Hatred was a funny sort of emotion. Human sense and intuition determined the things that mankind generally took a dislike to. Things like lying and cheating and betrayal of trust. Things like what Draco did with Charlotte behind Hermione Granger's back.

Draco trudged all the way to the Slytherin dungeons. It was their first day back from the Christmas holidays. It was also the first day that he'd be seeing Charlotte since the Christmas party.

It wasn't his fault that Charlotte started falling all over him like he was a Slytherin sex god. He was bored. She was drunk. The drinks were spiked, as per usual with Slytherin parties. But that nagging feeling of regret was a bitch. She came in the form of that heartache, that guilt that one feels after they lie or cheat or betray. And he hadn't really done any of those things; he wasn't in a serious relationship of any sort, and his so-called romance with Pansy left much to be desired.

One could only wonder if Charlotte was fake, drunk, or a hellish mixture of both.

It wasn't like it was unusual behavior for him. He had a sort of player-like reputation throughout the school; but of course, some girls didn't care. That sort of personality was attractive, evidently. Well, Draco hated that side of himself, and he knew Hermione did too:

"I think you need to find better hobbies for when you're bored."

Those words had been pounding in Draco's mind for days. So fluid and so cold; he wanted to drown himself in them. And though she could be brutal, it didn't stop her from being seemingly endless and beautiful, just like an ocean. . . .

You prat. Real men don't think in exaggerated analogies and metaphors. They think in terms of sex and benefits and Merlin she's so much more than that. . . . See, you can't even think straight anymore. Everything goes back to Hermione Granger. That's sickening and disgraceful and addicting.

And when he had told her everything, she was angry. He could see it in her eyes. He could feel it when her hand slipped out of his. And yet . . . she was forgiving. She chose to look past his mistakes and flaws and loved him for who he was striving to be rather than who he more often was. That was a rare and precious quality. And to think that after how he had treated her as a child, and how he was still treating her now, she still chose to overlook these things . . . if it were the other way around, he could never do that. He was too prideful. But she was too kind and sweet and loving and forgiving and everything else that he never knew he could recognize, but desired regardless.

Maybe I am a prat. That's okay for now.

But he could only wonder how far her forgiveness would extend. Yes, he had withheld some things from her when he saw her in Diagon Alley. And as much as it pained him to only give her some half-truths, he couldn't bear to think of what it would do to her if he had told her all the details. . . .

"Draco, the Dark Lord has taken much notice of you lately."

If the moment hadn't been so tense, and if it wasn't Voldemort they were talking about, Draco would've found this amusing. But the room was filled with a horrible and bitter air that suppressed any desire to express anything positive, or at the very least, not solemn. He stared at his father, now trying to register his words and decipher their true meanings.

"Would you mind elaborating?" Draco asked, vainly wishing that there were more people present than just him and his father; it was never something good if no one else was around.

"Of course," said Lucius, dropping his voice to a mutter. "Let's just say that the Dark Lord may be requesting your service very soon."

Draco could feel his heart plummet. Another fine and high-spirited Christmas holiday, courtesy of one Lucius Malfoy.

"What kind of service?" Draco managed to croak.

"We haven't received all of the details just yet," said Lucius, "nor do we know that it's a final decision at this point. But we do know that if you are drafted, per se, then it will be the most important thing you'll ever have to do in your life." He now looked Draco intensely in the eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder, as if it would be comforting. "I must say that I'm very proud of you."

Proud. He's proud of you. Did you hear that, Draco? Your father's proud of you. He just said it, just now. He's really, incredibly proud of you and your accomplishments. Or did you miss it? He just said he was proud of you. Yeah, he's proud. Lucius Malfoy is proud of you. Your father is proud and he just told you that to your face for the first time in years. And did I mention he's proud? Not of your Quidditch skills, not of your grades; he's proud that you caught the attention of the Dark Lord. And you should be totally proud of that, too.

Draco was unable to move except for a small nod, staring into the cold eyes of his father. "I will proudly undertake whatever duty I am tasked with."

"Even if it requires you to become a full-fledged Death Eater?"

Draco knew this day was coming. He had also gathered his answer. Ever since the summer after fourth year, his father had told him that the Malfoys would be in full service to the Dark Lord. And that went for everyone. Draco hadn't come of age yet, so he couldn't become a Death Eater; but he could side with them easily, like so many Slytherins did.

"I thought that minors couldn't be Death Eaters," said Draco.

Lucius nodded, a satisfied smirk growing on his face. "Yes, that was the rule . . . but the Dark Lord is occasionally willing to make exceptions for those who are loyal to him. As far as young Death Eaters go, I don't think he could pick a worthier candidate."

"So I'll get ― will I get branded?"

"With the Dark Mark?" Lucius asked. "Well, quite possibly, if he does indeed provide you with the task."

"And how does mother feel about this?"

Lucius' face fell immediately. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to ease the obvious tension in the air. If anyone would be opposed to Draco going Death Eater, it would be his mother. It wasn't his loyalty that was the issue; it was the consequences. He didn't know the task yet, after all, and it could be extremely dangerous. She wouldn't want him in that position . . . and for that matter, his father probably wouldn't either.

"Your mother doesn't know as of yet," said Lucius. "We intend to inform her only when the task has been assigned; if you end up not having to perform it, we don't want her to get worked up over nothing. We only wish to tell her when everything's made official, and we have your consent . . . you do consent, I assume?"

Everything was riding on this moment. He could say no, and promptly flee the Manor with no intentions of returning. He would go to Hogwarts, where he would join Dumbledore's Army and rebel against Umbridge. He might even fight in a war against Voldemort. He'd give all of the muggle-borns, half-bloods, and blood-traitors hugs and brownies made of friendship, love, and pitiful regret. And he'd somehow transfer to Gryffindor, because Slytherin is just pure evil. And he'd be Harry, Ron, and Hermione's best friend and they'd go on adventures and solve mysteries and stuff.

Or he could do the easy thing.

"Certainly," said Draco, grinning at his father. "I'd be honored."

Oh, the thrill of being young and a Death Eater. Hermione's patience and forgiveness would be stretched rather thin. And it was destroying him on the inside.

Yes, he knew that one day, his father would talk about him becoming a Death Eater. And Draco always knew that he'd accept. Ever since that summer after first year and he had the "pure-blood purity talk" he'd accept it. He truly did grow to look down upon muggle-borns, half-bloods, and blood-traitors. And he still did, to a certain extent, out of habit. Hermione was just the exception to the rule, and that was what made loving her so difficult. He was going to be a pure-blood Death Eater, and she was going to be a muggle-born that fought against them.

Draco finally had made his way to his dormitory. Thankfully, Charlotte wasn't in the common room. He opened the door to his room, with the intention of resting through breakfast; somehow, he'd lost his appetite. But when he pulled back the privacy curtains that were hanging around his bed, he suddenly regained some sort of hope through the rough time.

Laying all across his bed were various types of sweets and small gifts. And they weren't just the cheap sort of kind that you could get anywhere in Hogsmeade; these were sent out for. They clearly weren't from the wizarding world, either. These were all muggle gifts, and if Draco was being honest with himself, they really did look quite promising. In the middle of the pile was a small, pretty little card, with unmistakable handwriting:

I thought that you might like these; in the muggle world, they're quite mundane, but I know that you haven't had exposure to these sorts of things. And it's all right if you don't like them, of course, but after that conversation we had about the confiscation of muggle toys from you, I thought that maybe I could sneak you some at Hogwarts; they can't confiscate them here! I didn't send them to you over the break because I didn't want that to happen; sorry it's so belated, but I did want to get you something . . . well, I got a lot of things, I guess!

Anyway, we'll get to talk soon enough. I want to hear all about the rest of your break. I hope things get better for you!

Love,

H. G.

Draco reread the letter countless times, as he clipped a particularly cute bear keychain to his belt loop. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it felt to him like she had just written the next great work of literature. And it was all in a letter, addressed to him, sent with a bunch of presents and signed with love.

Oh, Hermione, is that what friends do? Because apparently they hold hands and hug and kiss each other on the cheek. So do they sign their letters with love? Do they send a bunch of the most charming gifts to your room behind your parents' backs? I think we're blurring the lines between being friends and something more . . . and let me just say that I like that. I love that. And sometimes I want nothing more than to completely have you all to myself and for us to cut ourselves off to the rest of the world. It'd be a universe of us, just the two of us, and there'd be no blood status issues or Death Eaters or anything. That sounds enough like a paradise to me, and if you need an escape, too, I'll be there waiting for you.

The rest of the break had passed at a rate that was ridiculously slow; to Hermione, at least. While everyone else seemed reluctant to let go of the holidays, she was more than ready to go back to school, if only to see Draco again.

She hadn't been able to talk to him ever since they had met up in Diagon Alley; she assumed that with his family situation being the way it was, he simply couldn't answer her when she tried to contact him. She knew that he wouldn't have a reason to shut her out. It was just the problems with his family, and she was sure that he was ready to go back to school as well.

They were back now, and Hermione was waiting with Harry and Ron outside for Hagrid to show up for Care of Magical Creatures class. They were the first ones there; all of the other students must've been a bit sluggish after the break. And Hagrid wasn't exactly always timely, either, so the three were left to their own devices.

One person who was very timely, however, was Charlotte Butler. She strode up to Hermione, wearing an expression that was a cross between looking somewhat miffed and completely excited. And that's probably exactly what she was; she had gotten to snog Draco Malfoy, yes, but he did cut their time together rather short.

Hermione had been waiting the entire duration of the holidays to confront Charlotte as soon as possible. And while Draco wasn't officially seeing anyone, it didn't change the fact that Charlotte's actions were simply wrong in every way. Wasn't she his friend? Friends didn't act like that; Hermione had been discovering what friends did do over the past few weeks, and snogging him in his room wasn't exactly on the list.

And most people were still oblivious. Harry and Ron were arguing about something that Hermione automatically ignored, for her sanity's sake. She took the initiative to head towards Charlotte, whose face seemed to brighten up more when she saw her.

"Hermione, it's so nice to see you!" she said, pulling her into a hug. "You simply won't believe what happened after you left ―"

"I think I've got an idea," said Hermione, rather coldly.

Charlotte's face fell at her tone. "Is something wrong?"

"Just you," Hermione replied. "You're just evidently not the person I thought you were."

"What are you talking about?" Charlotte asked.

"The night that you left," whispered Hermione, so that Harry and Ron wouldn't overhear, "I know that you tried to seduce Draco Malfoy."

Charlotte took a deep breath and her eyes shifted aside. "Oh, that . . . well, I was going to tell you what happened, but it seems you've gotten a twisted idea for yourself ―"

"It's not twisted!" said Hermione. "You know very well what you did, and it wasn't right, Charlotte! You can't act like that!"

"We didn't do anything," Charlotte said, through gritted teeth. "There was no harm done."

Hermione shook her head. "You didn't see what it did to Draco ―"

"What happened to Draco?"

Charlotte gasped sharply as she turned aside, noticing that Pansy Parkinson had made her way over to them. Hermione didn't know how much of the conversation that Pansy had heard, but all she knew was that Pansy's attention was fixed more on Charlotte, and not on her. Pansy looked between the two girls, placed her hands on her hips, and raised her eyebrows.

"Well?" she asked. "What happened to Draco? I barely got to see him at breakfast, is something wrong with him?"

Hermione almost felt bad for Pansy because of the pleading tone in her voice. She now knew what it felt like to have such feelings for someone; she understood why Pansy was so upset at the simple mention of something happening to Draco.

"Well, I'm not sure if something's wrong with him," said Hermione, shooting daggers at Charlotte. "I haven't gotten close enough to check."

Pansy could be naïve sometimes, but she wasn't entirely stupid. She immediately caught on and glared at Charlotte, looking ready to choke her. Hermione laughed on the inside; Charlotte deserved it. While Pansy was annoying, Charlotte was just fake, and proved herself as such. That whole "shy, studious girl" thing was an act, and Hermione was angry that she didn't notice it sooner.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the impending catfight and noticed Draco walking to where they were all waiting, flanked by a few other Slytherins. Hermione's heart sank a little ― she did want to see him alone again ― but it was probably for the better, given the circumstances. But Draco, perhaps, had other plans; he beckoned for her to meet up with him, muttering something to the others about Dumbledore and prefect duties. She slipped away from the fight as quietly as she could, while the rest of the Slytherins crowded around the girls to watch everything unfold. When she caught up with him, he took hold of her hand and pulled her behind a nearby tree.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he whispered. "What's going on down there?"

"Charlotte and Pansy are getting into an argument," she replied, looking over to the pair of girls, who were currently screaming at each other. "Pansy got a hint about some most unCharlotte-like activities and went berserk. . . ."

Draco's eyes widened. "So I'll have to deal with her during class, then?"

"Do be careful," Hermione pleaded. "Pansy's livid, and she might get a little violent."

"I'll try," he said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously, but then pulled his right hand out quickly. "Oh, I forgot I had that in there. . . ." He pulled out the end of the keychain, which he concealed in his pocket to avoid unwanted teasing.

Hermione grinned. "So you got it, then?"

"Among the other things you sent," he replied, smiling back. "When I saw it, I figured that attaching it to my belt loop would be a good idea . . . won't lose it then, you see."

"I didn't know it would be that special, it's so small," said Hermione, looking down at the bear. "I just thought you'd like it."

"It'd be pretty difficult for you to get me something and have me not like it," he said. They both looked up, and noticed Hagrid coming down the pathway to his hut. Draco turned back to Hermione, smirked, and leaned into her ear. "Its name is Jean," he whispered, before darting as quickly as he could towards the other Slytherins without so much as a glance back at her.

Hermione closed her eyes, letting the heat creep up into her face without warning, but praying all the same that no one was watching her and Draco while they were talking. No, they were too fixed on Pansy and Charlotte's fight, which Hagrid had to break up with the help of some other students. She ran down the path and met up with Harry and Ron.

"Where were you?" Ron asked. "Did you see Pansy? I had no idea that Charlotte could get so angry. . . ."

"I was with Malfoy," she replied.

Harry turned to Hermione and raised his eyebrows, but not suspiciously. "Prefect duties, I assume?"

Hermione nodded, hoping that they didn't notice just how red her face still was. "Yes, it's the first day back, so we had to make sure everything was still normal ― well, never mind, class is starting."

Care of Magical Creatures class tended to get rather tedious after a while. Despite how much Hermione liked Hagrid personally, she found it difficult to enjoy the classes when he was constantly bringing in the most ungodly of creatures to study and care for.

But every so often during class ― well, the majority of the class, really ― Hermione would catch Draco staring at her, like she was some creature that they would study. But maybe not Hagrid's creatures; those usually appalled him. No, he was staring at her in an almost fascinated manner. His face was rather blank . . . but his eyes, those smoldering grey eyes, were staring at her in the most intense and exciting way. And whenever she'd look up, she'd lock eyes with him for a brief moment, and he'd drop his gaze. But eventually that intense gaze turned to one of desperation. Charlotte and Pansy were on either side of him, hissing questions to him when Hagrid wasn't paying attention. Hermione eventually caught the girls' eyes as well; she shot them her most horrible glare, and they promptly ceased bickering over Draco, but also watched Hermione with a curious expression.

Of course they're curious. I'm standing up for Draco after they've just fought over him. They'll have their accusations soon enough. Well, let it be, then. I can't please everyone . . . not that I'd exactly want to make those two happy in the first place. I'm just a little worried about how this all will pan out, and if things work out between Draco and I, that'll be worrisome . . . nobody can know. If they can't know about our friendship, then they can't know about anything else. And that's horrible. I guess I'll have to embrace my Gryffindor side and just be bold.

And if loving Draco Malfoy isn't bold, then I don't know what is.