Chapter Thirty-Three

Hermione peeked out from behind the bathroom door. Seeing that Draco was still seated at the big desk, she closed the door shut again and changed into her pajamas in the privacy of the bathroom before emerging.

Draco looked up from his work briefly, noting that she was wearing extremely conservative nightclothes. Thinking it was very typical of her, he turned away, back to the paperwork he was reading.

Hermione didn't say anything to him, but climbed into bed with one of the books she'd been assigned for class. The rain was drizzling outside.

"Thunder's stopped," Draco remarked.

Hermione looked up at him from over her book, throwing him the dirtiest look she could manage – which he never saw, because he'd never turned around to address her properly.

She said nothing, continuing through her book. It was her last year: She would do better than ever. Getting raped, orphaned, and married off was never going to squash that part of her, she had determined. It would have overcome any lesser person – but not Hermione Jane Granger!

Well, Hermione Jane Malfoy. But that never sounded as good.

"Looks like I have to finish school, after all. They won't give me the job otherwise," Draco continued.

Hermione realized he was attempting to make conversation. What his motives were, she couldn't be sure; She, however, had nothing to say to him at that moment. She turned back to her Arithmancy book – it would be what she was pursuing after Hogwarts, so she had determined to be extra diligent in that subject.

"My father will be visiting tomorrow afternoon for lunch," Draco continued. He didn't seem to care that she wasn't responding; Perhaps he preferred it that way.

The comment caught Hermione's interest and she grudgingly replied, "Why?"

He half-turned to look at her, but realized halfway through the movement of doing so that he didn't really want to look at her. "I haven't the slightest."

"I'll be sure to make myself scarce," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose a little bit. She stopped quickly though – probably news like that would be common… and maybe that's what made Narcissa appear to have some incredible stench in her presence all the time. Maybe her nose was permanently wrinkled from bad news… what a horrid prospect.

Draco paused a moment, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"How unfortunate." Hermione had decided she was taking no prisoners when it came to Lucius Malfoy. He had already ruined enough of her life. But someday, she was going to learn how to be happy. Draco had said he was getting an ambassador's job soon – that would mean he wouldn't be home often, which would mean more time to herself. The more time to herself she had, the better.

"It's rude," Draco protested.

"So is your father. He's already ruined my life enough: I don't need to see him on a regular basis."

"He's ruined mine more than yours."

"At least you're not pregnant."

"At least you're not dead."

"Is that a threat?"

Draco spun around, his gray eyes blazing, "It's not a threat, it is REALITY!" he exclaimed.

Cold gray eyes met soft, brown ones, interlocking for the first time, probably in the entirety of their lives.

Draco saw everything there: Anger, pain, squashed dreams, and the courage to continue on. In that moment, he knew she would, too – no matter what happened to Hermione, her spirit would never be broken. She had lost so much in the past months… family… freedom… nearly everything. Everything, but for her spirit. He remembered those eyes, glassy and staring up at the trees, not seeing. The woods that day, he could remember her there – alone, ravaged… violated in the most inhuman way possible. But those eyes were different now. They were not helpless, like the dead eyes he'd seen before.

All at once, he wondered what he had been scared to see in her eyes before, why he could never meet those hauntingly beautiful brown orbs. There was nothing frightening to see there: She was all courage – she was, in every sense of the word, a lion on the inside.

Hermione looked into the depths of Draco's eyes, searching for something human to latch on to. It was a difficult task – looking into the eyes of someone who had seen her so vulnerable, against her will. Yes, he'd found her that day. Yes, she was grateful he'd gotten her cared for. And yes, she was happy he wasn't his father. But he was still that young man she'd slapped back in third year. He was still cruel. He was still arrogant. He was still... Draco Malfoy.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, tearing her eyes away from his.

"Do what?" he snapped irritably.

"How did you – the rotten toerag who wanted to kill off Dumbledore – have enough compassion to want to make sure someone like me was safe?"

Draco stared at her as though she'd just sprouted a third head, "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Why did you come looking for me in the forest?"

Draco was floored; She knew. How long had she known? And who had told her? "You were never supposed to know," he finally said.

"But WHY? Why did you do it?"

He chewed on his tongue for a good thirty seconds before answering. "Who told you?"

"Harry," she murmured quietly, eyes still rooted to the floor.

"Potter," Draco half-snarled. "He would."

But how had he found out? Draco mused. But, of course, it was Potter. Potter was the hero who'd saved the world: He'd almost forgotten. If Potter wanted something, Potter got it. If that something happened to be confidential information, well… he'd still get it. What a pain in the ass.

"Do you wish I hadn't?" Draco demanded.

"I do. I wish I had never seen you that day," she replied.

Again, Draco was struck speechless, though he hid it well. She RESENTED him! Resented him for SAVING her!

"You were never supposed to know."

"I wish I didn't."

There was another long silence.

"I could have left you to die that day."

"I wish you had."

Another silence.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time you need saving, then," Draco announced coldly.

"I won't need saving."

"You're so sure."

"I am."

Silence.

"You're the one who said it," she finally murmured. "Death is reality."

"MY death is reality," he protested.

"What makes you think you're so much worse off than the rest of the world?" she growled, turning full circle to walk away in frustration, but changed her mind. She spun around again, furious: "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual," Draco agreed.

"You ruined my life!"

"And you completed the death of what stunted, malnourished life I ever had."

"Yes, YOU'RE the victim here!" she shouted hysterically. "As if YOUR father wasn't the reason we're in this situation in the first place…!"

"I. AM. NOT. MY. FATHER!"

Hermione stared at Draco, stunned – somewhat frightened, even. Again, for the second time, their eyes met; This was probably the most frightening of the whole outburst for her – in his eyes, Hermione saw emotions swirling around like a maelstrom… malice, hate, hurt, and bitterness. It was such a change from the pair of cold, gray eyes that had previously held so little of anything.

Standing there, her hair still dripping a little from the shower, Hermione's mouth opened ever-so-slightly as her brown eyes became glued to the gray ones staring back at her.

"I think," she finally uttered, "I understand you a little better now… Draco."

Resentment manifested itself on his face, "I never wanted you to."

"I know."

His face relaxed. "But I think," he murmured quietly, "that I'm glad you do."

.

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Author's Note: Bam! How's that a little better for moving forward in our romance?

Thank you to gitgit, tfobmv18, MyLookOfDenial., ebbe04, InvisibleLilacNights, and Joe-nasGirl for the reviews!! More things to be revealed soon. We're probably halfway done with this fic? I'm not sure yet, though - so take that with a grain of salt. I have three different directions I may take this fic in and I'm still contemplating a lot.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. Rave reviews are nice too, though. Haha