A/N: last chapter! Thank you all so much for your feedback/alerts/favorites. I'm already six chapters deep into the sequel to this I'll be posting soon, called The Coward and The Mudblood, so put me on alert or just keep an eye out if you want to read. It's going to be a much longer story than this. Anywho, hope everyone enjoys :)

A thick, depressing air hung over the castle the next day. Hermione slept for less than one hour after she and the rest of the students had left the hospital wing and been shuffled to their dormitories. She lay awake most of the night and simply thought until she was sure her brain was about to burst. She thought over her myriad of questions that were nowhere close to being answered. She thought about Harry, poor Harry, who lost Sirius the year prior, and last night had lost Dumbledore. All of Hogwarts lost Dumbledore, of course, but Harry was by far the student closest to the headmaster, and he had to suffer with the memories of watching it happen forever, just as with Cedric and Sirius. It was too much for one person, and Hermione shed many tears for her best friend that night.

She also shed tears for another boy, though she told herself he didn't deserve them. Draco had brought the Death Eaters to Hogwarts, he had caused Dumbledore's death, and Bill's injuries. Without him, last night would have been quiet, uneventful, and Hermione wouldn't be feeling more frightened than she had ever before, knowing that their greatest protector was gone. Dumbledore was the only wizard alive who Voldemort feared, and could not defeat - what would happen now?

And yet, the same boy who had allowed those monsters in, and made Dumbledore's assassination possible, had saved Hermione's life. He risked quite a bit, she knew, by hexing the werewolf Greyback just as he was about to pounce on her. He would have much to answer for if his fellow Death Eaters had seen him saving Hermione's life, and she knew he would be punished anyway for not killing Dumbledore himself as he had been ordered to. She had no idea if he was still alive, and the thought of him having been tortured, killed or both was tormenting her more than she could have ever dreamed it could prior to two months earlier.

When she did finally drift asleep, the sun was beginning to rise and a few in the castle were waking. Her brief fitful sleep was a replay of last night's events, and it was interrupted by the sound of the Patil twins, Hermione's dorm-mates, being manhandled out of the room by their nearly hysterical mother. Hermione was wide awake instantly, tearing out of bed after the twins were gone and rushing to the common room to see if Harry had awoken yet.

Harry was descending from the stairs from his dorm to the common room at the same moment Hermione was. The rest of the room was deserted, but Harry turned on his heel as soon as he saw Hermione.

"Harry - please, can we talk?"

His efforts to flee stalled. He didn't want to talk to anyone, not even her, but he seemed too exhausted to argue. Hermione suspected he had slept even less than she had.

Reluctantly, Harry walked down the stairs and strode to one of the large windows in the common room, and Hermione followed. He stared blankly out the window, and Hermione did the same, neither speaking for a moment.

"Did you sleep?" Hermione finally asked.

Harry shook his head. "You?"

"Only for a few minutes."

Hermione found herself afraid to say anything about the two people weighing heaviest on her mind. She didn't want to make Harry talk about Dumbledore and thus have him relive seeing him killed, and she feared Harry's reaction if she spoke Draco's name. But she felt that he needed to know how Draco had saved her life last night, as she wouldn't have dreamed of telling him last night in the hospital wing in front of everyone.

"He... he saved my life last night," she said quietly, "Draco. Greyback was about to attack me, and he hexed him away from me. If he hadn't, I'd either be in the same condition as Bill or dead."

Harry continued to stare ahead, his face unreadable. A long moment passed before he replied. "He was never going to be able to kill him. He couldn't do it."

Hermione knew that him was Dumbledore. The name must have caused too much pain for Harry to speak, she thought. "I can't imagine watching it, Harry. I'm so sorry. You've seen too much for one person, one lifetime."

Harry shrugged. "I reckon I'm going to see a lot more before all of this is over."

Hermione wrapped her arm around one of his, and lay her head on his shoulder. She couldn't think of anything to say that could possibly help, so she opted to just hope her touch would help comfort him that at least, despite it all, he wasn't alone.

Malfoy Manor was crawling with Death Eaters. Draco awoke to loud, unfamiliar voices, having slept only due to a bottle of sleeping draught he had hung onto from Madam Pomfrey. For a split second upon waking, he had hoped that it all had been one of his nightmares, but since he was in his room at home and not in the Slytherin dungeons, he realized with a wave of nausea that it had all really happened.

His first impulse was to hide in his room all day or maybe Apparate to a remote cave where he would never be found again, but then he thought of his mother being surrounded by all of that filth out there in the rest of the house. If last night was any indication, the Malfoy name now carried absolutely no respect in the Dark Lord's eyes, and by extension, his followers. He couldn't leave his mother to fend for herself. He wasn't his father.

It was with a great deal of determination he emerged from his room, his hand clutching his wand that was stuffed in a pocket, and found his way to the large, cold dining room. There were black robes everywhere, all of them conversing loudly, pouring food into their mouths. A lot of them he recognized, some he didn't. He turned his eyes to the enormous table in the center of the room and saw his mother sitting at the head, her face controlled and neutral. Her eyes found his and she nodded to her right, at the empty chair to her left. Bellatrix sat at his mother's right, and when her heavy eyes found his, it looked as if she was torn between a gut reaction to revile him and the very air he breathed, and the affection, however unstable, she felt for her nephew.

As he made his way to the empty chair, the crowd seemed to take notice of him, and he tried to block out their jeering voices.

"Ah, look at wee little Draco - more like his father than we thought, eh?"

"Malfoys, they're all the same! Cowards!"

"Would have let the old man go if not for Snape! At least one of has the stomach to do what has to be done!"

"He's no Slytherin! What a disgrace!"

Draco's fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were going numb. He sat next to his mother and stared at her.

"Ignore them," Narcissa whispered.

"Why are they here? If Father heard them speaking like this in his own house -"

"We have no choice, Draco. This is the Dark Lord's base now. We just have to get used to it."

Draco glared at all of the people violating his home, laughing at him and mocking him, and he wanted nothing more than to hex them all into next Sunday. Then he was out of his chair and was being slammed against the wall, in a chokehold, and being growled at by a large male Death Eater he'd never seen before in his life.

"I say what the boy needs is a good toughening up," the man said savagely, grinning all the while. "I can think of a few ways to thicken his skin..."

Draco couldn't breathe, and he heard the shrieks of both his mother and aunt, and then the man was on the floor, stunned, and Draco could breathe again. He collapsed on the floor next to the man, coughing and gasping for breath.

Bellatrix was standing over the man with her wand out. "What the boy needs is none of your concern, you filthy rat," she snarled before extending a hand to Draco. He took it after the briefest of pauses and got to his feet. "I will help you, Draco. I'll teach you how to be ruthless. I have much planned for you."

His aunt's lips stretched into a smile that showed off all of her yellow teeth, and Draco suppressed a shudder. Occlumency lessons with her had been nothing short of a nightmare - what in the world did he have to endure at her hand now?

Then the room went deadly quiet, and Draco and Bellatrix turned to see what had caused the sudden silence. Draco, expecting to see the Dark Lord, was relieved to see it was Snape who had appeared.

Snape looked around at the scene before him, looked from Draco's ruffled figure to the unconscious man on the floor, then to all of the silent Death Eaters who seemed to be speechless in his presence. Apparently, being Dumbledore's assassin brought with it an unnerving level of new respect.

"Narcissa," came the deep, controlled voice, "I came to speak to your son."

"Of course, Severus," Narcissa replied.

Draco, rather happy to leave the crowded dining room, followed Snape out of the room and down the corridor. They walked in silence to the enormous library that the Manor boasted of, and once inside, Snape closed the door and cast a silencing charm.

Draco stood confused after the older man wheeled around and stared at him."What's going on-"

"I saw you curse the werewolf, Draco," Snape interrupted. His voice was calm but fierce. "You cursed him to protect Miss Granger. Would you mind telling me why you risked your own life to do such a thing? Surely you must know protecting Muggle-borns is one of the fastest ways to get killed by the Dark Lord whom you now serve."

Draco's eyes went wide for a moment before he could gather himself. "What are you talking about? Why would I want to protect her, a mudblood? I was trying to hex her!"

"Don't lie to me," Snape said slowly. "Why would you want to hex a girl who was seconds away from being mauled?"

"Because... 'cause I hate her, I've always hated her," Draco feebly retorted. He then felt the familiar sensation of the barriers of his mind being breeched, and the unwelcome intrusion of Snape's Legilimency. He hastily tried to close his mind, to block the man's attempts, but he was too shaken by too many things, not the least of which was what - and who - he was being questioned about, and to his horror, he felt all of his memories involving Hermione rush to the forefront of his mind.

"No! Stop, stop!" Draco shrieked, grabbing his head and turning away, but it was too late. Snape had seen nearly everything.

"You - you had no right!" Draco exclaimed angrily, turning back to his professor , who was wearing a look of surprise but not shock.

"Listen to me very carefully," said Snape calmly. "You cannot allow your Occlumency to slip, not even for a moment. If the Dark Lord had seen what I just saw, the consequences would have been severe. Do you understand me, Draco? And you are lucky it was only I who saw you save the girl last night."

"You don't think I know that?" Draco snapped. "I'm not the idiot everyone seems to think I am!"

"I've never said you were," Snape replied. "However, secrets such as these require the utmost protection and after what happened last night, you must take extra care to make sure the Dark Lord remains ignorant of them."

Draco said nothing. He noticed, however, that Snape seemed to be speaking from experience.

"You should also know," Snape added, "that the Dark Lord never anticipated you being successful in your efforts to bring Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. You actually surpassed his expectations. That is why you weren't punished more severely."

Draco scoffed. "That doesn't change the fact that there's now a bunch of Death Eaters walking around my house laughing at me and trying to beat me up."

"My advice is to keep your head down and your mouth shut, and not give anyone reason to harm you. And, most importantly, keep your mind empty around anyone who has the ability to invade it."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "And why aren't you running to the Dark Lord right now to tell him what you saw? If you were really his servant, wouldn't you have already told him?"

Snape surveyed Draco, his expression unimpressed. "I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of Occlumency at this point. If you require further practice in that area, I would suggest you allow me to assist you rather than your aunt. She, I suspect, would not hesitate in sharing your secrets with the Dark Lord, should she stumble upon them."

And with a swish of black robes, Snape was gone.

After forcing herself to eat a very small lunch in the Great Hall with the rest of the shell-shocked school, Hermione made up her mind at last. She had to find out if Draco was okay. Fear was beginning to consume her mind, and the sooner she could get rid of it and put her mind at ease, the sooner she could get over the boy entirely, she reasoned.

So she marched to the Owlery, and picked out the most ordinary looking owl that she could find. She hastily scribbled a note and tied it to the tiny left leg of the owl, and patted its head before sending it off to Malfoy Manor.

Draco was pacing his bedroom angrily. The whole day had been a repeat of breakfast. Voldemort's entire band of followers, it seemed, now thought they had free rein to come and show up at their house, eat all of their food, abuse their house-elves, and both physically and verbally assault himself and Narcissa. The pattern was forming - some obnoxious Death Eater would be spouting off insults, then decide to take it a step further and teach Draco a lesson in "how it's done", and he would be attacked until Bellatrix would step in. Most of them seemed to be getting the picture, though, and lost interest in abusing him once they realized Bellatrix would in turn abuse them. But she kept saying things like "Leave him to me!" and "None of you can teach him the way I can!" which made Draco's insides curl in anxiety. Whatever she was planning on doing with him, he had a feeling it would involve her own personal brand of punishment masked as some sort of sick "lesson".

He was so deeply lost in his angry thoughts that the sound of tapping and thudding on his bedroom window nearly caused him to suffer cardiac arrest. Surprised to see an owl fluttering outside the window, he walked to the window and opened it, and the owl flew inside.

He untied the tiny piece of folded parchment from the owl's leg and tore it open.

Please let me know if you're okay. I have to know. Once I do, I'll leave you alone, for good.

There was no signature, and there was none needed.

Draco rummaged in the drawer of his desk that sat near the window and found a few stale old treats for the owl, as well as a quill and parchment. The owl nipped unenthusiastically at the treats as Draco went to write his reply.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to write any of it. So instead, he scribbled down a pathetic two lines.

I'm fine. Keep yourself safe.

Hermione woke up the next morning to soft tapping on the window near her bed. She sat up and looked around, relived that the rest of her dorm-mates were still fast asleep. It was very early morning, and she ever so quietly crept out of bed and to the window, which she opened silently. The bird fluttered happily at Hermione's offering of treats that weren't as old as dirt, and Hermione read the two line letter.

She wasn't expecting a lengthy reply, so she wasn't disappointed. But, as much as she wanted to leave the conversation there and swear from that day forward to never think of Draco Malfoy ever again, there was one more thing she needed to say to him.

By that night, Draco was breathing a bit easier. The day had been better than the previous one, as nobody had attempted to beat him to a pulp. He was getting his Occlumency back under control and was practicing constantly throughout the day. The process of shutting down his mind allowed a glorious numb to replace the misery and anxiety he had been so full of previously, and the only thing that could shake up his control over his mind was far away, inside Hogwarts, hopefully trying to forget about him as intently as he was trying to forget about her.

He had just crawled into bed when he heard the soft tap tap tap on his window. He dragged himself out of bed and to the window with a groan, and let the little owl inside once more.

With an annoying flip of his stomach, he unfolded the parchment.

Thank you for saving my life. I know it was a great risk on your part. The offer still stands. Please be careful.

The owl was pecking at his hand, demanding food, but Draco was too busy rereading the note for the third time to notice.

It wouldn't be Granger if she didn't repeat her offer of getting him help from the Order for the umpteenth time, but, he thought, she had to realize that the idea was even more impractical now. Even if he did take up her offer and seek help from her bloody order, he couldn't imagine them taking him in after what he had done to facilitate Dumbledore's death. No, he had missed his chance when it came to that idea. He had made his bed, and how he had to lie in it.

He sent the owl away without a reply, and watched it soar away in the night. He shredded up the parchment and tossed it in a wastebin, ensuring nobody could find it and read it, and not needing it anyway now that the words were imprinted in his mind. He turned his eyes back to the open window, the owl now a speck in the moonlight, and he had a strange passing thought of how nice it would be to have a picture of Hermione in his possession.

His brows furrowed and he shook his head jerkily, as if trying to shake the odd thought out of his brain. It was bad enough that he had snogged the girl for weeks and gotten so incredibly bewitched by her that he had risked his life to save hers, even after she had called him a coward and rejected him. He had no business giving her another thought, not now.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shutting down his mind and emptying it of nearly all its thoughts. When he reopened his eyes, he greeted the wonderful numbness like a dear friend, and headed back to bed.

Hermione sat near the largest window of the Gryffindor common room the following afternoon, dressed in her best robes and a pit of dread in her stomach. Dumbledore's funeral was a mere hour away, and she was already in tears just thinking about it.

Moments earlier, she had spotted the owl who had been delivering her letters to Malfoy Manor, but it had flown past her window towards the direction of the Owlery. She wasn't surprised that Draco hadn't sent her a reply. It was alright. She had said what she needed to say, and now she was free.

Hermione's sharp mind was quick to push thoughts of Draco away and to accept the reality of the situation. Whatever they had shared was most likely the result of Draco's overwhelming stress and need to cope, and Hermione's general naïveté when it came to boys. After all, the only boy she had ever kissed before him was Viktor Krum, and romance was one of the few subjects on which she didn't know a whole lot. The fireworks she had felt were probably just a reaction to the shock of actually kissing Draco Malfoy, and the forbidden nature of their romance. It all had a very reasonable, logical, explanation, she told herself.

But her heart told her something very different, and somewhere deep down, she knew that only something exceptionally powerful could have compelled her to keep Draco's secret for weeks, and for him to risk his life to save hers. But this would ruin her brain's hard work of having analyzed and quantified the whole affair, and to challenge it would be to risk taking Draco out of the box in the back of her mind that she had created and locked him inside.

A large hand enclosed over hers and shook her from her daze. She looked up to see Ron, looking down at her with a sad but comforting expression. She squeezed his hand and turned back to the window for a moment.

They remained like that for a few moments. Then Ron spoke. "We'd better get going."

Hermione nodded and stood, drawing in a deep breath. Then, still clutching one another's hands, she and Ron walked out of the common room and headed to the lake to say goodbye to Dumbledore. Maybe, Hermione thought as she caught a glimpse of a furtive glance that Ron was sneaking at her as they walked, she could also lay to rest those weeks she spent sneaking about the castle with Draco, and all of those moments where nothing else had existed in the world except herself and the boy. Maybe the answer to her problems was walking right beside her, and maybe that was where her future lay.

Hermione gave Ron's hand another small squeeze. Only time would tell, but no matter what, she resolved, she was going to be just fine. She would break the spell that Draco had placed her under, and he would be nothing more than a memory.