A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks once again for all the reviews. Unarosaesunarosa, you are my absolute FAVORITE reviewer! Sticking with me since Chapter one! Gotta hand it to you, thanks. Anyway, a lot of you seemed mighty satisfied with the chapter you got, but after I reread it (after I posted it, obviously) I was certainly not satisfied. The writing was decent, I'll give me that, but the explanations just aren't that good. So, this is going to be kind of a catch up chapter, so be prepared to learn quite a bit more from our lovely Gryffindor Golden Girl and Sexy Slytherin Prince. *think this is a long enough A/N?*

Disclaimer: I JUST WANT TOM FELTON!

Chapter Five: So They Did.

Hermione stiffened, and even Draco felt the distinct discomfort that racked her thin frame at that moment. She turned her back to him and ran her hands through her unruly hair, mulling over what Malfoy had just said without the chance of him hearing her. Finally, she turned back around to face him. He was leaning back into the arm of the couch, looking remarkably composed despite the bomb he'd just dropped.

"What do you mean, you know about my father?" she asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Malfoy shrugged. "Nothing, Granger," he said elusively. "Really, you don't have to tell me your life story," he paused. "I don't want to hear a ruddy Mudblood's history, anyway," he said in a valiant attempt to recapture his past sarcasm. But Hermione ignored him.

"Tell me what you saw, Malfoy," she said quietly, taking a seat next to him on the couch. He watched her fold her legs under her and lean back into her respective section of the couch. "Really. I need to know."

Malfoy shrugged again, not willing to tell her what he saw. It had seemed so intimate, when she was talking about his father, that it made his stomach clench painfully in a way he couldn't quite place. He wasn't sure how he felt about that feeling, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to feel it again. He guessed his hesitation flowed through the jewelry, because she seized his wrist in an effort to get him to focus.

Immediately, an electric shock, much like a static shock from rubbing your socks on a rug shocked the two, and they jumped apart. Hermione gazed, horrified, at her palm. There was a tiny burn mark on her palm that vaguely resembled…no, it couldn't be. Could it?

Malfoy felt her fear before he noticed it. He looked over to the brunette and saw her gazing, transfixed, at the palm of her hand. Really, it hadn't hurt that bad…Malfoy leaned over to get a better look, and almost gasped, but stopped himself. Only girls gasped.

There was a snake burned onto her skin. Malfoy immediately turned over his wrist, too afraid to look. Hermione let out a small whimper. "Look at your arm, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at her as if she were mad, and moved to jump away. She reached out a hand to stop him, but he moved even farther away so he wouldn't feel like he stuck his tongue in those Muggle socket things. She, too, flinched back and away.

"Just look at it, Malfoy," she said quietly. Malfoy turned over his arm and looked at the underside of his wrist. There was a small lion burned into his hand. Not very detailed, or clear, but there nonetheless.

"Shit," was all he could wrangle out of his now blocked throat. This had never happened before with any of the other wearers of the bracelets. But then again, no self-respecting Slytherin, or Malfoy for that matter, would have willingly given the bracelet to a Gryffindor.

"Tell me what you saw, Malfoy," Hermione said, unrelenting. He raised his blonde head and looked at her. She had stuck her burned hand under her thigh so she couldn't see it, and he somehow found that hilarious. He stifled a laugh and tried to get serious by looking at her face. But his suppressed mirth was spilling over onto her consciousness, because a smile was about to break out across her visage.

She giggled a little, and he let out a deep, throaty chuckle, which made her tingle a little. He smirked. He could feel it.

"Please."

And he told her.

When he was finished, Hermione leaned back to her respective side of the couch. She had subconsciously moved closer to the Slytherin while the tale wore on, and had finally snapped back to reality.

"My father was always the mean one," she started slowly. She looked up at Draco, as though asking permission to continue. He nodded. "My mother was the passive-aggressive one. Nothing was ever good enough for her. If I got good grades at school, I wasn't doing enough around the house. If I did work around the house, I wasn't getting good enough grades. One time I tried to do both, and she would mutter curses under her breath whenever I walked by."

Draco didn't move. He just stared. So she continued. "My father was the meaner one. Where my mother yelled, he would slap. If my grades weren't good enough, I got a whipping. If my mother asked him to, I would get a whipping."

"The week before my first year, my mother decided she'd had enough of me once and for all. She told me she wanted me to go to Hogwarts, and she didn't want me to come back," Hermione lowered her head so Draco couldn't see her chocolate eyes sparkle with tears. "My father had forbade it, of course, but she knew just how to fix him." Hermione imitated her mother. "Please honey," she mocked cruelly, "I can't stand her in this house much longer. I think she might try to hurt us with all of her magic."

"My father just laughed at her and told her to shut the fuck up." Draco was shocked. Hermione had never used language like that. "He told her I wasn't going anywhere, and nothing she said was going to change that."

"And that night, he touched me."

At this, Draco stood up, unable to hear anymore. Hermione lifted her doe eyes at him and he unwillingly softened. She needed to get this off her chest, and if he had to endure it, it was alright with him.

"What happened, Hermione?" he asked.

She looked up at him, choosing to focus instead on a spot a little above his eyes to spare him the visual image. "When he tried to…you know, I got really scared, and I guess my magic kicked in. He started choking. He was clutching at his throat and gasping for air and his face started turning purple." She shook with a silent sob. "So I stopped it. I don't know how, but I stopped it. And he just stared at me like I was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen and told me he wanted me out of the house. Forever."

"Merlin, Granger," Draco breathed. "Your father was a twisted one, wasn't he?"

"Still is, Malfoy."

"So have you ever…?" Draco trailed off, looking at Hermione significantly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm still a virgin, Draco," she answered quietly.

"You called me Draco," he stated, bewildered.

"You called me Hermione," she replied.

"Well, since we're reliving our sordid past, it seems only appropriate, no?" a small smirk played at the corner of his lusted-after lips, and Hermione managed a weak smile.

"Your turn."

She looked taken aback. "My turn for what?"

"Tell me what you saw."

And Hermione Granger returned the favor. She gave Draco Malfoy the truth.

"My father was quite similar to your father, Granger," Malfoy mused, twisting his hands in his lap. "If I disobeyed, it was the Cruciatus curse for me. If I didn't give in, my mother got it. And I got the pleasure of watching."

Hermione looked horrified.

"One time, he tried to put me under the Imperius curse, and tortured me twice as much because I could throw it off. You would think a Death Eater would be thrilled at the skill his son was showing, but no. It was always pain with him."

"When I was ten, he took me to my first meeting. That's where all the Death Eaters go and meet up with V-Voldemort and if they're lucky, they snatch a Muggle and torture him or her just for kicks." Malfoy looked like he wanted to throw up. "They made me watch, and when they were done, they would make me drag the body out back, even though they could have easily done it with magic. They wanted me to get used to the feeling of death."

"Sometimes I feel like death had permeated my skin and I'll always feel that way. Dead, I mean. Most of the time, I'm either angry or sad. I'm never happy, and when I am, it's because I'm making someone else miserable. Not physically, mind you, just teasing. And it's not even fun anymore."

"I took up Muggle boxing, Granger, last year, that way I could fight without needing my wand, just in case something happened. I've read almost every Defense book there is, and I've mastered most defensive spells. I'm ready for death, Granger. I've been ready since I was ten years old and I watched that first Muggle die."

Malfoy actually let a tear fall down his stone cheek and without thinking, Hermione reached up and brushed it away. This time, the electricity was a mere tingle.

"Her name was Anna Burke. She was seventeen, and one of the most beautiful women I have every seen, still to this day. She was walking down the road, on her way home to her flat. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Bellatrix took her. It only took a second to take her, and it took three hours and fifty two minutes exactly to kill her."

Hermione let a few tears fall down her cheeks too. Malfoy stared at the couch, afraid of all the emotions he could feel coming off of Hermione. There was pity, sadness, and…understanding. Empathy. She knew how it felt to have a secret that no one was allowed to hear. But now that secret was out in the open, and that gave them both relief.

"I'm going to bed," Malfoy said, making to stand up. Hermione stuck out a hand and stopped him.

"What, Granger?" Malfoy asked, sounding like a ghost of himself.

"Stay with me," was her whispered reply.

So he did.

A/N: So, who has the worst childhood? I can't even pick! Review! Oh, and I know most of the time, Hermione has the perfect home life, but this was the only way I could think to connect them emotionally. You know? Anyway, review!