Apparently, Malfoy had quite a big stash of alcohol hidden in the room on the third floor – that's where they brought three bottles of hard liquor to the living room. They sat on the armchairs in front of the fire, staring at the flames. Malfoy opened the first bottle, and they drank it passing it to one another after a few gulps. Hermione's whole body ached from the exhaustion of the god-awful day but the warmth that spread through her from the alcohol felt nice and made her sore muscles relax a bit. She didn't know what Malfoy was thinking but she could tell he felt the same.

For the first half an hour they didn't speak, only stared ahead, slowly getting in the events of the day. Then, they spoke of some non-important things, and somehow both of them ended up on the ground, warming up closer to the fire, sitting face-to-face in front of one another. When they were halfway through the first bottle of hard liquor, Malfoy asked Hermione how they destroyed the other three Horcruxes. Hermione explained that Riddle's diary, the one his father gave to Ginny Weasley, turned out to be a Horcrux that Harry destroyed in their second year. Malfoy didn't seem surprised by this information, although he said it was news to him.

Hermione then told him that Marvolo Gaunt's ring was destroyed by Voldemort when they were in their sixth year. Dumbledore had been wearing the Horcrux on his finger, and it made the poison spread from his hand to his whole body until eventually it would've killed him if Snape hadn't done it first. Malfoy's eyes slid to the emerald ring on her finger. He stated he knew all this, although he found that out only a few years later. Hermione wondered if he had been carrying the guilt of almost killing Dumbledore when he was only sixteen, but she knew she shouldn't feel all that sorry – the man in front of her now had done a lot more terrifying things to others.

She explained all that went down with the Salazar Slytherin's locket – how Harry and Dumbledore went to retrieve it on that fateful night and how the Horcrux wasn't where they thought it was, so all that effort was for nothing. She told him how they found the real locket half a year later but couldn't destroy it because they didn't know how. Eventually, they destroyed the locket during the Battle of Hogwarts using Basilisk's poison from the fangs because that's how Harry had destroyed the diary.

Finally, Hermione told Malfoy that Harry was also an unintentional Horcrux of Voldemort; she told him how Snape had revealed to Harry what he and Dumbledore had planned, and this was the reason why Harry didn't die the second time Voldemort tried to kill him. "You-Know-Who killed not Harry but his own Horcrux that night, that's why Harry survived," she finished.

Malfoy seemed skeptical. "Can you destroy a Horcrux with a Killing curse?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged, a little unsure. "I guess you can. It worked, didn't it?"

The lines around Malfoy's lips hardened. "You can't destroy a Horcrux with a Killing curse. If that was the case, any smarter and stronger wizard would be able to do it," he stated firmly this time instead of asking.

"Maybe it works with… living things?" Hermione offered.

Malfoy didn't seem convinced. "Maybe."

They went silent for a few minutes, Malfoy seemed to consider what she just told him. He opened the second bottle of the night, taking a huge gulp from it, and reached it out for Hermione who took it, taking a slightly smaller gulp. After the whole first bottle her throat no longer burned when she drank, her vision was a little blurry, but she felt light as a feather.

"Did you destroy the locket?" Malfoy asked. Hermione nodded. "Did it make you see things? Before you ended it?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes."

"What did you see?"

Hermione looked into the different shades of his gray eyes. "I saw Bellatrix," she said quietly. He didn't need further explanation. They got silent again. The fire crackled in the hearth. "I'm very sorry about your parents, about what they told you, but you must understand it wasn't them, it was You-Know-Who." Malfoy didn't answer, looking away from her, taking another gulp. "May I ask what—what happened to them?"

"They died," he deadpanned.

Hermione tensed. "I gathered that. I understand if you don't want to talk about it. But still, I'm very sorry you lost them, they might've had their own ways to show it, but they truly loved and I can only imagine how deeply you cared about—"

"I killed them," he stated, his voice cold and bleak. He looked at her, reveling at her shock, at her widened eyes, at her mouth agape in surprise and at her dismay. She tried to control her expression as best as she could, but it was too late, he already saw how appalled and taken aback she was.

She didn't want to ask anything else, but he continued, "I killed my father first. After the Battle of Hogwarts, we couldn't get back to the Manor, so we were forced to hide; but not for long. Voldemort found us not a week later. He called my father a traitor and he wanted vengeance but didn't want to do it himself. He asked me to do it, to kill my father. He claimed he saw potential in me, and if I tried hard enough, I could achieve great things, as great as Voldemort's deeds. He said he would make me great if only I killed my traitor father for him." Malfoy scoffed, but it came out something like a mixture of a hiss and a growl. "Of course, I said I wouldn't do it, even though father begged me to. You see," he looked at her, but his eyes were distant, he didn't really see her, "back then I still thought there was hope for me, that if I fight back hard enough, everything would be all right in the end. I truly believed I could refuse Voldemort. But he already had a plan for me, he knew what I was going to become."

His expression hardened into a stone, and Hermione saw before her not the boy who described the horrendous things but the feared and respected High Reeve everybody cowered upon seeing. He said it all with a sort-of bored tone as if it had nothing to do with him.

"Voldemort separated me from my parents. I don't know where he took me, and it didn't matter in the end. He tortured me for months until I no longer knew who I was or why I was or how I was. Voldemort wasn't alone, Aunt Bella was eager to help him. While she loved to use the Cruciatus on me, Voldemort was more of a blade and blood person – must be the half-blood in him." Hermione shivered when she imagined it, even though she tried to keep the brutal picture away from her mind. "I'm sure I had gone mad at some point, I'm sure I'd completely lost it. But Voldemort put my mind back together just to torture me further until I didn't understand the meaning of the word no. He didn't want me dead, he didn't want me crazy, he needed me to be at my full capacity.

"When Voldemort was finished, I was no longer the same. And I never will be. I don't even remember how I killed my father, I only recall his dead body before me. My mother screamed and yelled – Voldemort made her watch all of this – but her cries didn't reach my ears. I knew who she was. I knew she was my mother. I knew I had loved her once. I knew I'd just killed my father whom I also had loved. I simply didn't care.

"After that, Voldemort was really satisfied, calling me his greatest achievement. I wasn't his right hand yet, but he let me do more and more of his killings. I wasn't me, I didn't feel anything, but killing and torturing made me feel alive, made me feel like I existed. So I did more of it." He looked at her. She felt tears gather in her eyes, but she didn't want to cry, she had to stay strong. "If you think I'm horrible now, Granger, you should've seen me then. You would've never looked that way at me then, with that pathetic pity in your eyes." Hermione breathed in shakily, it sounded almost like a sob. He ignored it. "After all I did, it wasn't hard for me to kill my mother. I didn't do it because Voldemort asked me – he didn't care for her at that point, he already had what he wanted – me. But she was starting to annoy me, Granger, she annoyed me so much because she reminded me of how weak I was. I wanted Voldemort to see me as nothing but a ruthless killing machine, I wanted to be powerful with nothing holding me back, and she was in the way. I killed her, and she didn't even fight back. She cried at first, but then she only spoke my name softly. She loved me even in her death."

Hermione choked on her tears. "How did you kill her?" she whispered.

"Voldemort's method – I stabbed her with a poisoned blade. She went through such horrible agony that death seemed like a mercy. And I felt nothing." His voice was distant, his mind somewhere far away.

He had just told her the abominable truth, and Hermione didn't know what she was expecting but she knew it wasn't that. She had little idea what made her move closer to him – after all, she should've been disgusted, should've been appalled, should've felt nothing but hatred for the man in front of her. Instead, she pushed herself to his side until their sides touched and put her hand on his shoulder. Hermione wanted him to look at her, but he stared straight ahead insistently. She grazed his cheek gently. "I'm very sorry you had to do it. You had no choice and it's not your fault."

Malfoy finally looked down at her, bewilderment crossing his features. "Did you hear what I just told you, Granger? I killed my parents. I did it myself, on my own. And yet you still pity me?"

She investigated his face, now frowned in confusion, not daring to look away. "You didn't do it. Voldemort made you." He stared at her, then his gaze slid to her lips as if the words she was saying were in a language he didn't understand. She leaned even closer into him, if that was possible, saying in a soft voice, "When all of this is over it'll seem like nothing else but a bad dream. When we win this war, you'll be free from You-Know-Who. You must understand you had no choice and it's not your fault he picked out you to abuse."

Malfoy studied her eyes so intensely that he didn't even blink. Hermione thought he would deny her argument, that he would try to demean her words somehow, but his eyes slithered to the chaotic mess of her hair. Hermione didn't realize they'd gotten so close, that their bodies now were front to front, that all Malfoy needed to do was lift his hand slightly, and his finger wrapped around her brown curl.

"How do you do it?" he asked absent-mindedly, his eyes suddenly glazed with something she wasn't sure was alcohol.

She swallowed, also unable to resist being close to him and peering into his eyes. "Do what?" she asked breathlessly.

"Your hair. How do you make it like… that? All curly and consuming?" She felt his hand entangle the shock of her hair further.

She thought she imagined it when he started leaning nearer. "Nothing… That's just how they are… Naturally…"

Malfoy's brows furrowed as if beholding an incredible marvel. "Naturally…" he whispered. "Magnificent…"

He fisted her locks, forcing her head closer, face to face with him. She gasped in surprise. "Are you scared of me?" he whispered threateningly.

She swallowed. She couldn't show the fear, she couldn't feel it. "No…" she answered.

He loomed over her, his head bending lower, his nose touching the pulse point in her neck. "Then why is your heart beating like a little bird?"

Hermione didn't have time to respond when his hand in her hair dug into her scalp almost painfully, pulling her to him, crashing her lips with his, fireworks exploding in her mind.

It was nothing like their first kiss, although this one was just as rough and wild. Malfoy's passion transmitted to Hermione as his tongue invaded her mouth, fighting for space, commanding it. She touched his hair, too, enthralled by its silky texture, using it to drag him closer to her even when he was the one commanding both of their movements. Their bodies touched in more than a few places, sharing their heat, but that wasn't enough for Hermione – she lifted her hips up, climbing into his lap without breaking the kiss.

Now their faces were almost on the same level, and she managed to deepen the kiss, rolling her hips on his lap with more ardor and feeling his manhood harden underneath her. His hands wandered down from her hair to her back, then lower, until they grasped her ass and squeezed almost painfully. Hermione leaned away from his mouth and let out a moan, her lips on fire from the thorough kissing. She looked down at him and saw his eyes matching her fervor perfectly. Hermione had never done anything like this before and she didn't know where all the bravery was coming from – it had nothing to do with the fact she was a Gryffindor – but she couldn't get away, couldn't get sated, couldn't get enough of him. She knew where this was going, and she wanted to get there faster.

His mouth descended to her neck where he bit her pulse point and soothed the pain with a kiss while she grasped his hair, fingers flexing on his scalp. His hand moved to her blouse, trying to pull it down, but the fabric was stiff, and he was an impatient man when it came to her, so she didn't even mind hearing the blouse rip apart. Hermione started fervently grinding on his thighs, and Malfoy was about to destroy her bra that was hiding her breasts from him when suddenly he let out a hiss and groaned, his left arm back from her as if burned.

She withdrew from him, frowning in confusion, and was about to ask if she hurt him somehow, but he instinctively pushed the sleeve of his shirt back, revealing the Dark Mark – bright black, swollen, and seemingly moving. It was the first time Hermione saw the Dark Mark up close – it horrified her as well as fascinated her. Malfoy stared at the tattoo, his face contorted in disgust.

"What—" Hermione was about to ask, but he lifted her off him with ease as if she weighed nothing and stood up.

"Voldemort's calling for me," he said, grabbing his wand and cloak from the sofa. "I have to go."

Hermione stood up just as he was out of the living room, following after him as he averted his eyes from her, focused on where he was going.

"Do you think this is about the Horcrux—" she asked.

"I don't know, Granger," he said, looking back at her as they went to the lobby.

He was almost out the door when Hermione gathered the courage to call out for him, "Malfoy!" He turned around, staring at her with his non-expression. She wanted to go to him and kiss him goodbye, but instead, they remained six feet apart when she said, "Be safe."

Malfoy only nodded. And went out the door, leaving her all alone.