Disclaimer: Sadly enough I do not own any of these characters, etc. They belong to the queen that is JKR.

Fear. Utter, unadulterated fear. That's what he felt at that moment.

He couldn't do it. He knew without any sense of doubt that he would not be able to do it.

Even if, by some kind of miracle, he managed to achieve the first part of his task, he knew he wouldn't achieve the second. He didn't have it in him. And he certainly didn't believe in anything as foolish as miracles.

He tore his jumper off and leaned against the sink. He was breathing shallowly and quickly. He knew if he didn't take a deep breath soon he'd probably pass out, but he couldn't get control.

He had to do something. He knew at the end of the year, if he didn't complete his task, he'd be dead within minutes of returning home.

That was it then. He wouldn't go home. He splashed some cold water on his face and tried to slow his breathing, with little success. Staring at his reflection, he didn't recognise the face staring back at him.

It was hollow. He looked haunted. His eyes were red and bloodshot and the skin underneath them was purple from lack of sleep. His skin was almost grey.

He was just a boy. And he'd been given a man's job. Given it by his so called family. How could he call them his family when they'd basically sent him on a suicide mission? How could they possibly think he could ever have completed this at his age?

He wanted to run. He didn't want to see them again. Not when they put him through things like this. He hadn't even wanted to be a part of this in the first place. He was all talk. He'd never have joined or taken the mark if he'd really known what it would entail. But then, it was join and take the mark or be called a blood traitor and be killed.

As with everything growing up, it was 'Do as you're told or you'll be punished'. Of course, now the punishment was a lot different.

He couldn't go back home after the year was over. He supposed he was generally safe while he was here. He wouldn't get back on that train. He wouldn't go home. He'd change his face and his name. That was the only option. He'd run. And he'd keep running until all of his responsibilities and all of his family and all of his problems were far, far behind him. The trace would be gone before he left school.

But no. They'd still find him. And then it would be worse. He'd be tortured instead of just killed. There would be no mercy if he deserted them. His breathing started getting rapid again and he was sweating. He looked at his hands and they were trembling. His chest was tightening. It felt like that goddamn snake was wrapping itself around him.

"Malfoy?" a quiet voice behind him said.

He spun around, little dots flashing in his eyes. Hermione goddamn Granger.

"Get out of here, Mudblood." He tried to shout, but it didn't come out right. He couldn't breathe at all now. He loosened his tie, hoping that would help, but it made no difference. She was looking at him curiously, with something like worry on her face. She watched him for a split second before her face changed and she obviously realised what was going on.

"You're having a panic attack." She stated and strode over to him. But she wasn't really there. She was just a hallucination, surely.

She grabbed his arms and turned him to face her and then tilted his head so he was looking into her eyes. He could feel his heart beat in his ears.

"Look at me." She said. How could she be so calm when there was so little air in this room? He was dying, he was sure of it. It had finally got too much for him. The small sense of relief that he wouldn't be tortured did nothing to ease his panicking.

"Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose." She took a deep breath in. "And out through your mouth."

Her breath hit him in the face. He tried to mimic her breathing but couldn't. The world was collapsing in. His heart was beating too fast. He felt like it was going to explode. His chest was in pain and he thought he might be sick.

"In through your nose. You can do this. Look at me. Just focus on me and your breathing, nothing else. And out through your mouth."

Her hands were on his shoulders.

"In… and out." She kept breathing and he did his best to copy her. It was getting a little easier. "In… and out."

The pain in his chest was receding ever so slightly.

"In."

She was back in focus now. The dancing lights had gone from his eyes.

"And out."

Her breath hit him again and he smelled coffee and chocolate.

"In."

He saw her nostrils flare as she breathed in and he did the same.

"Out."

She wasn't a hallucination. He breathed out.

"Keep going." She said, her eyes wide and unblinking. "In… and out."

He was starting to feel better. His heart rate was still fairly fast but it had slowed down considerably.

"Keep breathing in and out slowly, okay? You're going to be fine. Focus on the word calm and on slowing your breathing."

He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. He saw a few of her curls shiver as his breath hit them.

"You're doing really well." She smiled, reassuringly. Her eyes had still not left his, and he found it strangely comforting. "In… and out."

She put more pressure on his shoulders and he relaxed them a little.

"There you go. In… and out. It's getting easier, isn't it?"

He nodded, still taking deep breaths, still staring into her big, brown eyes.

She put a hand on his chest, over his heart.

"Keep breathing slowly." She said. "Good. Your heart rate is slowing down."

He couldn't feel it in his ears anymore. He was feeling somewhat normal again.

"In… and out." She said again. "Keep focussing on the word calm and on your breathing. I'm going to sit you down over here."

She guided him over to the wall, never taking her eyes off his. She helped him down to the floor and then went to one of the sinks. The wall was comforting against his back. Sturdy. So unlike him.

"In."

She transfigured something he couldn't see into a glass and filled it with water.

"And out."

She came back and knelt in front of him.

"Drink." She said and handed him the glass. He took a few sips. He was feeling a lot better now, and despite a tiny voice in his head telling him to hex her and run, he couldn't help but want her to stay. She was so calm. He could practically feel peaceful waves radiating off her and washing over him.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like shit." was his reply. His voice sounded croaky and unlike him. Where was the smugness he always injected into his voice when he spoke to her?

"That's expected. Keep breathing slowly." She looked at him and smiled again and he found his own lips trying to imitate them.

"Um, thank you." He said, without really meaning to.

"You're welcome." Her smile widened. She rearranged herself and sat next to him against the wall, looking at his face. "Here."

She took a bar of chocolate out of her pocket, broke off a square and handed it to him.

"An old trick Professor Lupin taught us. It's meant for Dementor attacks, really, but I think it might help in this situation."

He did feel better after eating it. But he wasn't sure whether it was the chocolate or just her prolonged, calming presence.

She looked away and he saw her face fall. He followed her eye line to the mark on his arm, visible through his thin, white shirt. He turned his arm so it was no longer visible and watched her. He expected her to shout and hex him and run off to tell Dumbledore. But she stayed, staring at his arm, a slight frown on her face. He watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath.

"Since when?" she asked after what felt like an eternity.

"The start of the year." He replied. He knew that he shouldn't really be telling her. But his defences were all down now. She had made them come down somehow. And frankly, he didn't really care. He was going to be dead in a few months either way, he was sure of it.

Her brown eyes bore into his grey eyes. She looked sad and a little disappointed. How could she be disappointed? She hadn't actually expected him to not become a Death Eater had she?

"What have they made you do?" she asked, almost inaudibly.

"I have to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts." He heard himself say.

Why was he telling her this? She'd just go off and tell Potter and Dumbledore and then there'd be no chance of him succeeding.

But there was no chance of him succeeding whether he told her or not. So what bloody difference did it make?

"You don't want to be one of them." She said after another long minute. It was not a question.

He shook his head a fraction of an inch either way.

"I'm terrified." He whispered. And then his throat started to burn and his eyes started to prickle and the tears came. Not just tears, but sobs. His whole body shook. He could not cry in front of her. He could not show her that weakness. He tried to stop but it just got worse.

She put a tentative hand on his shoulder and he heard her whisper some sort of charm in the direction of the door. A second later she put an arm around him and he melted into her. He shouldn't have wanted her comfort so much. He shouldn't have felt so relieved when she put her arm around him and rubbed his arm soothingly. He shouldn't have felt so soothed when he put his head against her chest and felt her heart beating against his cheek. He knew it was wrong. She was a Mudblood. He shouldn't be touching her, let alone crying against her chest. But how could it be wrong? She felt so safe and calm and good. The opposite of himself. He pulled her closer.

She shouldn't be letting him do this, he thought. She shouldn't have bothered trying to talk him down from his panic attack. Why did she? She hated him, didn't she? Why didn't she yell and try to fight him when she saw the mark? Why wasn't she scared of him? Why did she have to be so goddamn noble?

He lost track of time as they sat on the floor. His sobs subsided eventually but they remained embracing, his head against her chest and his hand wrapped tightly around hers as if to keep her from leaving. Her other hand made soothing circles on his back.

"Malfoy?" She said tentatively. "You don't have to be one of them."

"Yes I do, Granger."

"No, Malfoy. You don't. We can protect you."

"You can't protect me from him, Granger." He sat back up and leaned against the wall, but still kept her hand clasped firmly in his. She was the port in a storm at that moment. He felt if he let her go he'd be lost at sea, drowning and freezing and dying slowly.

"I'm not saying I can, Malfoy. But you know as well as I do, that I am on the side with the only wizard that he fears. And that's got to be something."

"What about when he's gone, Granger? They'll get to him eventually. Then what?"

She sighed and searched his eyes again. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"That's reassuring." He said and looked away.

She put a hand to his tense jaw to turn his face back towards her. "Draco, look at me."

But he snapped his face back as soon as he heard her use his first name. It sounded strange, coming from her lips.

"Draco. I'm not saying you have to make this decision right this second, but please consider what I'm offering. I can make sure they keep you safe."

"How could you do that?" he spat.

"You're just a teenager, Draco. If you tell them the truth they'll believe you."

"No they won't. No one will."

"I do, Draco. I believe you don't want to be one of them. I've seen you this year. Whatever it is you're doing… it is killing you."

She looked at him beseechingly.

"I just want to not be terrified anymore, Granger." He admitted. "I just want to feel something other than this paralysing fear."

"Then tell Dumbledore." She implored.

He chuckled humourlessly. "Listen to you. What I would give to be that naïve."

"I am not naïve, Malfoy." She said forcefully.

"Yes, you are. You think Dumbledore can do anything. He can't. You won't win this war, Granger. You especially are better off getting as far away from here as you can."

"We won last time, Mal-"

"That was a fluke." He interrupted.

"Even if it was, we will win again. He won't have won until there is no one left to fight him. And there will always be people to fight him, Malfoy. Understand that." She gripped his other hand.

He wanted to believe her. He really did. But how could he? Sure, Voldemort had been defeated once before. But he was stronger now.

"Malfoy, you can do an important thing here today. The glory you get for this will outweigh anything he can give you. If you defect now, when your own side are seemingly winning, that's a huge thing. That'll show everyone that you're serious about it. You can be a catalyst, Draco, for other people who are Death Eaters unwillingly. Make a good decision for the first time since before you took that mark."

She spoke like he could change the world. But this was a decision he could not make. Running away was one thing. Defecting and going to Dumbledore was an outright betrayal. As much as he hated his family for putting him in this position, he would not betray them.

What could he do? Why couldn't someone just make this decision for him? Her words were so appealing but she didn't know the extent of Voldemort's powers so how could she know he would be safe?

She sighed. "Come and find me if you decide."

She started to get up but he didn't let go of her hand.

"Stay for a little longer." He mumbled, half hoping she wouldn't hear and would leave.

But she heard him. She gave him a curious look and sat back down beside him, her back leaning against the wall, their shoulders touching and their hands now intertwined. He didn't want to know what she thought of him. He was probably just a wounded animal to her and he didn't want to ask and have her confirm it. That would mean she was here purely because he was weak, and he couldn't have that. He didn't need the pity of a Mudblood.

They sat in silence for maybe twenty minutes, he guessed. Thoughts of redemption and safety coursing through his mind. He wanted to stay there with her for as long as possible, because he knew that as soon as either of them left that bathroom, he'd be forced to make a decision he was not ready to make.

In their time in that bathroom, he'd formed some sort of bond with her. He'd sobbed openly in front of her, and not only had she not judged him or mocked him for it, but she'd actually comforted him as well. She should hate him. He never missed an opportunity to call her a Mudblood. It was bizarre. She'd seen him at his weakest imaginable point and she hadn't said a thing. She hadn't told him to shut up, or to stop crying or to get a grip of himself. She was his rock in that room, his small glimmer of hope, and he didn't want to lose her if he made the wrong decision. What did they do when they left?

"What are you going to do when you leave this room, Granger?" he asked.

She didn't answer for a moment. "I suspect I'll go back to the common room and do some work. Maybe stop by the kitchen on the way and pick up some food."

"What am I going to do when I leave this room, Granger?" he asked quietly.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that for you, Malfoy." She paused. "But you know what I would have you do. And I don't know whether you have enough contempt for me to choose a path just because I disapprove of it but I hope you don't. I would have thought you don't value my opinion in the slightest, so my hope is, that when you leave this room, you'll do what you think is right."

"I don't know how I feel about hope, Granger." He said bitterly. "It's usually false."

"Not always." She replied, happily. "You know, it's funny. You think I'm naïve, whereas I would call it hopeful. And I think you're a pessimist, whereas you'd probably call yourself a-"

"Realist." He finished for her.

"I was going to go with pragmatist. Sounds better." She said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Why are you still here, Granger?" he asked. "Why did you help me in the first place?"

"Because, Malfoy, despite what you may think of me because of my supposed blood status, I am not inhuman." She said, haughtily.

"No. You're not, are you?" he said, studying her. "But you're certainly reckless. I could have killed you a hundred times over by now."

"That's a possibility. But you wouldn't have. If I thought you were actually capable of hurting me I wouldn't have let go of my wand."

"What would Potter and Weasley say if they knew you were locked in a bathroom with me?" he smirked.

"They'd probably set out to jinx you before I could even finish saying your name." She chuckled. "They won't know though. This can stay between us."

He knew he couldn't express his gratitude to her in words. She'd offered him some comfort and some light in his incredibly dark times. He knew it couldn't last, but he was grateful for the short reprieve.

She sighed after another few minutes passed in silence. "I'm here, Draco, if you want my help. Don't forget that."

"I won't, Granger." He said.

She started to get up and he knew he couldn't ask her to stay longer this time, even though he wanted to. It wasn't fair. He envied her eternal goddamn hope. Envied and pitied it simultaneously. It would be her downfall. When you had hope it caused you to underestimate the depths people are willing to stoop to.

She stood staring at him for a moment.

"Just-" she started and then paused. "Just don't be too stubborn to ask for help, okay? It's not too late, Draco."

She nodded with a sense of finality and turned to leave. He watched her go, already sensing the room had become a little darker and the air a little heavier without her beside him. When she got to the door, he finally spoke up.

"Thank you… Hermione." He said. He watched her face break into a smile and she nodded at him before pulling the door open and leaving him alone in the room.

A/N: So this is my first Dramione fic. How did I do? Review and tell me what you think!