Disclaimer: Dare I state the obvious? Honestly, is there a point to these stupid disclaimers? If I was an actual talented writer, I would be getting this stuff published, not posted up on an Internet site. But, as it is that everyone can get sued for just looking at someone the wrong way, I do not own Harry Potter or the song Let me be your Hero by Enrigue Islargries.

Note: Thoughts and stressed words are italicized, and being the smart people that you are, you'll know the difference. Lyrics are in bold.

Dedication: To my very own Bozena…just wanted to remind you that this is your fic since you love it so much…

Author: Pensive Puddles

Behind the Masks

III. The Mask falls

By Pensive Puddles

Oh, I jut want to hold you

True to his word, Draco was caught and carried away with the other marked students. He could still see Hermione's pained, sorrow filled face as his father held him roughly around the arm, leading him away to be transported to the Dark Lord. He could still see those brown eyes, the brown eyes he had once fallen in love with…

"Imperious!" someone screamed. Draco was overcome with a feathery light feeling. It felt good, nice and warm. "Turn your wand on yourself, Draco. Just end it all. Don't need to worry about the pressure, the pain, betrayal…"

"Up yours, Blaise," Draco drawled, flickering his wand and making Blaise sail into the wall. Blaise struggled against imaginary binds around his neck and then collapsed. Men came and carried off the limp figure of the barely breathing boy.

Two claps rang through the air like thunder. It was a dreary, hair-raising sound and Draco turned and gave a quick bow to the person who was clapping.

"Good show, Draco, my boy, Good show," Voldemort hissed. Draco did not feel the pleasure he had felt when Dumbledore had said those nearly exact same words. Instead he felt shame and despair slowly eat him again.

"Thank you, My Lord," Draco stilted a bow.

There was a slight pause. "You do not respect me, do you, boy?"

There was a dead silence. Draco stood up, looking straight into the almond red eyes of Voldemort. "How can I respect someone that hasn't done anything that should gain my respect?"

"I am powerful--"

"Yet weak in body. You are less powerful then you were before. Harry Potter could defeat you with a flick of his wand." Draco could feel his father's disapproving, cold eyes. Draco smirked.

Hollow, cold laughter rang through the silence, "I like your spunk, son. I was afraid you'd turn out like your father here."

Lucius grimaced, bowing low, although Draco knew he was still trying to figure out if he should take the comment as a compliment or a put down.

"Bring the next contestants out," Voldemort ordered, waving a weak, pale hand. Draco nodded his head and walked off the battlegrounds. An iron like grip clamped around his arm, halting him.

"Don't you ever, ever embarrass me like that again, Draco," Lucius hissed. "I made you. I can destroy you."

A thin red mist covered his eyes, his blood pounded in anger in his veins. Mumbling something, Draco closed his eyes. Lucius raised his hand, thinking his son was muttering curses at him. Yet Lucius's hand froze in mid-air and he grabbed for his neck with his free hand. He fell to his feet, holding onto his son's robe and the other hand around his neck, trying to pry loose the invisible hand strangling him. Draco opened his eyes and kicked his 'father' away from him, releasing him from his trance. Leaning down, he hissed coldly, "Touch me again and I swear I will kill you."

The older man looked at his cold creation and shuddered, nodding under the glare of his son. However, when his son's back was turned, he grabbed for his wand, ready to hex his son to death. Draco's hand raised and Lucius fell limply to the floor. Draco raised his black hood over his head, covering his pale features and blond hair, his face masked in darkness. His face twisted into a bitter smirk, his voice cold and slightly distant in the folds of his dark cloak, "Told you I'd kill you."

He walked outside, into the forest that the Dark Lord's lair was hidden in. Sitting down on a rock, he looked dully at his surroundings. A figure sat next to him, offering him a drink. Draco took it but did not drink from it. Being cautious was just another thing that he learned once he was a Death Eater. It wasn't uncommon for a man siting next to you to kneel over lifelessly. That was just how the Death Eater world ran.

"Knew you wouldn't drink it," Blaise said and settled down, taking a swig of his beer. "Don't you trust anyone anymore?"

"I can't even trust myself." Draco looked at his friend.

"You're growing strong, Draco." Draco kept silent. Blaise watched the liquid swirl in the glass bottle. He seemed to be contemplating if he should say something. He coolly asked, "Do you still think of her?"

"Who?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows as if daring Blaise to question him further. Blaise got the hint and mumbled quickly, "No one."

Draco secretly checked the bottle and detecting no trace of poison or anything deadly, he took a small sip. His mind was slowly remembering her, that fateful night and their odd relationship. The drink in his hand was flavorless. The only thing he could taste was her bittersweet kisses, the softness, and those kisses made him remember words they shared and made him remember her reaction.

Draco was grateful for his mask. Blaise could not see the anguished tears he was crying.

I just want to hold you, oh yeah

Am I in too deep?

Have I lost my mind?

"The Dark Lord is weakening," Dumbledore announced. A cheer rose from the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. He raised his hand, and the cheers stopped abruptly, the smiles fading. "But there is a new power rising. He's rising faster and stronger then I thought he would. He has reached the point where he can commit wandless magic."

Awed murmuring filled the room. Hermione twisted the hem of her shirt nervously. She had a feeling it was him.

"Who is he?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked at Harry long and hard. "I can not tell you because I do not know. All I know is what our spy has informed us of." Dumbledore nodded his head to Snape. Hermione smiled at the old Professor. Gray hair had formed an elegant streak that contrasted nicely against his black hair. The war had sped his age quicker then expected.

"What are we going to do about this, Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. Her voice was dull, monotone. People said it was because of the war that she had grown distant. It was really a completely different matter.

"We will attack tonight. Tonight is the end for the Dark Lord," Dumbledore said.

"But what about the knew one?" Ron demanded.

"He's not ready to take the throne yet, Mr. Weasley. We still have time to defeat both. Now, pay your visits tonight, for some of you will never see them again. Meet here at 8 P.M. Dismissed."

Hermione jumped out of her seat and walked over to Dumbledore. "I can't do it, Dumbledore, sir, I just…I know it's him…"

The old man seemed to age ten years before her in that second. "I know it's hard, Hermione. But you are one of our best witches. We need you tonight. It will work out for the best."

"I…I don't want to kill him…" she said and then she said barely above a whisper, "I still love him."

"And maybe that will save him. Love has a tricky way of getting in the way, ruining and yet saving the day in the end. Rest, Hermione. Enjoy life while you still can." Dumbledore turned and hobbled away, resembling an old man. It never really occurred to Hermione that Dumbledore was getting too old to move around. He had always been the old man that taught her at Hogwarts, the man who never seemed to age, but just grew wiser. And here, one of the greatest minds in the Wizarding History, was trapped inside a weak, feebly body. She looked sadly at the old man, yet she never knew when she had respected him more.

"Love has a tricky way of getting in the way…could you be anymore right?" Hermione sighed in frustration and walked away.

Well, I don't care

You're here tonight

Hermione walked down the lonely streets of Hogsmead. It would have been reasonable to look for a good drink in Diagon Ally. Yet somehow, the quiet streets of Hogsmead where more comforting than Diagon Ally. Sighing, she passed the many stores she had walked in and out of countless of times in her youth. Faces swam before her, those of the living and those of the dead. Only three years since she had graduated, and it felt like thirty.

Everywhere she looked, some memory kept popping up. In that corner her lover and she had spent time trying to conquer their desires, or had tried to pass time before they had to meet their friends.

Hermione quickly rushed into The Three Broomsticks, taking a seat at the high table. She waited patiently to be served. She could care less if they came or not. She was too lost in her memories. She brushed a painful tear away.

"What would you like, pretty miss?" a man asked kindly.

"Just a Butterbeer, please," she said, still lost in her pensive state. The man smiled with a slight trace of pity and handed her a mug and a bottle.

"Just a Butterbeer? As I remember, you liked stronger drinks," a familiar drawl reached her ears. Hermione froze. She looked up next to her. A man dressed in black was looking at her with penetrating blue eyes. He glared at her, a cold, small smirk lingered on his pale lips. It was if Hermione was stepping back in time, back in a dream.

"You…" she whispered. She should have felt something, anything. Yet she felt cold.

"Yes, me. And you, what happened to you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking her up and down. Hermione did not deny the fact that she wasn't looking too well. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her clothes were ill fitting and did nothing to flatter her figure. "Care to take a walk?"

He asked it so smoothly, as if asking for what the time was. Hermione found herself nodding. Getting off the stool, they paid for their untouched drinks and left. Neither made a sound as they walked side by side down the cobble streets of Hogsmead. Their feet lead them outside of Hogsmead, near the Shrieking Shack.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, stopping. She dared to take a short glance at him, seeing if he was still the same Draco she had seen leave. He seemed to have improved over the years. He carried himself in pride, confidence. He held the pose of someone who knew where he was and what he was doing, never caught off guard. He was definitely no longer a boy, but a strong, determined, cold man. She had forgotten how bright his hair really is, how soft it looked. She had forgotten how his features were so perfectly aligned, how his broad shoulders perfected his figure, but the thing that Hermione never forgot was the piercing color of his eyes. She would never forget those eyes, how one look sent shivers through her, much like at that moment…she cast her glance away in a haughty matter, hoping her blush would be interpreted as anger.

Draco looked at her. She had changed so drastically in the few years they had been separated. She looked older, sterner. A younger replica of Professor McDonagall. He shrugged.

"Why am I even here?" He heard her grumble under her breath. That's what I was thinking, myself, he thought. He continued to look at her as coldly as he possibly could, yet the longer he stared at her, the harder it was to control himself.

He looked at her. He could tell that she was worn out, the few years of battle and stress were evident on her worn face. Her dark eyes held evidence of lack of sleep. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She looked so old. The smart, pretty girl had disappeared, leaving a calculating, unfeeling woman. "You've changed." Draco said sadly.

"So have you," she replied, looking at him with empty, brown eyes. Draco felt a tug of sorrow and pity pull at him. It grabbed him in his lower gut and for the first time in three years, a layer of the mask he had worn for so long fell. That was definitely not a good sign.

Taking a step towards her, he touched her face, remarking how soft the skin was even when the pretty girl he had once known was gone. She blushed at his touch. He said, "Why do you have your hair pulled back so tight? You look so stern."

Reaching up behind her head, he pulled at the band that clasped around her hair and he released it. Brown, thick locks fell from it in a tangled heap. He ran his fingers through it, noticing how it still felt so soft.

The last time he had seen her, he had sworn to himself that he would where a mask, a mask that would hide his true emotions, make him incapable of feeling. Life was easier to live without having to worry about such pitiful emotions. And he had perfected the mask until it was absolutely perfect, no flaws evident in it, a mask of solid, sharp ice. Yet the mask was melting in the sun before him, no matter how dim the sun was.

A layer of his mask melted away, letting life and pleasure sparkle in his eyes. He looked at her, noticing how her expression changed, as if she had suddenly remembered what it felt like to be a human again as well.

He caressed her face, a smirk forming under her melting mask. The irony of it all was amusing. After all that she did to him, toying with him and making him fall so in love with her, he started to feel that love surface again, eroding layer after layer of his ice mask away like an rock that is continually beat against by a wave.

"Malfoy, don't--" A pale finger pressed against her red lips and she hushed. He leaned down and kissed her. At first, she didn't react; she was as cold as ice. Slowly, as he continued to kiss her, she stirred under him.

Her reaction was none like he expected. Her stoic statue was destroyed as locked away emotions burst from their cages. He would have smirked at how easily she was caught in his trap. Yet the sad thing was, was that she had unlocked his hidden emotions as well.

She shattered his mask just like his heart. They pulled back to breathe, just for a second, and they stared into each other's eyes.

Draco seemed to fight with himself. Hermione watched as his eyes swirled in a crazy storm. Clouds were covering the pale sky, casting them in darkness. She looked around, watching as the clouds lightened in certain areas by the bright flashes of lightening.

"Go," he said huskily.

"What?" she asked confused.

"Don't come near me, Hermione. I'll kill you. I'll kill you," he warned. She looked at him startled. She was pushed away. "Run away from me, Hermione. Run fast."

She looked at him. He kneeled over, clutching his stomach. Vomiting blood, he curled in the mud.

"Draco!" she cried, rushing to his side and looking over him.

"I said go!" he growled.

"Why are you coughing like that? Are you sick? What's wrong with you?" she demanded, ignoring his command.

He struggled to breathe. "Go, Hermione. Even you can't put the shattered pieces together again."

Tears stung her eyes at his words. She had never, truly realized what she had done to him. She reached down to caress his hair, but he raised a hand, whispering words she had never heard off. She blinked and she suddenly found herself sitting in her living room.

Rubbing her eyes and shaking her head, she looked around startled. She was in her home. Had she really run into Draco? She reached up and found her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She knew she had had it in a bun earlier. The sleeves of her cloak were stained with a splatter of blood here and there. Mud was smeared against the rim of her clothes.

Why was he so sick? Was he dying? But he was supposed to be extremely powerful! Shouldn't he have enough power to keep himself from dying? He couldn't die!

Why can't he die? He is a Death Eater after all…a dark voice asked dully.

Because you love him, a voice that sounded familiarly like Dumbledore advised her.

Yes, she loved him. She loved him more than she did Harry. Memories surfaced, memories she had buried away a long time ago.

She could remember how her two boys reeked of dry sweat. She could still hear Ron's sobs at loosing. If her mind had not been aimlessly thinking of Draco while Ron was sobbing, Hermione probably would have strangled Ron. Draco…she could still see his graceful capture of the Snitch and the save for Harry, still hear his war cry. She had smiled when she heard it; it made her stomach flutter.

Ron had stomped off to the bathroom, snapping at anyone who was in yelling distant. His temper cooled down a little when Ginny slapped him across the face and told him to quit acting like a big baby. Hermione had bit her lip to keep from smiling at the two fiery red heads.

That whole night had been a mistake, her mistake with Harry, her mistake with Draco. Both mistakes had caused her pain and tears, and she welcomed it because she knew she deserved it. Harry had kissed her when it was just her and him in the room by themselves. She asked him to be his girlfriend. And maybe she just didn't have the heart to turn him down. She didn't realize her mistake until she found herself walking towards her room. She went to the nearest bathroom and cried, upset and stressed over her choices.

She had meant to go straight to his room. But she found her body being pulled to his room, like an invisible hand was lightly pushing her there. He had opened the door. She had felt guilty and she just wanted to remember what it felt like to be in his arms because he had the most comforting arms that she could remember. And when he kissed her like he did, she had decided she'd tell Harry the next day that she couldn't be his girlfriend.

And then that Dark Mark…

Betrayal had never been so thick and heavy as that moment. It was like her world had just stopped spinning, as if everything had halted. He had the Dark Mark. He was a Death Eater. He was probably using her in some way, using her to get to Harry. So many doubts flew through her mind, but one thing was sure: he had never loved her. She should have known that such an attractive man like Draco would never, ever fall in love with a Mudblood like herself. She had fooled herself that their relationship was meaningful. But the thing that seemed to shake her most was the realization that she would have to kill Draco one day because he was on the Dark side, and she was on the Light. They would have to kill each other.

Flustered, panicked, unbalanced, she'd take any excuse. She could never forgive herself. She had never given him a chance to speak. Then again, how could she believe him now that she knew what he really was, that everything he had done and said to her were lies to get her to stray from her friends or her give information unknowingly to him?

But she couldn't tell anyone what he was. There was something there that had just kept her back. She wanted to tell him that, she would never tell his secret, just as long as he stayed away from her and her friends. That was one of the reasons why she wanted to talk to him. She knew there was another reason, but it had slipped her mind after he had yelled at her, saying such hateful things that he had not said in so long.

And it scared her because he looked genuinely forlorn and depressed. And his eyes were slightly puffy, eyes still glassy from tears that didn't have the opportunity to escape. It crushed her. It shattered her. And the hateful kiss they shared; she never forgot it, always a constant reminder of her bad choices, her consequence. When he had stormed off, he had broken her, absolutely crushed her heart into a thousand pieces.

She became distant from Harry after that, too disturbed with Draco to pay any attention to him. Harry had ended their relationship after she had confessed she couldn't continue with it. She had wanted to tell Draco her fake relationship with Harry was over, that it meant nothing, to try and get a little sliver of her old Draco back. And he had just walked away, leaving her standing there. Did he know he had taken all that was left of her heart with him? She was nothing afterwards. He was her everything.

She loved him, and Merlin did she regret all her mistakes that let him get away. She should have let him speak. He might have been truthful, might have been honest and admitted what was going on. Her empty soul longed for a fate that would let their hearts be joined together again, and it was all truth, all real.

Hermione covered her face with her hands and cried. She sobbed, recalling in anguish everything in her life that changed because of him. And then to see him so weak just a few minuets earlier! So weak when he was her strength…his strong posture had just collapsed when those horrid spasms attacked him, making his body shake and blood splatter from his mouth and coat his lips; his pitiful, helpless state was horrifying. His eyes…so deadly however beautiful. And for those eyes to suddenly loose all what little life they had in them…

Hermione jumped to her feat, hastily brushed her tears away and Apparated herself to the one man who would have answers for her.

"Dumbledore!" Hermione bellowed down the empty halls. She had to find the wise old man, so many questions were crowding in her brain. "DUMBLEDORE!"

"What, Hermione?" the old man said stepping out of his office.

"I need to talk to you," she said. He looked at her with concern but calmly motioned her into his room.

"What is it, Hermione?" Dumbledore said after settling himself in his plush chair behind his oak desk.

"It's…I met Draco Malfoy at the Three Broomsticks," she began. She noticed the old man become rigid.

"And we went for a walk. I--he--something happened to him," she ended quickly, blushing at remembering what had happened to him before he had vomited his own blood.

"Hermione, I knew what went on between you two," the old man informed quietly. Hermione glanced sharply at him. Of course, she should have known that nothing went behind the old man's back without his knowledge. After all, he was THE Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione breathed in deeply and recounted her story. She took a sharp breath, shaking her head. "I didn't know his wandless magic was this strong! Dumbledore, what are we going to do? He's so powerful! He's more powerful than the Dark Lord is! I know it! I saw a glimpse of it as I was transported back to my flat," Hermione wiped a tear away, trying to control her hysterical ramblings.

"Calm down, Hermione, calm down," the old man soothed.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! ARE YOU--" Hermione stopped suddenly when he looked at the man's old, tired face. "I'm sorry, Dumbledore. I've just been a little…stressed."

Dumbledore waved his hand as if telling her it was all right. "It's quite fine, Miss. Granger, absolutely normal. You are a little more controlled unlike Harry who prefers to throw objects around to punctuate his points."

"Headmaster," Hermione called quietly. The old man raised his eyebrows. "I…why is he like this? I know I should hate him because he's the enemy, but I can't help but feel pity." And love…she added silently.

"Ah…" Dumbledore sighed in thought. "To tell you the truth, Hermione, I'm not quite sure how he became so strong. But I can give a couple suggestions, if you would like." Hermione nodded her head and the Headmaster continued, "Yes, well, I guess I should have known when he was still in school, how he's grades were shooting far out of the ordinary. He'd instantly learn spells and be able to perform them without flaws, which I must say hadn't happened since Tom Riddle.

"But Draco had something in him that made him even more powerful than Tom. I regret to say that it was my fault for his rising. I should have confronted him, had Snape or someone talk to him. But I stepped aside, thinking he would get out of it, that he had enough senses to turn to the right path." The old wizard sat back and sighed, his eyes cloudy as he gazed into the distance.

"I think I have a faint idea what happened to Draco," Dumbledore said, drawing himself away from his thoughts. " His power comes from an inner emotion. A wizard grows in power in two ways: good or evil. The good and evil characteristics are based on his emotions. My guess is that he started out in darkness, and then I think you changed him. That is why he is so strong. He gains his power from both good and evil. And so, when they meet--his emotions--his body is incapable of handling such a force. It's torn up inside."

"So it's my fault he is like this," Hermione said dully, still trying to understand the reasoning.

"No. No one is to blame. Emotions, they just happen. Sure, things spark them, but it's up to you to let them grow or destroy them. In my opinion, Draco started off wanting power: the evil force. Yet, he grew to love you: the good force. He could destroy either one. Yet they both are so great and strong he cannot destroy them." Dumbledore reached over and grabbed a yellow candy wrapped in plastic.

"Lemon drop?" he asked casually.

"How you can calmly offer lemon drops to people during a middle of a war is beyond my understanding," Hermione remarked.

The old man smiled. "Just a secret between both of us, Hermione, these lemon drops are filled with a calming potion. I eat them whenever I get really stressed. Try one, there really not that bad."

"No thank you, Dumbledore. I have some thinking to do," she said silently getting up and leaving the room.

"Two forces, he is controlled by. Win, which one?" Dumbledore sat back in his chair, shaking his head, "I really must stop watching those Star Wars Movies…"

I can be your hero

I can kiss away the pain

Hermione sat quietly on a bench near the pond. Rain fell down lightly, wetting her cloak. She did no feel it. She was glad for the rain; it hid her tears. The cold wetness numbed her cold skin. She did nothing to find shelter from the rain, especially as it grew heavier and quicker. Her thoughts were on Draco. He shattered her heart when he left.

But why was he angry with her? They had said at the beginning that it would only be physical, not extremely serious, not love. They both agreed on that. Then how was it that she came to love him as much as she did? She could not go a day without thinking of him. For over three years he had haunted her dreams in some way or form. And when he just smirked at her coldly, walking off with the other destined Death Eaters, pain swept over her, and she could literally feel her heart shatter.

She'd do anything to erase what she had done, be given a second chance.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Hermione glanced up and saw a black canopy covering her. A warm smile looked down at her. "I knew I would find you here."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said distantly and returned her unfocused view at the pond before her.

"Hermione! You're drenched! Come along, come along, we'll get a cup of coffee or tea, whichever you prefer. Now, if I can remember that drying spell correctly… " Harry mumbled and instantly, Hermione was dry. Harry grabbed her hand and tugged it playfully. Hermione looked up at him and smiled. She wondered if he could tell it was fake.

He stopped smiling and looked down at her in concern. "You've been crying," he observed, touching her face. She looked away.

"What have you been crying about?" Harry asked silently.

"N-nothing." Hermione said quickly, stepping away from him and walking away.

"Hermione? Hermione! Come back!" Harry called. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?"

His voice sounded harsh, demanding and hurt. Hermione quickened her pace. If she could just pull herself together she could Apparate from him. An iron like grip tightened around her arm, making her frown in pain. "Let go of me, Harry."

"Not until you tell me what's been going on with you," Harry hissed in a low voice. "I want to know what happened to you after graduation, Hermione. You changed after the Death Eaters left. It was like you were sad to see them go. I mean, it was only the Slytherins, Malfoy---"

Harry stopped. Hermione looked away, trying to ignore his accusing glare. "Harry, just let me go."

"You…and him…you never looked at me and Ron like you did at Draco. He was looking straight at you. And all those times you were late for occasions, your clothes were messed up. I thought it was because you were napping or you were in a hurry or something. But you were with him weren't you? WEREN'T YOU?" Harry bellowed. Hermione looked up at him, seeing the anger, disgust, betrayal and what seemed to be jealousy.

She clenched her teeth in anger. "And so what if I was with Draco, Harry? Yeah, we did get close, closer than you would expect your perfect friend to do. Surprised? Well Harry, you drove me to do it! I loved you! I really did. I loved you so much and to see you kissing that Cho after all she did to you! You promised me that you would never get involved with her! And I see her pulling you into a closet, a goofy look on your face. That hurt me, Harry!

"Ron didn't know it. He had no idea how I felt. Draco was the only one who knew that I loved you and knew how I felt. Yeah, Draco Malfoy, the boy who wished I was dead in our second year, the boy I slapped in third year, the boy who turned into a ferret fourth year, that Draco Malfoy. And he was the only person who actually noticed my depression. You and Ron were so busy with Quidditch and those dumb airheads that you probably wouldn't have realized I wasn't by your side until they had found my body lying cold in a ditch somewhere.

"He knew everything about me, it seemed. And he cared. He cared, Harry. He would ask me how my day went and we would actually talk without bringing up Quidditch and stupid things you boys talk about. And you know what, Harry? I love him. I still love him." A sudden weight was lifted off her chest and Hermione could breath again. For years she had felt suffocated. And now she was free to breathe, free to think, free to tell the complete truth.

"You love Draco Malfoy? He's a Death Eater, Hermione!" Harry yelled in fury.

"Yes, I love him. I just told you that. And I know what he is! He's a good man! He didn't want to do it. He tried to tell me and I was so freaked out that I didn't let him speak. I should have let him speak. He gave me his Snitch, Harry, I know what that meant to you guys. I knew how much that meant to him. You only receive one and he gave it to Mudblood Granger," Hermione ended in a distant voice, thinking of that glorious game. I did it for you…love Draco. He loved her. He really did love her. She suddenly could see it, could see his love. All those glances before he had found her crying…they had been glances filled with love.

"I…I got to go, Harry," Hermione said and slipped her hand out of Harry's limp grasp.

"How could you do that? Ron and I noticed you. We always had, you know that." Harry squinted through his foggy lens glasses.

"How could I've know that when you never said anything to me, Harry?" Hermione whispered, angry tears cooling with the rain. He blinked and she was gone.

Draco laid in his bed. He had been so close to killing her. Yes, with Hermione Granger out of the way, he would have been free to do whatever he wanted. He would become more powerful without her lurking in his mind, stealing his thoughts. Without her, he would finally kill his old self and he'd become the cold, empty, emotionless Lord. But yet again, one look at her and his knees had buckled, his heart slowly mending itself together again. The pieces were small, but it had been piecing back as best as it could. She had seen him in his moment of weakness, and instead of just killing him, easing his pain, she had rushed to his side, concerned tears brimming her eyes. He could feel love radiating from her. But how could it be? She hated him! She made that clear that one night. She had destroyed him, taken away all the chances of him to do good. Yes, he was just imagining love…that was it, just imagining.

He slammed his hand against the drawer next to his bed, angry with her. Thoughts of her filled his mind. Lifting his wand to his temple, he pulled strands of silver from his head and then placed it in an open drawer where a silver pan glistened softly up at him. String after string of memory went into the pan. He looked down, looking at the memory before him.

There she and he were, standing in front of his room. He had just given her the Snitch. He could see her eyes widen in pleasure and surprise. He could see them kiss, her finding his mark, that ugly mark that even glared at him tauntingly through his memories. He slammed the drawer shut, locking it away. He whispered a spell that would prevent anyone from opening it.

Sighing, he leaned back on his bed, Hermione leaving his mind, for the time being anyway. Tonight was the downfall of the Dark Lord. He knew it; he could feel it! He smiled. And I will be the new Dark Lord.

He chuckled at the possibilities, or the rewards he received. The door creaked open and Draco's wand was pointed dead centered in-between the eyes of the intruder.

"What is it, Blaise?" Draco demanded, upset that he was disturbed from his thoughts. Blaise looked at Draco's wand with a cynical look. Draco didn't lower it. "Well?"

"I was told to come get you. The Dark Lord wants everyone for a quick meeting before tonight's 'work'. "

Draco sighed, extremely frustrated with the old fart that controlled them. Well, that'll all change tonight, he thought happily.

"Leave. Now." Draco ordered, rubbing his temples.

Blaise made to leave. Draco could feel his presence. It was like he could see it in his mind. He saw Blaise bump into the desk near the door. He could see an antique picture frame made of the pure underside of mermaid scales fall to the ground. It was a one of a kind frame, never could be fixed if broken, worth millions and had belonged to him since his mother had died.

Draco opened his eyes quickly and pointed at the picture frame. While time still went in its usual pace, it seemed to slow just for the falling frame. Draco stopped it right before it hit the ground. Lifting his finger back up, he placed the frame back onto the table. He glared at Blaise who was staring at him with an open mouth.

"So it is true. I didn't believe it at first, but--" Blaise was suddenly lifted off his feet and swung through the hair to be battered against the wall. The door slammed, making it impossible for someone to hear his screams since Draco's doors had always been sound proof.

Blaise gasped, looking with wide, scared eyes at the man below him. Blaise's arms and legs were pinned to the wall; his breaths were quick and sharp as if something was pressing against his chest.

"Never speak of this to anyone," Draco ordered.

Blaise nodded. Draco turned around, letting his grip on Blaise go. The man hanging on the wall fell like a brick, smashing cruelly to the ground. Staggering to his feet, Blaise gripped anything in his reach to maintain his balance. "How long have you been able to do wandless magic?"

"A little over a year," Draco said as if telling him what the weather was like outside.

"You could be stronger than the Dark Lord!"

"No, dear Blaise. I am stronger than Voldermort. Yes, I can say his name without flinching, unlike you it seems. Why should I fear a man that is both a disgrace and less powerful than I?" Draco smirked at Blaise's reflection in his mirror. "How did you think I could kill so many without leaving a trace?"

"How'd you get so strong?" Blaise against in marveled speechlessness.

Draco paused, taking the time to adjust his cloak that covered his one shoulder in an elegant manner. He faced Blaise, "I don't know, Blais. Come on, we'll be late."

Draco swept out of the room, and was followed a moment later by a pale, flabbergasted Blaise.

And I will stand by you forever

They crowded around the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters bowed low to the ground, all except one: Voldemort's right-handed man. Draco looked coldly at the ground, his thoughts torn between Hermione and his duty. After what seemed like an eternity she could change his life with just a smile, a touch. He hated her.

"Rise Death Eaters," the old tyrant said in a low voice. And yet, I love her, concluding his thoughts. Draco listened with a bored look on his face. Here Voldemort would give a little speech, trying to encourage his followers to rise and create havoc across the lands. Draco resisted the strong urge to snort and roll his eyes.

All the sudden, the closed doors burst open. Draco blinked and he instantly was hidden from view, observing the intruders and his fellow Death Eaters. He saw the grim look on almost everyone's face, as if saying, "Here we go again…"

Draco smirked happily. He saw his old school enemy, Potter, lead his men into the room. He noticed a red head standing close to him. He was still tall and lanky; Ron hadn't changed much. His eyes rested on Hermione. There she stood, ready for battle, an exhausted, tired look on her pale face. He longed to touch her face, make time turn back to see her smiling face, so full of life and color.

I could have given you everything…he thought silently as he watched her eyes dart around the room. Her brown eyes found him; they looked straight into his. Draco gasped. How could she see him? He was invisible, literally! A spell he had discovered while researching the Forbidden Dark Arts. Her eyes darted away from his when a voice cut through the thick silence.

"Ah! Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I'd run into you again," the reptilian man purred. He eyed Harry in anticipation like a predator who spies prey. Draco sneered silently. Draco could describe Harry's and Voldermort's relationship in one word: obsession.

"Avada--" Harry yelled but was cut short. He let go of his wand and clutched his hand in agonizing pain, as if it had burned him.

"Think again, Potter," Draco sneered, stepping out from behind the pillar and saying the charm to make him visible again. His eyes traveled from Potter and rested on Hermione again. He was incapable of not looking at her.

"Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Well, I can't have you going off and killing my Dark Lord, now could I?" Draco said pleasantly, enjoying the tormented look on Harry's face. Draco lifted the wand and pointed it at Harry, yet he muttered no charm. It was an allusion. Draco couldn't let everyone know his strength, not just yet.

With his free hand hidden inside the folds of his cloak, he shaped it in the form of a C and slowly drew his fingers inward. This was one of his favorite spells. Harry reached up to his neck and tried to pry away invisible fingers. He gasped for air, and his face started to turn a light shade of blue. Falling to his knees, he leaned forward, his body weakening and his glasses falling off his nose.

"STOP IT!" a deep, wild voice screamed. Suddenly, Draco was plowed over by a fiery red head. A warm fist collided with Draco's perfect face. Anger coursed through Draco at being touched. He slammed his hand against Ron's chest and watched the Weasel fly through the air to hit the opposite wall and fall to the ground in a pile of lanky arms, legs and bright red hair. There was a small scream that was cut short. Draco curled his lip in disgust at the weakling who cried. This was war; he thought they'd understand that by now.

Draco got to his feet, brushing his robes off and ignoring the urge to rub his bruised face. With a smirk, he looked at Hermione, wanting to see her reaction towards witnessing her two friends fall to his power. He was startled to look into sad eyes, pitying eyes. He glared at her and mouthed, "I hate you."

She blinked and turned her head slightly back and forth gesturing no. Draco's eyes widened slightly in surprise at her reaction.

He watched Harry get off the ground and he looked at him. His eyes were bright in anger. Potter's emerald eyes flickered to Hermione who had her brown eyes fixed on Draco. Potter glared at the blond haired Death Eater. So he knows…Draco thought silently.

"Quite entertaining, Draco," the Dark Lord praised. Draco nodded unconsciously, his eyes still locked with Hermione's.

"Now…Death Eaters," Voldemort stopped to make a dramatic pause. "Kill the other intruders lurking around my house. These wizards are like roaches."

There were quiet, panicked murmurs from the Light side as Death Eaters filtered out of the room, their black cloaks blowing lightly at their quick movements, their wands raised in eagerness of death.

"Ah…Draco, stay with me," the Lord urged.

"Yes, Master," Draco said.

"Which one, which one…" the old reptile like man hummed to himself. His red eyes searched through the crowd. They gleamed in an evil gleam as they stopped on a person. Draco followed his gaze, his breath hitching in his throat.

"You took my power's away, Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered his name, "And I take what you love."

A bright green light followed by a gust of wind filled the room. As the light faded, they heard a body fall limply to the ground. A deep male voice bellowed in agony, "NO!"

Harry jumped towards his falling friend, his wife. Draco watched as Hermione blink twice, trying to keep back the tears. "No! Ginny! No, you can't leave me…" Harry whispered softly to his wife.

Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes. For once in a very long time, Draco could sympathize with Potter. He looked at Hermione, imagining her body falling to the ground and lying as limply and lifeless as the young Weasley girl.

"And the next!" Voldemort whispered, killing another body. Two more bodies fell before, each receiving a pitiful cry. Finally, the Dark Lord paused and breathed in deep. "And for the grand finale!"

Draco looked where the wand was pointed. He watched as Hermione's eye widened in fear, the first other emotion he saw glow from her. He watched her bravery slip slightly, revealing her terror behind her mask.

You can't watch her die! You can't let her die! A voice screamed to him.

I have no choice, he said bitterly. I can't reveal my strength yet.

Then what is the purpose of getting stronger when the ambition for your strength is dead? The first voice demanded savagely. Draco swallowed. You love her, Draco. Admit it, you've always loved Hermione Granger. She saved you. You saved her, you were her hero.

Draco gasped, suddenly understanding his whole reason for power. He watched helplessly as the wand that had killed thousands summoned up its power to kill again. He saw it shake in its owner's hand. He watched the deadly green light gather at the tip of the wand.

"NO!" Draco yelled, running forward and blocking Hermione. His legs were filled with such a power, his heart almost bursting in dread for his lover's fate. Love consumed him, driving out the evilness and made his skin radiate a blinding white light.

Just in time…he thought as he felt the magic pierce him. It swept through him, tearing his insides up. He could feel it, but could not feel the pain. He fell back but caught himself. He looked down, seeing his skin glow an unearthly color.

"It was his love for Hermione that kept him alive," Dumbledore would later say, being one of the few left to witness Draco's transformation.

But in the present, Draco watched as the bright light mingled with the green light that was trapped inside his body. He was weakening with each passing second, yet the white light grew brighter. Draco smiled a bitter smile, so this is what happens when you try and do good…you die.

He looked up at Hermione, seeing her face streaked with tears for him, seeing her eyes wide in astonishment at his power, seeing her as the girl he once and still loved. But in the end, it's worth it…he told himself quietly as he gazed longer at her. Take one last look, Draco.

Winking and giving his lover a cocky grin, Draco looked Harry straight in the eyes and gave him a smile, apologetic smile. Lacing his hands together, Draco had two index fingers pressed together, forming the sharp of a gun. He pointed his extended fingers at Harry's wand and shouted words that were or a language no one in that room had heard before, "Dyte sylla nasechas!"

The white light that made his skin and body glow suddenly shot out of him and into the wand. Harry moved automatically, pointing his wand at Voldemort and yelled, "AVADA KADAVERA!"

Blinding light fly from the wand, a mixture of green and silver. Gusts of wind blew everyone except Harry and Draco to the ground. It circled around Voldemort like a huge python and the tip of the light formed a large viper head. The snake opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs that struck fast and hard. Voldemort didn't even have time to scream as the snake's poison dried his blood from his body and quickly decayed him. The magic snake disappeared, the room turned to its original dim color that seemed pitch black after the explosion of light. Harry fell to his knees, drained of energy. He turned his head to thank Draco. Draco wobbled slightly on his heels and fell back. He never hit the ground. Hermione's loving arms circled around him and held him close to her chest, right where he belonged.

You can take my breath away

He turned and looked up at her, his eyes slowly clouding. It was too fast for Hermione. She clutched on to him tighter. A tear fell from her eyes. All the possibilities they could have shared together…she felt nothing and she knew that soon all the grief would hit her so suddenly that she would not be able to cope with it. Already her heart was constricting with the slow realization that Draco would never catch a Snitch again, would never laugh, would never tease her again, would never do anything again.

Draco could see her anguish, her pain. He wanted to touch her face, but he was so weak. Already his vision was dimming. The sounds were growing distant and muffled. But he kept his eyes on her. If he was going to leave the world, he wanted the last thing he'd ever see to be Hermione. And the stern women he had met earlier faded, replaced by his own Hermione. The tight, pulled back hair was released, toppling around her shoulders in their soft waves, her red lips full, her face structure still perfect and delicate, her skin a natural, healthy color, her eyes filled with the warmth and life he had always remembered them being filled with. She was so beautiful. He inhaled, pausing for just a second, her beauty still stunning him.

I can be your hero

And he looked deep in her eyes, her dark brown eyes. Her eyes looked down at him filled with love. It wasn't the look she gave Ron or Harry, the look he wanted from her. It was the look of pure love, the love a person only gives to one person. And Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, archenemy, bully, cold-hearted, and the right handed man for the Dark Lord that almost brought the destruction of the world, had received Hermione Granger's true love. It was the look that told him that if he had asked her all those years ago to dance with her, she would grabbed his hand and lead him out to the dance floor. If he had asked her to run away with him, she would gave grabbed his hand and lead them away. If he had asked her anything, to be with him forever, she would have said yes.

And for once in his very short life, Draco Malfoy felt like a hero.

Fin.

A/N: Come on, be honest, you were thinking that our deal Old Draco would switch sides at the last second, revealing he was a spy, kill Voldie and marry Hermione, right? Well, sorry! I know, I suck…:::dodges rotten fruit that is chucked at poor author who just commits the crime of writing something, and of course, kills the main character::: Yes, I know…you really don't like me. But I like you anyway! besides! It's nice and long....::::runs from knifes and axes being thrown:::: Hey! I'm getting pretty good at this whole dodgeing thing....

And you know what? You can tell me how much you hate my guts by writing it in this fabulous thing called a Review. You can label yours a Howler for all I care, just as long as you write something. Please…?

Well, this is the end…now, would you have actually read all of it, do you think you would have read it if I had put it up all three chapters as a one-shot?

In case you want to check out some other stuff, I have a couple stories called Fault and Weep Not that are one-shots. Go give it a go, will you please? :::puppy eyes::::

WEIVER -- hold a mirror up to this and see what word you'll get….