I do not own Harry Potter at all and make no money off this fic. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Bros.

When Draco finally rolled from his bed the next morning, he was, to say the least, tired. He'd spent an extra hour and a half up the night before, talking with Snape. Not only was the man still not his favorite person at the moment, he'd had nothing truly constructive to tell him. It was partly why he'd been up so late; every time Snape had tried to pass off Draco's questions and concerns, Draco would find some other excuse to stay longer in the hopes that the man would eventually cave to his requests.

Snape, for his part, felt terrible for the boy. There was still a part of him, however small it was at this miserable point in his life, that yearned for Lily Potter and regretted every decision he'd made from the age of thirteen on. He didn't want Draco to meet the fate of a lonely, embittered old man that he seemed to be reaching for with every passing year. It wasn't that he felt fatherly towards the boy- truth be told, if Snape felt parental feelings for any child in Hogwarts, it was Hermione Granger (which he would never, ever admit to anyone). Hermione, after all, was the one who bore the most resemblance to himself. A late bloomer, indecently smart and quick-witted, and an insufferable know it all to all her professors…he'd been in all those positions at one time in his life. So, he had a fondness for Draco, but no real love. It was more like what he felt in Potter's case: the need to protect and prevent. And that wasn't truly parental, it was simply a desire to avoid past injustices. There was no need for Draco Malfoy to grow old in Azkaban, or to lose his immortal soul committing atrocities for a mad man.

And he could already clearly see the way the boy was feeling about Granger. It was hard to miss…and would be even harder for him to hide now that the entire school knew the truth. So he tried to encourage Draco as best he could, but it was difficult when he had no desire to reveal how deep his own regrets ran…and how far he was going for them now. Certainly, Draco knew that he was a spy for the Order, that he'd been one for a long time, but the boy didn't know why he was doing it and he had no intention of letting him find out, unless it proved absolutely necessary. So while Draco sat before him, whining about how cold his office was and how on earth was he supposed to take on the task before him, Snape let his mind wander. He even wondered, if he'd had a mentor to talk to besides Dumbledore- someone who knew what it was like to be a spy, to live with regret- would he have changed sooner? Could everything have been avoided?

Clearly, the act of mentoring Draco through this difficult spot would take more time on his part. He needed to think about what affect he wanted to have on the boy…what path would be best for him. Until then, the best thing for him was sleep and he promptly told Draco so, no less than five times before the boy finally left the older wizard's office, just as confused as when he'd arrived.

However, Draco was not a slow boy; he knew that his house head was hiding something. Whatever it was, he was certain it had something to do with Draco's current situation with Hermione. He even wondered idly if it was a past romance of Snape's before dismissing the notion. But he also knew that Snape would never say anything until he was ready to…therefore it couldn't be that important, could it? Draco had enough issues to deal with as it was, without Snape's regrets about a certain witch (or wizard, he still wasn't sure on that point) muddling his own decisions. So it was with some trepidation and several yawns that Draco finally pulled himself from Slytherin's cold dungeons and across the school to Hermione's hidey hole.

Hermione answered the door, dressed and groomed, but startled to see Draco.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I said I'd take you to breakfast, didn't I?" he replied smoothly. "Are you ready? Here, let me carry your books." He took them from her as she turned and locked the door behind her.

"You don't have to do this," she grumbled. "I hate having people stare."

He raised an eyebrow and put his free hand behind her, ushering her ahead of him. "People will be staring whether we eat together or not. Why so squeamish all of the sudden? We've been holding hands and ducking out of class together for weeks now."

Hermione flushed and glanced away as the walked down the hall together. "Harry cam to see me last night."

"What, is he in love with you, too?"

"No!" Hermione gagged at the thought. "Please, Draco."

"Just asking. You are very pretty, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "All my friends are being very understanding about all this…"

"But?"

"Nothing. Never mind." She didn't want to say the other part out loud. The part where, even though they were being kind, it was a kindness born of loyalty…not because they actually approved and accepted her choices. Or mistakes. Whichever they were.

Draco put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. "Hermione. You have to talk to me about these things. Trust me, I hate manufacturing memories as much as you do, but people will be able to tell if there isn't some sort of natural intimacy between us."

"I wish I didn't have to do this."

Draco furrowed his brow and stared at her. She refused to look at him and he could feel his heart thudding low in his chest. Why did her words suddenly make it ache that way? Why should he be bothered by it- the fact that she didn't want to confide in him, or be friends, at the least?

"Look, pretend I'm your best friend."

She snorted. "Best friends know nearly everything about each other. I know pretty much nothing about you."

"You know I was raised by purist parents. You know I live in a large manor house on a country estate. You know my marks are high enough to get me Prefect. You know my father is in Azkaban and in order to save my family's standing I took the Dark Mark. You know-"

"Yes, but I don't know why any of those things happened! I don't know how you feel about them. I don't even know what your birthday is or what your favorite color is-"

"It's burgundy, actually. And I was born June fifth. My favorite food is smoked salmon and I'm fond of falcons, but none of that really tells you anything about me, either, does it? We've gone to school together for the last five years, always had at least one class together, and you are bloody brilliant! If you're so desperate to know something about me, why don't you use that brain of yours and evaluate me for yourself? You can't trust a word I tell you anyway, can you?"

Hermione began to feel rather strange, being put on the spot by Draco Malfoy, and she blinked back tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?" Draco stepped back, confused. Was she upset now? He hadn't really been yelling- or trying not to. He was just trying to talk some sense into her. "No! Don't be sorry- Merlin!"

"Then what do you want me to say?"

Draco continued to stare at her and she finally lifted her head and stared back. "I don't believe you really want me to draw my own conclusions, Draco, because they're not very nice ones."

He smirked and leaned against the wall. So, she was upset- this time because he'd driven her to feeling bad. "Let's hear it," he replied.

Hermione glared at him. "You had a pleasant, spoilt childhood. Your mother showers you with anything you want, which your father resents, so you have to work extra hard in school to win every ounce of his approval. His loyalty to Voldemort was a frightening subject for a young boy to hear his parents discussing and you weren't privy to such conversations until you were older. You only had a second hand idea of what things under his thumb were really like until this last year; which made it less real and life as a bully far easier. You don't really want to hurt anyone and the only reason you took the mark was because you were afraid of what he'd do to your family. Now you're helping me because you want another option. If things don't work out as an Eater, you can always defect, right? But you only really plan on protecting your mum because you're pretty sure your father will never go along with your plans. He, unlike you, really does hate muggles."

Draco could feel heat blooming in his cheeks and he returned Hermione's glare. She looked smug.

"Well, you did ask. I warned you, Draco. Now, can we please finish this argument and go to breakfast? I'm actually hungry for once and I'd like to eat sometime today."

"Fine. Let's go." He pushed off from the wall and swept ahead of her down the hallway.

She looked after him, a little surprised. Was he really so upset? She hadn't said anything he didn't already think she knew, so what was his problem? He was the one who'd insisted she tell him. She did her best to catch up with his long strides, but ended up walking a few feet behind him. Fine. If he wanted to be a pain, let him. They could work on their communication skills later.

Draco was more upset than he'd thought he would be. He didn't entirely understand what had made him goad her into talking. He knew what she would have to say- had he hoped she would include something nice in there? Something about how she could tell he actually cared about her future, too? Instead, she'd laid it all out like he knew she would- made him sound like a whiny opportunist whose daddy didn't love him enough and a coward who would place his bets on both sides simply to protect himself. Or maybe that was his own personal interpretation. You have issues, Draco, he told himself grimly.

When they got to the great hall, Hermione stopped short. Draco stood beside her and watched her movement.

"What is it now?"

"You mentioned talking over breakfast."

"Yes…"

"That means we have to sit together."

He laughed at her discomfort and grabbed her hand. "Right. My table isn't that full at the moment. We should be able to eat in peace-"

"I refuse to sit there!"

"Well we can't talk if your friends are hovering, can we?"

Hermione's eyes grew big and watery again and Draco sighed. He began to move towards Slytherin, tugging her along behind him.

"Let's talk some other time."

"What other time? Like when we go on rounds together? When we're not both swamped by regular school work and now this mess? No, no. We'll talk now."

"I-"

"Hush and sit down, Hermione."

"You!" she finally exclaimed and allowed herself to be led to a seat. She dumped her bag on the bench beside her and glared at the food before her.

Draco sat down next to her, maneuvering the bag out of his way and putting her books down.

"Come on, eat something. You're the one who broke off our previous discussion to insist on food."

She gave a stony glance. "That was a discussion?"

Touché, his mind replied, but he found himself filling a plate with food for her anyhow. He was just putting eggs and steak on it when she finally stopped him.

"No, no. I don't eat like that anyhow. Besides, all that cholesterol isn't good for me or the baby. Here, I'll get it myself."

He smiled indulgently and kept the already full plate for himself. "Thank you for cooperating."

She shot him another look, but this one was less full of malice than the others, so he felt he'd made some progress.

"So what were we supposed to be discussing right now?" she asked, before biting into her toast.

"Our relationship, I think. Now that the entire school knows things have changed. Rather, now that they know our parents know-"

"Stop, please. Okay, what about our relationship? It clearly doesn't need to be as clandestine, now. What route do you want to play? That we're two teenagers who made a mistake? That one of likes the other? That we're madly in love?"

"Clearly you've given this more thought."

"Like I believe that. You've thought things through more than I have."

"Perhaps. Well, the mistake bit is the best route to take, I think. Though of the two of us, I will have to display an interest in you. No one would believe we were together if you were the only one to have feelings."

"No? You can't sit there and tell me you Slytherin clods don't make bets about the girls in this school."

Draco looked horrified. "Some of my housemates might, but I-"

"Rubbish. I overheard some fifth years discussing Ginny a few weeks ago. Heaven only knows what they say about me-"

"Wrong place, actually, but that's just a matter of opinion," came a voice behind the couple.

Hermione jumped and Draco turned about to face Blaise. "What do you want?"

"Just come to pay my respects to your blushing bride," the other boy murmured.

Draco stood up and balled his hands into fists. "Horse shit. Leave us alone while you still have the chance."

"So it's true, then? You and Granger?"

Draco tried to keep his blood from boiling over completely and shrugged. "Might be."

"It is, from what we all heard the night before last. Your mum isn't too pleased; I thought at first she must be off her rocker, but there's no way anyone could mistake that over-protectiveness for anything else."

"Or maybe he's just as big of an arse as everyone says," came a second voice. Harry stepped over to Hermione and held out his hand.

"Are you done, Hermione? Ron and I would love if you walked to class with us."

Hermione looked up from her meal, quickly stuffed a few extra pieces of toast into her bag, and stood up, too. She gave Draco a pointed look.

"We'll talk later. I don't care how many inches Snape gives us," she snapped at him. The act of being a bitch wasn't so difficult for her at the moment, a small fact she was grateful for. She was quite pissed: first, that her breakfast had been interrupted and second, that Draco hadn't listened to her in the first place. Well. At least it made their course of action that much easier to fake…although it was disturbing, that Zabini had implied that Draco actually did like her. She decided to ignore the problems that could cause for the time being and turned to walk off with Harry. "Oh, be a dear and bring my books with you, Draco?" she asked over her shoulder.

Blaise looked after her, then back to Draco and began to laugh. "Oh, Merlin. You do have it bad, don't you?"

Draco couldn't help himself. He punched Zabini in the face, sending the other boy toppling backwards on the Ravenclaw table. Then he grabbed Hermione's books and his own bag followed her out of the hall.

Looked like he'd just have to go without until lunch. Fucking Slytherins, always seeing what no one else was supposed to see. How dare Zabini insinuate such things? And in front of her, when she clearly still thought he was faking it all- fuck. Aren't you? he asked himself. His face went more pale than normal and he realized Zabini was right- one hundred percent right. He actually- gods- cared.

Hermione had been right, too. They should've waited to talk. After all, they were kind of officially a couple now- he had a right to ask her on dates.

Wait, dates? He could hear his inner voice laughing at him. What part of you thought any of this would be easy? With a snarl on his face but what he hoped was hopeless devotion in his eyes, he started down the hallway after her.

It looked like Snape had been wrong, at least. Clearly, a good night's sleep did nothing to help his situation except leave unresolved problems for him in the morning.