A/N: I was going to wait to post this chapter, but I couldn't. I've been writing all weekend and have just completed chapter 7 of this story. This chapter is where things start to heat up - including plenty of Dramione interaction!

A massive thank you to Divess, who has reviewed every chapter of this fic so far - I really appreciate your feedback and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks also to Honoria Granger for the review and the excellent question. The answers are revealed in this chapter.

Title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Rob Thomas - I think the song really sums up Draco's state of mind at this point. If you haven't heard it, it is worth a listen.

On with the story...

serenarian1 x

Chapter Five – I Am An Illusion

I blinked back tears as I stared at him. "Excuse me?" was the only thing I was able to get out.

Draco looked at me with something unreadable burning in his eyes. "I want to call you a mudblood," he repeated. "I don't know what it means but the look you gave me just now tells me all I need to know. You know what it means, don't you?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. My hands felt tied. I didn't know what I was allowed to say, what I should say.

He chuckled bitterly. "You do, don't you? You know more than you're letting on. Why wouldn't you tell me, Hermione?"

I raised my eyes to his, feeling the beginnings of anger stirring in my chest. "Yes, Draco – I do know what 'mudblood' means. It's a horrible racial slur, commonly thrown around by certain wizards who believe themselves to be above other witches and wizards."

He gulped. "But what is it meant to mean?"

I bit the inside of my cheek in frustration. "It is used by wizards or witches from pureblood families to insult those who are born to Muggle parents. A half-blood is someone who has one magical and one Muggle parent."

Draco tried to hide the surprise on his face, but failed. "Wait – so both of your parents weren't magical?"

"Neither of them were," I supplied. "I'm Muggle-born."

"Then I – I mean, if I know that word – I… oh damn it all, does this mean I'm a pureblood?" he mumbled.

I nodded. "I suppose it does."

He got up awkwardly, looking confused. "Hermione, I'm sorry for being so unpleasant. I-I need to think about this," he got out before turning and almost sprinting up the stairs. I watched him go, feeling suddenly angry that I was unable to help him. Marching over to the fireplace, I grabbed a handful of powder and called out my destination.

I arrived moments later at Harry's home. Ginny looked up in surprise as I stepped out of the hearth, brushing off my clothes. "I need to speak to Harry, straight away," I said calmly. Too calmly, as Ginny immediately got up and walked over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked, her piercing brown eyes searching my face.

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine Gin. I just need to speak to Harry urgently. Is he here?"

"Hermione, what can I do for you?" came Harry's voice behind me. "Is everything all right?"

"He deserves to know," I stated simply.

Harry stopped in his tracks as I turned to face him, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. "Straight to the point, as always," he mumbled. "What do you mean he deserves to know? Deserves to know what?"

"Who he is," I answered simply. "He deserves to have the answers to some of his questions, Harry – if not all of them. Surely he will only be of any use to us if he remembers. Harry – I know you're my boss and you don't want anything to be compromised – but he is remembering little scraps, and it's not fair."

Harry's eyes widened. "He's remembering things?"

I nodded miserably. "When we trained the other day he was duelling by rote. Nothing Dark, but he was still doing it in rotation and he didn't even think half the spells were real. He told me today that all he could think about was calling me a mudblood and he didn't understand why."

Ginny put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and they shared a meaningful look before he sighed and nodded. "Okay, fine – tell him the basics. Only the basics. He won't be able to handle all the details just yet. Drip feed him the information."

"How am I supposed to do that, Harry?"

He sighed again. "Start with the recent things. Tell him what a Death Eater was and that he was one. Word it however you think is best. I trust your judgement. Do not, however, mention that we were at school together. Not yet."

I was about to interrupt and ask why when I realised what Harry was saying. "We want him to trust us," I said. It wasn't a question, and he nodded his confirmation. "You're afraid that if we tell him about our school days he will fly off the handle."

Ginny caught my gaze. "You know it's likely, Hermione. He wasn't exactly stable at Hogwarts – he made your lives hell. To top it off, he started his descent into the Death Eaters there. You don't want him reliving those memories. Not yet."

I couldn't argue with them, and I nodded slowly, albeit reluctantly. "Thanks, guys." They smiled at me, and I stepped into their fireplace and Flooed home.

The house was silent, and I checked the downstairs rooms to see if Draco was around. There was no sign of him so I ascended the stairs as quietly as I could; not wanting to startle him. As I made my way down the corridor I saw him in his room, sitting stiffly on his bed. I rapped my knuckles gently against the door. "Draco," I called. "Are you all right?"

He closed his eyes for a long time before shaking his head. I walked in and sat down next to him on the bed, being careful to give him space. "I haven't been entirely honest with you," I began hesitantly, "and for that I'm really sorry. But I'll tell you the truth if you wish. The little I know, anyway."

He looked up into my face, surprise on his features, and motioned for me to continue. I twisted my fingers together nervously before continuing. "Draco – the Dark wizard I mentioned had his own followers – an army; if you like. They were equally dark and they carried out his bidding. Duties such as killing Muggles and Muggle-borns, destroying whole villages – they wanted to create fear and terror among those who were not on their side." I took a deep breath. "They followed this man to the ends of the earth, committing atrocities and murdering innocent people in his name by using very Dark magic. They were responsible for killing a lot of people I loved, and they tried to kill me and my friends on many occasions. Thankfully, they never succeeded."

Draco reached out and touched my knee gently. "That's where you got your experience then," he whispered. "You were involved in the war against these people and you almost died because of it. For what it's worth, I-I'm glad you survived, Hermione."

"There's more," I added, my throat beginning to constrict with tears. "The Dark wizard's name was Lord Voldemort. He had a particular follower who was his right-hand-man for a while. This follower – his name was Lucius. He never quite pleased his master as much as he wanted to, so he declared that his wife and son would also serve the Dark Lord. His son in particular was to follow in Lucius's footsteps."

"I have a question," interrupted Draco. "Did Voldemort's army have a name?"

"Yes," I choked out. "They were known as the Death Eaters."

Draco turned white and his mouth dropped open as he stared at me. "What?"

"They were called Death Eaters," I repeated, feeling my heart speed up as I took in his shocked expression.

"And this Lucius – who was he? He must have had a surname, nobody goes around by just their first name –"

I held up a hand, and he stopped mid-tirade. I willed myself to look into his eyes as I prepared myself to spit out the awful truth. "His name was Lucius Malfoy," I answered, my voice barely audible. "Draco – he was your father. You were the one who was to serve Voldemort under him… you became a Death Eater."

"NO!" he cried, his voice almost inhuman with pain and anguish. He sprang up, his eyes darting around the room as if to look for an escape before his shoulders slumped and he collapsed back onto the bed. Dropping his face into his hands, his sobs rang out in the emptiness of the room. I could only watch helplessly as tears dripped between his fingers and fell uninterrupted to the floor.

"Draco – I'm so sorry," was all I could think to say. "The Death Eaters are no more. The world is different now. You – you're not that person anymore."

He rounded on me. "How would you know?" he demanded angrily. "You didn't know me then! I'm nothing – this person I think is me – I am an illusion!"

I felt lost. I didn't know what to do – my obligations to Harry were crystal clear, and I knew I couldn't jeopardise that, but I had to comfort Draco somehow. I didn't know why but suddenly all I could think about was stopping his tears and seeing him smile again. In that instant I made my decision. I would bridge both and tell him a little more, but not the full story. "That's not true," I ventured. "We met on the battlefield several times."

"Oh great," he cried. "You mean I was one of the people that tried to kill you?"

"No," I said with conviction. "You actually saved me. You knew who I was and who I fought for – and yet you didn't identify me to Voldemort. You lied to your father and said you didn't recognise me. You saved my life."

He was silent for a long moment, twisting his fingers in the bedspread. "Was I there at the end? When your friend killed Voldemort?"

"You didn't fight on either side," I answered truthfully. "You stood aside and watched as the final duel was taking place. You could have backed up your master, but you didn't. Then – then you disappeared, and nobody saw you until you were introduced to me at the Ministry."

He dropped his head into his hands again, more tears finding their way through his trembling fingers. "So you don't know what happened to me between then and now? When did that happen – how long was I missing?"

"Three years," I said, my voice calm. "Draco – you are not a Death Eater anymore. That much is obvious. Whatever happened in those three years has changed you."

He turned to me, tears still running down his pale cheeks. His eyes were dull as he regarded me. "I can't remember any of this, Hermione," he reminded me, his tone desperate. "What if someday I remember and I go back to being that person? That Dark wizard who took lives?"

"You won't," I said, trying to sound confident. "We all make mistakes, and we wish we could forget the past and be somebody different – someone better. You've been given that chance, Draco. Seize it with both hands. Embrace your training and be the best damn Auror anyone could hope to be. Nobody can hold your past against you if you truly decide to embrace this opportunity you have sought out for yourself."

He rubbed his cheeks with the back of his hand. "You don't know that," he insisted. "People don't just forget."

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and touched his face, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. "I knew you then, and you are nothing like that man anymore."

He stared at me, and I matched his gaze. My breath hitched in my throat as I realised I didn't want to look away. I had meant every word that had tumbled out of my mouth, and suddenly the effect of my assertion scared the living daylights out of me.

"You have more poise, self-control, and kindness in you than any other witch I have ever known," he half-whispered. "I can only assume that I used to call you a – that awful word – but I can't conceive of how I could ever believe that about anyone, least of all you. Since we were introduced at the Ministry, I have found you absolutely beguiling, Hermione."

"Don't," I argued weakly, feeling tingles rush up my spine at his words. "I'm just me, Draco. I'm not special. If anything, I'm a massive annoyance to my department because I insist on everything being run like clockwork."

His eyes never left my face. I found myself studying him; the shape of his nose, his chin, how his mouth curled slightly at the corners. His gaze found mine and there I was again, falling into the depths of his eyes – those eyes that glistened like mercury in the half-light of the room. I saw an unshed tear resting on his lower lashes which only seemed to add to the effect. In spite of myself, I found myself wondering where he had been these last years and what those eyes had seen.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Please, just…" Before he could finish his sentence, he had reached for me. His eyes searched mine and I nodded almost imperceptibly before he lowered his head and closed the distance between us. His lips brushed mine gently before he pulled me closer, his mouth claiming mine. I closed my eyes, wanting to feel nothing but the rush of sensation that was threatening to overpower my mind as his kiss became more urgent. I opened myself to him, my nerves on fire as he gently explored my mouth with his tongue. He moaned softly as I slid my arms around his waist; his hands in my hair. It seemed like only seconds before he broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard. "I've wanted to do that since you first brought me here," he admitted.

I sat in a daze, touching my lips gently and feeling my heart pound in my chest. "Me too," I found myself responding. Guilt began to settle over me like a dark cloud as I realised what I had just said; what had just happened. "Draco, I –"

"It's all right," he reassured. "I know you said you didn't know what you wanted. I know you've just got out of a relationship and you're unsure. I just wanted to make sure you didn't regret the kiss – because I don't."

I thought about it. Did I regret the kiss? The memories filled my head – how he had felt holding me, how he had tasted. "No, I don't regret it at all," I finally replied. "But you're right – I don't know how to think. My boyfriend was killed, and I just –"

"I'm sorry," came his voice. "But I couldn't go another minute without letting you know that I – well, that I'm interested. I care about you. I'm not expecting anything – I just needed you to know that."

"Aren't you angry with me?" I asked suddenly. At his puzzled look, I rolled my eyes. "For not telling you what I knew sooner," I clarified.

"Oh, that. I was at first," he admitted. "But then I thought about it and I realised you probably had your reasons. I'm grateful you told me anything – you didn't have to. You could have pretended you knew nothing and carried on as if nothing had happened. But you didn't." He smiled then, a real smile. "It's why I've always thought of you as more than just my trainer – hopefully, a friend at least."

"Of course," I agreed. He turned to walk out of the room, but there was something else I needed him to know. "Oh, Draco?"

He turned back to face me. "Yeah?"

I grinned. "That kiss was really good." Winking at him, I stood and walked past him, hearing his laughter as I left the room and made my way to the staircase.