A/N: So, about that Friday update thing? Yeah, I lied... (: I couldn't wait to post this chapter! I was so excited for it... I suppose it's because of the mini-almost-sorta-but-not-really-Dramione moment that goes on in this chapter. It's not really a Dramione moment as it is a moment of realization for the two... But you'll see what I mean soon. (:

Not exactly the best song I could have chosen for this chapter, but whatever.

Disclaimer: Do I really have to say this again? I'm getting tired of retyping it. T.T I don't own anything.

Memories, sharp as daggers
Pierce into the flesh of today
Suicide of love took away all that matters
And buried the remains in an unmarked grave in your heart
~Killing Loneliness by HIM

Thirty minutes.

Only thirty minutes left.

Draco watched the clock intently, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. Only thirty minutes left until class was over, only thirty minutes left until the dreaded bonding exercises. The words itself disgusted Draco! He suppressed a gag as he thought about it.

What would their professor make them do? Would it be one of those "Catch-Me-From-Falling" kind of exercises or would it be... Worse? Would she make them play the stupid get to know you games?

Draco shook himself from his thoughts. Stop being a bloody Granger and asking too many questions, his mind hissed at him. Instead, he tried to pay attention to his potions teacher -who just so happened to be their tutor, which didn't help distract Draco from his thoughts at all-.

For thirty long minutes, Draco learned about the dangerous effects of Aconite if not used properly (for its leaves are highly poisonous), facts that Draco was sure he'd never need to use in reality. As boring as it was, Draco hoped it never ended. But, like all things do, it did.

As the class was dismissed, Draco rose slowly and moved towards the front, where Professor Saravia was attempting to organize her desk, worrying her plump lower lip while doing so. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger doing the same, a look of doubt on her face. The young professor, however, didn't seem to notice them as she continued to organize. Draco, a bit impatient, cleared his throat.

Saravia jumped, a small squeak escaping her lips and sending a stack of papers flying. "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," she said, once she had calmed down a little. "I completely forgot about the trusting classes!"

"It's too bad I didn't," Draco murmured under his breath.

Saravia, who had begun to work her way towards a small door in the back of the class room, turned around and replied, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Draco growled.

Saravia, satisfied with his answer, turned back and unlocked the door. Draco watched her, unsure of what she was planning to do. He could almost feel Granger's curiosity and rolled his eyes, nearly letting out a snort. Saravia, who turned back to face the two young students, said, "Well?" When neither of the two budged, she further said, "Aren't you coming?"

Right, Draco thought, feeling rather stupid, as he made his way to the mysterious door. As he entered the room, he couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock.

The room was actually quite ordinary. Wooden floors, wooden shelves, wooden walls. Many rare potion ingredients and difficultly brewed potions lined the shelves, along with some strange trinkets of which Draco could not identify. A strange decoration hung above the doorway, which Granger seemed to recognize, and that made it unimportant to Draco. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side. It wasn't too small, but it certainly wasn't too big either. It was just ordinary.

So what caused Draco, the Malfoy heir, the one who's seen everything, to be surprised?

It was because of what lay on the old chipped wooden table, the two objects which glowed dimly and looked quite uninviting and even taunting.

Two mini pensieves.

Hermione looked around the room, a small smile on her face. The place seemed cheery, the small trinkets that aligned the room reminding her somewhat of Dumbledore's office. It was plain, yes, but Hermione liked plain. When she saw the dream-catcher that hung above the door frame, she almost smiled.

She almost began to like it.

Almost.

Her eyes somehow found Malfoy's, and she noticed the strange expression on his face. Why did he seem so horrified? She followed his gaze and found the two small pensieves, a small gasp escaping her lips. No, no, no, no, she thought, her mind racing as she imaged as to why they would be here. Surely they couldn't be using them! But no matter what other explanation she could come up with, none of them made any knew what was going to happen, and she didn't like one bit of it. At all.

They looked almost like a small bowl, but with stone instead of wood. They had intricate designs on them, which marked them as pensieves. Otherwise, Hermione would not have known what they wore. The dark blue liquid glowed eerily, looking unwelcoming.

"No need to worry," Saravia said, watching the two with an amused expression on her face. "It's not as bad as you think."

"Not as bad!" Malfoy exploded. Hermione cringed at the sound of his voice, sounding angrier than she had ever heard it. "I will not let that bloody mudblood look into my memories!"

"Mister Malfoy," Saravia's voice was harsh and clipped. "We will never use the term 'mudblood' in my presence. If you so much as begin to utter it, so help me I will put you in so many detentions that you will no longer know what it's like to have any spare time on your hands. Do we understand each other?"

Malfoy, who looked a bit angry (but thankfully didn't say anything about it), only nodded.

"Good," Saravia beamed at him, her friendly demeanor back. "Now, like I said, it isn't as bad as you think it is, honestly. Take a seat, and I'll explain what we're going to do."

"No offense, Professor," Hermione said quietly as she slid into the wooden chair, "but I think it's self-explanatory."

"Things aren't always what they seem," Saravia said, a playful smile alighting her delicate features. "No, in the pensieve before you, you're going to place a memory that you don't ever want the other to view. So that way you won't let your partner view it by accident in the future exercises."

"Only one?" Malfoy asked. His expression was unreadable.

"Only one." Saravia confirmed. Malfoy looked grim upon hearing the news.

Hermione thought for a moment. What was one moment that she didn't want Malfoy to ever see? There were definitely many. But what was one that was absolutely vital that Malfoy never saw? She instantly ruled out many on her list. After a few more moments of thinking, she slowly withdrew a memory and placed it in the bowl. It lit up instantly, becoming a lighter blue, seeming to cast a cold, haunting glow.

"Good," Saravia said. She took both the bowls and placed them on an empty spot on a shelf and took out two more empty ones. She placed them on the table. "Now, I'm going to randomly take a memory from each of your minds and place them in the other's bowl. Then you'll view the memory."

"Is there any way to tell what memory of mine that Malfoy's viewing?" Hermione asked anxiously. Saravia shook her head and Hermione's heart sank. How will she be able to tell if he saw something embarrassing or blackmail worthy?

She watched anxiously as Saravia withdrew a memory from Malfoy, a funny expression playing on his face. She couldn't help but be a little bit excited, however. What secrets could she learn of Malfoy? Maybe something that could help her learn more of the Slytherin prince? Something that could help her solve the puzzle that is Draco Malfoy? Yes, that was something she could definitely use right now; a clue to help her figure out this mystery.

Her heart began to pound as Saravia's wand tip touched Hermione's temple, sending shivers down her spine. OhMerlin, ohMerlin, ohMerlin, she thought repeatedly as the memory left her mind. This was it. Malfoy might now have access to one of Hermione's deep secrets -even though she didn't have many, there were still good odds that he might get one-.

Saravia placed the memory in Malfoy's bowl. A ghostly smile formed on her face and she looked between the grave students.

"Now, begin."

Draco found himself standing in a dark corridor of the Gryffindor hallways, which were at the time completely abandoned. A nearby window allowed a small bit of moonlight to peak through, casting a seemingly sad glow. What was sadder than that, however, was the girl it was shining down on.

There, on the floor, her hair in a disarray around her and tears streaking her face, was none other than the Hermione Granger. Draco rolled his eyes. Granger always cried, what was so important about this moment? He began to think that these exercises were a waste of time.

He surveyed the girl again. Her shoulders shook as another sob overcame her, her hair standing up in all the wrong places. Her makeup was smeared... Wait. When did Granger wear makeup?

Then, Draco noticed her dress. It was a nice, delicate pink color, made of fine silk. Draco was surprised that the mudblood could afford such nice formal wear. But why did it seem so familiar?

Then, it hit Draco. It was the dress she wore to the Yule Ball! So this must be the night of it. That explains the fancy clothes, makeup, and why it was so quiet... But that didn't explain why she was crying.

Wait a second... Didn't Weasel upset her that night? Yes, it was the talk of the school for the rest of the week. How he was jealous of Granger's date. Anyone could hear her yelling at him from a mile away with that man voice of hers. And, like stereotypical Granger, she had ran off crying.

"Miss Granger?"

Draco had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the approaching figure. Granger must not have either, because at the sound of his voice, she jumped. When she saw who it was, she relaxed a little. "O-oh, Headmaster," she hiccuped, her voice still shaky from crying. "I'm s-sorry if I'm crowding up the h-halls... I w-was just about to r-return to my r-room..." She began to stand as she spoke, but Dumbledore interrupted her.

"No, Miss Granger, it's quite alright. Lemon drop?" He pulled out a handful of colorful candies from his robes that Draco didn't recognize.

"No t-thank you," Granger said.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore inquired as he unwrapped one for himself and popped it into his mouth. "I often find that the muggle candy helps me calm down. Strange, isn't it? How something that doesn't posses a bit of magic can work its magic into comforting myself..."

"Comfort food?" Granger sniffled, a small smile on her face.

"Exactly!" Dumbledore said. "What an ingenious word for it. I might have to start using that for myself..."

"Well," Granger said slowly as she reached for the candy. "I suppose one couldn't hurt."

"That's the spirit," Dumbledore cheered. He watched her unwrap it and insert it into her mouth. "Now, would you care to tell me why you were crying?"

"Oh," Granger said hastily. "I..."

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his voice softer than Draco had ever heard. "I have that confiding in someone can often times lessen the burden that is placed upon us."

Granger let out a small sigh, blowing a tuft of brown hair from her face. "I wouldn't be surprised if you knew already, Professor."

"I have heard some things," Dumbledore admitted. "But the experience can be told quite differently from the one who experienced it."

"I suppose so," Granger said doubtfully. "This dance... It was supposed to be perfect. My dream come true. I finally fit in somewhere; I wasn't the buck-toothed freak anymore. At least not to Ron or Harry." Her eyes shown with pain and Draco knew she was remembering the times where he had often taunted her for her oversized teeth.

"And at first, it was my dream come true," she continued. "Viktor was the perfect guy; polite, sweet, and he didn't flirt with any other girl. But when I went to tell my best friends about it..."

She held back a sob and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ron just... Looked at me with this awful expression on his face. Like I had somehow become that obnoxious girl that I was in the first year. And it's just not fair, Professor! After all those years, I tried to be as brave as Harry and as funny as Ron. After all those years, I had finally thought that they were happy with who I was. That I was happy with who I was.

"But when I talked to Ron, it seemed as if everything had been for nothing. I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough to be his friend!"

Granger began to cry again and Dumbledore patted her back in comfort. She leaned into him, tears pouring down her pale cheeks. Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but Draco never learned what he said, because he was instantly sucked out of the memory.

White.

That's what Hermione instantly thought of as she landed inside of Malfoy's memory. There was white everywhere; the floors, the walls, the clothes. A sharp, tangy, and somehow familiar scent reached her and she wrinkled her nose. Ugh, she thought, I always hated the smell of hospitals...

Wait, her mind back-petaled. Are we in a hospital?

Sure enough, she was. She looked around, taking in the couches and the counter and the nurse behind it... She must be in a waiting room, she decided.

"Welcome to St. Mungo's, can I help you?" the nurse said politely.

"I'm here for Narcissa Malfoy," said a voice. Hermione instantly whipped around as the words reached her ears. A very grave looking Malfoy stood across from the nurse. He looks awful, Hermione thought. Dark circles hung beneath his dull, lifeless eyes and his hair was tousled. His clothes were wrinkled and look as if they were thrown on rather hastily. This must have been some time in the summer.

The nurse instantly straightened up and fully looked at the Malfoy heir. "You must be Draco Malfoy." When she received no reply -which surprised Hermione greatly; she had expected him to snap at her-, the nurse said, "follow me."

Hermione followed the two down the corridor and towards the elevator. The nurse pressed the "level 4" button, which Hermione recalled was the floor for Special Cases. Her brow creased and she wondered why Narcissa was in the Special Case floor. Heck, she wondered why Narcissa was in St. Mungo's the begin with!

The elevator door opened and the nurse stepped out, leading Malfoy and Hermione down to the room at the end of the hall. She opened the door and gestured for Malfoy to enter. "The healer will be here shortly." She said as she shut the door.

Her words seemed to fall upon deaf ears, however, because Malfoy's attention was fully focused on his mother. His eyes watered and once the nurse was gone, his frail mask broke, and Hermione was able to see every emotion portrayed through his eyes; Sadness, hopelessness, vulnerability, love, tenderness, regret, realization, anger, pain. They flashed by so fast that Hermione almost didn't have time to recognize them.

"Mom," he said, his voice breaking. He rushed to her side and fell beside her. Heavy sobs racked his body as he reached for her hand, almost as if a five year old would. Hermione instantly began to feel uncomfortable; she was intruding on something highly personal and she knew it.

Hermione turned her attention towards Narcissa. She did, Hermione had to admit, looked pretty bad. Her already tiny figure seemed too tiny, her face was pale and drawn. Her hair fell limply among her thin, bony face, no longer shining with radiance and beauty.

"Mister Malfoy," a new voice said. Hermione turned towards the man, who wore a white lab suit. He had glasses and a buzz cut. "I'm Dr. Kraus."

Malfoy didn't respond, but turned his head slightly towards the Healer.

Dr. Kraus shifted, clearing his throat uncertainly. "As you know, your mother was hit with Gloria Mortem, a curse that is intended to kill the victim slowly and painfully. It was a technique that was used in the 1800s, to torture Mudbloods and-"

"I don't care what it was used for!" Malfoy shouted. Emotion so clearly leaked through in his voice, tears streaking his cheeks. He stood up and faced Dr. Kraus. "Just tell me there's a cure!"

"T-there is," Dr. Kraus said. Malfoy visibly relaxed. "But..."

"But?" Malfoy cried.

"But," Dr. Kraus continued shakily, "I-it is extremely hard to f-find..."

"So find it!" Malfoy screamed. He towered over the little doctor, who began to tremble slightly. "I don't care what it takes, as long as you find it! You want more money? I'll pay you more money!" He dug out several gold coins and threw them to the ground. "You want more team members? I'll hire you new team members! You will find that cure, Dr. Kraus, even if it means risking your life. Hell, even if it means risking your entire team's life!" He grabbed the old healer's shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground. His eyes glinted dangerously and Hermione knew he was being every bit serious.

"Y-yes, M-mister Malfoy." The healer said. Malfoy put him down, and Dr. Kraus scurried out of the room as if his life depended on escaping the enclosed room with the angry Malfoy inside. Which, Hermione mused, it kind of did.

Malfoy turned towards the ill Narcissa. "Mother," he said softly, his voice breaking. "I'll find you that cure. I promise. No matter what it takes..."

No matter what it takes...

The sentence, filled with more emotion than Hermione had ever heard come from the Malfoy heir, echoed itself and Hermione felt herself be pulled out of the memory.

A/N: That's it. Hehehehe, what an evil place to leave you at. :D

I made up "Gloria Mortem"; it's Latin for "slow death", for anyone who wants to know.

Hermione's memory was a bit uncharacteristic (since when did she care what other people thought about her?), but because you guys are the most amazing readers ever (you did choose to read this story... Hahaha just kidding), you'll look over that, right? ;)

Anyway, leave me a review! I'll have an update for y'all on Friday. (: