A/n: Heya.ü Second Chappie in this three-chapter-marathon.ü I hope you're still coping up.ü

(And by the way, this is for a certain special reader who requested me of the presence of a particular professor...ü)

Here goes!!!

Chapter 30

Dilemma: The Sequel

It all seemed like a normal vacation trip, touring Hogwarts again after what seemed to be years.

Well… to Draco, of course, it had been years…. A decade.

To Hermione… it felt like a few weeks.

It surprised her to be distressed to see changes: a few portraits moved here and there, trees left to be dead stumps, walls veined with cracks, some ruins she'd never seen before preserved than rebuilt, newly built cottages in replacement to desperately destroyed ones, new classrooms, new corridors, restored halls, repaired floorings….

It only relieved her to see the moving stairs moving just as it should be, students flocking here and there, rushing to reach the comfort of their houses.

She wished she knew what happened to have these changes so small and so big. History meant a lot to her, and so does the memories it kept. She thought it would be delightful to see around the campus again, thinking nothing that big would have changed between her memory and the actual reality.

Unfortunately, she'd been wrong.

Perhaps she forgot a decade had indeed passed by her, a decade that she now felt remorse of losing…

Feeling her discomfort, Draco took her hand, squeezing to let her remember she wasn't alone. "Feeling all right?"

She turned to him, distracted. "Yes. Yes, of course." She tried a smile, but didn't quite manage to reach her eyes. "I'm all right."

He didn't believe her. How could he when he could see her blood drain from her face, her eyes glazed in a trance he knew flashing before her eyes? "We could go back to our room, take a break." He suggested, pulling her to him, stopping them both from walking any farther. "We can take it bit by bit."

She considered it, but thought of it as cowardice. "But there's more to see."

He sensed her attempt for cheery, and saw through to find frustration. "We've got time in our hands."

She glanced at him and watched his silver eyes read through her. "Am I that perceptible?" She retorted, her frustration finally showing.

He grinned, adoring her more. "More or less," and kissed her brow.

They passed the Great Hall hand in hand, and saw many students coming and going for their break. The smell of fresh bread, butter, pumpkin juice and scalded meat smothered in seasoned sauce permeated through the corridors, reminding Hermione of her grumbling stomach. She felt her mouth water for food, surprised at her eager appetite, and stared at the open doors of the Great Hall. The four long tables filled with students delighted her, seeing so many children and young adults chattering about school works and whatnot. She remembered the numerous moments she sat there by the Gryffindor table, sitting beside her friends, chattering about her latest books she found or any interesting ideas she learned from her classes. She'd taken advanced classes, she remembered. She was always too eager to learn, too excited to see knew things.

Scouting the crowd, she could see the intensity of the group of kids staring at each other across tables. Red and green colored robes wrapped them, their whispers and hateful glares so familiar to her. She shook her head at this, then saw a kid from the Slytherin table attempt to ricochet a spoonful of mashed potatoes to a particular Gryffindor, his other companions giggling and chuckling for what is about to happen.

Her hand suddenly grasped Draco's sleeve as she watched the yellow pulp of potatoes fly midair and land on the Gryffindor's head just as aimed. Laughter erupted through the Hall and the Gryffindor stood in anger, his vicious stare shot to the Slytherin suspect who was apparently enjoying the show.

Sensing a confrontation, Draco slipped from her grip, stepped up and walked to the Gryffindor, saying something to him that Hermione couldn't hear from her distance. She only watched as the Gryffindor snapped at him in annoyance, then, upon recognition, cowered back to his seat and turn to his food in a second, and so did his other companions.

She raised a brow at this and continued to watch Draco walk to the Slytherin this time, his face bland and cool. Draco and the Slytherin kid were exchanging spats when she approached them.

"Who are you anyway and what do you care?" The Slytherin kid hissed, his brown eyes turning into slits.

Draco just smiled and watched him with his hot, melting eyes. "What year are you?"

"It's my sixth in this bloody school." The boy spat, giving both him and Hermione a suspicious glance.

"I see." Draco nodded. "I would have expected better from a sixth year Slytherin. That stunt you did back there, well, a one year old could pull that off."

"Who do you think you are?" The kid retorted.

Draco just shrugged. "I did better than that when I was in my first year."

"You think you're so tough." The Slytherin raised his chin in defiance. "I'm as good as anyone around here, even better than the Draco Malfoy."

At the mention of his name, Draco raised a brow, his amusement so apparent to Hermione. "You think so?"

"Yeah. He may be a living legend who got off from life's dung and managed to run an empire, but I can sure as hell be better than he is. I have many slicker ideas than he had."

Draco hardly held in a chuckle, both in surprise and a fondness for the kid. "Well then, show me how good you really are and prove that to me. And maybe we could share slick ideas afterwards."

The Slytherin's brows furrowed, then his eyes did one, slow, widening movement, recognition finally dawning over him. "No shit. You're Draco Malfoy…?"

"That's right." Draco gave him a slow, sly smile, snapped his fingers, and in a flicker, had the Slytherin's wand on his hands. "I wouldn't cause any more troubles around here, if I were you. If you do, well, I could say more troubles will haunt you afterwards."

The Slytherin's mouth hung open in a gape. And other kids around him stared at them in awe as well. "Y-Yes… Yes sir."

"Good." He tossed the wand back to him, watched the kid's now jittery hands grasp for it. "What's your name?"

"Br-Brandon Keats… sir."

"Brandon." He paused, letting his name sink in his head. "You have a lot of potential, kid. Just make sure you use them in right terms and give everyone some relief. That Gryffindor kid's not that bad." He gestured to the mashed potato soaked boy. "It wouldn't hurt to have some word with him now and then. Civilized conversation, I mean."

"Yes sir."

Draco smiled at them, stared at their faces and studied them. "All right. Carry on, then."

He was about to walk away when the boy suddenly spoke again.

"Sir Draco… Malfoy… Sir?"

Draco turned to the kid and raised a brow.

"I was just… I was just wondering…" He was playing with his hands. He couldn't even look straight to his eyes anymore. "Did you really escape? I mean… from all that living hell?"

He was surprised to have a kid ask that kind of question. But he was more startled to know what he really meant. "You could say that."

Brandon nodded in acknowledgement, a smile shyly curving up his now pale mouth. "Some people say that in our flock, you were what should be called a black sheep. I didn't believe that." He paused, pondering his words. "Maybe… maybe I could be like you, sir." His chocolate eyes gleamed with hope, raised to meet his silver ones. "I can be just like you."

Draco's lips curved into a half smile, nodding at him in acknowledgement, and turned away to walk off.

Hermione was shaking her head when he walked to her and sighed. "Living legend, huh?"

He chuckled at that. Wearily, though. "I never knew they considered me as such." He said, pulling her to a set of stairs nearby.

She beamed at him, watched his face. "What the kid said was nice."

"Hm?"

"They look up to you." She said, feeling awfully proud of him. "They practically want to be just like you."

He smiled weakly, shook his head. "I don't think that would be a nice aspiration."

She shrugged. "I guess I wouldn't really know." She paused, glancing at him. "But those kids back there? I think they know something."

"Brandon Keats is one of the few kids in this forsaken world who's caught in a system as bad as ours." He muttered, reaching the landing. "In our wizardry world, we think magic can do everything for us. Hell, it could make things worse as well."

She watched him reach for the knob and open the door of their room. She'd hit a rough spot there, a sore one in him. She wished she could say something to him, something to comfort him.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted, walking into the room after him. She remembered how magic caused them their troubles right now… how magic brought them back here after years of hiding…

He walked straight to the window and stood there, looking out into the afternoon, his back facing her. "You don't need to say anything." He turned to her then, his face suddenly looking tired. "That's just the way of things."

"It doesn't have to be that way." She argued, stepping closer to him. "You of all people should know that."

He laughed, a short, clipped, laugh. "You think those kids know that? You think they could all fight tradition, morals and family to garner something such as freedom? They planted in our minds what lies we now live in. They taught us to hate, despise, and even hurt people who have done nothing. Voldemort may be gone, but the cycle of lies is still there. People hate the wrong people. People who seemed to be so liberated are caged in a trap that no one can destroy…"

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"No." He shook his head, hated and cursed himself, and started pacing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you."

She sat for a moment on a chair nearby, staring at the floor. "I never saw it that way…"

He stopped on his steps, and sighed in defeat. "I don't know why this came over me again. I just don't want to see the reality of others being trapped in the same cage I was in before. I could see it in his eyes… Brandon." He paused, as if thinking. "I could see scars on him. Not physically. Here." He pointed at his heart. "I could see them in his eyes. And I couldn't do anything."

"You did a big thing, Draco. Just being yourself." She pointed out. "Didn't you see his face when he knew who you were?"

He gazed at particularly nothing, his lips faintly curved. "It pains me to think I was part of his grief…"

She couldn't understand. "What?"

He shook his head, turned to her, and tried to smile. "You must be hungry. I'll ask Lowry to bring something up."

"Draco."

He stopped his way to the door, and just stood there.

She stared at him, noticed that it all mattered to her…

He mattered. "It hurts you." She said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sorry that I didn't see it hurts you."

"Old wounds." He answered, reaching for the door knob. "They don't bleed like they used to."

When she heard the door shut behind him, leaving her alone, she felt the need to stand up and run to him, just hold him.

It pains her to see him being tormented this way… They may be old wounds for him. But she knew they could be opened up again, be ripped up, and cause a worse bleeding than it did before.

And worse… it pains her to realize she couldn't do anything at all, since she couldn't know what happened to him… to everyone…

Pissed off at herself now, she stood up and searched for Draco's link everywhere, her grumbling stomach now forgotten. When she found it, she quickly looked for his home contact number, and smiled in relief as Harvey's face filled the screen before her.

He wanted to beat something to pulp, use violence to smother his anger. It simmered in him and burned under his skin, a considerable threat to anyone who would come his way. He never knew he'd feel such anger again after all these years. He knew the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability that clawed at his throat, seized his chest.

And, flustering his already flustered temper, he took all of his crap on Hermione.

She couldn't understand what he was saying, now that she knew nothing that happened. He knew that he should have just left it that way, lock away things that need not to be known to her.

But, damn it, his guilt and anger got the better of him. He already talked to Professor Dumbledore, and was grateful to know he forgave him after all these years…

But it didn't seem to be enough for him anymore…

He wanted forgiveness his whole life… But he couldn't accept it even if they offered it to him willingly, knowing they still suffered because of what he did… what he didn't do…

He wanted to right his wrongs, free those who were still trapped in the world he left when he stepped out of the doors of this castle...

And damn all demons to hell, he'll face his ghosts, and put an end to all of this.

"Indeed, I could have mistaken you for a professor back in the Great Hall." A deep, dragging voice spoke from behind him, stopping Draco dead on his steps. "That was an impressive show of authority, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco turned, his eyes focused on the man's saggy face, dull eyes, black robes, and silver streaked hair. He could still remember how they used to be as dark as night, cut just above his shoulders. His eyes, which are now almost dominated by its whites, used to stare down at him with unhidden scorn, which was actually given to all of his students before. He stood with dignity and unmistaken pride, his build a considerable stern one, but now frail and scrawny.

He gave silence for a minute, then managed to speak "Professor Snape. A pleasant afternoon."

Snape stared at him, not even giving any sign of welcome or greeting. "So it is. You've come back."

"It appears I have." Draco answered. "You look well."

Snape gave him a scowl, then bowed just enough to clear a choking cough scratching at his throat. "Enough with the formalities. It is quite apparent that I am old as a rotten stump. You, on the other hand, grew well on your feet."

Draco almost smiled, hearing a hesitant compliment from this particular professor. "Thank you." He said instead.

Snape nodded and walked past him. "Very well. We'll have a longer talk when we have enough time. I have a class to attend to."

Draco watched him, hesitating before he called, "Professor."

He stopped, just enough to glance back at his student—veteran student, that is.

"I believe I haven't voiced my gratitude to you for helping me a decade ago." Draco uttered, merely staring back at him.

"It has been a decade." Snape shook his head, as if in disbelief. "Keep your gratitude, Mr. Malfoy. We all did all we could. That is only the veracity of a war."

And with that, he left him alone with his footsteps fading into the halls.

He was still standing by that same corridor where Professor Snape left him when Lowry found him.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The little house elf called, scurrying to him. "Do you wish to have your meal served already? There's still that soup I made and some mushroom kabobs. Or if you'd want some eggs and stew, I could make some." He tilted his head, just enough to see his master's face, but low enough not to meet his eyes. "Uhm… Are you all right, sire?"

He didn't answer for a moment, and just stared at the little creature and shook his head. "Hermione's upstairs in our room. She'd want something to eat."

Lowry furrowed his brows. "How about you, sire?"

"Coffee would be fine." Draco answered, thinking he'd need the jolt. There was a creeping head ache starting to pound in his head. "You could bring them in the room. I'll follow in a while."

He walked off even before Lowry could answer back, bewildering him. Lowry only shrugged, ignored his nagging worry, and set off to do his work.

If I may ask, madam, why do you ask me these questions?

I can't reach him, Harvey. I can't, especially with this handicap of mine.

Is he all right?

No. I know he's not.

Just talk to him, ma'am. He needs you now more than anything.

"I tried." Hermione whispered to herself, staring out of the window, her hand shoving at her food with a fork. He'd been away for awhile already. She couldn't help it but wait for him in worry.

You knew him since he was still a child. You told me.

Yes, ma'am. I've been keeping an eye on him ever since.

Did they always hurt him?

…

Did they, Harvey?

Yes, ma'am.

She dropped her fork on her plate and stood, deciding to find him by herself. She'll be crazy if she sat one more second on that chair, waiting and doing nothing.

And jerking the door open, she all but ran into him, startling both of them.

Did he love them at all? His family?

Amongst all truths that are kept, that one pains me the most to admit.

Is that why he let them hurt him…?

One would think.

She stared at him and studied his face, the way his golden hair fall to his temples, the way his brows create a crease when he frowns, the way his lips break into a grin, curve to a smile, press into a fine line, the way his eyes, those ghostly pale eyes, drown her into a pool of watery smoke, sometimes bursting into a hot flame, then extinguishing it into a cool, freezing stare.

He felt her eyes graze him in layers, studying each and every inch of him. It made him want to look away, turn to a window and gaze at sceneries he didn't give a care about, just so he wouldn't face her. She must've felt pity for him, setting off just like that, so vulnerable, so weak.

He didn't want anybody's pity. He didn't need any of that crap.

But as he stared back at her, he felt something in her eyes. He expected sympathy, anger, frustration, irritation, anything similar to that.

But, surprisingly, he didn't see any of that in her.

"Food's gone cold. But I'm sure it'd still be good." She side stepped, gesturing him to enter. "There's still soup and some omelet. Pumpkin juice is still fresh."

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "You haven't eaten yet?"

She tipped her head to her plate, and then shrugged. "I tried. I was waiting for you."

Draco just stood there and ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione, you know you didn't have to---"

"Let's just settle down and eat." Hermione interjected, pulling out a chair for him. "I told Lowry to get rid of the coffee you asked. You need food than caffeine."

Too tired to argue, he just sat down and waited for her to take her seat as well.

She smiled, grabbed a roll of bread, buttered it, and passed it to him. "Long day, huh?"

He took it and bit in, realizing he hadn't eaten the whole day. "It seems like."

She placed a bowl of soup in front of him and a glass of pumpkin juice. "You want to tell me about it?"

He took a spoon and dipped it in the soup. "I'm sorry."

She forked some omelet, chewed slowly, and felt her stomach purr as it slid down her throat. "I'm sorry too."

"I didn't have the right to take it out on you."

"You're right." She nodded, emphasizing her point. "I also didn't have the right to take it out on you last night too, when I cried like a baby and wept." She took another bite of omelet, placed some on his plate. "Sure does feel ugly and crappy when I get vulnerable like that."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean, Draco?" She crossed her legs, leaning over the table. "You told me last night that I shouldn't always be strong. Why don't you think it's the same to you?"

He leaned over the table, mimicking her posture. "You wouldn't understand---"

"Oh, I wouldn't understand." She crudely cut him off, gulping down pumpkin juice, then slamming it on the table, sending every plate shaking. "Why don't you explain it to me so I could understand?"

"It's not that simple—"

"So now it's too complicated for my understanding."

"Damn it, Hermione. I didn't say that." He slammed his spoon on the table, almost upending both their glasses. Hermione just fell silent, staring at him. "I don't want you to see this…"

"See what?"

"Me." He leaned back to his chair and ran his hands over his ragged face, letting out a long breath. "I don't want you to see this… darkness… in me…"

She didn't say anything.

"I'm trying to lock it inside me, forget it. But…" He paused, staring down at his untouched food. "But it seems I can't get rid of it… It's a part of me. My life. This is who I am…"

She wanted to reach out and take his hand, just hold it.

"You know nothing about what I did." His voice dropped into a whisper. "I did so many things that I wish I didn't… And I didn't do many things that I wish I did… I'm not fit to help anyone…" He could still see the face of Brandon Keats, the way his eyes beamed up at him. "Not friends…" He remembered Narcissa Malfoy caged in a dirty cell in Azkaban. "Not my family…" He looked up to Hermione. "Nobody."

"Why are you blaming yourself, Draco?" She reached for his hand now. "Why do you let yourself carry all of the load? Open up. Let people in." When he didn't speak, she rose up and knelt to him. "Let me in."

He didn't answer her, but only stood up, still holding her hand. And when he pulled her up on her feet, his arms simply came around her, his face buried in her hair. "I need a minute."

He just held her, just held on. She felt his heart beat heavily against hers, and his breath caressed the crook of her neck. She lifted her arms around him too and just held him, clung her arms across his back.

She could feel his ribs expand and contract, his breathing slow. She could feel the ripples of muscles mold under her touch, hard and toned with work. He seemed leaner, thinner than he was before. It was like he took a knife and just sliced himself down to muscle and bone.

She closed her eyes and tightened her grip, turning her head a bit, letting her lips touch his ear. "I'm here, Draco."

He listened to her voice, and just held on.

"I'm just here. I'm going nowhere."

He only hoped she'd be… when this is all over…

A/n: Yipeee...ü

Next chapter, then?ü