Hermione stood in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy fifteen minutes before Draco was supposed to meet her there. She needed the extra time to gather her out of control thoughts.

Naively she hoped he would have a good excuse and would easily tell her that Harry's imagination was on the run again. That he wasn't a... a... He wasn't evil. Her mind instinctively shied away from using that word when describing him. There was no way for her to reconcile the boy she had spent time with recently and the image of a twisted copy of him, branded with the mark, that kept flashing before her eyes.

As her anxiety continued to mount she was forced to take slow deliberate breaths to keep herself restrained. She needed to have her head on right for the conversation that was about to happen. Not lost in a sea of crippling fear that would do her absolutely no good.

Already exhausted from not sleeping, unwilling to face what her nightmares would show her, she wasn't really up to such a high stakes meeting. But she knew that getting the truth was much more important and to do that she needed to be sure she wouldn't be caught sneaking out. It was only later, after sending off the owl, that she had thought to ask Harry to borrow the Invisibility Cloak so she could execute an earlier time…

Of course, that would have caused questions. Questions that she did not have good answers for, which would have alerted Harry to the fact that something was amiss. Knowing him, he would have ran to the Marauder's map to sedate his curiosity about what she was doing. A risk that was much too great to take.

So she stayed with her original plan and figured she would have time to sleep...

Later.

Trying to fight off the chill in the air she pulled the new charcoal gray cloak around her tightly. It had been a Christmas gift from her parents to replace the winter trench coat she had been using for the last two years. The matching hat and gloves made her feel like a student at Beauxbatons. Admittedly it wasn't her usual style but it was a gift from the only people who had always loved her. No matter what she did. No matter how horrible she acted sometimes. They loved her. And she would wear the frilly impractical garments, just because of the sentimentality behind them.

Out of nowhere the door to the Room of Requirement popped into being and she was left momentarily confused. She hadn't asked for anything…

Then the door opened and Draco stepped through. Her heart instantly started to race, just at the sight of him. He looked... Sickly.

The dark circles under his eyes had not gone away over their vacation. If anything they looked as if they had been permanently etched onto his face. His skin, that was already abnormally pale, had taken on the anemic hue of a ghost and lost what little coloring it did have. What had happened to him over break?

He wasn't wearing a coat or cloak, only his relaxed version of the Hogwarts standard uniform. White dress shirt and black pants. The odd choice left her wondering if it was a matter of convenience or if he was somehow immune to the dreadful cold that had permeated the castle.

She watched as he closed the door. The fact that she was standing there still hadn't registered. His eyes had the cold edge that she had grown to hate over the years and he looked so much like the twisted version of him from her imagination that it took her breath away. At the sound of her gasp his gaze flicked up and settled on her lurking in the shadows, as soon as his eyes found her his hard demeanor melted. Leaving her Draco standing there.

With him standing so close it was hard to lie to herself and say that she had not missed him. That there were not numerous times where she'd had to restrain herself from writing him a letter over break. There had been so much she wanted to say... Now she didn't even know if any of it was true.

He took a step towards her in welcome. In response she took a step back, keeping the same amount of distance between them. She couldn't let herself get wrapped up in the reunion she had hoped for.

She needed answers from him once more…

His eyebrows scrunched together showing his confusion at her reaction and the tense set of her shoulders. He stood there for a second, unsure of how to respond. In his hesitation his eyes betrayed his fear right before the cold mask slammed down across his features. His lips twisted up into the sneer she knew so well. "Well... Well... Look who came early. Welcome back Granger."

It was unbearable, having to confront the part of him that had broken her more times than she could count. She wanted the Draco she cared about back. She didn't know if she had enough courage to have such a provoking conversation with this one. She hesitated in indecision before finally blurting out. "Are you... Are you a Death Eater?!"

He scowled at her abrupt question. He couldn't have had a clue that her plans for the evening involved being questioned about his loyalties. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what he ended up getting.

She would not continue these secret liaisons if he was one of them. She would never be able to trust him. She probably shouldn't anyways, but this was where she had to draw a hard line for herself. She could not be with someone who had sworn themselves to a psychopath and continued to want anyone like her dead.

Draco's glare sent her heart into overdrive and she wondered if she had overstepped and he was going to be the one to finally crack. She watched as he quickly paced three times in front of the chunk of wall where the door would appear. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before a much more modern door than she had been expecting appeared. Made from what appeared to be walnut, it was definitely still an antique. Probably turn of the century, but not anywhere near as ancient as the gateway that led to the room from the other night.

He opened the door and gestured for her to go in. When she showed more hesitation his sneer returned and he shrugged. "If you want an answer to your question you go in. If not, you can live with your morbid curiosity for the rest of your life. Your choice..."

It was her turn to glare at him. He was trying to goad her into a response, and she didn't want to play games. After taking a deep breath she walked across the width of the hallway and into the room. Trying to act as if she had much more confidence in the questionable choice than she truly did.

Her eyes scanned the space she had just entered. It was a decent sized room filled with a complete bedroom and adjoining sitting room. She had not been expecting that!

The color palate was as if Salazar, himself, had vomited all over the room. The walls and floor were the only things that didn't match the Slytherin theme. The old stone that the whole castle was made of was able to remind her that she hadn't stepped into a parallel universe where she would be welcomed in Draco's bedroom…

A deep emerald green rug ran the length of most of the floor, making it almost cozy. Curtains in the same shade hung over a frosted glass window. A collage of wizarding photographs hung in the space between the window and the headboard of the four poster bed that looked comfortable enough to curl up in and fall right to sleep. All of the wood in the room was polished ebony. Everything; the bed, wardrobe, side tables, couch, chairs, book shelves- even the portrait frames matched. All graceful lines and hinting at old world origins. The fabric on the chairs and couch were a dark gray to balance out all of the green.

She took a few more steps, bringing herself further into the room. Upon inspection the strangest thing she noticed was that the paintings above the fireplace weren't the magical specimens like she would have anticipated. The scenes stayed completely stationary.

When her quick assessment of the room came to a close, she looked over at Draco as he closed the door behind himself and turned towards her. She was quickly reminded of her startling question by the intense way he stared at her. She couldn't figure out how to follow up such an accusation, so she waited patiently for his response.

He shook his head before asking. "Why did you come?"

"I... I need to know the truth. All of it." She said, her unrelenting gaze fixed on his own. The circumstances flashed the image of the princess from his story and how she'd had to stand up to the menacing dragon into her mind. It was alarming how badly she hoped the frosty untouchable boy still had the potential to be her hero…

"You don't need to know anything." He snapped.

"I deserve the truth then Draco. Is that a better reason? After everything you have put me through in the past six years I deserve a shred of humanity from you. Answer me! Are. You. A. Death. Eater?!" She shouted at him, unable to hold back the surge of anger at the jarring way he was treating her.

"The truth!? You want the truth?! Fine!" He yelled back at her, triggering the mask to not only crack but shatter. His rage rolled off of him as if it was a palatable force. Violently he reached over and wrenched open the wrist of his dress shirt, causing the button to pop off. He folded the fabric up onto itself until he reached the crook of his elbow.

The realization of what he was about to do must have fully hit him because he paused for a moment. As his dedication seemed to waver, he looked back to her and saw something that made him groan and flip his arm so she could freely look down at his forearm. An open invitation for her to see the truth for herself.

Now that the moment for action was in front of her, she did not want to look. She knew the answer just by his response and she didn't want to see his skin marred with the evidence of his hatred…

Instead she chose to stare into his cold taunting eyes, hoping for just a glimpse of the boy she had come to know. And all she found was the unquenchable fury and torment she had ignited with her question. She let her eyes drop down to his neck, the tendons drawn tight from the tension radiating off of him. Slowly she followed the line of his shoulder and down his bicep that was straining against the fabric of his shirt. Finally her eyes slid over the unmistakable branding…

His Dark Mark, in all of its horrible glory.

The skull and snake that was seared onto skin to permanently declare oneself a devout follower of The Dark Lord. The calling card of the Wizarding World's very own wannabe dictator. Left at the scene of a crime to strike fear into the hearts of the magical populace for so long that it even worked on her. Instantly it felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. Her throat felt like it was threatening to close in on itself as she gasped for a singular breath to send much needed oxygen to her brain.

She vaguely registered that her reaction was the start of the panic attack that had been hanging over her for over twenty-four hours, but there was absolutely no way to stop it. The sight of the abomination on his skin had been enough to send her tumbling over the edge. It wasn't like she had never seen it on a person before, a number of the Death Eaters had displayed theirs proudly during the standoff at the Ministry. Yet seeing it on a sixteen year old was considerably more frightening. How deep must the brainwashing go for a child to willingly sign up to dispense genocide?

And how perverted were the people involved to allow it?

She started hyperventilating as images of the things Draco must have seen and heard over the last few years came crashing down into her reality. Oh Gods! The last thing that she needed to feel was any kind of empathy towards him but the realization of just how fucked up his life must have been hit her hard. And she ached for the boy. No wonder he had attacked her so viciously. Anything to spread that type of pain around, right?

Unable to continue to support her weight she stumbled over to the couch and sunk down onto the plush velvet. Struggling for control she tried to find something to distract her mind with. Without much thought she stared across the room at the portrait of a willow tree near a pond at night that hung above the unlit fireplace. Instinctively she started counting the individual blades of grass the artist had painstakingly applied to canvas.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

She was able to pass a squeaky wheeze into her lungs.

In her peripheral vision she watched as Draco came over slowly. Advancing like he would if he came in contact with a wild animal, afraid to startle it. He wiggled his arm, the cuff of his shirt swayed with the movement, hanging loosely by his wrist. "It's gone. It's okay, Granger."

Fifty-Seven. Fifty-Eight, Fifty-Nine. Sixty. Sixty-One.

As he sat down on the other side of the couch she felt how she was shifted by the weight distribution, but she didn't look over at him. She couldn't allow her concentration to be fully broken from the simple task that helped her get the air back into her lungs. Her breaths came in constricted gasps but she was breathing... That was a start.

He didn't say anything else and just let her be.

By the time she got to three hundred and eighty-two she was back in control. She had given herself an extra fifty to be absolutely positive. Clearing her throat, she turned to the confirmed Death Eater beside her. "I'm sorry about that. I just needed... A moment..."

Draco snorted and shook his head in disbelief before checking out of the corner of his eye that she was in fact functioning. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. "It happens..."

"Yeah"

He turned his head to look her in the eye and it was him... The real Draco. "I'm sorry for freaking you out so badly."

"Believe it or not... It wasn't really you." She told him, knowing full well how dangerous it was to trust him with the truth. "I just... I don't know..."

"You don't have to tell me anything. I get it... I've made some shit decisions in my short life that would lead people not to trust me. Hell... I wouldn't trust myself." He said with a lift of his shoulders. As if distrust summed up the myriad of feelings she had for him.

"No Draco. I mean... Sure your..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking from his eyes to where the mark was hidden and back again. "Revelation kind of agitated things, but I am a freaking mess regardless."

He couldn't cover his skepticism at her words and looked back down to the ground. "If you say so..."

"I do. Everything suddenly became too much, you know?" Hermione asked. The fear that he would think she was out of her mind made her stomach flip. She didn't need confirmation on what she already knew.

"Yeah... I've been that way a time or two." He said before leaning back against the couch. He peeked over at her out of the corner of his eye again, trying to hide the movement. It was as if he couldn't keep his eyes off her, no matter how hard he tried.

Her mind started to nag at her to ask the next obvious question. The one that probably mattered more than the first... Before she could stop herself, it escaped from her lips. "Why did you do it, Draco?"

She was expecting his wrath but he sighed tiredly. "It's a long story."

"Good thing I have all night, huh?"

And she wasn't lying. If she had to stay until dawn to figure out why he had made the choice to take the mark. She would...