Lucius turned round and looked at his desk. You are a perpetrator. The words burned in his head, running in an endless loop and pulling him into a vortex of despair. Hermione was right, of course he was the bad guy here, he would never be able to change that. The fact that he hadn't ended up in Azkaban after the fall of the Dark Lord was solely due to the family name and his wealth. If he actually managed to win against this man a second time, no one would show him any mercy, because he had obviously abused the trust that had been placed in him. And it wasn't even as if he really regretted his actions or could consider them bad. What he regretted, what really gnawed at him and made him doubt his decisions, was the mortal danger his son had been in for a very long time. His son, who obviously hated him by now, although he didn't know why.

He believed in the superiority of the purebloods. He had been only too happy to join the ranks of his family and had followed the man who called himself Lord Voldemort of his own free will. That was another decision he now regretted, at least that he had done it a second time. Deep down, Lucius knew that he could never be happy in a world ruled by Voldemort. For every single wizard, fear would become a constant companion, as it already was. But how could he make Hermione understand that he really and truly felt this way? She had every reason to doubt him. For her, it was one and the same whether you followed the pure-blood idea or Voldemort. She only knew black and white, because she was a Mudblood herself; it didn't matter to her whether people despised her and wanted to kill her because they followed Voldemort or for other reasons.

Still, he had to try. He wanted her by his side, no matter what blood ran through her veins. She gave him peace and understanding like no human had ever done before, and he didn't want to give that up. A woman like Narcissa was good on his arm, a good wife and mother, but she didn't make him feel like a man. If Hermione really had a plan to defeat Voldemort, he would help her. It didn't matter anyway whether he went on living his life with his tail between his legs, half-dead and humiliated, or whether he died in battle. And if he had to die, at least he would die trying to protect his son and save the woman he loved. A true Slytherin was loyal to those close to him, those he cared about.

"It's not just my affection for you, Hermione," he said slowly as he turned his gaze back to her. She was still standing against the wall, watching him with serious, attentive eyes, waiting. Good. As long as she didn't close herself off from him completely, he had a chance. "Didn't you hear what I said? The Dark Lord has threatened my son's life. Since I decided to follow him a second time, my life has become steadily worse. I admit, if it wasn't for you, I would probably never think about going against him. But you are there. And if you know a way we can bring him down, then I'll help."

He could see the way her gaze flickered, the way she chewed on her bottom lip and her fingers began to dig into her palms. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to believe him, she had said so herself.

"I can't," she said quietly but firmly. Her shake of the head showed the same frustration that gripped him when he heard the words.

"Go," he whispered, resignation washing over his body. "I've said all I have to say. I really mean it, Hermione. But if you can't trust me, then ... go."

He slumped down on his bed, reached for his wand to open the door and then closed his eyes. He almost expected her to come to him after all, that he would feel her hand on his cheek, that she would smile at him and hug him. But instead, he heard the soft clack of his door as it closed behind her. Exhausted, he slumped against one of the bedposts.

oOoOoOo

Hermione crept along the corridor with tears in her eyes. The resignation in Malfoy's voice had pierced her heart. She believed him. She was sure that he really and truly wanted to change the current circumstances. Perhaps not just because of her, but she had given him the final push to leave Voldemort's side for good. And still, she couldn't confide in him. Snape's expectant eyes were etched in her mind; she didn't want to reveal their plan against his will. He wouldn't understand.

"Are you crying because of what my father did to you, or because he wouldn't let you into his bed?"

At the end of the corridor, Draco leaned in the doorway to his room, his arms crossed in front of his chest, scrutinising her blankly. The sight of this young man, who had opened up to her in much the same way as Lucius Malfoy had just done, broke the dams. Tears of despair streamed down Hermione's cheeks as she stepped towards him. He hesitated only briefly before opening his arms, pulling her to him and into his room, and then quickly closing the door behind them.

"What did he do?" whispered Draco as he carefully set the crying Hermione down on his bed, handed her a handkerchief, and then made himself comfortable on his duvet.

"Nothing!" Hermione gasped, "At least not in the way you think. Oh God."

"Then what is it?" he asked, "I'm keeping my mouth shut, but I'm not blind. I can see that there's something between you. I just don't know what."

"Neither do I," she returned desperately: "I ... he wants me to trust him. Just like I trust you. But ... I can't."

"Father wants you to believe him, that he's not on the side of You-Know-Who?" Draco asked with a mocking smile, "You'd do well not to believe him."

Hermione shook her head. "I believe him. He's no different from you, Draco. He's just as unhappy. But...remember I told you a little while ago that I might have a way to end all of this? He suspects that and he wants to know what the plan is."

"If you fall for him, you'd be dumber than I realised," came the dry reply. "Honestly, Granger. I know my own father better than you do. He was the one who got me into this situation in the first place. There's no wizard who believes in the inferiority of Mudbloods as much as he does."

"That may be all true," Hermione sniffled. "But didn't you say yourself that you overheard an argument in which your father was against you accepting the Mark? Why would he object if he's such a staunch supporter of You-Know-Who?"

Draco just stared at her for a long time. His face didn't reveal what he was thinking, but Hermione was sure that her words convinced him. When he finally stirred, however, his reaction was completely different to what she had expected.

"I'm an idiot. A moronic, suicidal idiot. Why did I tell you what I think?" Anger and despair mingled with resignation as he slowly stood up and stepped to his window. "I knew it would be a mistake to tell anyone. I was right."

"Why?" Hermione whispered, confused. She couldn't make sense of his behaviour, but the rejection she suddenly felt from him and the resignation in his voice showed her that she was the cause of his change of mood.

"You're completely seduced by him," Draco stated as matter-of-factly as if he were making a comment about the weather. "He's always been good at manipulating people. I have no idea how he did it with you, but if you of all people buy that he's not a convinced Death Eater, then he's done a good job."

"It's not like that!" she cried desperately, "Really, Draco. You have to believe me, I ... I wasn't seduced by him. Didn't you hear me say that I wouldn't tell him my idea?"

"You said you believed him," he replied emotionlessly, "It's only a matter of time. And when the time comes, he'll sound you out until he knows everything he needs to know to thwart your plans. You'll probably tell him what you know about me and then he'll hand me over to You-Know-Who in cold blood."

He finally turned back to her. His gaze was completely blank; he almost seemed to be looking right through her. Hesitantly, Hermione stood up, took a few steps towards Draco and grabbed his hand. "No, Draco. That's not going to happen. Whatever happens, no one will ever find out from me that you're not a loyal follower. I will never betray you. And I swear, as long as I'm not sure how far I can really trust your father, I won't tell him about the plan."

Silence spread as they both just looked at each other. Hermione's gaze was open but determined, while Draco still looked resigned and hopeless. Finally, he pulled away from her grasp. "You don't understand, Granger. I live a life of fear and then you come along and announce that you could end it all. There's suddenly hope. I really think you can do it because I know you always keep your word. After all these years of our enmity, I suddenly trust you. And then ... then you come here and contemplate letting my father in on your plans. You don't know who he is ... you don't know what he's done ... how can you even think for a second about believing him?"

"I know better than you think, Draco," Hermione returned firmly, "I know that he was responsible for allowing a basilisk to wreak havoc at Hogwarts. I know he was one of the Death Eater during the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. I fought him in the Ministry, I came face to face with him when a group of Death Eaters led by him tried to trap Harry. Don't think I didn't know who he was and what he'd done. My life hasn't been innocent and sheltered since I first set foot in Hogwarts. Don't tell me about ignorance. Or about fear. Or about mortal danger. I'm the one being kept here as a slave. I'm the one who searched for the Horcruxes by Harry's side. You don't even know what that is. You're the one who has no concept of how abysmally evil You-Know-Who is. Or the things he's done to achieve immortality. Did you know that? That he's immortal? Don't look so shocked, it's true! At the moment, you can't kill him. Or why do you think he survived his own Avada Kedavra back then? Don't take me for a stupid girl who hasn't seen anything of the world! Don't think I'm reckless with my trust!"

She had talked herself into a rage, but the way Draco always presented himself as a victim, the way he insinuated that she had no idea about fear of death and real dangers, simply infuriated her. No one knew what she had been through with Ron and Harry, she never felt the need to brag about it. But everything Draco accused her of was so unfair that she simply had to defend herself.

"Granger," he began hesitantly, but broke off immediately at her stern look. With a frustrated groan, he sank down into the chair at his desk. "All right, all right. I'm sorry. I really have no idea what you've been up to with Potter and Weasley. I didn't realise that... well, that it was so... so serious. You're right, of course, your situation is much worse than mine. I'm just always so ... I don't know. I wish it was a dream and I could just wake up."

"Apology accepted," Hermione replied with a wry smile. She couldn't seriously blame Draco for not thinking about their situation. He had never been the type to show heroic courage in the face of the enemy, she couldn't expect too much from him. For now, she just wanted to sleep. She could still think about Lucius Malfoy the next morning.

Yawning, she said, "It'll be morning soon. I'd like to sleep and, if you don't mind, I'd really like to be able to do that here."

He just nodded mutely, so she climbed into his bed without further hesitation, pulled the covers up under her chin and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly.

Draco, for his part, stayed in his chair for a long time. It was almost ridiculous how it had never occurred to him that Hermione had actually experienced things that he didn't even dare to imagine. What had she actually been up to all last year? What had happened before she had been brought to this house as a prisoner? And what had happened after she had escaped with the help of the house elf? The next he heard of her was that she had turned up at Hogwarts to fight. And then suddenly everything had happened so quickly. If he was honest with himself, he had never really realised that she had joined Potter and Weasley in a plan to overthrow Voldemort.

What were Horcruxes?