. Ron knew it; Hermione knew it. Whatever they had seen at Knockturn ally wasn't something that could easily be forgotten. Malfoy had been shopping for an object, keen on getting it repaired at the cost of his life. Which, at this point, seemed more plausible that all his other theories.

The worst began to play in the back of his mind and it took closing them to stop them from creating a solid image in the forefront where everything he dreamt had a funny way of coming to fruition.

For now, he would keep an eye on her.

Godric knew that Hermione could use it since she would never fall face first into the hands of pure evil.

A/N:

If a time came that God chose to test me, it was in that moment. He decided to throw me this hurtle that, in his name willing, thought I would be able to jump over and not falter where I stood. There is absolutely no way of foretelling any event and to have this come so unexpectedly, and have to say I was completely devastated when I was told the news. I was able to celebrate my birthday with no trouble; my brother proposed to his girlfriend a few weeks later. It seemed that life was just moving forward as expected until this one thing threatened to destroy everything.

On the night of the twenty-fourth, we brought my dog into the vet hoping that what she was experiencing could be fixed and cured only to come to find out that what she had, which was autoimmune disease, was treatable. Which was perfectly good news to me. She was put on a blood transfusion and her prospects of surviving were good. More than good in my mind. The days past slowly. There wasn't a moment during class that I didn't stop to think about her. It was all that I could think about. Mind you, I had thought about the chances that I may have to say goodbye to my best friend and I was perfectly fine with that. I just didn't think it would happen. She was the strongest puppy I knew. She had her moments where she would lose weight and gain it back, but never did anything remotely close to what she got crossed my mind. It was just so overwhelming to find what was causing her to suffer. The next step was to wait and pray.

Unfortunately, the blood transfusion didn't take and the vet told us that if it didn't take the first time, it would not take the second.

I came home from school on October 26th with blissful optimism. It didn't occur to me then when I noticed a miss call from my mom that something had gone wrong. But, long and behold, she told me the news and that was we would have to put Lexi to sleep.

I can't tell y'all just how lost for words I was. To be told that I had to put my dog to sleep was tantamount to saying that there was just nothing we could do to help her. It was like my switch had been turn from giving light to receiving pure darkness. I couldn't believe it; almost three whole days of wondering if I would have my dog back in my arms came crashing down. The hours of waiting would never be returned to me and words and actions I should have said and done were long lost. It hit me more than words can say. To say the least, however, I have never known devastation and loss like this and seemed when everything was lost, there was no way of building myself back up. I had picked her out of the liter. I picked her to cherish and to love and after five years of being her owner and best friend, I expected to have her for a very long time. Alas, it was the collective decision of God and our family to have her put to sleep. She couldn't live on in the amount of pain that she was in; I wouldn't have allowed myself to be so selfish to allow it, anyway.

So, we went and said goodbye. I told her I loved her and told her that everything would be alright, that it was okay to let go, as I had told her on three separate occasions before. Then, it didn't seem real. Now, it did.

Unfortunately, I didn't stay to put her to sleep. I went home with my brother and sister. All that time, I cried and kept thinking about her last moments. To this day 5:30-8:00 is still a very hard time frame for me. I don't know the exact time she passed, not that I would want to, time just seems like a break between what I knew and felt and something I could never get back.

It's been a month and a half since I last held her. The days do go by more peacefully, I would say. I still have my moments. Nowadays, I can't be alone with my thoughts. It's just that unbearable.

I do have her daughter and brother to look after, so it's not like am entirely without her presence. Every now and then I'll see her in the corner of my eye and for a fleeting moment it's like she never left and that she's still with us, spiritually at least.

I have to thank each and every one of you for the support you have given my and my work. For being so patient with me and just not hounding me for anything. I didn't write this to get any sort of reaction from y'all. I do hope that you can take from my loss something positive.

It is okay. Everything will fall back into place eventually.

A/N 2: I will go back and edit my chapters as soon as I get some rest. I have been up since 9 a.m yesterday and I am STILL writing.

-Carolare Scarletus