Disclaimer: This chapter really begins the reasoning behind the M rating. Language will be rearing its head every now and then so if that offends, I probably would recommend that you stop reading, because it will continue to crop up here and there.

Also, I still do not own Harry Potter, or any of the other characters in his world...maybe next time?

Chapter 5

Over the next two weeks, Draco and Hermione met almost every single night. They met in the seventh-floor corridor, right in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls how to do ballet. One of them always remained hidden, just in case someone were to walk by and see them standing there together, while the other one walked the hallway the required three times to summon the Room of Hidden Things. Hermione had been spending time in the library every day, checking out book after book on the properties of magical objects and taking them back to her room to study them in depth. However, in the two weeks that they had been working together, they had made no noticeable progress in mending the broken Vanishing Cabinet.

Tensions were beginning to run high. Draco had found himself on edge, waiting for the moment when she would throw their past enmity in his face or worse, when she would reveal the details of his mission to Potter and Weasley. He just couldn't believe that she would have simply forgiven all of the hateful things that he had said to her in the past and all of the terrible things he had done. Just waiting for her to add her opinion of how worthless she thought he was to those voices already echoing in his head day and night put him on edge, sending his temper spiraling downward into a black cloud that grew larger and darker every day.

Hermione, for her part, had genuinely intended to turn over a new page. She had never been one to hold the actions of someone against them, particularly when they were the actions of a child. She had tried to, if not forget, than at least move on from, both the hateful, hurtful words he had hurled at her throughout the past six years and all of the less-than-positive interactions that littered their turbulent shared past. She could not, however, let go of her worry that he was only holding back the slurs and insults now because he wanted or needed her help; she feared that as soon as the cabinet was mended, he would revert back to his old prejudices. She had tried to bury these concerns, as she knew that it was unfair to assume these things of him when he had given no indication that this was, in any way, true. So in spite of all of the conflicting emotions swirling around her mind, she tried to move on and work congenially with him. Finally, however, everything boiled over on the day after Halloween.

It had been such a silly thing, really. They had just arrived in the room, and Hermione had been pulling her newest library acquisitions out of her bag when Draco had asked her if she had looked yet in the section of the library that covered spells and charms for magical object repair. Hermione, used to her lighthearted banter with Harry and Ron, had responded automatically and without thought.

"Of course, I did, Malfoy," she said with a with a haughty lift of her head. "I may just be a muggle-born, but I do know my way around a library; probably even better than you do, actually."

Hermione had intended her words to be a joke; she had never anticipated Draco's reaction to her words. His temper had finally boiled over.

"You know what, Granger?" he said, his voice dangerously soft but with a definite edge that was sharp enough to cut stone. "Fuck you!"

Hermione was so stunned; she couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. It had been obvious to her that Malfoy had been overly restrained for the past two weeks, metaphorically tiptoeing around her. This, however, had completely taken her by surprise. She wasn't really even sure how to reply to him, but she felt she had to try to calm his temper.

"Malfoy, I…"

"No, Granger! Shut the fuck up! I am so sick and tired of being constantly reminded by everyone exactly what a worthless piece of shit they all think I am. I definitely don't need to hear about it from a filthy mudblood like you! I don't fucking need this!"

His voice had risen steadily as he had been speaking and he was now screaming at her, his normally pale face mottled with patches of red staining his cheekbones. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and he was quivering with anger. Hermione had never really noticed just how tall Malfoy was but now, as he towered over her in his rage, she realized that he was probably nearly as tall as Ron, maybe even taller.

For the first time in the two weeks that they had been meeting together in the Room of Hidden Things, she felt a frisson of fear race down her spine at the thought of what he could do to her here: no one would ever know, since not a single person knew that she was here with him. Feeling defensive, she drew herself up to her full height, not exactly intimidating as the top of her head barely came to his shoulders, and readied herself to fight. It just wasn't in her nature to simply lay down and let someone run roughshod all over her; she had never allowed anyone else to do so and she certainly wasn't going to let Draco sodding Malfoy be the first.

"You listen to me, Malfoy. I don't know what in Godric's name is wrong with you, but you need to fix it: fast! I will not stand here and listen to you scream at me for something I didn't even do. I understand that you are under more stress than most people could even fathom at this moment and I am willing to give you more grace than I would normally give to anyone else. What I will NOT do, however, is come here to try and help you day after day, putting my education, friendships, and possibly even my very life on the line, just to be berated and harassed in return."

She was screaming now, too, and she tried desperately to reign in her own rather formidable temper. She knew herself well enough to know, however, that once she got well and truly riled up, there was rarely any stopping herself. It served him right, anyway, she thought, to receive a dose of his own medicine.

He needed to know, up front, that she would not tolerate being treated like his own personal house elf. She felt certain that his family probably had many of them, and that he was used to ordering them about whenever he needed something, then ignoring them whenever they were inconvenient or in his way. She was a witch, not his servant, and was just as used to getting her own way. That certainly meant that they were bound to bump heads more often than not, but they needed to learn to work through these conflicts if they were going to figure a way out of the situation in which he had found himself.

"So," she continued, "why don't you just think about whether or not you are capable of treating me like a human being, and not just some mudblood scum that is conveniently here to help you out of the mess in which you've found yourself, to then be scraped off and thrown away like the filth on the bottom of your shoes."

Hermione grabbed the books that she had finished unpacking only moments before and crammed them back into her bag, which she then flung over her shoulder. Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, she shot him a look of utter disgust and loathing.

"Just let me know what you decide, Malfoy," she added, snarling his name as if it were the vilest curse she could utter. She then turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door closed behind her with a gratifyingly loud BANG.

Draco stared at the closed door in shock. He was dumbfounded by what had just happened. He knew he had let his temper get the better of him, had felt his control over it slip from his fingers when Granger had made the statement about her muggle-born heritage. He knew she had meant it as a joke, had heard the teasing undertone in her words, but it had hit too close to home from comfort considering all of the concerns that had been plaguing him for the past two weeks, along with their tempestuous history together. He had just been waiting for her to bring it up and when she had, even in jest, he had lost the tenuous grip he had been maintaining over his self-control. He wasn't even sure why; he just hadn't been able to hold it in anymore.

What truly astounded him, though, had been her response. He had expected her to react like the girls that he was used to, the Slytherin girls who either cried and ran off until his infrequent but infamous temper ran its course and burned itself out or who sat and cowered in a corner while he shouted. Granger, however, had erupted with her own brand of fury, and had taken him completely by surprise.

He reached down to pick up his own bag and slung it carelessly over one shoulder, then left the room as well. He knew he wouldn't make any new progress on the cabinet on his own, and certainly not after what had just happened tonight. He slowly wandered through the deserted hallways, making his way down the various moving staircases and into the dungeons. When he entered the Slytherin Common Room he nodded absently at Blaise Zabini and Theo, who were playing a rather intensive game of Exploding Snap. Both boys looked at him, concern apparent as they took in the distracted look on his face, but he ignored them and continued on his way to his dormitory.

When Draco entered the room that he shared with Blaise and Theo as well as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, he immediately toed off his shoes and placed them beside the trunk that stood at the foot of his four-poster bed. Dropping his bag on top of his trunk, he then turned and flopped down gracelessly onto his bed before pulling the rich, emerald-colored curtains closed around the bed and whispering a quick silencing spell for privacy. Granger was right; he had some thinking to do.

While he had been waiting for the past two weeks for Granger to fling his bad behavior from their past in his face, he had to admit that she had yet to mention their tumultuous past even once, apart from today's argument. On top of that he had to figure that, as much as it might hurt his pride to admit it, she was probably entitled to bring it up; she was certainly owed an apology for all of the hurtful things he had said and done to her in the past. The thought of apologizing for each and every thing he had every said and done to the witch was daunting to say the least, and more than his significant Malfoy pride could stand, but he could admit, at least to himself, that she was certainly the bigger person of the two of them. After all, she was the one who was willing to help a former enemy with no assurances of apologies or repentance, nor even with a guarantee that he would not repeat his past actions again in the future.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he needed to come up with a reason for her to stay. He needed to give her a reason to keep helping him because, as much as it might bruise his pride to admit that he wasn't the best at something, he knew that she wasn't called the brightest witch of their age for nothing. He hadn't been able to fix the cabinet on his own, but he knew that if he were to have any chance of figuring it out before the Dark Lord decided that his time was up, he was going to need her help.

He knew that she had meant what she had said before her theatrical exit from the Room of Hidden Things; she wouldn't put up with his verbal lashings and anger, and the next time it happened would probably be the last time. He needed to convince her that not only was he sorry for yelling at her, which he was rather embarrassed of looking back at it now, but also that he was going to work harder to do better moving forward.

Satisfied that he had a plan of action in place for the next evening, Draco decided to take the opportunity to get some rest. He grabbed his wand and transfigured his robes into pajamas, then tucked it under his pillow within arms' reach. As he rolled over to go to sleep, his last thought was the fear of what would happen to him if she just decided that he was a lost cause and didn't even show up tomorrow to give him the chance to apologize.

To say that Draco was nervous the following evening would be a massive understatement. Having spent the entirety of the school day overthinking every single decision he had made the night before, he was nearly ready to jump out of his skin by the time he arrived at the Room of Hidden Things. He paced back and forth in the room for what felt like hours before he heard the creaking sound of a door opening. He turned around so quickly that he felt his neck pop, but he did not look away, afraid she would disappear if he so much as blinked. He nearly couldn't believe it; she had actually come back.

"I'm sorry, Granger."

The words spilled from his mouth before he could really thing about how he wanted to say them, but considering the fact that he meant them he didn't see any reason to try to backpedal. He could see from the look of surprise on her face that she hadn't truly expected him to apologize and assumed that she had thought he would tell her to back off and that he would do it on his own. But to be honest, he was tired of fighting this battle alone.

"I'm sorry that I called you…that name again yesterday, and I'm sorry for the times that I've said it to you before yesterday, as well. I know more than most people that your heritage has nothing to do with your magical abilities. Salazar knows, you're not only the one person in this blasted school that has ever managed to outscore me in any subject, but you've turned around and done it in every single one. I apologize for letting my emotions get the better of me yesterday, and then taking out my frustrations on you and allowing my temper to get the better of me.

"I know that you have no reason to want to help me but, if you are still willing, I would appreciate your assistance in figuring out how to fix this damned cabinet. I don't think I can fix it without your help. I promise that I will try harder in the future to do better…and to be better. In here, at least, where I am allowed to do so."

Having said everything he could, and much more than he was comfortable with, Draco felt that there was nothing else he could say or do to change her mind. If there was any real reason for her to continue to help him, the Quaffle was now in her hands. It was up to her now.

Song Inspiration: Give Me One Reason – Tracy Chapman

Hope you all enjoy the newest chapter! I'm trying to keep the characters as true as I can to what I feel like their original personalities as I can at this point. As the story progresses, their experiences will continue to cause them to change and evolve, but hopefully you will all like them as much as I do!

Thanks for reading!

sbz