He left then. I still don't know where he went. We don't talk about that hour or so that he was gone. I think he had some things to work out that even I couldn't fix for him. Or, maybe, that he didn't want me to know. But while he was gone, I did some thinking.

I felt right awful for making him burst like that. For making him… well, cry. Even when Harry had told Ron (who told Fred who told Ginny who told me) that he had found Draco crying to Myrtle, I didn't quite believe it. There was some part of me that saw Draco Malfoy as a heartless nothing who was incapable of feeling, no matter what I told the boys. That part, I think, was the same part that held all the awful memories from our childhood. His pigheadedness after he almost got Buckbeak killed, his insulting nature, his bigotry. All of that was stuck in the fact that Malfoy couldn't change, and he had no heart.

That all changed last year.

Draco Malfoy had arrived back at the school some time after Dumbledore's funeral, and begged McGonagall to help him escape the life he was living. The life he wanted to leave behind. His mother had been killed for his mistake, he said, and he was sorry for what happened at the school. He would do anything to separate himself from the Dark Lord. And he did.

I saw a changed Malfoy that year. But as we started working together, I got to know him, and I started to realize that he was no longer just Malfoy. That his name was Draco. The most amazing thing that happened during the war was that he saved my life. The final battle was just terrible. People falling everywhere, being hit with the darkest spells imaginable. And the Inferi were horrid beings, then coupled with the Dementors that Voldemort brought with him; no one was the same after that.

What happened, though, was, I was in battle with someone that looked suspiciously like Crabbe, and while I had my back turned, I heard someone yell Crucio. It was Goyle, Draco told me later. Before the spell hit me, Draco jumped in front of me. I can still hear his screams of pain in my head. Anyways, Goyle was so shocked that he had hit Draco, he lifted the spell. Then, he realized what Draco had just done: taken an Unforgivable for a mudblood like me. I heard him start to cast Ada Kadavra, but Draco was faster. He killed him.

When it was over, and I was going over what happened in my mind, I realized that Draco had done that many times during the fight. Like he was my guardian angel, I suppose.

Then, when we came back to school, he started paying more and more attention to me. It was a weird situation. Even though I told Harry and Ron what Draco had done, they still didn't trust him. They saw him as the guy that had passed on information to Voldemort – mainly that Ginny was the one Harry cared most about. They blamed him for her death, even though he had been on our side at the time. But then, in potions, Slughorn put us together for that project… and, well, you know the rest.

And here we are, the two of us, pulled apart by our past.

So much for forgive and forget.

It seems that neither is possible.

When he came back, I spun around on the couch to look at him.

'Draco!' I cried as the portrait shut, 'I am so sorry. Really. I didn't mean to make you go off like that, it's just me, I-I've got to know everything, have everyone happy – '

He cut me off. 'Look, Hermione, just… don't mention it, ok? And don't interrupt for a minute. I know that's hard for you, seeing how you are in class, but just listen, ok?' As if testing me, he paused. I didn't say a word, so he came over and sat on the coffee table in front of me. 'You have no idea what it's like to be in the Dark Lord's service, Hermione, and I don't want you to. But those memories, I have, and I try to block them out. If I say you don't want to know, trust me. You don't want to know. Back before the war, you saw me as a spoiled brat, and goodness knows what else, but I wasn't. I may have had money and broomsticks and care packages, but I didn't have the type of family dynamic Potter and Weasley have with the Order members, and not what you have at home. I don't remember ever having a happy Christmas, or even having a hug from my father. And my mother was just as bad. When I said at least I had a family, all it meant was that I had blood alive. I never had someone who loved me. My father was always disappointed, my mother was always scared, and I was always trying to win something that no one could – Luscious Malfoy's approval. Not going to happen.' He paused again, testing me. All I did was raise my eyebrows in anticipation. 'Then, I get to Hogwarts, and there's Potter. I was told all my life that I was better than everybody, but Potter is treated like a prince, and me like something rancid. I was just as judged by my name than Potter was, or even Weasley. All I could do was fit the mould that my family had cut for me, and then maybe they'd be proud of me.

'That, of course, didn't work. And when my father failed to get the Prophecy in fifth year, he offered me up to repay the debt that he had gained by failing. I was branded, then, and I got my assignment. The things I had to do, you have no idea. And like I said, I won't tell you. The reason I was crying? I told you already. And then having Severus only give him a few detentions, that was insulting. Not to mention that, even though he died to save precious Potter, still Potter hates him. His memory.' Pause. 'You know, I would have given my life to save you that day? I didn't know Goyle was only going to Crucio you – I thought he was going to kill you… And now I'm starting to make no sense at all. So Hermione, the point is, you can't make me stop hurting. Hopefully, it'll go away. But I won't tell you what I had to do during those days in Voldemort's service. It would make you hate me again, and make me hate myself. So just be here, and I'll be fine. Alright?' He stopped, and his silver eyes burned into mine. 'You can talk now.' He offered a weak smile, and I launched myself into his arms.

'Draco, you have no idea how sorry I am – and I promise, I'll be here. And if you ever want to talk – don't get pout-y on me again – if you ever want to talk, I swear, nothing could make me hate you now. They say love is blind, and I'd say they're right on this one.' I stopped, my arms wrapped tightly around Draco's neck. He didn't offer any response, until –

'You… love me?' he asked, pulling away and holding me at arms length.

Realizing what I had said, I opened my mouth to explain – but realizing it was true, all that came out was, 'Yes.'

'Hermione, I…' He stopped, kissed me softly, put his arms around me, and his head on my shoulder. Then, he whispered softly, 'I love you, too.'

That night, we spent in each others arms. We didn't do anything, but just being held like that, our hearts beating as one: it was amazing. Like we'd never be apart. I think he felt it too. And even when we got up in the morning to find the first snow covering the school grounds, that feeling didn't go away.

A/N... ok, so, this chapter I wan't 100 happy with, but I'm my own worst critic: I have a bit of writers block, too (as I just finished my exams!) so bear with the shortness. And don't worry, I'm going to be writing more/longer parts as the next semester comes up: plus, now that that's done with, I can go back to the fun, fluffy, romantic, funny stuff. Just had to get past the whole, Draco is a heartless bastard thing. Oh, and one more thing... please review! ciao, Jacinta