Those of you who got my review replies – know that this chapter was rather difficult for me. It's mostly dialogue, and Dramione have to start working out their differences to move into the next arc of this story. Warning – gratuitous sex at the end, since I just felt like writing it. ;) My next update might not be right away; just letting ya'll know! Thanks always for all your support.

LCailan

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

For Hermione, time had literally stopped. The air seemed still, the man next to her, immobile and unfeeling. The only thing she could hear was the erratic thumping of her heart, which kept time with the large grandfather clock in the corner.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick-

"Please, I want to try again."

She couldn't muster much more than a whispered word or two, but Draco did not move, standing rigidly in place.

"Do you? Well, I don't. I already have a woman in my life with me because of an arrangement. I don't need another one!"

Stubbornness was clear in each of his words, which were more petulant than they had a right to be. Hermione was angered at the tone he had chosen, and perplexed at his lack of understanding.

"This isn't easy for me!"

"It should be! After all, it's just a deal to you! I asked you to keep what you and I shared separate from the rest of the world! Apparently, you couldn't do that! First chance you got, you were impossibly quick to buy into whatever rubbish Flint was spewing about me! If that's all that I mean-"

Draco stopped, strangely perturbed by his own words.

Then, Hermione screamed.

"I tried not to! And I CANNOT!"

The sudden caliber of her voice startled Draco, and he turned to face her, taken aback by her viciousness. Hermione gazed on him boldly, not daring to breathe, to move, willing him to understand even though she felt like murdering him. Her anger blazed within her, so that she felt it flowing even in her blood, her heart burning and inflamed with it.

He backed away from her for a moment, cocking his head.

"Well, you should try harder then!"

The retort was a poor attempt at a demand, for it sounded small and ragged. Still, it stoked Hermione's internal rage.

"You think I haven't?" she spat. "I can't make sense of you! Of all the things you've done for me, and the risks you've taken! Why? What kind of sense does it make? How can you expect me to trust you?"

Draco's face was completely devoid of color, and though Hermione could see he was trying to come up with a proper Malfoy response, he couldn't. And it pleased her, for it allowed her a moment to continue her tirade.

"For six years I feared men like you!"

She was enraged, currents of burning tears coursing down her face so fast she couldn't wipe them away.

"The Ministry terrified me, and they hunted me like I was an animal! They destroyed any happiness I had ever had! And then, when they took everything they could from me, I ended up at that alienage, branded as nothing!"

Draco stopped her with a wave of his hand, his face white with tension, as if her anger didn't faze him. Hermione could see that he was fighting with himself about something, shuttering himself away from her, and in spite of her anger, she wished he wouldn't.

"You've told me all this! I already know!"

His words were a hiss and his eyes glittering slits of contempt.

She swallowed the bitterness in her hot throat, her whole body itching with anxiety and fear.

"If you know and you really understood, you wouldn't even question what's going through my mind!"

She watched as Draco charged across the room like a bull gone wild, standing near the doorway, as if to protect himself from…something. Hermione felt helpless when he spoke, her rage abating slightly as she watched him.

"I never imagined this was easy for you! I know what's happened to your kind all these years! I was a fucking part of it! And you were right, Granger! I AM a coward! Maybe that's part of why we're both in this sodding mess!"

He was trembling, and his eyes were flashing with withheld emotion.

"I saw all that…all the horrible things that they were doing to Mud-to your kind," he managed to choke out. "I was so afraid to go against them, to go against Voldemort, and…after awhile…death isn't so strange anymore, you know?"

Hermione stared at him, stricken. The rage was gone, having left behind it a wake of icy nothingness, which weakened her and caused her to slump. She was shocked at his tone, and the fact that he had made a conscious effort to not use 'Mudblood'. It touched her in ways she hadn't even realized it would.

Sighing, she shook her head, the sadness overwhelming any feelings of gratefulness she might have felt at his attempts at decency.

"No, I don't know."

A tense, heavy silence followed.

"No matter how much death I've seen, I can never…it's never anything but…strange. Abhorrent. Terrible. Confusing."

Each word fell from her lips, shattering against the empty silence. He lowered his head, wincing, and his reply was choked.

"But fear drives more than guilt does. I didn't always want to do what they asked of me, but I feared them more."

"Fear only controls you if you let it!"

He glanced up at her as the silence fell around them once more. Her voice rang out in the room, clear and indignant.

"Such a hypocritical response, Granger, don't you think? After all, that which you won't speak of, the actions you were forced to take at Flint's hand, weren't they driven by fear?"

Hermione was astounded; the silence was deafening. It was hard to argue the point he had made, although she opened her mouth to do so.

"You're pureblood! They couldn't force you to do things you didn't want to! I don't have the luxury! He would have killed me!"

His smile was wan, and his expression one of a disgust filled sympathy.

"And you don't think they'd turn on their own if it suited their purposes?" he mocked. "I though you smarter than that, Granger."

Hermione blinked, swallowing back a nasty, heated reply. She realized she hadn't thought at any length about how the Ministry or Voldemort treated those who had aligned themselves with him.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Why do you think Blaise left Lavender, and put his baby into hiding? Bellatrix Lestrange wouldn't hesitate to eliminate what she would consider a smear on Zabini's record. That child doesn't matter to them. And, if Zabini puts up a fight, they'd get rid of him, too. So long as you do as they ask, all is well. We aren't allowed to have feelings, Granger. Emotions are wasted on them. You think that your kind are the only prisoners in this regime? I beg to differ."

"How could you think I didn't fear you, Draco?"

Though she stood firm, there was a slight tremor along the edges of her voice as is faded off. He cleared his throat to speak.

"You knew what I was."

His eyes flickered with uncertainty across her face.

"You knew the things I'd done, and yet, you still…you said I was different, and I had-"

Somehow, what Draco wanted to say seemed impossible, especially because he was faced with her, and those impossibly mesmerizing eyes. She sighed.

"Even knowing you were different, I feared you, Draco."

Her words were whispers and she reached down, rolling up his sleeve, and tracing her fingers along the unsightly Mark that burned across his wrist. Each time she saw it, Hermione wanted to shudder, to whimper in disgust and loathing. He was everything she loathed more than anything in the whole world. And yet, she couldn't loathe him, no matter how hard she tried.

Ginny's warnings echoed in Hermione's ears. Flint's mocking tone taunted the edges of he memories, and she winced, her eyes watering as she gazed at Draco.

"Can you blame me?"

Sighing, he turned from her, though he did not pull away. His eyes were trained on the window, and Hermione saw his jaw twitch.

"So, you never wanted me?"

"I needed you. And, you wanted me."

Hermione felt his shudder, but he refused to look down at her.

"So you lied."

He was shocked at his own ridiculousness- after all he had known the truth! But even so, he managed to make the words ring with disdain, for he felt hurt and somehow, he wanted her to feel it as well.

"You knew that!"

Hermione had eerily echoed his thoughts, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt at the slight in her voice. So, she was hurt.

Good. Good, she deserves it.

He pushed away from her, holding his head high and cradling his wounded heart.

What is wrong with me? I know she doesn't deserve this! I'm a bastard.

There was a long silence, and finally Draco found himself speaking, his voice flat.

"I never wanted to blame you for how you feel. I can't begin to imagine, and those others, they don't care to."

Hermione watched as his forearms tensed and his long, beautiful fingers curled into tight fists.

"I'm not like them."

This time, his words were broken, the emotion creeping into them so they were soft whispers of despair.

"But the only thing someone sees when they look at me is Death Eater. So, no, I don't blame you. You have much to hate me for."

He turned around, watching her with a strange, yet curious expression. The words of self loathing were spoken from behind clenched teeth, and as Hermione gazed up at him, she could see true remorse painted in the faint lines of his face.

She stepped forward, offering a hand which he rejected. Then, she sighed.

"I don't hate you, and I know you're not like them."

Because it was the only thing she could offer, she slipped her hand in his.

"I've known it a long time now. The moment I found out you couldn't kill Dumbledore. I thought of it a lot, you know. Later, even. Not all the time, but sometimes. And I've thought about all the things you've done since. For me, and for Ginny and Lily. I know you're not…you could never be like them. It's a hard admission to make, because I've always hated you. And now, I realize that sometimes, things change."

He shuddered visibly, turning his face away from her, feeling a sudden and rather humiliating bout of tears that threatened.

"I was a coward. Voldemort asked me to do one thing, I couldn't even do it! What could be more cowardly?"

The words were so soft, Hermione could hardly hear him.

"No! You were brave. The cowardly thing would have been to kill him, don't you see? Voldemort would have wanted that, and you did the right thing!"

Her emphatic declaration sounded like salvation to Draco's ears. At least, here was someone who hadn't thought him a coward for what he had done – or in his case - not done, that fateful night so many years ago.

It was different, he realized. She was different.

As he stood there, he felt her lean into him, pressing herself against the length of his back.

"I was wrong about you."

Hermione's voice sent shivers down his spine.

"You're not a coward, Draco. You never were."

Draco turned slowly, but held her hand in his own so that it was too easy to wrap her arms around his waist as he held her. She gazed up into his eyes, unable to read the emotion that flickered there.

"My whole life, I've done things I haven't wanted to," he told her, his words uneven.

She watched as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"I've made allegiances to those whom I've hated, and I've learned to abhor that which I don't understand. I've rationalized that which makes no sense and assuaged guilt over and over again by blaming others, by being cruel and unyielding. I've turned a blind eye on a world that's now falling apart around me. All in the name of pleasing the man I called Father, and gaining Voldemort's favor."

Hermione watched in silent fascination as his beautiful silver eyes glimmered over with unshed tears as Draco struggled with something bigger than he was. She wanted to hold him, to make it better, but his expression rendered her helpless. As she watched, his fingers came up to caress her cheek and she shivered at the roughness, though his touch was feather light. Already, he began to weave his spell over her and she could do nothing but succumb.

"But, even if I wanted to change, it wouldn't matter, would it? You were so quick to believe that I was just like Flint."

Hermione pulled away from him, visibly stung.

"You just finished saying you didn't blame me for that!"

"I don't! But that doesn't change a thing, does it?"

The softness in his quicksilver eyes was gone, replaced once more with unrest. Hermione struggled to wrap her mind around his change in mood, and his softened words.

"What's that mean?"

He seemed to grow increasingly perturbed.

"This world, and all it's prejudices, Granger! You think the Ministry is bigoted? What about you Muggle-borns? Aren't you just as quick to judge us?"

"I can't believe you'd even say such a thing!"

Her brown eyes flared with injustice and blazed with open disgust.

"After everything that they've put us through you don't think we have a reason for mistrust and resentment? They destroyed my life and took away my family! I say they're evil, and I have that right!"

Passion flared in Draco's eyes.

"But I didn't!" he yelled.

His voice echoed brokenly in the room, startling Hermione.

"And you still choose to lump me in with all the rest, don't you?"

What he was afraid to say, was how much that hurt. Perhaps, he hadn't even been cognizant how much, until that moment. He turned from her, afraid that the tears that had threatened and passed a moment before, would threaten once more.

"I know you've been…kind."

Her reply was small and uncertain.

"You've protected me from Pansy and Marcus the best you could. You've risked your life for me. I'm…so many times I've wondered why."

"I don't know why!"

His tone was ragged, unevenly pitched, the frustration clear.

"I don't know why I've done the things I've done when it comes to you, Granger! God knows I've mulled it over too many hours now, and I can't sodding figure it out!"

Hermione took in a breath.

"Do you…Draco, did you mean what you said? When you said…you might…care for me?"

The words trembled on the edge of emotion and he looked at her – forgetting for a moment everything else except the look of hope in her eyes.

"Would it matter?"

The words were low, resigned.

Hermione's torn and tattered heart beat within her wildly.

"I kept trying to tell myself that this thing between us meant nothing."

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"That I was doing it for Lily, and that you were a despicable, hateful man and I would never be able to feel anything for you. I kept trying to believe that, because it's the only thing that made sense."

She took in a breath, trying to put her own realizations into words.

"But then, you walked away from me, and I…"

She shook her head helplessly, but at the same time, steeled herself with determination her words heartfelt.

"I meant what I said, Draco. I want to try again. I don't want you to walk away from me. You matter to me. What you feel and where you are."

Her gaze didn't waver from his, and for a moment he couldn't speak for he was enamored by her light. Gently, she put her arms around him, and he leaned into her reflexively, for it felt…right.

Hermione lifted her head and gazed up into his face. Draco's eyes followed hers. Her hand ran down his front and then back up along his shoulder to cup his neck. Her hands were so, so warm. Draco closed his eyes, and leaned down slightly so that his forehead was resting against hers. His hands trailed up and down her back in gentle fashion, so that he could feel as much of her as possible. He was suddenly aware of how much he wanted this; how much he wanted yet another memory of holding her so closely.

As Hermione's fingers ran along his neck and stopped to rest there, Draco's head dropped down onto her shoulder, and he turned his face in towards her neck, breathing in her familiar scent, basking in the warmth of her skin. There was no more of anything except what he could feel. Draco's grip on her waist tightened involuntarily, and then his nose brushed against the silkiness of her cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed as he sighed. Hermione moved slightly and he felt as she began to seek his mouth, dropping tiny, butterfly soft caresses against his chin and his jaw, teasing yet shy, but certain all at once. It made his heart gallop and his body tighten. Almost without his own knowledge, Draco's lips began their own search, moving against her cheek, her jaw, too far down along her chin, and the finally found home against her eager, waiting mouth.

When his lips found hers in that incredible moment, his fingers moved up to rest on her jaw, and he shifted so that she fitted perfectly against him. Draco kissed Hermione as if he would never kiss her again, as if eternity was theirs. Their lips touched time and time again, sometimes clinging, sometimes moving, and she pulled him closer as he tangled his fingers in her tousled hair. He was vividly aware of every move she made, each time she took a breath, and the way she felt and tasted.

When they finally pulled apart it was only so that he could look into her eyes. She offered him another one of the smiles that had haunted his dreams for so long. To be granted such a smile was like being graced by heaven.

"So does that mean you want to try again?"

She breathed the words against his mouth. Draco shuddered, awakened in more than one way.

"It's hard to say no when you kiss me like that, Granger."

He heard her giggle; it was a most musical sound. He was only half aware of how much he loved the sound of her laughter.

"You didn't answer my question," she murmured, her head on his shoulder, relaxed now, as if all their problems were over.

Draco succumbed to such a fantasy for a moment, them together, trying to make a life in spite of the world that was so quickly hurtling towards chaos.

"Its madness, isn't it? Granger and Malfoy is something I'd never have considered."

She let out another soft laugh.

"No? Not even when I gave you that brilliant punch in our third year at school?"

Draco's eyes had closed and he found himself smiling against her hair at the distant memory.

"Rather impressive, Granger, though I would never have admitted such."

"Of course, after all, it wouldn't do for Granger to one up a Malfoy."

He smirked, and pulled her closer, still. The afternoon had waned into early evening, and Draco wondered where Astoria had gotten to, and if she planned on coming back. Not that he wanted her to.

He was feeling quite content standing in the small sitting room facing the garden and holding Hermione Granger in his arms, knowing his strange feelings were returned.

Hermione wondered briefly what exactly had changed between them, if anything. Feelings hardly had a place in the world where they both existed, and in spite of them, she had still promised herself to him, in every way.

"I should prepare supper, in case she gets home soon."

As she pulled away, Draco felt a profound sense of loss, and a desire to hold onto her.

"She might not. Most nights, after I've left you, the house stays empty all night long."

His response was unemotional and in the shadows of early evening, she couldn't tell what he might have been thinking.

"Where does she go?"

"I don't know."

Hermione hesitated.

"Was it always like this between the two of you? Was there any time in your relationship that you got on well?"

Glad that she had first pulled away from him, Draco turned away from her, as the memory of his son flooded his being.

Should she even know? What would be the point?

"Apparently, you don't know anyone who's ever had an arranged marriage? I've told you before, Granger, one's no better or worse than another. My parents wanted me to marry a Greengrass, and I did. Simple as that, and love had nothing to do with it."

Hermione sensed a sharp, darker quality to his words, but wouldn't question it, for his expression was clearly distant. Instead, she sighed, thinking about how sad his life must have been all those years.

He moved to turn on some lamps in the room, and then she wordlessly followed him back to the hallway where they had first started to row. Now, the room had fallen entirely to the looming shadows, and they were only chased away by the flick of Draco's wand as he illuminated the hallway.

"If you don't want supper, then you'll be taking me back now?"

His expression was somber in the dim lighting, but Hermione swallowed at the provocative look in his eyes. He stepped closer, lifting an eyebrow.

"Do you want me to take you back? You've been through so much the last few days. I thought maybe you could stay here. I'll draw you a bath, yeah?"

Hermione was startled at the kindness in his face, even though by now, she was starting to get used to it in spite of the impossibility of it all.

"A bath?"

"Yes, Granger. Involving a tub and water. Soap, too, if you like that kind of thing."

She saw the smirk on his mouth, and blushed fiercely.

"I'm your help! I do work for you…not- not the other way around! You don't draw the cleaning girl a bath!"

Her sputtering was endearing and Draco offered a short laugh.

"I offer my cleaning girl whatever she wants."

His voice grew husky.

"All she need do is ask."

The suggestion in his tone was heavy and it awakened Hermione's desires so they swirled deliciously within her even at the way he gazed on her. They were standing in the hallway, and Draco turned on the lights in the bathroom. The white marble and ceramic surfaces sparkled under the glow of the overhead vanity lights. Hermione had to admit that it had been ages since she had soaked herself in any tub, let alone a glorious one like the one she had cleaned for weeks.

"I…."

He gave her a knowing smile, and Hermione felt warm under his gaze, wondering how, after six years of horror, life had given her a sweet respite. In his smile, she saw the acceptance she craved, the safe haven she had long desired.

"Come here," he whispered, opening his arms, and she went willingly, sighing as her eyes closed and she pressed her face into his ruined shirt. Here, she felt herself relax completely, letting his warmth wash over her until she felt utterly protected. This man cared about her; he had not let anything happen to her, and she trusted him. Yes, she trusted him.

Draco's lips found hers in a tender kiss which went on forever. Heart racing, he pulled away, looking into her desire filled eyes, kissing her gently on the mouth before moving towards her neck and then the flesh on her shoulders.

Hermione seemed impatient and yanked him back up to her hot mouth, kissing him, a small sound escaping her, which drove Draco wild. The kissing resumed, and she was sighing against his mouth, her hands increasingly bold, taking a hesitant trip along his arms, down to his hands, and then up under, against his waist, his upper chest, down, down along the front of his decimated shirt, reaching and fumbling with frustration at the buttons which still remained.

He chuckled against her hot lips, and then stopped for a moment, his shaking fingers moving up to his remaining buttons, their heads bumping together as he tried to help her. They both laughed breathlessly, and Draco gave up, too eager to resume the passionate kisses that had ensued, and he hastily ripped at the shirt, buttons flying as he tossed it aside, Hermione's hands replacing the fabric nearly immediately.

Draco's eyes followed her movements, his heart hammering wildly out of control in a way he had never known and believed he would never know again. He gazed into her eyes when she glanced up and Draco thought if he died, he would never have to go to heaven to know what it was like.

Hermione's fingers traced down along his torso, along his chest and to his stomach, and then her mouth followed suit, tongue against his skin, leaving a trail of pleasure behind it which made Draco moan her name. Goosebumps rose up on his skin and he shuddered, lost to everything except what she was doing to him. This time, on this night in the shadows of early evening, it meant more. It was more. It had to be more.

Hermione's fingers undid his trousers and Draco didn't have to be told twice, as he struggled, fumbled out of them, and tossed them aside, his desire for her obvious. She moved to touch him again and he stopped her trembling hands just shy of contact, shaking his head, his eyes locking with hers.

"Not yet," he begged in a guttural way. In one graceful movement he scooped her up, marveling at how light she was, and carried her towards his bedroom, never breaking the torrid kisses between them. He placed her on the bed with the utmost reverence, and gloried in the smile she gave him, as he reached for her, that craving, the insatiable need he always felt for her driving his movements. He undressed her slowly, never taking his eyes away from the beauty before him.

Draco's hands found Hermione's, his lips against her fingers, his mouth on her wrist, the pulse there wild and uncontrollable, and then he trailed up along her arm, on the inside of her elbow, and then on her shoulder, her neck, her chin, and along the swell of her breasts. He reveled in her, playing, nipping, causing her frustration and by the sounds she was making, pleasure as well. When he looked into the depths of her brown eyes, he saw there a look of dissatisfaction and her lips turned down into a pout.

"What's the matter?" he teased then, knowing that what she needed, only he could give her. That knowledge nearly sent Draco over the edge.

"Does something hurt?"

His words were husky and his finger moved up to run along her kiss swollen lips.

"There?" he asked in innocence, as Hermione nearly groaned.

Then Draco leaned in to kiss her fully, slowly, their tongues mating as if they had forever. He adored Hermione with his mouth, dragging the kiss out for as long as he could before pulling away to look into her eyes. She was nude from her waist up, and it took mere seconds for Draco's fingers to find their next destination along the swell of her breasts as he whispered.

"There?"

Hermione groaned and whimpered something before Draco took her into his mouth, and her fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders as she keened incoherently. He nearly fell over with the intensity of what he was feeling, but he never let up loving her this way until she begged him to stop and Draco nuzzled his way back up into the crook of her neck, kissing her there, light, teasing caresses that played along her skin and made their way to her ear.

"Somewhere else, maybe?" he uttered, his voice husky and trembling, even as his fingers trailed along her waist and the tops of her thighs.

Hermione's body was taut, and she jumped towards him involuntarily, letting out a sharp whimper when his finger traced the inside of her thighs. He smiled against her neck and cradled her weight against his own body when she went slack upon his next, most intimate touch. Hermione let out a cry and then Draco felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and realized she had bitten him, and fought to keep his composure.

It took him mere moments to lower Hermione to the bed where he had lain with his wife, but never touched her with even a tenth of the passion with which he touched the woman that gazed up at him in unabashed desire. Draco saw nothing except that she was in his arms, that she was accepting his fevered kisses, gazing up into his eyes with her own. That it was she…the one he had wanted for so long the nights had become innumerable. Each second sent him deeper into a world where only she existed. There was no before, and there would be no after. There was only now.

"My Hermione," he managed, pulling himself away from her long enough to get his focus.

He could see her nod, lean up to claim his mouth with her own, wordlessly acquiescing to his words, the truth of them. She was his.

Draco broke the kiss, took both her hands in his, and rested them above her head, their fingers intertwined. Then, he locked her eyes with his as he began to move forward, to claim her as his own. He moved slowly, although he would never know how long because he had too quickly gotten lost in the ochre depths of Hermione's eyes, watching her like that, seeing her react, the rainbow of emotion that flurried across her face. When he stopped, his body flush against hers; she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her face against his neck. He could feel her racing pulse, her slight trembling, how heated her flesh was.

For the first time in his life, Draco believed this was what making love felt like. And he never wanted it to stop.