Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

...

Part One

...

He doesn't want to do it but knows that he has to. It's too late now, anyway. He already let his fellow Death eaters into the castle. The thought gives him a sharp burst of pain in his stomach that almost sends him to his knees. Hogwarts is his home. Perhaps even more so then Malfoy Manor, especially now that the Dark Lord has chosen it as his headquarters. He feels like he betrayed his home. He doesn't even want to think about the students and teachers his betrayal will end up getting killed.

He nervously runs his hand through his hair, trying to clear his thoughts from everything but his mission. He has to kill Albus Dumbledore, if he doesn't, the Dark Lord will kill him and his mother. He has no other choice. Thinking and worrying about other people shouldn't be his priority at the moment. He shakes his head as if to clear it from all thoughts and continues his steps to where he knows he'll find Dumbledore. He has a headmaster to kill, and nothing, not even the thought of dying students and teachers will stop him.

His friends and fellow Slytherins are safe, having been warned by their parents not to leave the common-room after dark. It's after curfew, that means there probably won't be any other people around, except perhaps teachers and prefects doing their nightly rounds. The halls should be empty. With any luck, they'll even find Potter and his friends running around the halls getting into trouble as usual. Then his aunt Bella can kill scarhead and this whole bloody war won't have to happen.

At the thought of Potter lying dead in the corridor after running into his aunt Bella the face of Hermione Granger runs through his mind.

He knows that if they find Potter she will be there as well. He doesn't understand why the picture of Hermione Granger's body being hit with green light makes him want to vomit. She's just a know-it-all mudblood after all, her death should make him happy at least, and ecstatic at best. He decides to ignore it, like he ignores everything else, and focus on his mission.

Killing Albus Dumbledore, that's what he has to do.

"Where are we going, Draco," his aunt hisses, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I wish to kill mudbloods."

He ignores her like he ignores Greyback's panting and growling, and continues on his way.

"I smell virgin flesh," Greyback growls softly, stopping in the middle of the corridor to take a good sniff.

Wonderful. Not only is he expected to kill the greatest wizard since Merlin - and Salazar help him if he ever let the Dark Lord pick that particular thought out of his mind - but he has to accomplish this impossible task with his crazy aunt Bella and a virgin smelling werewolf as his back-up. The universe hates him.

His claim is proven true in his mind only seconds after he has the thought when he spots Hermione Granger hiding behind a thirteen-century tapestry. He wouldn't have seen her if it wasn't for her Gryffindor curiosity that caused her to peek out from behind it.

Bloody Gryffindors. He's sure one of the highest causes in Gryffindor deaths is caused by curiosity and stupidity.

How the bloody hell is he supposed to get her out of this one? He's certain she is the virgin Greyback is currently salivating over. Her eyes widen in shock when their eyes meet before the shock leaves to make room for recognition. He immediately understands that she knows he's a Death eater when disappointment flutters across her face. It makes him angry because as far as he sees it she doesn't have the right to be disappointed. He is nothing to her - she's nothing to him.

He ignores the small part of him that tells him to get on his knees and beg her forgiveness. The part that knows she'll forgive and help him if he explains why, and if he tells her the truth. If he tells her how he doesn't think she's a mudblood, or beneath him. If anything, he knows he's beneath her.

He ignores it because it's too late. And even though it's the truth, he'll never tell her, or beg. Because he's a Malfoy, and however much they might want to, Malfoys don't beg.

"I'm sure that's very nice, Greyback. Really, a wonderful talent you've got there," he drawls his voice thick with sarcasm. "But the Dark Lord didn't send us here to sniff out virgins, or kill mudbloods. Now if we find them on our way, feel free to kill them. But since I don't see any mudbloods or virgins let's do what we came here for. We don't have time to fuck around."

His eyes never leave hers while he speaks.

"Draco's right," his aunt hisses, making him weak in the knees with relief. "We have important matters to attend to, lead the way, Draco."

He gives Granger one last look trying to make her understand... he's not even sure what. Perhaps he wants to tell her she owes him her life. Perhaps he wants her to know he doesn't want to hurt her. Or perhaps he just wants her to understand that when one is hiding, they traditionally hide their head too.

What he is sure of, however, is that he wishes that Malfoys did beg.

...

Part Two

...

He watches her as she screams holding his hands clenched into fists. He never even feels the pain of his nails cutting into the palm of his hands, let alone the blood slowly dripping to the floor.

She's strong, he tells himself. If anyone can take this kind of abuse it'd be her. He's so busy trying to reassure himself he never even stops to think why he cares.

He tries to capture her gaze, to give her strength someway, to convince her to hold on. He knows Potter and Weasley are in the dungeon likely coming up with one of their insane plans that should never ever work but somehow always do. He knows he needs her to hold on for a bit longer, just long enough for the demented duo to magic something out of their arse and get her the bloody hell out of there.

He tries to tell her all of this with one pointed look, the same look he gave her earlier when he pretended not to recognize them. But her screams are so loud he knows he'll wake up years in the future from his nightmares still hearing her screams of agony echoing in his ears.

He holds his breath every time she opens her mouth to release hers, counting the seconds she's held under that blasted curse. He wishes he was brave enough to rip the wand out of his aunt's grip and curse the insane hag into the next dimension. But there's a reason the hat sorted him into Slytherin, and even though he wishes that for once in his entire life he has what it takes to be sorted into the house of stupidly brave morons, he doesn't. All he can do is watch and hope Potter and Weasley come up with something sooner rather than later.

When his insane aunt carves the word mudblood into the pale flesh of her arm. He feels it as if it was carved into his own.

His breath quickens when he realizes his aunt isn't going to let up, and will likely torture her into insanity. His fists unclench and before he knows it, without even thinking about it really, he's holding his wand in his hand, pointed at his aunt's back.

He meets Granger's eyes and any hesitation he might have had, any reluctance, vanishes when she doesn't even react to seeing him aim a wand at his aunt's back. He's losing her. He knows it. If he doesn't act now the girl he knows and loves to hate would be no more.

His eyes drift towards his parents. They don't see him taking his first steps into betrayal. His father is too busy thinking of all the glory capturing the Boy-Who-Lived will bring him, and his mother is far too worried about getting bloodstains on her carpet.

But is it really betrayal, he wonders. When he hasn't believed a single word out of their mouths since he was first bested by the same girl they were watching being tortured. The same girl they told him was beneath him, because of her blood.

How do they expect him to believe in something when the evidence that what they're saying are lies is sitting at the Gryffindor table, right in his line of sight, every bloody day?

His Slytherin side tries one last time to remind him of self-preservation but he ignores it in favor of the screaming girl being tortured on the floor of his childhood home.

He knows there's nothing that could deter him from his course now, not even Voldemort making a personal appearance - and Merlin if just thinking that bloody name in his mind feels so good it would have to brilliant to say his name out loud.

Just as his resolves strengthens, and he opens his mouth to curse his insane aunt in the back, his grey eyes meet green ones, and he freezes.

Potter watches him from across the room, carefully hidden from everyone's view but his. He feels the scrutiny in the bright green eyes and he holds his breath for a second, wondering if this time he'll measure up.

He releases his breath when Potter nods grimly, acknowledging something he is still too frightened to realize. He sees Weasley come up behind Potter and how he immediately tries to run to the screaming girl's aid cementing again the notion in his mind that Gryffindor is the house of idiots.

Potter grabs the struggling boy and manages to keep him from running into certain death which frankly surprised him. He thought Potter would have been right beside Weasley, jumping into something headfirst without assessing the danger. Clearly, there was more to Potter than he previously thought. The person he had thought him to be couldn't think his way out of a paper bag without Granger there to guide him through it.

His eyes snap back to Granger when she stops screaming. For a frightful second, that seemed to last far longer then it should have, he thinks his aunt finally killed her. He feels a deep painful pressure on his chest that renders him unable to breathe. Then she gasps, and the pain leaves him making way for relief so great, he feels like he could fly.

She lives.

Now he just has to make sure she stays that way.

He lowers his wand and slowly steps forward until his feet are close enough to touch her arm. He winces again when his eyes trail the drop of blood that slowly falls from the word mudblood carved into her arm.

"Get out of the way, Draco, I'm not finished with the mudblood yet," his aunt hisses from behind him.

He turns his head in her direction slightly, giving her a small smirk. "Can't let you have all the fun, now can we?"

His aunt cackles madly. "Does itty bitty Draco wanna play?" she crows gleefully. "Punish her, Draco. Punish the filthy mudblood for thinking she's better than you."

Granger moans, obviously in pain when he crouches next to her and grabs her by her chin. He turns her face towards him softly but it's clear to see that even his careful movements hurt. "Look at me Granger," he whispers softly. "Not so smart now, eh?"

She whimpers softly and he knows it's because she thinks he's about to hurt her. It makes him sick to his stomach, but he understands why. The only time he ever did something that could be perceived as kindness was when he didn't tell his aunt and Greyback she was hiding behind the tapestry. But even then he turned right around and murdered her beloved headmaster.

Hermione Granger had no reason to believe he would never do anything to hurt her. What she did know was he tried to make her life a living hell by calling her mudblood and cursing her when he knew he could get away with it. And the fact that he stood next to his aunt and allowed her to torture her was probably a mark against him too.

"Look at me," he demands again when she closes her eyes. "Where is that vaunted Gryffindor courage," he taunts, cringing slightly when his aunt starts to giggle like the insane hag that she is. "Open your eyes. Now, Granger."

She opens them slowly and he cringes at the hate he sees there. "Tell me, Granger, how did you end up in this situation. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one. Didn't anyone ever tell you this is what happens to little girls who play war?"

He keeps taunting her but his mind is frantic with worry. What the bloody hell is keeping Potter? His aunt isn't going to stay satisfied with only taunting the girl, if boy wonder doesn't do anything soon he'll be expected to curse her.

"Did you really think a mudblood like you could stand against the might of the Dark Lord?"

He doesn't break eye-contact while he speaks and he startles when suddenly instead of hate lighting her brown eyes, he sees understanding and gratitude. It surprises him, though it really shouldn't. She is rather brilliant after all and he's often thought she would've been sorted into Slytherin without hesitation had she been a pureblood.

"Curse her, Draco!" his insane aunt hisses. "Curse her until she's as loony as the Longbottems, I'm sure they'd appreciate the company."

For a second Draco contemplates forgetting about Potter altogether and killing the evil bitch himself. He takes a deep breath and lets go of the thought, knowing it will only bring him more misery. He's not brave enough to do it. He knows this, and it kills him that Potter has something he lacks.

"Curse her, Draco," his aunt hisses impatiently. He knows he's expected to do as she says or face the consequences but he doesn't care. He will never curse her, even if it'll kill him in the end. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a wry smile when the thought hits him that it probably will.

"Draco?" his aunt questions forcefully.

His cold eyes soften when he sees Granger's eyes widen in panic. He captures her gaze without blinking doing his best to convey his intention to never hurt her. For a moment he frowns in confusion when Granger's goes from looking panicked to exasperated.

He doesn't understand what she means with that particular look, but he's amazed she can actually look anything but frightened. She really is brave to the core.

He ignores his aunt's impatient huff behind him and keeps his eyes on the girl he's prepared to throw away his beliefs for. So many times before he questioned himself for not telling his aunt and Greyback she was hiding behind the tapestry. So many nights he lay awake asking himself why she was worth risking his life for, but he never found an answer.

He finds it now. While he sees her half out of her mind from pain lying on the floor covered in scrapes, bruises, and her own blood. She is more than worth it.

They break eye-contact when Potter comes out wand blazing, yelling his usual Expelliarmus. Bloody idiot, should've gone with Avada-Kedavra. The wand he was clutching in his fist before is now in Potter's possession and he finds that he's glad for it.

It means he doesn't have to make a choice.

Being unarmed means he doesn't have to point his wand at his family to make sure Granger can get the bloody hell out of Death Eater headquarters. And it also means he won't be forced to point his wand at Granger to stop her from leaving.

That's a good thing. It makes things easier.

He knows that he's going to have to make the choice sooner rather than later, but not today.

He ignores the voice inside his head that tells him he already made his choice, just like he ignores Granger's pleading eyes that implore him to take her hand and run with them.

The last thing he sees before they leave is Potter's subtle grateful nod, and the knife his aunt Bella throws after them.

He wonders if he'll see her again.

The thought that he won't, and the glinting knife that disappeared with her, nearly brings him to his knees.

...

Part Three

...

The battlefield is a madhouse.

He's unable to distinguish friend from foe and it's not entirely because he doesn't know which side he's fighting on.

He's lost sight of his parents long ago and he's glad for it. Not seeing what his parents are doing, or who they're cursing, means he doesn't have to stop them. It's a coward's way out, but he's taking it anyway.

He hasn't seen Granger since that day in the manor, but he knows she's around here somewhere. He has a sick feeling in his gut that he thinks is worry, but he's not completely sure. Or maybe he is sure but doesn't want to admit to it.

It's stupid. He's saved her before. He even went to far to help her two best prats escape, or not get in their way while they were escaping, at least. It's only natural to worry that his hard work, that actually endangered his life, was not for nothing.

It doesn't mean he actually cares about her. It doesn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything.

He ducks the red light of a curse sent his way and runs for cover. 'Battlefield,' he reminds himself. 'Not a good time to sort out my feelings.'

He shakes his head to clear it of all thoughts and steps out of his shelter, still crouched low, only to barrel head-first into someone's stomach. They both fall to the ground, but he quickly points his wand at the other person, only to find their wand already pointed at him in return.

Longbottom. He winces. Not good. He can't curse Longbottom, he's one of her friends. But he's not going to let Longbottom curse him without defending himself either. He almost groans when he realizes he's pretty much fucked.

It's his own bloody fault. He should have sorted this out ages ago. What kind of idiot steps onto a battlefield not certain which side to fight on?

"Malfoy!" Longbottom yells surprised.

"Longbottom," he drawls. Here it comes. He's about to get cursed for every insult and hex he ever sent Longbottom's way. He can't even blame the bloke really. He deserves it.

Longbottom opens his mouth but instead of a curse, he says something that has him reeling in shock.

"Hermione told me to look out for you, and that you're on our side. She'll be glad to know you're alright, she's been worried."

He doesn't say anything because, in all honesty, all rational thoughts have fled.

Longbottom gives him a confused glance. "Well don't just stand there. Let's get the bloody hell out of here before one of these bastards curses us."

He nods dazedly and follows a boy who considers him, someone who has tormented him throughout six years of school, on his side just because Hermione Granger said so.

'Bloody Gryffindors. Honestly, what is wrong with this lot?'

"I need to find Granger."

Longbottom nodded grimly. "Yeah, good luck with that, Mate. She's with Ron and Harry, that's all I know. Well that, and the reason we're fighting is to buy them time. They're doing something that'll give us a chance to defeat him once and for all. Without it, we're pretty much buggered."

He instantly feels a wave of anger rush him. They are doing something to ensure their victory. something that is in all likelihood very dangerous. Why does she always have to put her life on the line?

He was going to find her, put a body-bind curse on her and move her somewhere he could protect her from everyone that would harm her, including herself.

He conveniently forgets that she can probably hex his balls off if she is so inclined, and is not in need of his protection, or that of anyone else.

He is very good at ignoring things that don't suit him.

Longbottom pulls him out of the way of a curse before promptly returning fire and he can't help but marvel a the absurdity of the situation. Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, saving him and defending him from a curse.

It's all her fault, he's sure of it. Things seemed to make sense before she came along.

"Let's go, Malfoy. We're needed inside the castle. We're planning on chucking down a couple of mandrake roots on these bastards' heads."

He watches Longbottom run into the castle fully expecting him to follow and shakes his head slowly in disbelief. He takes a deep breath before following him, wondering if he should have just told Greyback about the stupid Gryffindor bint hiding behind the tapestry. He is certain somehow that things would have been simpler if he had.

.

.

He doesn't find her. He catches glimpses of her on the battlefield, and he hears things which at least lets him know she's alive. He tries to stick with Longbottom during the battle, but things are insane, and he loses him somewhere around the astronomy tower when he looks down and sees her running around with Potter and his red-headed ape and immediately runs down to find her.

To his utter frustration and expectations, she's gone by the time he reaches the courtyard.

He saves his cousin and her half-breed husband from that creepy prick Dolohov not completely sure he does it for the sake of his family, or to pay the bastard back for cursing her in the Ministry of Magic. In the end, it hardly matters. Dolohov is dead and it will please her to hear he was the one who saved her beloved professor Lupin and his wife. He can use that to make her...he's not really sure what he wants from her.

When he finally finds her, she's holding onto Potter as if he's about to die - which could very well be true - crying her eyes out. He watches from a distance, not close enough to hear what is said, but still able to see everything, like Potter, leaving the castle on his own, and Weasley holding her tightly against his body.

He's not exactly sure if he pays more attention to Potter leaving to meet his enemy to end this war, or Weasley having his hands all over something he just now realizes, he considers his.

Instead of watching how Weasley holds her or bashing his head in after ripping him off her, he walks away. He doesn't go far, just far enough where he won't have to witness that rather nauseating display.

He walks towards the great hall where all the other students and teachers are gathered. Where all the dead were laid for their loved ones to claim. He wonders who he'll find there.

He ignores the stares directed towards him and slowly searches for a familiar face. Anything to turn his mind away from the crying witch dancing all over his thoughts. A feeling, like being hit in the gut by a bludger, when he sees the bodies. So many dead.

He turns when he hears crying and actually hisses in shock at seeing the Weasley family crowded around a body on the floor.

It's stupid really, that it completely throws him. Somehow he just never really expected that the Weasleys would lose someone in this war. It's completely illogical, because statistically speaking, they stood the largest chance at losing someone considering how many of them there are, but he naïvely hadn't even thought about one of them dying. He rips his eyes from the body on the floor when the Golden Trio's red-headed ape comes to join his family, embracing his mother with tears running down his face.

It's unfortunate but it has nothing to do with him, he has a witch to confront. He leaves the great hall with one last look to the mourning family.

It doesn't take very much effort to find her, and he's relieved that she's alone when he does.

He watches her for a moment before approaching. She looks as if she's expecting the worst to happen. She seems lost, he thinks, defeated, and he quickly smothers the urge to walk over to her and pull her into his arms. He wants to show her that she's not alone and even though the world seems to be buggered and they'll probably be dead in the next hour or so, whatever will come, he won't let her face it alone.

But he doesn't because he's a Malfoy and Malfoys don't do that. So he resists the urge, which isn't very difficult, to begin with, because he's pretty sure this is the first time he's ever had that particular feeling.

He slowly walks over to her until he's standing right behind her. He knows that she's heard him, but she doesn't turn around right away. She rights her shoulders, the same shoulders that were hunched down only seconds earlier as if she was carrying the weight of the world on them, and turns around with an encouraging smile that he can immediately identify as fake.

The smile freezes on her face when she sees him, and he quickly understands that the smile wasn't meant for him, but for one of her idiot friends, probably Weasley. He's undoubtedly the only one stupid enough not to see through it.

"Draco," she whispers sounding shocked.

He blinks for a moment, wondering if he's ever heard her say his name before. He doesn't think she's ever called him anything but Malfoy, or perhaps occasionally, prat or git. He finds that he likes it.

"Hermione," he greets, taking his Q from her. The name sounds foreign on his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever called her that before, not even in his mind.

"You're- I-I I didn't think I'd see you before..." she tries to smile but it turns into a grimace.

"Neither did I," he says quietly.

It's so strange. Ever since he last saw her fleeing Malfoy manor he wanted to find her, to see her, to touch her even, but now that she's standing before him he doesn't know what to do.

"Are you alright?" he asks uncertainly and almost winces at the idiocy of the question.

"Um, well, yes. No. I don't know."

Her distress is easy for him to see, it would've been easy even if he hadn't known her as well as he does. He's watched her closely over the years, trying to see what others saw in her, trying to see if his parents were right - he never stopped watching even after he found his answers. He doesn't really understand why, only that it was impossible for him to look away. He suspects the unsettling feeling in his stomach is an indication he understands now, why he can't seem to let go of her.

He stays silent just waiting for her to let everything out all at once in one big rant so that she can calm herself and think rationally. He knows her well and understands what she needs.

"I'm frightened," she starts, nearly out of breath with panic, "Because Harry's out there trying to execute one of his hare-brained schemes of which I'm fairly certain won't work. Either way, he's going to die."

She pales as if the thought only just now solidified in her mind. "Oh Merlin, Harry's going to die. We lost. Harry's going to die and I'm not sure if I'm relieved that I'm not by his side, sharing the same fate, or angry that he won't let me and Ron walk this path with him as we walked everywhere else he did."

As soon as her fears leave her mouth she deflates. He tries to ignore the happy feeling bubbling inside of him because she came to him with her worries, but it's hopeless really. All he can think of is that she didn't go to Weasley or Longbottom, or anyone else, she came to him.

He can't fuck this up. He needs to show her that trusting him is a good choice. That he'll be there for her, that he'll be whatever it is she needs.

The corner of his lip curls up into a wry half-smile. "I don't know what Potter thinks he can accomplish by going out there alone, but I don't think he could have done it if he knew you'd be dying with him. I reckon you're one of the reasons he walked out there, to begin with, it probably gave him the courage he needed to know that he's doing what he has to, to keep you safe."

She looks up to him, eyes large and frightened. "He's Potter, Granger, stop your fretting, if anyone can do this with even a remote chance of getting out of it alive, it would be him."

A grateful smile plays around her mouth while her eyes stay locked on his. "You're right, of course."

He smirks smugly. "Of course I am."

He's not sure what he's doing because he can't honestly say he's ever comforted someone before in his life, but it seems to be working so he decides not to think about it too much. She's smiling, which means he hasn't fucked up yet, everything is right in the world and all that sentimental rot.

"You didn't fight with them," she says suddenly, startling him. "Does that mean you made your choice?"

His eyes leave hers to stare off into the distance. He doesn't want to look at her while they're talking about him. He didn't mind when he wasn't the topic of discussion, but he knows that she's dangerous to him. He's seen her do it before, look into his eyes and see things he doesn't want her to see or understand, things he doesn't even understand himself, things he isn't ready to face.

"I think I made my choice when I didn't tell my aunt about the silly mudblood hiding behind the tapestry."

He sees her wince from the corner of his eyes and knows his use of the word mudblood hurt her, but he doesn't care. He used it deliberately to prove to himself that he could hurt her without wanting to hold her and beg her forgiveness like a fool. Whatever he has done, whatever he will do, he's still a Malfoy. He won't let his actions be determined by their effect on her, he can't let that happen.

He's a fool, he knows this. One minute he's trying everything in his power to make her smile, the next he insults her just to show himself that he still can.

She takes a deep breath and steps closer to him. "I'm happy I got to see you before the end, at least."

His eyes snap back to hers and he knows she can see the surprise in them. Why doesn't she yell at him for calling her a mudblood, why is she acting like he never said anything? He tries to ignore the turmoil in his stomach that surfaced when he decided to deliberately hurt her.

"I never got to thank y-you know f-for saving my life. Both times."

He just looks at her, not exactly sure what to say to that, and almost absent-mindedly notices that he's feeling even worse now.

"I didn't do anything. Both times."

She shrugs carelessly but the tension in her shoulders betray her. "That was sort of the point."

"Right," he nods, not really sure what to say.

He startles when a warm hand suddenly envelopes his, and can't help but stare at their intertwined hand. He's pretty sure he should stop her from touching him, stop her before this casual touch of hers breaks his restraints and he allows himself to do to her what he really wants to do, what he just finally admitted to himself he wants to do, which is kiss her senseless and tell her exactly what she means to him.

He wants to kiss her.

The thought hits him like a sledgehammer.

He wants her, he's always wanted her. It's why he helped her so many times without her even knowing about it, even before the tapestry. It's why he can't let anyone hurt her, why not knowing what she's doing, if she's even alive, drives him mad.

He wants her, and unfortunately for her, whatever he wants, he gets.

"Why didn't you? Tell, I mean. I know I was half-mad from the Cruciatus, but I remember seeing you standing behind your aunt with your wand pointed at her back, I remember you wanting to help me, going against everything, even your family to do so. Why, Draco?"

He just looks at her, his features stoically blank while his thoughts race one mile a minute.

He wants her, so he will have her, she has no say in this matter.

Unfortunately, he also wants her to be happy. He'll have to think of a plan worthy of only the best minds in Slytherin to accomplish both his goals.

"I wanted you safe."

He doesn't know what else to say. He isn't someone who openly shows what he feels like she does. He's too afraid he'll be denied what he really longs for, too afraid she'll deny him.

"But why?"

He almost rolls his eyes. This woman was going to drive him mad with her incessant questions. He takes a step forward until his front brushes hers, his hand still tightly intertwined with hers.

"Do you honestly need to ask, Hermione?"

His heart beats like a drum in his chest when she looks up at him, eyes impossibly wide as if he just told her the most unbelievable thing. Her breathing grows irregular and he can feel her brush against his chest every time she inhales.

She says nothing, but he knows. He knows and he's so unbelievably happy it's almost sickening.

He lifts up his free hand an reaches for her cheek, brushing it lightly. He notices it when she stops breathing as if she doesn't remember how, as if his touch makes her forget.

His mouth curls up into an honest, pleased smile, and she remembers that she needs to breathe when she sucks in a deep breath in shock.

He knows now that she's not unaffected by him. He knows. There's no turning back anymore, she's his, he'll make it so.

He bows his head and is pleased when she tilts her head back a little, to accommodate him. He slowly moves closer wanting it so badly. He took a big risk by letting her know what he feels for her, but the risk turned out to be worth it. He knows it's too soon, he doesn't want to scare her away but he's willing to take another chance and hope for the best.

Just being with her, talking to her has kept his mind off the fact that they're standing in the middle of a war zone, but he hasn't forgotten. If he doesn't kiss her now then when? Their future doesn't look very bright, he has to take every moment he has with her.

"Hermione?"

He doesn't recognize the voice beyond the fact that it's female, but he vows he'll make them pay for interrupting nonetheless.

Her eyes lose the dazed almost glassy look she was wearing before.

'Back to reality.'

"Ginny?" she asks as she takes a deliberate step back. She'll never know how much it costs him to not pull her back to him, pull her back to where she belongs.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes meet his and even though she doesn't say a word he reads everything he needs to know from her expression.

'Later?' her eyes beg.

He gives in because he doesn't have the heart to tell her that there won't be a later.

He forces himself to nod, giving her permission to leave his side, to leave him. He watches as she walks away, and with every step she takes away from him, the air seems to disappear, leaving him unable to breathe.

He turns around with only one thought, outside, he needs to be outside, he needs to breathe.

He walks outside to find Longbottom limping around, dusting off something he picked up from the ground. He feels happy to see that Longbottom made it. He wouldn't go as far as calling the bloke his friend, but they had saved each other's lives numerous times over the course of the battle. They weren't friends, but they certainly weren't enemies either.

His happiness is short-lived when he sees Voldemort and his Death-eaters walking towards Hogwarts in the distance.

He knows what's coming but can't help but wish they had more time.

He doesn't look for her when he hears everyone coming outside. His eyes stay focused on Voldemort.

.

.

He hates him.

He hates him, he wants him to die and his parents are standing behind him laughing, agreeing with his words.

He thinks he might hate them too.

With one sentence he destroyed every ounce of hope she had. Harry Potter is dead.

Harry Potter is dead and with him dies every chance he had to be with her. His cunning mind is thinking up scenarios, wondering what the best course of action would be.

He would have to join that snake bastard. If he has any chance of saving her, he needs to do something worthy of receiving a boon, something terrible enough to capture Voldemort's eye. Perhaps then he can ask for her. He could make up some rubbish story about wanting to have revenge on her for every time she beat him in school, wanting to show her her place. He'd have to lie his bloody arse off, but it would have to do.

He can vaguely hear Voldemort yelling something about it being 'the time to declare yourself' and he knows whatever it is he is going to do, it has to be done soon. Time is running out.

He has to make sure she survives this battle. She will hate him for it of course, but at least they'll be alive. They would try to escape to the other side of the world later after he secured her safety. He realizes that he has to speak up. If he's going to have any chance of saving her, now would be the time to do it.

"Draco," someone hisses, pulling him out of his jumbled thoughts. "Draco!"

His father. His eyes focus on his harried appearance, on the hand outstretched to him. "Draco," he hisses again, almost bouncing on his feet with impatience.

He can feel her eyes on him. He swallows, knowing that he's about to hurt her, but he hopes she'll understand when he explains.

"Draco," this time it's his mother who calls.

"Come," she says softly, almost comfortingly, when he looks at her. He slightly shakes his head to clear his thoughts and turns his head to the side to sneak a quick look at Hermione.

She's not watching him anymore and has her back turned to him. He knows it's deliberate. He swallows loudly and takes a step forwards. The relief on his mother and father's faces is obvious, but he doesn't pay them any mind. Instead, he watches how her back stiffens and he knows she's watching his parents' reactions to determine what's happening behind her, she always was a clever girl.

Her back starts shaking with what he knows are repressed sobs and without really thinking about what he is doing, without thinking about the danger it brings, he forgets about all the plans he made, he forgets about his mother and father, his crazy aunt dancing around on a rock like the maniac she is and even the snake lord that's going to kill him very painfully. He only thinks of her.

He veers to the right and softly pushes one of the red-headed people aside so he can take his place beside Hermione. She stiffens when she feels his hand on her lower back and hears the shocking murmurs around her.

"Draco!" his father hisses. "What do you think you're doing? Come here!"

She looks up to him, eyes wide with fear, knowing he just sentenced himself to die alongside her, tears slowly falling from her eyes. But she's happy, so happy. Because he's made his choice, publicly declared it even, and it is to stand with her. Even in the face of certain death.

It makes him proud. That she's so deliriously happy only because he chose her over everything else. It makes him feel like he's worth something if she feels this happy about having him by her side.

"I'm doing what Voldemort told us to do, Father..." he says, slowly moving his arm around Hermione's side, pulling her closer to his body.

The first time he stayed silent. The second time he tried. But the third time...the third time...

"...I'm declaring myself."

A/N: It's done. Let me know what you think?

I didn't have a Beta so if you spot any mistakes, please do me the kindness of letting me know.

Sincerely, Hanane