Inescapable by DMHP2014

~ Chapter 18 ~

Hermione remained staring at the door long after Draco had left and closed it behind him.

Her mind was racing but not for the seemingly obvious reasons. No. She had far more pressing and rather concerning matters than the present issue - Harry - but she tried her best to focus on what Draco had said.

"You need to forgive him."

Draco wanted her to forgive Harry. He'd said she needed to forgive him. Aside from the fact that he was asking her to forgive the person who'd almost killed him, this wasn't like Draco. He and Harry weren't friends. Draco didn't owe him anything, if anything - Harry owed him. This meant she must really look miserable if he was suggesting it. Could she do it? Could she really forgive Harry for nearly killing Draco?

Hermione wasn't sure she was willing to do that just yet, and in all honesty, she thought it would do Harry some good to stew in it a bit longer. He'd been stupid and careless, he'd disregarded her pleas to stop and listen, and as a result, he'd almost killed someone... not just someone, Draco. This wasn't something she could easily forgive, and Harry needed to realize that he couldn't just run off and do whatever he damned well pleased. She didn't think that Harry was completely without remorse – his earlier words proved that. But she thought that it would be good for him to think on it a little longer. He hadn't only hurt Draco, he'd hurt Hermione too, something that he seemed to be having trouble comprehending. He wasn't taking her and Draco's relationship seriously.

"Hermione?" came Harry's voice, thickly and nasally due to his broken nose - his gift from Blaise.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed deeply, as much as she tried to reel in her scattered thoughts, they just kept drifting back to her bag and what was inside it. Now that Draco was gone, there was no distraction and she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. God, she felt sick, nauseated... she should have told him, she should have told him. Draco had known she was lying about what she was reading - Arithmancy? Yeah, right. Draco was many things, but he wasn't stupid. Yet, still, he didn't push her, he didn't demand to know what was going on. Why didn't she just tell him? Why was she keeping this to herself? This had just as much to do with him as it did her, and keeping it from him wasn't going to do either of them any favors in the end. They needed to sort this out, they had so much to talk about -

"Hermione?" Harry repeated, firmer this time.

Hermione sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. Shit, Harry. Right, she needed to focus and deal with this first. Focus. Focus! However, that was easier said than done. She couldn't focus on her problems with Harry any more than she could fly without the aid of a broom. She had far more important things to worry about and, quite frankly, Harry's issue paled in comparison.

"Harry," Hermione spun around and brought her hand up to her head, rubbing her temple as a fierce ache began to bloom. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now. I have to go and -" she snapped her mouth closed before she said too much. "I just can't. There's something I need to do, and it can't wait," she glanced at her bag near Harry's feet, her heart instantly constricting.

In response to her outwardly feeble excuse, Harry let out a low hissing breath, and her gaze quickly flicked back to his face, meeting green eyes that were sharp and surprisingly angry. Great. She didn't need this right now. He was going to argue with her, she could tell by his stiff posture and determined expression. He had blood pissing out of his nose and already had two black eyes forming, but that didn't seem to be deterring him any. It was clear that he wouldn't let her leave without at least some form of conversation in the area of patching things up. "Hermione, please," he beseeched. "It's been two weeks! I hate this. I hate not talking to you. We have to sort this out. I can't do this anymore. We've never fought as much as we have these past few months, not in the six years we've known each other. I won't lose you, not over him," his tone dropped as he spat the last word like he had a nasty taste in his mouth.

"Him?" Hermione snarled, her anger spiking. "He has a name, Harry!" It wasn't so much that he hadn't used Draco's name, she was more pissed off with his tone than anything else, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him get away with it.

She couldn't believe it. Harry still didn't get it, but then again why would he? She'd done nothing but dodge him and refuse to speak to him since it happened... But, even so, he had been there in the bathroom. He'd seen how she reacted, he must know how she felt about Draco. Only an idiot could have watched her emotional breakdown and not seen it for what it truly was. She'd been absolutely devastated, seeing Draco on the floor dying in a pool of his own blood was the hardest thing she'd ever had to endure. Her heart had ripped in two, the thought of him not surviving had made her not want to live anymore. That's how much Draco meant to her. How could Harry still be acting like this? It amazed her - the lengths he was going to avoid the truth. She could understand to an extent, this was obviously hard for him - his best friend in a relationship with his enemy. Yet, Hermione couldn't help but feel deeply frustrated and angry. He was letting his hatred blind him, and that annoyed her more than anything else.

Harry sighed and wiped a glistening trail of blood from his top lip. "Hermione," he began tiredly.

"Why did you come here, Harry?" she cut him off, her hands shaking with barely suppressed anger. She didn't want to argue with him, but it seemed inevitable at this point. "Why did you even bother to apologize if you still feel the same way about him? Was it just a bullshit lie to get me to forgive you? Because if that's the case, you can fuck off!"

Harry's eyes flashed with fury as he bolted up out of his seat, knocking it to the ground with a loud bang. "Are you fucking serious, Hermione?" he growled, planting his hands on the desk as he leaned over it in an almost intimidating manner. "No! It wasn't a bullshit lie. My apology was sincere. I wouldn't apologize just to appease you, no matter how much I want to straighten this mess out. I'm not that much of an arsehole and you know it, you know me," he jabbed his finger into his chest for emphasis and paused, daring her to refute it. She didn't. She did know Harry, and he wasn't like that. He straightened up with a huff of frustration. "Everything I said was a hundred percent true. I didn't mean to hurt him that badly and I don't want him dead. But that doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to be OK with everything he's doing," he straightened up and sighed, looking tired and weary all of a sudden. "I mean, come on, Hermione. How do you expect me to just be OK with this?"

"I expect you to be OK with it because I expect you to trust me –" she began, but Harry cut her off with a snarl, his anger coming back with a vengeance.

"He's a fucking Death Eater!" he bellowed, exasperated, like that explained everything and was reason enough for the way he'd been acting."He's our enemy. Or have you forgotten that with the amount of time you're spending in his bed with your legs wrapped around him?"

Hermione reeled her head back like she'd been slapped. She'd started to feel guilty - still did a little, if she was being honest, but that last comment had washed most of it away.

"Fuck," Harry growled, thumping his fist hard on the desk. "I didn't mean it to come out like that."

"Yes you did," she informed him through gritted teeth, her anger simmering in her veins. As much as she wanted to rage at him, there was a small part of her that sympathized with him – a very small part. She couldn't fully blame him, even though she desperately wanted to. This was a complicated situation and hard to explain without revealing anything personal about Draco, which, of course, she would never do without his consent. Harry would never understand without her telling him the whole truth. They were going around in circles and would keep doing so. This was a waste of time and energy. She needed to leave, she needed to get back to her dormitory. Her eyes flicked to her bag again, her scalp prickling uneasily.

"I just don't get it," Harry stressed wildly with his hands, interrupting her thoughts for the third time. He stepped out from behind the desk, shortening the distance between them, confusion evident in his expression. "This isn't like you. You would never normally do something like this," he paused, eyes scanning her face. He looked lost and dejected. "You know, I'd been hoping that you'd called things off with him. I've been checking the map regularly and haven't seen you with him for weeks - not since..." he trailed off. Not since Harry had nearly killed him. He didn't need to say it out loud, they both knew when he was referring to. "Anyway," he sighed. "After what I walked in on tonight, I can see that it's still very much on," he shook his head in disappointment, his lips forming a tight line.

Hermione wanted to ask him what on earth he'd thought they might have been doing in an unused classroom if not hooking up, but she refrained. It was neither here nor there. It was good to know that he hadn't seen her in the Slytherin dormitories, maybe he hadn't thought to check there, probably assuming she wouldn't dare step foot in the snake's den.

"You're the sensible one," Harry continued like there hadn't been a long stretch of silence. "I'm at a loss at what to do here. Ron still doesn't have any idea what's going on, which is a miracle considering," he glanced around the room like he was searching for something, something that would help him articulate what he was trying to say to her. After a moment, he gritted his teeth together and turned back towards her, a resolute look on his face.

Oh God, what was he going to say now?

"This isn't going to be easy to hear, but I have to say it. I have to. Because if I don't and something happens to you, I will never forgive myself for not at least warning you," he took a deep steadying breath as Hermione frowned, mentally preparing herself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Going off the look he was giving her, it wasn't going to be good. "Malfoy is using you," he told her unambiguously, eyeing her like one would a skittish animal. "He's using you, and it's about time you realized it," Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but what could she say? She still couldn't tell him anything, she couldn't betray Draco's confidence just because Harry had drawn ridiculous conclusions from the limited information he had. Harry could sense she was about to argue with him, so he quickly plowed on. "He's playing on your emotions. You're being manipulated and mislead all for his amusement, or, quite possibly, more sinister reasons. I know this is going to be hard for you to believe, especially at this point - I'm fully aware you have... feelings for him - but please just take a step back and look around you. Look at what he's doing. I worry that you're in this too deep and you're unable to think rationally -"

"Harry," Hermione groaned, dropping her head as she pressed her thumb and forefinger into the inner corners of her eyes. God, she wished she could put him in his place and tell him he had it all wrong.

"I'm telling you this because I love you," Harry continued in a rush. "You mean so much to me. What kind of friend would I be if I stayed silent?" Hermione understood where he was coming from, she did, which is why she couldn't stay angry with him. "I will not let him hurt you. You can push me away and refuse to listen to me all you like, but I will always fight for you, I will always be here for you, you're my family," he stared at her fiercely, emerald eyes unblinking. At that moment Hermione could do nothing but gaze back at him, feeling weirdly touched at his heartfelt admission, even if he was painting Draco in an unjust, bad light. After all, it wasn't his fault he didn't have all the correct information. She would probably think the same thing if she was in his position.

"You have to face it, Hermione. He's a Death Eater and there's nothing you can do to change that, no matter how much you want to. It's too late," he told her gently when all she did was continue to stare at him. "I know it's not entirely his fault, he was born into this, just like I was. But he had a choice, a difficult one, yes, but a choice all the same. And he chose wrong, Hermione. He chose Voldemort. The mark on his left arm proves that. He's trapped now, and there's no way he can get out of it," a muscle in his jaw jumped as he reached up and quickly swiped the blood off his top lip again with the back of his hand, smearing more of it across his face. "Not without dire consequences, anyway," he added with a deep sigh.

"Harry," she shook her head sadly, this was so messed up, and there was nothing she could say to him to put him at ease. "I hear what you're saying and I understand why you feel this way, but you don't know Draco, you don't know the real Draco. Things aren't as black and white as they seem. There's more to it than meets to eye."

"Really?" he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes skeptically. Hermione could tell he didn't believe her. "If that's so, then tell me about the real Draco Malfoy. Tell me what I'm missing. Prove to me I'm wrong," he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

He was humoring her like one would a child, and she didn't appreciate it.

Hermione loosed a breath and looked up towards the ceiling, counting to ten as she did so. "I can't."

"Right," Harry nodded like he hadn't expected any other response. "So, you're keeping secrets now? You've never kept anything from me before."

"It's not my secret to tell," she snapped harshly, balling her fists. For fuck's sake, what was wrong with him? This was getting more and more frustrating by the second. He was being ridiculous. He was suffocating her with his endless questions."This is very personal to Draco, and you are the last person he would want knowing about this. I would have thought you'd understand, seeing as you, too, hate talking about anything personal and would lose your shit if you found out I told Draco anything you consider private."

"Well, have you?" Harry questioned, eyebrow raised.

Hermione's hands shook as her nails dug into her palms, pain flaring. To even ask her was so fucking insulting. It was a dick move. "No," she gritted, lowly. "I haven't. Believe it or not, we never talk about you."

Harry stared at her for several uncomfortable seconds, the tension in the room increasing until it was a tangible thing in the air around them. "I'm sorry, but I just can't trust what you're saying. I can't trust that whatever he's told you is true," a small muscle jumped in his jaw."For all I know, Malfoy has fed you some bullshit story that you've readily believed because your feelings are clouding your judgment," he sighed and shook his head in annoyance, frown deepening."Has it ever occurred to you that he's made it all up, told you to keep it a secret because he knows by doing so it will get between us?" He paused, eyeing Hermione imploringly."It's obvious what he's doing. He's trying to cut you off from your friends, he wants to isolate you from everyone so that you only have him to rely on, so that he can easily manipulate you and get you to go along with everything he's doing. Christ," he bit out."Why can't you see that?"

"You think he's trying to cut me off from my friends?" Hermione asked, exasperated, barking out a humorless laugh. "I wouldn't even be standing here talking to you right now if it wasn't for him!" she yelled with an almost demented look on her face. "Do you know what he said to me as he left the room? He told me I need to forgive you. HE told ME I need to forgive YOU!" she paused a moment, allowing her words to sink in and relished the look of shock that clouded Harry's features. "Does that sound like someone who is trying to cut me off from my friends?"

Harry didn't respond, his mouth opened and then closed, but no sound came out.

"Does it?!" she demanded.

"Well... No... Yes... I don't know!" Harry yelled back. "I don't know what his motives are," he scoffed. "He's probably -"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE! JUST STOP! JUST. STOP! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" she exploded, thoroughly enraged now, she couldn't do this anymore, she couldn't listen to this utter rubbish. She had tried, she'd tried to be understanding, tried to be mindful of what Harry was feeling, but this was too much. For a moment there, he'd almost had her questioning herself, questioning Draco. How absurd. She'd quickly blasted the treacherous thoughts from her mind before they'd taken root, but it didn't negate the fact that they had been there - brief or not. And she hated herself for it. She hated herself for even doubting Draco for a single second, but as usual, Harry was relentless. This is exactly why she hadn't wanted to talk to him in the first place. She knew he was going to be like this. Draco wasn't lying to her, she knew this without a doubt. She believed everything he told her about his mother, all of it. Harry didn't have a clue what he was talking about. He wasn't there, he didn't see how cut up Draco was about everything.

"You don't know him!" she pointed an accusing finger at Harry. "I've been trying to tell you that, but you're not listening to me! This is what you do all the time, you never listen and you jump to conclusions and rush into situations, and then horrible things always end up happening," Harry recoiled at what she was insinuating, he knew what she was referring to. Sirius. It was a low blow and she was out of order for saying it, bang out of order, but he needed to back off. "I'm telling you, Harry. You have this all wrong, you have Draco all wrong! He's a good person, he's going to do the right thing. I know he is."

"You don't know shit!" he told her coldly. "You're deluded. He must be a good fucking shag because he's got you right where he wants you, firmly wrapped around his cock!"

Hermione gritted her teeth and clenched her fists tightly. She felt like hitting him, she felt like pulling her fist back and punching him right on the jaw – a broken jaw to go with his broken nose. The urge was so strong, it almost took her breath away. God, the way he said it made Hermione feel dirty and cheap, like she was nothing but a whore for Draco to have fun with now and again. What she had with Draco was much more than just sex, not that Harry would understand that. She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to hurl abuse at him, but she thought better of it. "He is a good shag," she informed him conversationally, knowing it would rile him up more than shouting at him ever could. "He thoroughly satisfies me in all areas."

Harry's face twisted in disgust and he nodded. "So I've been told."

Hermione frowned, not knowing what he meant by that. This was ridiculous. What were they even doing? They were getting petty now, and it was getting them nowhere. She knew this would happen, which was why she hadn't wanted to talk to him in the first place. If they carried on like this, they would end up saying something they truly regretted.

"Look, I'm going to put a stop to this right here before either of us say something that damages this friendship beyond recognition and repair. We've both said some horrible things, so let's leave it at that. Despite what you think, Harry, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know Draco and I know what I'm doing. If you can't trust me and my judgment, then that's fine, that's your choice, but nothing you say is going to change my mind when it comes to Draco. I won't be discussing this any further," she marched over to her bag and snatched it off the floor.

Harry let loose a loud, frustrated growl and ran his hands roughly through his hair, tugging hard at large tuffs like he was trying to pull it right out of his scalp. "Hermione, wait!" he grabbed her arm and spun her around as she tried to make a break for the door.

"What?" she tried to snatch her arm back, but his grip was like iron.

"This is not how this was supposed to go," he gazed at her with pleading eyes. "We were meant to sort this out, not push each other away further!"

She laughed humorlessly. "Well, why not just blame Draco for our failed reunion and take no responsibility - like you've been doing for the last few months, you seem to be good at that."

"What the fuck?" Harry demanded with a scowled. "Hermione -"

"WHAT?!" she snarled savagely, voice ricocheting off the stone walls.

Harry reeled his head back in surprise, but a second later his gaze was boring down on her, his jaw tense. "Fine, if this is how you want to leave it, then so be it!" he hissed at her. "But let me ask you one more thing; how do you honestly think this is all going to end? Let's just pretend for a moment that you're right and Malfoy does have good intentions, that he's on our side. Do you think Voldemort is just going to let him walk?" Harry was in her face now, close enough that she could smell the clean, crisp scent of his deodorant. "When Malfoy doesn't turn up when he's summoned, do you think Voldemort won't send the other Death Eaters out looking for him?"

Hermione blinked up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every sharp breath she took.

"For all your talk of not being an idiot, it's pretty fucking stupid that you haven't thought of that. Because I'm telling you now, Voldemort would hunt him down, there's no doubt about it, and he'd never stop! Look what's happening to his father right now! Malfoy would be no exception, they'll do the same thing to him. That mark on his arm prevents him from hiding in one place. He'd always be on the run, moving from city to city. They'll track him to the ends of the earth if they have to and they won't stop until he's dead, or Voldemort is. Is that the kind of life he wants?" Harry snarled inexorably. "Is that the kind of life you want?" he gritted, pulling her towards him, shaking her in the process. "You're both fools! You'll both die, horrifically. You might think you know what you're doing, but you haven't thought this through at all, not really. I know it's easy to forget everything that's going on out there when you're inside the safety of the castle walls, but you both need to pull your heads out of your arses and think about this seriously. Because if it's true what you're implying about Malfoy, that he doesn't want to be a Death Eater, that he's misunderstood, the day will come, soon, when he'll have to make another difficult choice, and he better choose right, because there'll be no going back once he does. This isn't a game, it's war, I thought you of all people understood that," he let her go and stepped back, chest heaving.

Hermione just stood there staring at him, her body trembling in the aftermath of his outburst. His words were somersaulting around inside her head, bouncing off each other and making her head spin. He'd well and truly unloaded on her, no holds barred. She should be upset - she was upset - but more than that she was unnerved. Unnerved in a way that made her heart race and her body shake with fear. Ultimately, Harry was right, everything he'd said was absolutely right. She and Draco hadn't thought this through properly, not at all. Come to think of it, they'd barely spoken about it, apart from the heart-to-heart they'd had in his dormitory when he'd told her about his tasks and how his mother was being held captive. All they'd agreed on is that they'd work something out together and somehow get his mother freed and find a way so that he wouldn't have to finish the tasks. Not only had they not done any of that - they still hadn't made any plans or even discussed how to go about it - but Hermione hadn't once thought about what they would do after. Where would it leave them? Harry made a good point, Draco couldn't just join them and fight against the dark side, his Dark Mark prevented that. It made him vulnerable and he'd be putting everyone around him at risk. They couldn't afford that, which meant he would have to go on the run. Did Hermione want to go on the run with him? Did Draco even want to go on the run? She couldn't imagine him running. He would hate it. She couldn't picture a life without him now, it would break her heart if they were separated. Yet, she'd always seen herself fighting by Harry's side, despite that they'd been arguing so much lately. She'd always planned to help Harry through this with whatever he needed. Could she just leave Harry and Ron and go on the run with Draco, if that's what Draco decided to do?... and furthermore, had Draco already thought all this through and come to this same conclusion? Had he been keeping it from her? Was he planning something without her?... More and more questions rose to the surface, all more disturbing than the last until she was swaying on the spot under the weight of them all. She swallowed, feeling unbearably sick. He wouldn't plan anything without her, he wouldn't... Would he?

Hermione felt the heavyweight of her bag on her shoulder, remembering what was inside, and her heart plummeted.

Harry gripped her shoulders, drawing her attention back to him, as he scanned her face worriedly. He looked as though he could sense her thoughts, every last, dreadful one them. "I know I can't make you do something you don't want to do, so I'm not even going to try. You know how I feel about this, and that will have to be enough," his face twisted in contradiction as if it wasn't enough, not nearly. "If Malfoy really cares for you like you think he does, he'd keep you out of this mess. He'd keep you safe and away from it all."

A tear slipped out of Hermione's eye, then another, and then another. That's exactly what she was afraid of.

She was shaken to her very core, she didn't know what to say or what to even think. It was all too much.

Harry reached out and brushed a few stray tears away. "I'm so sorry," he said thickly, sounding utterly regretful. "It's a hard truth, I know, but one you needed to hear. I meant what I said earlier, I love you, Hermione, I always will. No matter what," there was so much emotion in those last three words, so much pain and sorrow. And Hermione knew why. She understood exactly what he was saying... No matter what she chose, whether it be staying to fight with Harry or running off with Draco, or whatever it may be, he would always love her. No matter what.

And just like that, her heart swelled as it simultaneously broke in half.

A small noise left her, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, and she flung her arms out and wrapped them around Harry's neck, squeezing him tightly, their argument suddenly forgotten, "I love you too, Harry. Thank you."

Hermione cried all the way back to her dormitory as the wild rain lashed the windows outside with a ferocity that matched her inner turmoil perfectly. It was like it was calling out to her, sympathizing with the heartache and confusion she was feeling, drawn to her by some invisible beacon.

After standing in the classroom and hugging Harry for long minutes, she'd sent him off to Madam Pomfrey to get his nose fixed. She was far too emotional to do it herself and didn't want to make it any worse than it already was.

She tried not to think too much about anything, just allowing her emotions to take over and do their thing, which, at that moment, felt like they were trying their damned hardest to suffocate her. She needed a release, she needed to get rid of some of the intense pressure that was building up inside her, so she cried, and she cried some more. It was about the best and the only thing she could do for herself right now.

She didn't pass a single soul in the corridors, living or dead, which meant it must have been late indeed. She was glad because she could only imagine what kind of state her face was in. Sadly, she wasn't one of those cute criers. Oh no. She was the kind whose eyes swelled and turned bloodshot, her nose would run at the same time it would block up, turning her into a heavy mouth-breather - definitely not cute. And her skin would turn so blotchy that it looked as if she'd caught some contagious disease. All in all, she was glad no one was around to witness it.

Everyone was fast asleep with their curtains drawn when she quietly entered her dormitory ten minutes later. Crookshanks was curled up at the foot of her bed, ears delicately twitching as he dreamed soundly.

Hermione envied him at that moment, how he didn't have a single care in the world, except where his next sleeping spot would be, or where he'd go out hunting next.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes roughly and then quickly stripped out of her uniform and pulled on some clean, warm flannel pajama's.

She threw her bag onto her bed and climbed atop the large comfy mattress, drawing the curtains closed behind her, effectively shutting herself and Crookshanks inside the confines of her four-poster. She pulled her wand out of the side pocket of her bag, making a point to not actually look at the bag - she couldn't face it just yet - and cast a quick silencing charm, not wanting to disturb any of her dormmates. Or, more accurately, not wanting any of them to ask any questions if they happened to hear her crying.

She sat perfectly still in the center of her bed, allowing the silence of the dormitory to close in all around her. She concentrated on the thump thump thump thump of her heart, counting each beat as she breathed deeply in and then out, trying desperately to calm her frayed nerves.

After a few moments, she glanced at her bag but almost immediately looked away again.

Shit. She couldn't do it. She couldn't do it.

She sighed deeply and rubbed the center of her forehead, feeling frustrated with herself. Avoiding it wasn't going to help matters any. She needed to figure out what was happening and why.

Feeling completely overwhelmed, she had the sudden urge to go to Draco, sneak into the Slytherin dorms and straight into his arms. She wanted his warmth wrapped around her, she wanted to concentrate on the beat of his heart, not her own. Only Draco could make her feel calm right now, only he could make her feel safe and protected. He could reassure her, tell her that he hadn't been keeping anything from her, that he wasn't planning anything behind her back. No, he wouldn't do that. It was simply all in her head, her mind was running away with her. She was stressed and it was normal to feel worried and insecure. He could put her at ease, make her feel better. She didn't want to be alone tonight, she didn't want to be alone with her thoughts and the burden in her bag that needed her urgent attention. If she knew the password to the Slytherin dorms, she would be running there in an instant.

As if sensing her anxiety, Crookshanks unfurled from his spot, making a show of stretching his back legs, before he prowled towards her, purring loudly. He bumped his head against her hand and looked up at her, blinking slowly.

"Hey, boy," Hermione cooed with a small sniff, scratching his favorite spot behind his ears and then gently running her hand down the length of his back.

Crookshanks purred louder, arching his back, his tail flicking to and fro, and climbed up to curl himself inside the little nook created by her crossed legs.

His warm weight was a welcome comfort as she continued to stroke him. He rested his head on her thigh and gazed up at her worriedly, or, at least, as worried as a half-kneazle could look. God, she must really look like a sorry-state. He was rarely like this, preferring to go at it alone. Nevertheless, she appreciated it all the same and would take whatever affection he was willing to give.

After procrastinating for a further few minutes, Hermione glanced at her bag again.

Right. Enough.

She reached over and yanked it towards her with more force than she'd intended.

Stuffing her hand inside, she fished around, bumping all manner of things, until she found what she was looking for. She knew she had the right book before she pulled it out, she could tell by the texture of the worn leather against her fingertips.

She brought it out and held it tightly in her hands as she stared down at it apprehensively. The embossed gold title read:

The Magic of Prophetic Jewelry by Ernie Trout.

Hermione had found the book hidden deep in the library, definitely a strange book to have in a school library, but she'd come across weirder reading material in the years she'd been at Hogwarts. It was only a short book, she'd already read it through several times, but unfortunately, she hadn't been able to glean any information in regards to helping her understand how her necklace worked. There was nothing on the mechanics of the magic and how it worked to produce the prophecy, only passages on which spells and charms were most commonly used, and a list of diamonds that were proven most effective to bind magic to.

Hermione didn't think her necklace even came close to any of the spells or charms the book referred to. It talked about weather predictions, sickness predictions, and ill-will detection - all basic things. Nothing relating to love or relationships. She knew her necklace was extremely old, it was a Malfoy family heirloom, and as such, it wasn't going to be easy to find information on it. She'd bet anything that the spell used on her necklace had been banned centuries ago. The Ministry of Magic had strict rules on prophecies, especially when it came to love, life and death. Everything had to go through the Ministry, and all prophecies had to be stored or filed in the Hall of Prophecy within the Department of Mysteries. It had been that way for hundreds of years now and for good reason, too. It wasn't necessarily a good thing to prophesize the future - in fact, it more often than not ended tragically. There had been many a witch and wizard who had driven themselves insane over a prophecy.

Hermione could relate, she felt like she was heading that way herself. It also made her think of Harry's prophecy and how he must be feeling about it. He barely mentioned it, but it must be eating him up inside.

She wondered if she was wasting her time, she suspected the only place she'd get any real answers about her necklace would be in the Malfoy Manor library, and it wasn't like she could just swing by and have a look, perhaps borrow a few books and say a quick hello to Voldemort while she was there.

She shook her head and sighed explosively, scaring poor Crookshanks out of his wits. He yowled unhappily and streaked across the bed, disappearing through the curtains.

"Sorry," she hissed after him, cringing.

Hermione looked down at the book again, staring at it intently, trying to build up the courage to do what was needed. Taking several deep breaths, she tilted the book on its side, spine upwards, and shook it until an old, yellowed booklet fell out.

Hermione swallowed thickly, her eyes fixed on the worn parchment. How could something so small cause so much torment?

She tossed the useless prophecy book to the side and licked her dry lips.

How Draco hadn't seen the old booklet tucked inside the book, she'll never know. He'd been standing right over her when he'd asked her what she was reading. He'd been gracious not to push her, but if he'd seen what she'd really been stressing over - not Arithmancy but the old parchment that accompanied the family heirloom he'd given her - he wouldn't have been able to let it go.

They still hadn't said a word to one another about the prophecy, neither of them had brought it up. Perhaps Draco thought she hadn't read it yet? Or maybe he thought that she didn't understand what it was. In all honesty, she wouldn't have, not really, not without Blaise's help, but Draco couldn't know that. He had no idea that she'd spoken to his best friend about the necklace. So, why hadn't he brought it up? Was he waiting for her to say something first? Did he not believe in the prophecy? Maybe he knew something she didn't? He'd surely read everything relating to the necklace. Perhaps he thought it was bullshit? Although, Blaise did say that all documentation in the Malfoy Manor library said that the prophecies had been fairly accurate for all previous owners.

"Shit," she muttered aloud, rubbing her hands over her face. Her head was banging, she'd been going over and over this in her mind all day, and it was bloody exhausting.

Not wanting to drag it on any longer than she already had, she picked up the booklet, hands trembling, and opened it to the first page.

"Oh, God," she breathed, panic instantly taking hold of her, as her eyes scanned the looping handwriting scrawled across the page.

It had changed, the Prophecy had changed. Again.

Hermione woke at five the next morning, after only an hour of fitful sleep.

The booklet was still open on her chest and she lifted it, squinting at the writing through bleary, tired eyes.

She was not surprised to find that it had changed again. Through the course of the night, it had changed close to a dozen times... or perhaps it was nearer to two dozen? She couldn't be sure. She'd eventually stopped counting and not long after that, she'd stop reading it, too.

After all, what was the point?

The same prophecy never reappeared, and with it changing so frequently, she had quickly learned that there was no use getting upset over every little thing it said. Most of the prophecies had been similar, apart from one or two that she'd rather not think about. They alluded to a difficult decision that needed to be made and unimaginable risks that may need to be taken. One constant message throughout them all had been that there were two clear paths ahead, yet there was no certainty as to which would be the one traveled in the end. It was going to culminate soon though, the paths were there. Right in front of them. Which would they choose? That was another constant.

Which path will you choose? Left or Right?

Have a look. They're in your sight.

It was like a sick joke. She had no idea what was on either path, let alone where they would lead her and Draco. Did she even want to know? There had been no mention of possibly spending years apart since the first prophecy, which was a relief, but the mention of difficult decisions and unimaginable risks left her feeling even more uneasy than before. She didn't like not knowing. She didn't like the feeling that her happiness was hanging on a flimsy thread in front of her, just out of reach, and it all depended on a single decision. That's what was going on here. That's why the prophecy had gone haywire, flipping from one thing to the next. Blaise had said that it was susceptible to change, depending on the decisions she and Draco made. It was confused, and not because of her, she realized that now because her mind hadn't changed... This was Draco. He was the one that was causing this. He was the one that was having second thoughts, and, ultimately, he would be the one who would have to make the difficult decision.

It made her stomach churn and her heart race for more reasons than one. But what she was struggling with the most was the loss of control. She had no control over this. In the end, the decision wasn't hers. It was his. And that was the worst part of it all.

She wasn't going to lie, she felt angry and she felt hurt. Why hadn't Draco included her in this decision? He could have told her last night if he was having doubts about anything or if he'd come up with another course of action...

Even as she thought this, there was a small voice in the back of her head calling her a hypocrite. Hadn't she hidden from him that the prophecy had been changing? She couldn't call him out for keeping things from her when she'd done the same thing. If she'd just told him about the prophecy, it was likely that he would have opened up to her. She had no one to blame but herself. And besides, maybe he hadn't told her yet because he hadn't decided. Perhaps he was trying to sort through it all first before he presented the plan to her, or whatever it was. It was like him to do that, he wouldn't want to upset her unnecessarily. He wouldn't want to make a fuss when he wasn't even sure what he was going to do in the end.

Shit. Her mind was running away with her again.

She needed to talk to Draco. The only way to sort this out was to talk to him and lay it all out on the table. No more hiding things from each other. No more secrets.

With that decided, she jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom in hopes that a shower would breathe some much-needed life into her.

Curse it all to hell, but when Hermione finally made it to the Great Hall for breakfast, Draco was nowhere to be seen. And when she realized that he wasn't among the final stragglers, she almost bit Ron's head right off.

"Will you stop chewing like that! It's disgusting!" she snarled in the redhead's direction.

Ron immediately stopped chewing and stared at her wide-eyed. "Bloody hell, what's got your knickers in a twist? You haven't spoken to me for weeks, and that's the first thing that comes out of your mouth? Charming."

Hermine looked towards the heavens, almost pulling an eye muscle in the process. She considered telling him exactly why she had her knickers in a twist, curious to see how he'd react. She was feeling unusually rebellious. She wanted to wreak some havoc, create a big scene, maybe by doing so it would distract her from the sheer helplessness she was currently feeling.

In the end, she decided against it. "I just detest seeing and hearing your breakfast rolling around in your mouth. Perhaps if you closed it and tried eating like a civilized person, I wouldn't have to snap at you all the time. You eat like you were raised by a passel of hogs!"

Ron scoffed at the insult, looking thoroughly affronted. His eyes went wide and he began waving his hands about wildly, indecipherable sounds coming from his mouth.

Hermione shook her head, her nostrils flaring in disgust. "This is exactly what I'm talking about," she tutted. "I can't understand a word you're trying to say, Ronald. Until you finish what you're eating, I refuse to argue with you any further."

It wasn't until his face started turning a curious shade of blue that she realized that he wasn't arguing with her, he was in actual fact choking.

Well, that's what he got for talking with his mouth full. Let it be a lesson.

Ron gagged loudly, and Hermione sighed impatiently, rolling her eyes.

Realizing what was happening, Harry dropped his knife and fork with a loud clang and began clapping the redhead hard on the back, all the while throwing her a narrow-eyed look.

Harry would usually be laughing at them, he always found Hermione and Rons' petty quarrels amusing and would definitely have found Ron choking especially funny, but this time he wasn't laughing.

Hermione gazed at him, knawing anxiously on the corner of her thumbnail. She noted that his nose had been fully healed by Madam Pomfrey, there was no sign of what had transpired the night before, thank God.

"Everything OK, Hermione?" he asked, eyeing her intently. It wasn't the casual, arbitrary question everyone in the vicinity thought it was, it was much more profound than that. Which wasn't surprising considering the conversation they'd had the night before and how they'd parted ways. She had been a complete mess.

Hermione dropped her hand away from her mouth, shoulders sagging with the awful weight of worry and uncertainty. No, everything isn't OK. It's far from it. God, she wished she could tell him what was really going on. She needed her friend, she needed someone to talk to. But nothing had changed since the night before, despite what he'd said about not forcing her and letting her make her own decisions - and wasn't that ironic? Because as it turned out, the decision wasn't even hers.

As if in mockery of her internal suffering, Ron suddenly hacked up the piece of sausage and sent it hurtling across the table, where it hit her smack-bang in the middle of her forehead.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and slowly looked up to glare at him, utterly repulsed.

"Oops," he rasped, trying to catch his breath, snickers erupting around them. "Sorry, 'Mione."

Choosing to bite her tongue, Hermione turned away from him with a flick of her hair and busied herself with pouring a steaming cup of hot tea. When she looked up again, she noticed Harry was still staring at her, green eyes fixed on her face, deep concern clouding his expression.

"I'm fine, Harry," she sighed impatiently. "I'm just tired. Now finish your breakfast," she ordered in her usual bossy tone that they were accustomed to, taking a careful sip of her tea. "Classes start soon, and you don't want to be late."

His lips twitched, probably enjoying the normality of Hermione ordering them around, and he lifted his hand to salute her. "Aye, aye, Captain."

While Harry and Ron dug back into their breakfast, idly discussing the flying form of the new player the Chudley Canons had recently signed, Hermione glanced over to the Slytherin table and quickly scanned it several times.

Draco still hadn't arrived.

Where was he?

She spotted Blaise and Theo huddled together on a quiet section of the table, away from everyone else, and frowned deeply. That was weird, they never sat alone like that. What were they doing? What were they talking about?

Blaise looked... angry, which was strange, because he never got angry, about anything.

She stared at them intently, getting more and more concerned the longer she watched them. She couldn't make out what they were saying exactly, but whatever it was about, it was getting heated.

Blaise suddenly stood up, face twisting with rage as he gritted his teeth together and made to leave. He didn't get far though, because Theo pulled him back down with enough force that several people around them turned to see what was going on.

Hermione swallowed thickly, watching Theo get right in Blaise's face, their noses almost touching as he snarled words that only they could hear. After a moment, Blaise shoved the other Slytherin away, almost sending him toppling backward off the bench, and turned back to his untouched breakfast, face like thunder.

It was then that Blaise looked up, dark fathomless eyes meeting Hermione's across the expanse of the Great Hall.

Even though she couldn't understand what it was that she saw in them, she didn't like it, she didn't like it at all. Not the sheer wildness about them and not the way they pinned her to the spot, rendering her unable to look away.

Draco was a no-show for the rest of the day. They only had one lesson together - Ancient Runes, but he didn't turn up for it. She later found out, after some thorough investigation, that he hadn't turned up to any of his lessons. And he hadn't been in the Great Hall at lunch, either.

Where the fuck was he?

She'd tried cornering Blaise numerous times throughout the day, but he managed to evade her at every turn. He'd seen her, she was certain of it, which made the possible reasons he was dodging her that much more worrying.

It had to do with Draco, that much was obvious, clearly, Blaise didn't want her questioning him about the blond's whereabouts. Whatever was going on with the infuriatingly elusive Slytherin, it wasn't good. For Blaise to look like he did - stressed, angry, worried - it wasn't good at all.

She obsessively checked the booklet to see if the prophecy had settled, to see if Draco had made his decision, but it was still spouting off the same shit... that is, until she checked it later that night as she made her way to the Great Hall for dinner.

The decision is yours,

but it won't be much longer.

He will snatch it from you,

leaving you no room to ponder.

The words jumped out at her, sneering and mocking.

He? Who was he? Did it mean Voldemort?

Why wouldn't the decision be Draco's much longer?

And exactly how much time did much longer equate to? A month? A week? A few days?

Hermione stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, heart pummeling the inside of her chest, making her feel dizzy and light-headed.

She didn't like that there had been a time limit put on it - and a vague one at that. What had changed? If it turned out that they did only have a few days, they were fucked. How were they going to figure all this out in a few days? This wasn't a simple decision. This was huge. This was Draco's life. This was his mother's life. And others were in danger, too. If they didn't play this exactly right, if they didn't plan out every minor little detail... shit, she didn't even want to think about the repercussions.

Hermione let the enormity of it all wash over her. Feeling more and more helpless as the seconds ticked by.

Students bumped into the back of her, making her stumble this way and that, as she stared ahead of her at nothing in particular and wondered what the hell she was going to do next.

No matter how much she tried to calm herself down and tell herself that she was overreacting, she couldn't seem to quell the uneasy feeling that something awful was going to happen.

Was this just her anxiety getting the better of her? Or should she take heed of the apprehension crawling across her skin? She just didn't know.

The corridor was positively bustling, students of all ages talking and joking around, filling the air with cries of joy and peals of laughter. It made her want to scream. She wanted to throw her head back and scream at the top of her lungs until her voice ran out and her throat turned raw with overuse.

How could everyone be so happy when she was falling apart? It didn't seem fair, it wasn't fair.

She gritted her teeth, resisting the silly and absurd urge to scream, and stuffed the booklet back inside her bag, promising herself she wouldn't look at it again until she'd at least spoken to Draco.

She needed to find him, now. Think. Where could he be? Who could she ask to check the Slytherin dorms? Blaise's actions today made it clear that he wouldn't help, but perhaps Theo would? Or maybe she could just...

A thought suddenly came to her... of course! Why hadn't she thought of it before?

Hermione glanced around the corridor, eyes frantic.

Where was Harry? She needed Harry.

Ron!

Hermione spotted Ron talking to Lavender Brown just outside the entrance to the Great Hall. She'd thought they'd broken up, but by the looks of things, it was very much back on.

"Ron," she gasped, coming to an abrupt stop beside them.

Lavender looked Hermione up and down, a look of disdain lining her features.

"Hermione," Ron smiled a little too widely for it to be considered genuine, his eyes flicking awkwardly between the two girls.

"What do you want?" Lavender hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can't you see we're talking? Go bother someone else, Ron doesn't care what you have to say. You've been ignoring him for weeks. Don't assume you can just push your way back into his life whenever you bloody well feel like it."

The last thread of control Hermione had been desperately trying to hold onto suddenly snapped, and in an astonishing display of fury she whirled on her dormmate. "Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!" she yelled, getting right in Lavender's face. "I'm sick to death of you and your unjust attitude towards me, it's getting beyond a joke. Let me make myself abundantly clear, I don't fucking like Ron - not in the way you think I do - never have, never will. That's what this is about, isn't it? You think I'm jealous of you two, you think I'm trying to get between you. Well, I'm not! I couldn't care less who Ron shags, even if it's the biggest slut Hogwarts has ever seen. I'm going to be in Ron's life whether you like it or not, so learn to deal with it or fuck off!"

Lavender stared at Hermione, mouth hanging open like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

Hermione couldn't quite believe it either. She had no idea what had come over her, yet she still stood her ground and refused to back down, staring Lavender right in the eyes as if daring her to retaliate.

Lavender stepped forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I'm going to make you regret what you've just said," she gritted.

Hermione smirked. "Somehow I doubt that, but go ahead, give it a go. I've always loved a trier."

Lavender looked about ready to pull Hermione's hair from her scalp, but after a few moments, she stepped back and turned her ire on Ron. "Thanks for sticking up for me, you arsehole. I thought we were past all this?" she pushed past him and stormed into the Great Hall.

Ron watched her go, sputtering incoherently, eyes wide as saucers. He took a step after her but stopped, seeming to rethink it. He brought his hands up to his head, pulling on tufts of his hair as he rounded on Hermione. "Jesus Christ! What the hell was that?!" he exclaimed, his tone a few pitches higher than usual.

Hermione huffed, her hands unconsciously finding her hips. "Are you kidding me?" she demanded. "That's been a long time coming and you know it. Anyway, never mind that," she waved it off like it was nothing, like it was insignificant, which, in the light of everything else, it was. "Where's Harry?"

Sadly, Ron didn't seem to agree. "You... you... you," he stuttered with rage. "You are unbelievable! What the fuck is wrong with you, Hermione?" he hissed, face glowing red with anger. "You cause a massive scene with Lavender - all because you want to know where Harry is?" he demanded incredulously. "I know she's difficult at times, but did you have to call her a slut? Not just a slut, but the biggest slut Hogwarts has ever seen?" he paused, staring at her in disbelief. "I feel like I don't know you anymore. You've been acting weird for months now, and it's only getting worse. I don't know what is going on with you, but you better sort it out!" he turned on his heel and strode away from her, not even giving her a chance to respond.

Shit. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Well, that wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't regret putting Lavender in her place, but she did regret the deliverance. She definitely could have handled it better. And she most certainly hadn't meant to cause even more of a rift between her and Ron. Unfortunately, that's all she seemed to be doing lately, pushing her friends further and further away.

She would fix it. One way or another, she would fix it all... Even as she thought it, that awful feeling started to unfurl in her stomach again. What if she didn't get the chance to? Everything was so uncertain - Draco, Harry, Ron, her future, where she stood in the war. Nothing was guaranteed.

God, she couldn't dwell on that right now. If she wanted to get through this in one piece, she needed to take things one step at a time.

With that decided, Hermione opened her eyes and turned, planning on heading back to Gryffindor tower to wait for Harry, but she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hi," Ginny greeted, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small smile.

"Hey," Hermione attempted to smile back, but it fell short. "Um... How long have you been standing there?"

Ginny pushed off from the wall and pressed her lips together in commiseration. "Long enough."

Hermione nodded and looked away, feeling like a complete heel. She scrambled for something to say, but nothing came to mind. Why did this feel so weird?

... Because you've just been a dick to her brother?

... Because you haven't spoken to her for what feels like months?

... Because you have no idea what she's been up to?

... Because you've had virtually no involvement in her life since you started seeing Draco?

"I was just with Harry," Ginny told her, graciously coming to her rescue. "He's on his way to Dumbledore's office. He has another lesson with him tonight, if you hurry you might catch him."

Hermione gazed at the youngest Weasley. Why was Ginny telling her this? Why was she being so nice? Hermione didn't deserve it. Yet, despite it all, hope began to bloom in her chest and the urgency from before her run-in with Ron and Lavender quickly reignited.

"You better hurry," Ginny repeated, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Hermione hesitated, she couldn't leave without at least saying something to her. She'd been a terrible friend, yet, apparently, Ginny wasn't holding it against her. "Gin," she cleared her throat, swallowing thickly, her hands clasped tightly together. "I -"

"It's OK, Hermione," she cut her off with a smile. "We can talk about it later. We have a lot to catch up on and now isn't the time. Now, go," she gently pushed Hermione towards the Grand Staircase. "You'll have to run."

Hermione reached out and squeezed Ginny's hand, silently thanking her, and then bolted up the stairs.

By the time she reached the corridor where Dumbledore's tower was located, she was well and truly dying. Seriously, she felt like she was about to keel over on the spot. Her lungs burned and her throat ached and she was sure her heart was about to give out at any moment. It was surely dangerous how fast and hard it was beating.

She spotted Harry at the end of the corridor, the Gargoyle who guarded the stairwell up to Dumbledore's office stepping aside to let him pass.

"H-Harry!" she wheezed, gripping the wall for support, but it was futile, he couldn't hear her. Before she knew it, he'd disappeared up the stairs, the Gargoyle jumping back into place, effectively preventing her from going after him.

No!

She slid down the wall, her bottom hitting the stone floor, hard, feeling thoroughly defeated. How would she find out where Draco was now? Perhaps Harry didn't have the map on him? Maybe it was in his dormitory?... Shit, what did that matter? Even if it was in his dormitory, she was sure he wouldn't just leave it lying around again. Not after what happened last time. He probably had it hidden away and warded to the high-heavens.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even hear the loud grating sounds of the Gargoyle moving. Only when she registered movement out of the corner of her eye did she look up, realizing that her necklace had begun vibrating beneath her shirt.

"Hermione?" Draco frowned, looking half surprised, half confused to see her sitting there.

"Draco!" Hermione all but shrieked, jumping up from the floor and running towards him. "Where the hell have been?" she instantly demanded. "I've been looking for you all day. God, I have to talk to you. Something's happening... But, of course, you already know that. You know. I mean, it's you, you're the reason... you need to tell me. What's going on? We can't -" she abruptly stopped her nonsensical ramblings, her eyes landing on the Gargoyle directly behind him. "Wait, were you just in Dumbledore's office?" she asked him in a forced calm tone, eyes focusing on his face again.

She took in his curiously blank expression, her eyes sweeping over sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw and piercing silver eyes, and her heart sank. It was the most awful feeling, but the way he looked at her - or didn't look at her, there was really no emotion there - scared her. It scared the shit out of her. "Why were you in Dumbledore's office?" she rasped, her voice almost failing her. It felt like someone had their hands wrapped around her throat, cutting off precious oxygen, making it difficult to speak, difficult to breathe. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere, in her head, in her hands, inside her mouth.

Draco didn't respond, he simply continued to gaze at her, eyes intense, expression unchanged.

"Oh God," Hermione brought her hands to her mouth. "W-what happened? Did you...?" she couldn't finish the sentence. She looked towards the Gargoyle again, her vision wavering. Her mind instantly going to Harry, to Dumbledore.

"No," Draco told her in a flat tone, shoving his hands inside his trouser pockets. "I didn't kill Dumbledore if that's what you're asking," he turned away from her, walking towards one of the large, arching windows that lined the entire east wall of the corridor, and stared out of it.

The sudden relief that shot through her was short-lived because hot on its tail was guilt. All-consuming, widespread guilt. It rolled in, hot and heavy, smothering her relief until there was nothing left.

What was wrong with her? What the fuck was wrong with her? Had she seriously just implied that he'd killed their headmaster? Christ.

Hermione slowly walked towards him, her eyes fixed on his reflection in the window. She felt utterly nauseous and her stomach roiled unpleasantly.

How could she think that he'd killed Dumbledore? How could she?

It was pitch black outside, the moon hidden behind large dark clouds that stretched across the night sky. There were no signs of any stars, just endless grey and black for as far as the eye could see.

Hermione wasn't sure what Draco was looking at or if he was looking at anything at all. Perhaps he just didn't want to look at her? After all, who could blame him? But no. He did seem to be staring at something, a point far in the distance. She realized, as she got a bit closer, that he was staring at the faint glimmering lights of Hogsmeade Village.

For a moment, she simply gazed at them along with him, trying to figure out the best way to apologize. Nothing seemed adequate. She'd basically accused him of killing Dumbledore. What could she possibly say to rectify that? She felt so disappointed in herself, she didn't even want to imagine how Draco must be feeling - hurt at the very least, though she couldn't gauge anything from his expression.

"Draco -" she began, her voice full of regret, but before she could say anything more, he spoke.

"Do you ever wonder what your life could have been like if one little thing had happened differently?" Hermione blinked, surprised by the turn in the conversation, but she closed her mouth and listened. "A discussion, maybe? Or a first-time introduction? Perhaps it was something that happened before you were even born, yet because of it - this event, discussion, decision, whatever it may be - your life was firmly set on a specific path, a path that you had no say or control over. And you don't question it, not at first, because why would you? You don't know any better. You were told one thing and you believed it as the absolute truth," he paused, tone quiet and wistful. "When you think about it, it doesn't seem very fair, does it? That your life is pretty much decided for you before you even take your first breath."

Hermione turned slowly and stared at the side of his face, concern lining her features and shining bright in her eyes. She felt his words like a physical hit, they were jarring, thought-provoking, worrying. Worrying, because Draco rarely spoke like this, so freely and so openly. Which begged the question, what had brought it on? Perhaps it was something Dumbledore had said to him? They had obviously spoken, why else would Draco have been in his office? Although, Hermione couldn't fathom what they could have been talking about. Or maybe this was something else entirely? Hermione had always found Draco difficult to read, and now was no exception.

She took in his shadowed appearance, the contours of his face cut sharp in the softly glowing light from the wall lanterns. He looked tired, bone-weary, like he hadn't slept properly in days. He looked like someone who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it killed her to see it. She wanted to relieve him of some of that weight. But how could she do that if he didn't tell her what was going on?

"Things could have been so different," he breathed, pain, sorrow, and something else warring for dominance in his eyes. "Different, in so many ways. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, how different my life could have been if only -" he broke off, shaking his head, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "It doesn't even matter. I don't know why I do this to myself. It's pointless. There's just so much noise inside my head," he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as if doing so would silence it. "It's driving me crazy. I don't know what I should do. I don't know what's best, what's right."

Hermione's heart clenched, sadness welling in her chest for the gorgeous boy standing next to her, the boy she loved, the boy who was woefully misunderstood, who had difficult choices no person his age should ever have to make. It was truly heartbreaking, and she immediately understood why the Prophecy had been so erratic these last few days. Draco was confused, he had too many questions running through his head, he was trying to figure out the impossible, trying to do the right thing. She could see in his expression that he was struggling with the weight of it all.

"Draco," she stepped in front of him, inserting herself into the small gap between him and the window, and reached up, cupping either side of his face in both of her hands. He opened his eyes and glanced down at her, and she stared up into grey eyes that were as wild as a raging storm. They completely took her breath away. Whoever said that brown eyes are the deepest and most soulful had never looked into Draco's eyes. If brown eyes were like boundless mountain terrain and burnt desert sands stretched across miles, then Draco's silvery-grey eyes were the ocean - chasmic, vast, and unfathomable. Sometimes, to look into Draco's eyes was like being lost at sea, floating on a plank of wood with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. In other words, utterly frightening. "I know this is hard for you," she said softly, trying not to drown in the silvery depths. "It's an impossible situation, but we can get through this. I promise you. Just let me help you, please. I've told you before, you don't have to shoulder this alone. Tell me what's going on, I already know something's going on. The Prophecy -"

"The what?" he hissed, frowning, his posture instantly going rigid as the air around them became fraught with tension.

"The Prophecy," she repeated, watching him closely, trying to make sense of his peculiar reaction. "You know, my necklace?" she prompted, her hand going to where it rested under her school jumper. "And the booklet that came with it?"

"There's been a Prophecy about us?" he asked her, pupils dilating. He reached up and pulled her remaining hand away from his face as he stared at her.

"Yes," she told him, unsure why he was acting so strangely. "I read the first Prophecy a few -"

"The first Prophecy?" he cut her off again, voice sharp, positively scowling now. "What do you mean, the first prophecy?"

Hermione swallowed and tucked her hair behind her ear, her frown deepening. OK, what on earth was going on here? "Well, it's been changing for the last few days. I've lost count of how many times, it must be in the thirties now. That's why I was looking for you today, to tell you."

Draco's eyes widened with disbelief.

"Um," Hermione began, sounding uncertain. "Why do I get the sense that this isn't normal?" she asked.

Draco ran his hand over his mouth, eyes dropping to the floor as if searching for something. "Because it isn't," he told her, shaking his head. "The necklace doesn't produce prophecies for every owner. It's actually quite rare. It all depends on the couple, how much of a... let's say connection they have, or whatever," he waved his hand in the air as if the reason was unimportant. Hermione tensed, Blaise hadn't mentioned that it was rare, but perhaps he hadn't known? "Those it has produced prophecies for have never mentioned it changing more than once or twice, if ever at all. There's documentation on it in the library at home, and there's definitely no mention of it changing as frequently as you're suggesting it has. Thirty times?" he shook his head again, an inscrutable look clouding crossing his face. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Hermione answered him without missing a beat. "I've hardly been able to take my eyes off it."

Draco gritted his teeth and reached up to drag his hands through his hair roughly, releasing a deep, hissing breath. "OK. And what exactly does it say?" he asked, his tone more demanding than it was requesting.

Unease crawled up Hermione's spine. Why did he look so angry? She'd been hoping that Draco would just wave it off as nothing to worry about, that's the whole reason she'd wanted to find him today, why she'd wanted to go to him last night. She'd hoped that he would tell her that she was being ridiculous, as was usually the case. She hadn't expected him to react like this - all agitated and nervous. Now she was unsure of what to do or what to think.

Hermione answered him, trying her best to keep her tone as neutral as possible. "Mostly the same thing each time, or at least, similar," she paused, while she thought a moment. "There are two clear paths ahead. It's unknown which one will be travelled in the end. Difficult decisions must be made. Risks must be taken," she mentally ticked off each major point as she spoke, watching him closely. He looked like a cornered animal, tense and ready to pounce at any sudden movements. She didn't know what in particular had him so worked up, was it just that he hadn't expected a prophecy to be made about them? Maybe he was in a bit of shock? - After all, he had said it was rare. Or was it the contents of the prophecy that was bothering him? If so, she wondered which part specifically. For Hermione, it was the lack of information and the infuriating vagueness of it all, but she suspected that wasn't what was concerning Draco. No. She was almost certain that he knew more than he was letting on.

"Did it say anything about where the paths lead?" he asked in a low, tight tone, staring into her eyes in a way that was so intense it was downright intimidating.

Hermione inhaled a slow, deep breath, her suspicions more or less confirmed. He knew exactly where both paths lead, how could he not? They were his bloody paths to choose from. Of course, he knew precisely where they went. What he was trying to figure out now was how much Hermione knew, or if she knew anything at all.

Hermione almost lied to him, almost pretended to know more than she did just so he'd spill his guts. But at the last second, she changed her mind. More lies weren't going to help matters. They needed to be honest with each other, which meant she had to be patient and wait for Draco to want to tell her the truth. Trying desperately to keep her cool, she answered him honestly. "No, that's the most frustrating thing about it, it doesn't say anything helpful," she stared back at him just as intently, an almost pleading quality to her gaze. "Do you know anything about where the paths lead, Draco?" she asked lightly. Despite her gentle words, her eyes were fierce, begging for answers that she knew he had, yet for some reason wasn't giving her. "The choice seems to be yours, after all," she continued. "I don't have a say in any of it," she fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. It was difficult, but she managed it.

Draco tilted his head to the side, eyes slightly narrowed. "What makes you say that? Why would you think you don't have a say?"

"Because I see a path in front of me and there's only one," she told him simply, if not a little sadly. The path that leads to you. "I know that whatever this choice is, it's yours, not mine."

Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek, seeming to mull over her words. She thought that perhaps he would say more, maybe explain why the prophecy was changing so much, confess what was really going on. But, no, he didn't. He didn't say anything. Instead, he turned away from her again and went back to staring out of the window, his expression completely stoic.

Hermione tried not to feel hurt, she did, but unfortunately, it wasn't something she had much control over. As much as she tried to fight it, she couldn't help but feel upset. She didn't like being kept in the dark, no matter his reasoning – good or bad. She tried not to take it too personally, but it was like putting a starving man in front of a table full of food and ordering him not to eat. It was impossible. Selfish thoughts warred in her mind, each one more irrational and disgusting than the last, until the vilest ones of all won out, echoing like war cries in her head. Why aren't I Draco's only choice? This shouldn't even be happening. He should want to be with me and only me. There shouldn't be any confusion about what he should do. Wherever I am is where he belongs. No questions, no doubts.

They were awful thoughts, utterly abhorrent, especially considering his mother was literally being held captive and possibly tortured in her own home. Yet, she couldn't stop them from coming, they were like a tsunami, overwhelming and unstoppable.

She debated whether to drop it altogether. She was feeling a whole wealth of self-pity and despite how utterly repugnant that was, she wanted to go and wallow in it alone. She hated herself for feeling this way. She tried to put herself in Draco's shoes and asked herself what she would do in his situation - hadn't she been having doubts only last night, wondering whether she'd run off with Draco or stay with Harry and Ron? How was this any different? Of course, he was going to have doubts. It was only natural. She was being completely ridiculous. But it didn't matter. She wasn't thinking about how ridiculous she was being, she wasn't thinking logically at all. At the end of the day, she was only human, and just like everyone else, she could be selfish and irrational at times, and this, most certainly, was one of those times.

She stared at the back of Draco's head. It was obvious that he was in no mood to talk about it, and the last thing she wanted to do was push him and cause an argument, but sadly, they didn't have that luxury. They didn't have time to waste. Draco couldn't turn his back on this, and Hermione couldn't wallow in her self-pity. They had to discuss it now, figure out what was going on. And so she continued talking to him like there hadn't been a huge lull in the conversation, as if he hadn't turned his back on her.

"The last thing the prophecy said was; The decision is yours, but it won't be much longer. He will snatch it from you, leaving you no room to ponder. That was about three-quarters of an hour ago," she watched his shoulders subtly rise and then fall as he presumably took a deep breath. "I'm guessing it's probably changed since then though. Why don't we take look?" she suggested, hastily pulling her bag from her shoulder. "There could be more information this time -"

Before she could reach inside her bag to retrieve the booklet, Draco had spun around and put his hand atop hers, stopping her. "Don't," he took her bag from her and forcibly pushed it back onto her shoulder. "I don't want you looking at it anymore. It's not healthy."

Hermione stared at him, eyes wide. What?... what? "but -" she sputtered.

"Hermione, please," he implored, looking as though his patience was wearing thin. "Promise me you won't look at it anymore? What good is it doing? It's just stressing you out!"

She couldn't believe it. She actually couldn't believe it. She searched his face, taking in the worry lines between his brows, but no matter how worried and sincere he looked, she just couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "Are you serious?!" she demanded, tone scathing. "If I don't look at the prophecy, how else am I supposed to know what the fuck is going on? Because you aren't telling me anything!" Enough of the avoidance shit, she was going to have it out with him now, she suddenly didn't care if they argued. "Why are you keeping things from me, Draco? Why won't you tell me what's going on?" he looked devastated, absolutely devastated. But why? Why did he look like that? It was completely and utterly maddening. "I don't understand," she let out a choppy breath, her body trembling with the violent rush of emotions coursing through her. "I thought we agreed to do this together. I told you I would help you, that I would help save your mum. Have you changed your mind? What is it? What's going on? Are you planning something without me?" oh God, saying it aloud almost crippled her, she reached out to grab the wall for support, but he got to her first, gripping her by the elbows and hoisting her up. "Draco, please tell me you aren't. Please tell me you aren't," she gritted the words like they caused her pain.

She watched him bite his bottom lip hard, raw emotion flitting across his face as he tried desperately to fight it. "Hermione, please," he begged, voice tight. "Please don't do this."

Don't do what? Ask him to be honest with her? Ask him to tell her the truth?

Hermione ignored his baffling pleas, anger sizzling in her veins. "The first prophecy," she rushed on, swallowing thickly. "It said we would be separated," Draco's grip on her arms tightened, to the point that it almost hurt. She thought back to what it had said, she remembered it perfectly, which was no surprise, she'd read over it enough times, trying to make sense of it. She recited the last part out loud for him to hear. She needed him to understand how serious this was. How detrimental it could be. "Hold your love tightly, keep him close, for once he's gone, it's adios. Not forever, yet it may as well be, damaged beyond repair? There's no guarantee. It will take a long time to get him back, three harrowing years to be exact. Three harrowing years?" she repeated, attempting to drill that particular point home. "Draco, what does that even mean? Is that a possibility? Should I be worried?"

Draco let go of her and closed his eyes, covering his face with both hands. He muttered under his breath, nothing that made any sense to her, but it annoyed her that he was still trying to avoid talking about it.

"Draco," she pushed.

He mumbled something else unintelligible.

"Draco!" she all but yelled, her anger now a living thing inside her. After everything she'd just told him, she'd expected more. "Tell me. What does it mean?"

Still no response.

"DRACO!"

"FUCK ME, JUST STOP! JUST FUCKING STOP!" he suddenly roared, dropping his hands to his sides, his expression crazed.

Hermione's head reeled back in shock and she took a single step back, her chest heaving.

His face instantly crumpled and his shoulders sagged. He shook his head sharply, dragging in a deep, shuddering breath, his hand reaching out to her. "Shit, I'm sorry. Please... I'm so sorry -" he broke off, seeming at a loss for words.

It was obvious that he regretted his outburst, but she didn't care. She. Did. Not. Care. She was furious, absolutely livid, how dare he. She wasn't sure what was the driving force of her anger, she imagined it was a multitude of things rolled into one. It didn't matter. It was irrelevant at this point. She couldn't do this anymore. If he wouldn't talk to her, she couldn't pretend like everything was fine, act like it was OK. Because it wasn't OK, it was fucking far from it.

She smacked his hand away, a snarl ripping from her throat. "Don't touch me," she spat. "If you won't tell me what's going on, if you want to keep things from me, then you don't get to touch me. Do you understand? It doesn't work like that!"

He reached out to her again with his other hand and she smacked that away, too, hot angry tears welling in her eyes. "I said don't touch me!" she told him savagely. "I hate you. I don't want your hands on me. I don't want you touching me. I don't want you anywhere near me!"

She gasped harshly, her heart racing. She felt utterly unhinged, a toxic mix of emotions stirring inside her - anger, frustration, doubt, helplessness. Even as she smacked his hand away and uttered those hateful words, there was a part of her that wanted to reach out and take it. As she snarled at him not to touch her, there was a voice screaming for him to hold her and never let go. It was horrible, she was completely torn. On the one hand, she wanted to cause him insurmountable pain and make him suffer like she was. And on the other, she wanted to wrap him up in her arms and tell him she loved him, tell him that it might not be OK, but they'd get through, regardless. Clearly, the need to make him suffer was winning out, but with it came guilt, the heart-clenching, throat-closing, wicked kind. And she loathed herself for giving in to it, for stooping to that level. It wasn't like her, yet she was powerless to stop it.

Draco stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You hate me," he said, tone hollow. A statement more than a question.

Hermione answered him anyway. "Yes," she hissed, as her heart yelled, NO, her tears finally spilling and running down her cheeks. "I wish -" she broke off, the lie getting caught in her throat.

Draco's nostrils flared, eyes flashing, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "You wish, what?" he pressed, eyes narrowed, voice tight. "Go on, say it," he challenged her.

Hermione glared at him, her tears coming faster now. "You know what? Fuck this," she took a step toward him, getting right in his face. "And fuck you!"

She turned on her heel and stormed away from him, every step like a knife to the heart. Again, that voice was screaming at her to turn around, go back to him, she couldn't leave things like this. She didn't stop though, she continued to put one foot in front of the other, her sobs increasing with each torturous step. She turned onto a dimly lit corridor, one she didn't recognize, and it didn't take her long to realize why; it was a dead end. Shit. The corridor was long though, she would keep walking until she couldn't anymore.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Draco advancing on her, face looking like it was carved from stone. He looked like an avenging angel or perhaps a fallen one, expelled from heaven for his sins, because there was something utterly wicked in that captivating silver gaze of his.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, an unexpected thrill rushing through her.

Hermione turned back around and picked up her pace, but she didn't get more than a few meters before she felt Draco's hand gripping her and pulling her to an abrupt stop.

She snatched her arm back, eyes bright and furious. "What do you want?"

He glared down at her, eyes hard, lips thinned. "What do I want?" he asked rhetorically. "I want you to finish that fucking sentence, that's what I want," he bit out. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you wish that nothing ever happened between us. I want you to tell me you hate me, that you wish we never fucked that first night in the classroom, all the things you wanted to say before you bottled it and ran off. I want to hear you say them and I want you to mean it," he growled the last part, eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione stood her ground, back straight. She wouldn't back down from him, not on her life. She wiped the last of her tears away with an angry swipe of her hand and crossed her arms. "I. Hate. You," she told him, enunciating each word.

Draco threw her a disgusted look and shook his head. "Oh, come on. That was fucking weak," he drawled, his countenance condescending, looking wholly unimpressed. "Try again."

Hermione dropped her arms and balled her fists at her sides, her eyes burning with incredulity. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!" she yelled and shoved him hard in the chest.

A slow smirk began to crawl its way up his cheek and he stumbled back a little. "Are you sure about that? Because I'm still not feeling it. I think you should try harder, this is starting to get embarrassing."

Hermione let out a scream of frustration and outrage and shoved him again, and again, and again until she had him pinned to the wall, her bag falling from her shoulder and crashing to the floor. She gripped his face, hard, nails biting into his skin and she leaned forward, a snarl tearing from her throat. "I hate you. You're a fucking arsehole and I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU! I can't stand you. I hate everything about you. I wish that night never happened. I wish none of it happened."

When she finished she let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob and stared at him, eyes filling with fresh tears, heart heavy with dread.

What was she doing? What was she doing? She was a mess, an absolute fucking mess. Why was she doing this to him? Why was she doing it to herself? It was complete madness.

Draco stared back at her, their faces only a mere inch apart, noses almost touching. "Better," he praised, his breath warm and tantalizing as it fanned across her lips. "Much better."

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, detecting the unmistakable smell of firewhisky. He'd been drinking. What the hell? When? Why? Hermione's whole body shook with adrenalin, her heart racing, blood pounding.

"Now show me how much you hate me," he said in a low rasp, his tongue flicking out to swipe across her lips.

At his words, heat pooled low in Hermione's pelvis, an instant throb beginning to pulse at the apex of her thighs. God, this was insane. She reached down between them and gripped him through his trousers, finding his cock impossibly hard - had he been hard this whole time? Had this been turning him on? He groaned brokenly, head falling back against the wall. And, Oh God, heat rushed through her at the look of pure desire on his achingly beautiful face, her stomach quivering in response.

Despite the wetness growing inside her knickers, guilt gnawed at the edge of her mind. She shouldn't be getting off on this. She should be apologizing to him. She'd said some horrible things, things that weren't even true. He was suffering enough as it was without her adding to it. She opened her mouth, regrets and questions teetering on the tip of her tongue - I shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry. I love you. Tell me why you've been drinking. Let me help you. I can relieve some of the pain.

He gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her closer, the lines of their bodies blurring together. She groaned at the feel of his cock pressing into her, thick and so hard. The lust growing inside her was mindboggling in its intensity, it was making her feel dizzy and lightheaded... stop it, stop it, she chided herself. Concentrate. Talk to him. Tell him you're sorry.

He leaned in as if to kiss her, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide, but he stopped a hairsbreadth away. "Stop it. Don't feel guilty, Hermione," he said in a hushed tone as if he'd been reading her mind. "You should hate me. Don't you dare feel bad about it. I want you to hate me. I need you to."

Her brows drew together in a frown, more questions bubbling to the surface but lingering just out of reach. It was like she had lost her voice or forgotten how to speak. She couldn't concentrate properly, all she could focus on was his cock and the feel of his lips, brushing against hers almost hesitantly like the gentle caress of a butterfly's wings.

"I -" she began, but broke off as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, his hand trailing up her arm, along her shoulder, and buying in her hair. His fingers moved against her scalp, applying just the right amount of pressure, and she let out a low, pleasure-filled sigh.

"You can hate me, Hermione," he continued in a soft murmur. "Hate me with every fiber of your being, hate me to the ends of the earth, but don't ever forget who I am... Don't ever forget. You know me, remember that, if nothing else. You know the real me," he kissed the opposite corner of her mouth, breath hot on her skin, the scent of firewhisky making her head spin.

Hermione blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind, a tight knot forming in her chest. She didn't like this, she didn't like the way he was talking. Why was he saying these things? She tried to gather her thoughts, tried to understand what he was actually saying, but it didn't make any sense. "Draco," she swallowed. "What -?... No... I could never hate you. I didn't mean -"

"You will," he cut her off. "One day, you will hate me. It's inevitable. It's inescapable. You and I were never meant to be," he continued to place small kisses on her face, his tone quiet, almost conversational. It didn't seem right, his tone didn't match the words being spoken, and it left her feeling confused, unsure of what to think. "None of this was ever supposed to happen. Our paths weren't supposed to cross. Don't you see," he gently turned her head and kissed the shell of her ear. "We defied the natural law," he whispered like he was imparting some great secret. "The universe is angry and it won't stand for it. There's nothing we can do to stop it now."

"Stop what?" she asked, her heart slamming against her ribcage, a sense of foreboding settling around her like a heavy cape.

"Fate," he answered simply. "Destiny. God's will. Astral influence, whatever you want to call it," he kissed the spot just beneath her earlobe. "We can't escape it. It's going to catch up to us whether we want it to or not. One way or another. Sooner or later... It's close. The question is, when will it strike? Do we run? or do we sit and wait for it to devour us? I suppose there'll never be a "right" answer. There is pain and suffering in every choice. That's the price we have to pay for our defiance."

Hermione's mind whirled, desperately trying to understand where all this was coming from and wondering whether she should be concerned about his mental state. Was it just the booze talking? Or was it something more? Draco had been acting strange from the moment she'd laid eyes on him tonight. Perhaps it was something Dumbledore had said to him? It did sound like some shit Dumbledore would sprout off. "Draco," she sighed, fingers splayed across his chest. "You're drunk. I was wrong before. I shouldn't have pushed you to talk tonight. You've clearly had a rough day. Let's just talk about it tomorrow, OK? One more day isn't going to harm us."

"Tomorrow," he echoed, his lips and nose dragging down the side of her neck, tongue flicking out to lave at the sensitive spots. "No tomorrow ever comes, because when it does it's today."

Hermione swallowed and blinked, willing herself to concentrate. "You're quite the enigma tonight."

Draco pulled back and gazed down at her, expression unreadable, eyes looking clearer than they probably had a right to. "Kiss me," he demanded. "Touch me," he took her hand and slid it down between their bodies, guiding it to his cock. Hermione rubbed him firmly through his trousers, relishing the way his mouth fell open and his eyes darkened. "Fuck me," he rasped. "Fuck me until I can't think straight. Fuck me until I know nothing, nothing but the feel of you."

The throb between Hermione's thighs pulsed hotly, deepening to the point that it was almost unbearable. Unable to stop herself, she crushed her mouth to his, her lips hard and unyielding, her tongue coming out to assault his. He groaned and kissed her back just as fiercely, his fingers digging into her hips so hard they would likely leave bruises.

She roughly dragged his jumper over his head, their lips breaking apart for only a moment before crashing back together. She tore at his shirt buttons, yanking them from their holes and opened his shirt wide, raking her nails down the valley of hard muscle.

Draco hissed against her mouth and let out a pained grunt. She felt his hands tugging her shirt out of her skirt and then delving beneath it, his fingers grazing her stomach and ribcage as he ventured higher still. Her nipples suddenly flared with pain, sharp and stinging, and she cried out, tearing her lips from his, gasping harshly. "Fuck," she moaned. "I want you inside me."

Draco groaned in response and she began tearing at his belt and trousers savagely, the ache between her thighs too much, she needed him, needed him like she needed air. Draco's hands seemed to be everywhere, trailing down her back, palming her breast, skimming up between her legs, slipping beneath her knickers and sliding between her wet folds. She whimpered, throwing her hand back, two of his fingers thrusting inside her and curling up, hitting the sweet spot that made her vision waver.

His lips were on her neck, tasting, his teeth nipping, his tongue flicking out to soothe where he bit a little too hard. His breath danced along the damp skin sending shivers down her spine. God, it was maddening, completely and utterly maddening. She couldn't get his trousers open quick enough.

She finally undid the top button and yanked the zip down, tugging at the front of his boxers and releasing his cock.

She tilted her head to the side and looked down, taking in the impressive size of him. He was so fucking hard - steel wrapped in velvet. She ran her fingers down the length of him, gripping him firmly in her hand.

He groaned deeply, the sound doing wicked things to her insides, and buried his face in her neck.

"Fuck me, Draco," she breathed, dragging her thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-come that had gathered there. "Fuck me, hard. Fuck me so hard that I'll still be able to feel you well into next week."

Draco slowly pulled his fingers out of her, dragging them inexorably over her clit, making her legs quake with anticipation. He spun them both around, her back hitting the wall, and pulled her knickers down her legs. She quickly stepped out of them and felt her skirt being tugged up, fully exposing her. She quickly glanced down the corridor, hardly believing they were about to have sex right there, where anyone could see them. It was insane. It was madness. Dumbledore's office was literally around the corner.

Draco didn't seem to share her misgivings, he didn't seem to care at all - about where they were or who could happen upon them. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, lifting her effortlessly, the head of his cock probing her entrance for only a moment before sinking inside her, all the way to the hilt.

Hermione gasped, the intense feeling of him stretching and filling her so utterly overwhelming. Her legs wrapped around his waist, hooking him closer, and her elbows came up to rest on his shoulders, fingers tangling in his short hair.

He began to move inside her, his thrusts slow but forceful. Each one pushing her up the wall and causing the stone to dig painfully into her back. She didn't care, it just added to the pleasure. It was heaven. Nothing compared to it - the feel of him inside her, his breath hot on her skin, his moans filling her ears, his hands everywhere. It was intoxicating.

She suddenly wasn't bothered that someone might see them, she didn't care that Dumbledore's office was around the corner. All she cared about was him and how he was making her feel. The way his cock was sliding in and out of her, his hips pumping and increasing in speed with every thrust.

"Tell me you're mine, Hermione," he rasped against her mouth, his breath coming out choppy and sharp. "Tell me you will always be mine, no matter what."

Hermione threw her head back, a moan tearing from her throat as her pleasure spiked, building and whirling inside her, threatening to consume her entirely. "Yes. Yes," she gasped.

Draco's hands moved around to cup her arse, and he kissed her again with that wicked, talented mouth of his, his tongue swirling against hers in the most come-inducing way.

"Say it," he hissed, nipping at her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth.

Hermione cupped either side of his face, another groan spilling from her lips as he slammed into her, hard, fast, unrelenting.

"Say it," he demanded through gritted teeth, eyes wild with desire and something else she couldn't decipher. "I need to hear you say it. No matter how much you hate me, you will always be mine. Say it. Say it."

"I'll always be yours," she sobbed brokenly, her toes curling as the bundle of nerves inside her tightened and tightened until her whole body throbbed with her impending release. "No matter what. Always. Always."

Draco slowed his pace slightly and looked into her eyes as if he was searching for the truth in her words, his silver orbs bright and intense. He must have been happy with what he found there - because he was soon slamming into her again, his thrusts more punishing than ever before. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing down her cries, her release teetering on the edge of absolute euphoria.

She felt his lips move to her jaw, dragging along her skin to her ear, every nerve-ending in her body alive with electricity. She was so fully aware of him, of the way his body moved against hers, of how they fit so perfectly together. His tongue teased at her earlobe, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and he took it between his teeth, biting down and eliciting a sharp moan from somewhere deep inside her. "Aaaah, I'm close," she gasped. "Oh, God, I'm so close."

"Then let go," he instructed, his hips driving his cock even deeper inside her.

And Hermione did just that. She let go. She let go of everything. All her worries, all her thoughts, her anxiety. Her body shook and her vision darkened, and then there was nothing, nothing but him and the sensation of pure ecstasy. A sensation that couldn't be compared to anything else in this world. A sensation that was all-consuming, utterly exhilarating, one that lasted only a handful of seconds, but one she swore she would die for. She would die for it, if only it promised never to stop.

"Aaaah, Fuck," Draco grunted, mouth pressed to the shell of her ear, the sounds of his breathy moans making her body tingle and shake. "Hermione," he breathed. "Hermione. Hermione," She felt his cock kick fiercely inside her, hands squeezing her arse, fingers digging into her skin. "I love you."

Hermione's heart stuttered and her breathing stopped. She gazed at a point over his shoulder, her mind reeling as it tried to catch up. She couldn't believe it, she couldn't believe it. He'd said it. He'd actually said it. He'd told her that he loved her.

God, she hoped she hadn't imagined it. Please don't let her have imagined it.

Draco lifted his head from her shoulder, chest heaving, and turned to look at her. He gazed at her face, expression unreadable, silver eyes running over every inch - slowly, carefully. He opened his mouth and Hermione thought that he was going to say it again, confirming to her that he had said it and it wasn't just her imagination running away with her. She sucked in a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. This time she would have an adequate response. This time she would say it back to him -

"We should go," he told her.

Hermione expelled the breath she'd been holding and blinked at him, disappointment diluting her postcoital glow. He gently set her on the floor, and they both began to straighten their clothes in silence.

Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye, wanting to say something, anything, but was unable to move her mouth or make a sound. She hated this about herself, how she occasionally became mute. It was only around Draco that it happened, and it had to be one of the most frustratingly inconvenient side effects to being around him. There were a million things she could say and not a single one struck her as a satisfactory post-I-love-you conversation starter.

Draco retrieved his jumper from the floor and tugged it on and then bent to pick up her fallen bag, his back to her.

She wasn't sure if it was just her being ridiculous, but she couldn't help but notice that his shoulders seemed a little tense. Did he regret what he'd said? Had he only said it in the heat of the moment and now felt awkward about the unintentional slip-up?

Hermione looked away, sighing through her nose. She was doing it again - overthinking. Christ.

"Here," he said, holding out her bag as he shoved his free hand into his pocket, eyes not quite meeting hers. She took it and they stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. "I better go," he told her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Blaise and Theo are waiting for me."

She glanced at him quickly, an objection on the tip of her tongue. He gazed at her, eyes heavy with sadness, face pinched and weary. Did he regret saying that he loved her? No, he would never have said it if he didn't mean it. He wasn't the type of person to say something just to please someone else. Then, what was wrong with him? Fuck, she couldn't let him leave like this. She scrambled for something to say. "OK," she nodded - shit, that was not what she'd wanted to say. "Um, shall we walk together?" she added in rush.

A muscle in his jaw jumped, and she was certain he was going to say no, it was risky, after all. It wasn't quite past curfew yet, so there could still be students milling around. "Yeah," he agreed, reaching out and taking her hand. "I'll walk you to Gryffindor Tower."

They began walking, Draco's grip on her hand tight. He didn't let go, not even when they got to the more commonly populated corridors. They didn't bump into anyone, the halls were blissfully empty, but it was still strange to be walking hand in hand with him while out in the open. It made her heart race but in a good way. She longed for the day that they could do this without fear of being caught. It was only hand-holding, something all couples did, yet they hadn't once been able to do it.

Draco didn't look at her as they strolled past endless paintings, tapestries, statues, and the odd suit of armor, and he didn't say a word. He seemed to be thoroughly lost in his thoughts, his lips slightly pouted as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Every so often he would bring her hand to his mouth and kiss it, his lips sometimes lingering as he took deep breaths through his nose, breathing her in. She watched him the entire time, wishing she knew what he was thinking. She just couldn't make him out. Tonight had been a strange night all round.

Too soon they were standing in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor Common room, The Fat Lady thankfully absent from her painting. Hermione turned to him, their hands still linked. "Thank you for walking with me," she said, attempting to smile, but she couldn't muster one, the seemingly ever-present dread inside her preventing it. She didn't want him to go, not yet, not when she was feeling so confused and out of sorts.

"Of course." He swirled his thumb on the back of her hand, his eyes trained on the movement, appearing as though he wasn't ready to let go just yet, either.

"I -" she hesitated, the last thing she wanted to do was get into another argument with him, but she had to say something. "I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have pushed you. Are we…OK? You seem... far away? You're not pissed off with me are you?" She wondered if perhaps he was annoyed at her lack of response when he'd told her he loved her? It didn't seem like something that would bother him, but she was at a loss. He already knew that she loved him, she'd told him so several times. She was just grasping at straws at this point. She had no idea what was going on with him, just like she hadn't all night.

He looked up at her, some of the fog lifting from his eyes. "No," he frowned slightly. "We're good. I'm sorry that I've been acting strange, it's just been a long day. I was never pissed off with you, Hermione, not once. So, please don't think that. I'm just... tired," he sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

Hermione reached up and gently cupped the side of his face, her thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. She hated seeing him like this, it was awful and having no idea what was wrong made it worse. She felt helpless. "You know I love you, right?" She asked, feeling like it was important to say it, to let him know.

"I do," he breathed, silver eyes boring into hers. She felt herself being drawn into them, trapped by his gaze. "And I love you," he told her, tone deep and reverent. "I love you so fucking much, it hurts," he swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching.

Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath, her heart swelling inside her chest. Yes, yes, she understood exactly what he meant, she felt it too, and it did hurt, she knew why, the pain was born out of fear. She loved him so much the thought of losing him physically pained her. God, if only he knew how much his words meant to her. She would tell him if she could, but she was afraid she wouldn't be able to adequately articulate what she was feeling. As it was, she could barely wrap her head around the tangle of emotions running through her– awe, adoration, joy, desire, fear, excitement, and many more. She felt so unbelievably happy and…full? Yes, full. She couldn't explain it, but she felt full, not in an uncomfortable way, in the best way possible. She'd never felt anything like it. She felt uplifted, like she could take on the world.

"Draco," she whispered, staring into his eyes, trying to convey what she couldn't with words.

The corner of his lips lifted in an achingly sad smile. "I know," he said in answer. "I know."

Hermione's heart clenched and she nodded, brows drawing together. "You should go and get some sleep," she told him, even though it pained her to say it. What she wanted to do was drag him to her room and keep him there until they sorted everything out. They may have had a sweet moment, but things were far from fixed. There was still a lot of uncertainty and they still needed to talk. "We'll talk more tomorrow. OK?" she moved her hand from his cheek and ran it through the side of his hair.

Draco closed his eyes tightly and grabbed her wrist, turning his face to place a kiss on her palm. He reached out to her then, pulling her against him and kissing her fiercely.

Hermione kissed him back, both hands sinking into his platinum locks, forgetting for the moment where they were.

It was an odd kiss, not in an unpleasant way, no, far from it. But definitely odd. They'd never shared a kiss like this before. There was something different about it. Something... something she couldn't put her finger on. He kissed her deeply, adoringly, every caress of his lips and swirl of his tongue like a silent oath, a promise.

She was likely reading into it too much. It was probably the stress of the day.

There was the sudden explosion of a high-pitched giggle and Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She pulled her head back, eyes wide and wary, heart thundering in her chest. Draco wouldn't let her go though, he gripped either side of her face and kissed her again, his mouth hot against hers, desperate and intense, and for a moment she thought he was going to allow whoever it was to see them.

He suddenly and rather reluctantly tore himself away from her, chest heaving, eyes wild, just as Ron and Lavender rounded the corner.

Draco glanced at them over his shoulder and then turned back to stare down at her, jaw working, looking as though he was dying to say something. He swallowed, nostrils flaring. "Goodnight, Hermione," he breathed and, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away from her, hands shoved in his pockets, every inch of him the epistome of casual arrogance. It was incredible how he could just switch it on and off like that.

Hermione watched him go, mouth slightly open, mind racing. What the fuck? Draco and Ron glared at each other as they passed, Lavender looking Draco over with a critical eye - taking in his messy blond locks, swollen lips, and overall just-fucked appearance before turning to narrow her eyes at Hermione.

Hermione simply stared back, not in the least bit worried about the stupid bint putting two and two together, even though it was staring her right in the face. Lavender was the type of bitch that would laugh the thought off immediately - Swotty Hermione Granger shagging Slytherin's crowned prince? Yeah, right. As if in agreement with Hermione's internal hypothesis, Lavender threw Hermione a smile that told her that the other girl thought she was completely sad and pathetic.

"Reaming Malfoy for having a sex life?" Lavender asked snidely. "How anyone puts up with you, I'll never know."

Hermione fought to keep her face straight, fighting the urge to yell, 'there was no reaming, but he fucked me good.'

"What did he say to you?" Ron demanded, ignoring his girlfriend and taking Hermione in from head to toe. "Did he hurt you?" he frowned. "You look..." he trailed off and Hermione noticed the way Lavender also started to take note of her appearance. "I swear, if he laid a hand on you -" Ron began threateningly.

Lavender's eyes swept over Hermione's face and then suddenly widened, something a lot like disbelief shining in her eyes.

Oh, shit.

"He didn't lay a finger on me, Ron," she rolled her eyes. He actually laid several, all at once. "Calm down. I just got back from the library and had the misfortune of bumping into him, that's all. He was just being... Malfoy," she stumbled over the name, almost slipping up and saying Draco. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to bed," she quickly added before either of them could say anything more.

She chanced a swift glance at Lavender, who seemed more than satisfied with Hermione's explanation, snide smile back in place. Bitch. Ron, on the other hand, didn't look too convinced. Good job he was dense and wouldn't arrive at the correct conclusion.

"Well, bye, then," Hermione waved and turned her back on them. She almost groaned with relief when she saw that the Fat Lady was back in her painting. Unfortunately, the relief didn't last long, not when the Fat Lady was eyeing Hermione with such unveiled interest. Shit. Had she seen her and Draco kissing?

"Gillyweed," Hermione croaked, throat suddenly dry.

The portrait swung open, and she scrambled through the hole like the flames of hell were licking at her feet.

A few hours later, Hermione lay in her bed, trying her hardest to fall asleep.

It wasn't easy, not with all the thoughts running through her head. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quiet them, they were too loud, too insistent.

Something wasn't right. She had this peculiar feeling inside her, not unlike the feeling one gets when they've forgotten something vitally important and even though they know it's important, they can't for the life of them remember what it was.

That's how she felt, it was like a deep nagging feeling inside her, something close to lingering doubt and dread. It was horrible, and she couldn't shake it. Paired with her racing thoughts, she was certain that she wasn't going to get any sleep again tonight.

She understood what Draco had meant when he'd said that there was too much noise inside his head, that it was driving him crazy, because she felt the same way.

Draco.

As she thought of him her gut twisted unpleasantly. She had no idea why, but since the moment he'd left her in the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room, she'd not been able to think about him without feeling anxious.

It was probably down to his behavior tonight... no, not probably, definitely. He'd been acting so strange. All his talk about fate and what-ifs had left her feeling tense and unsettled. Now that she was alone, she could think of nothing else. She went over everything from the moment she'd laid eyes on him outside Dumbledore's Gargoyle to the moment he walked away from her in the corridor. She scrutinized every word he spoke, every move he made, every expression that crossed his face, and instead of making her feel better, calmer, it only made the tightness in her chest increase until it was utterly unbearable.

She couldn't stop her mind from replaying the way he'd stared out of the window at Hogsmeade village, his softly spoken words seeming conversational, but deep with meaning and also wistful, yet filled with regret. She analyzed the way his hands and lips had caressed her as he spoke of fate and how they'd defied it. He'd said that they couldn't escape it and it was coming after them whether they liked it or not. What did that mean? At the time she hadn't thought much of it, not really, not like she probably should have. She always found it hard to concentrate around him, and tonight had been no different. He'd been so intense, more intense than usual and, as much as she was embarrassed to admit it, it had completely fucked with her head.

He'd been completely baffling in every sense of the word - hot one minute, cold the next. Pensive and apologetic, then angry and frustrated. She hadn't been able to keep up with him, and the more she tried, the more confused she became. She'd made up a few lame excuses here and there to try and make sense of his behavior - he's drunk. Dumbledore's been talking crap to him. He's stressed. They didn't seem to hold any weight now though. In fact, they seemed downright absurd.

Looking back on it all, everything he'd done and said somehow appeared so contradictory now. For instance, he'd say certain things knowing that they would provoke questions, yet when she questioned him, he'd go silent or get angry and refuse to talk. Then, when he talked of fate and her hating him, he'd distract her with his lips and touch, knowing damn well it would addle her mind.

It was almost like he'd been trying to tell her something, yet didn't really want her to know what it was...

Hermione sighed explosively, that didn't even make any sense. Now she was being contrary. Yet, why did she still feel like she was missing something?

She already knew that he was hiding something from her, or more accurately, planning something without her, so that wasn't the reason she was feeling this way. No. It was something else, something in the way he'd been talking and acting, something that was... worse? Maybe? She wasn't sure. She was so confused.

What was it? What was it? What was it?

Hermione subconsciously brought her fingers up to her lips, her thoughts going to the kiss they'd shared before he'd left to meet Blaise and Theo. Christ, they'd nearly been caught by Ron and Lavender. She didn't want to imagine what would have happened if Ron had seen them, and Lavender for that matter - she would have surely blabbed to the whole school. Why had Draco done that? Why had he been so reckless? He was always so careful, more so than Hermione. What had changed tonight? She remembered the way he'd held her hand in the hallways, not caring if anyone saw them, kissing her knuckles solemnly. He'd never done that before. Ever.

He'd seemed reluctant to leave her, he had, she hadn't imagined it. He'd definitely hesitated, even though Ron had been walking right towards them. The way he'd kissed her, so desperately, so heedlessly. It had been different, different than any other kiss they'd shared. She couldn't stop thinking about it - the way his hands gripped her face, the way his lips pressed against hers - hard and dominating, tongue relentless, his breathing ragged. Despite how amazing the kiss had been, there was something about it that left a hollowness inside her, something that felt dark and lonely, something that, honestly, scared the shit out of her. Because, as much as she tried to push the horrible thought away, the kiss - the gut-wrenchingly passionate kiss - had felt like a... goodbye.

Hermione sat bolt upright, a harsh gasp tearing from her throat, as the toxic thought started to manifest and grow in her mind - tentacles reaching out far and wide. She couldn't stop it, the horrible thought. It was burrowing deep, latching on to whatever it could, poisoning all other thoughts as it inserted its roots.

Hermione's heart dropped and her stomach roiled, nausea rising in her throat.

Now that the terrible thought was there, it was going to be hard to remove, it was like cancer, spreading and infecting everything it touched.

She brought her hand to her chest, panic rushing through her veins, making her feel dizzy. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to quell the sickness rising inside her. She breathed deeply in and then slowly out, the sound choppy and uneven.

No... No. She couldn't do this to herself. She was being ridiculous. He hadn't been saying goodbye, he hadn't. There was no way. She was reading too much into it, she was trying to create something out of nothing, cause something that wasn't there. She did this all the time, except this time she'd gone too far.

Draco would never do that to her. He would never leave without telling her, without explaining why. He wouldn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

Heavy, all-consuming dread swelled inside her chest, worming its way into every nook and crevice.

She couldn't sit here, she couldn't sit and wait till morning to prove that her absurd theory wasn't true, that Draco hadn't left her. She had to confirm it now. But how? She couldn't get into the Slytherin dorms.

Hermione kicked the thick bed quilt off her body, thinking, thinking.

A sudden thought came to her, and she lunged through the curtains surrounding her bed and reached for her bag that she always kept close at hand.

She stupidly and rather thoughtlessly upended it on the bed, books, parchment, quills, and inkpots spilling out in a disorganized heap. One inkpot mustn't have had the lid screwed on properly - it exploded all over her red and gold quilt cover, staining it black.

"Shit," she hissed, pulling books out of the way. It was too late for the brand new wad of parchment she'd bought last week, it was already black and ruined.

She grabbed her wand and cast a quick cleaning charm that didn't seem to do much at all, and then began frantically sorting through the contents, looking, looking.

Her heart stuttered. Where the fuck was it?... The booklet, the Prophecy, it wasn't there.

Hermione searched through everything again, forcing herself to go slower this time, opening books and shaking them out, making sure the booklet hadn't accidentally slipped inside one of them. She even unfolded every piece of parchment and carefully lined them up, ensuring that she'd checked them all and not missed any.

She did this three times, but every time she came up empty.

It wasn't there. It was gone.

Hermione sat back with a jolt, her eyes wide and frightened. The implication of what this meant... she could barely think it.

"I don't want you looking at it anymore. It's not healthy."

She remembered Draco picking up her bag earlier while she finished straightening her clothes, she remembered the way his back was to her, his shoulders tense.

He'd taken it. Oh, God. He'd taken it! Why? Why?

There was only one reason why he would take it, and she instantly cursed the thought, vowing not to believe it. He would never. He would never.

Panic and terror writhed inside her, and before she'd even fully registered that she'd moved, she found herself at the dormitory door, flinging it open and sprinting down the stairs.

She didn't slow as she bounded across the common room floor to the stairs on the opposite side. She took them two at a time, tripping and catching her knee near the top, before stumbling to the third door on the right, throwing it open with a loud BANG!

"Harry?" she rasped, arms stretched out in front of her as she tried to navigate her way in the dark. "Harry!"

A light suddenly came on, and she saw Dean and Seamus falling out of their beds.

"Waa' is it?" Seamus slurred, voice thick with sleep. "Waa' happened? Waa's going on?"

Dean blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "Hermione?" he frowned, taking in her ruffled appearance. "What the hell?"

Hermione turned away from them and stared at Harry's empty bed, eyes wide and filling with tears.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Calm down. Panicking isn't going to help. Act normal. Don't draw any attention... don't draw any more attention. There could be a perfectly good explanation for all this.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and without looking at Seamus and Dean, she asked. "Where's Harry?" her tone was mostly calm, but if anyone cared to listen closely, they wouldn't miss the slight tremor.

There was a lengthy pause, and Hermione could only imagine the looks they were giving her. After all, she'd just barged into their room in the middle of the night, assuredly looking a fright with her pinched complexion and wild-eyed look, donning only a barely-there white tank top and blue bottoms - no shoes and no overcoat to hide her modesty.

"How are we supposed to know?" Seamus said in his thick Irish accent, tone incredulous. "Jesus, Hermione. What's going on? Are you OK or what?"

Ron's and Neville's curtains were still drawn tightly shut, which suggested they probably used silencing charms at night. Good. She didn't need Ron getting involved in this.

She ignored Seamus's concerns, her bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes scanning both of Harry's bedside tables before moving to land on his chest.

Technically, she didn't need Harry, wherever he was. She just needed his map. She hoped against all hope that he hadn't taken it with him and he'd left it lying around. If it was warded away, she was in trouble.

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of it and started tearing through the contents, pulling out clothes, books, magazines, broom cleaning supplies and all other manners of things, littering the floor with all of Harry's belongings.

She could hear Dean's and Seamus's mumbled complaints behind her, or maybe it was the lilt of concern she could detect in their voices. She didn't care. She continued to ignore them and preceded to dig until, eventually, her fingers brushed the bottom of Harry's chest.

For Fuck's sake. Where was it?

She pulled her wand out of the magically-altered pocket in her pajama bottoms - unaware that she'd had the sense to grab it before she'd ran out of her dormitory - desperation making her clumsy. It was unlikely that it would work, but at this point, anything was worth a try. "Accio Marauders Map," she commanded, jabbing her wand into the air with force.

Unbelievably, the map flew towards her and she caught it with a shaking hand, fumbling and almost dropping it on the floor.

She couldn't believe it, it had been under his pillow, just like last time.

Foolish, sweet, trusting Harry.

Hermione darted from the dormitory without a backward glance at Seamus and Dean, map and wand clutched tightly in her hands. She scrambled out of the portrait hole and dashed down the corridor, stopping at the top of the Grand Staircase to look down at the map.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," she breathed, watching as the map began to materialize before her eyes.

Her fingers were shaking so badly she could hardly get the stupid thing open. After a moment, she finally unfolded it, eyes searching for the Slytherin dorms.

She wasn't particularly surprised to see that Draco wasn't in his bed. No. Scared? Absolutely. What did surprise her though was the rush of emotion that shot through her and the gasping sob that tore from her throat.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Blaise and Theo weren't in their beds either, and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Hermione frantically searched the map, her gaze sweeping over it, inch by inch. She was thankful for the late hour, it was much easier to read the map at night when everyone was tucked up in their beds, fast asleep. In the daytime, it was a writhing mass of labeled dots, making it difficult to discern anything without getting a banging headache.

Still, it felt like an age until she finally spotted a group of stationary dots in the Astronomy tower. The Astronomy Tower? What on earth...? It was one of the last places she checked, thinking that if Draco was planning to leave tonight, he'd logically be leaving through the front door.

She vaguely noted Draco's dot, as well as Blaise's and Theo's, but they weren't the ones that she focused on. Oh no. There were others, names she could hardly believe she was looking at, names that invoked terror, names that shouldn't be anywhere near Hogwarts castle, let alone inside it.

Bellatrix Lestrange

Alecto Carrow

Amycus Carrow

Corban Yaxley

Fenrir Greyback

Hermione had to grip the banister for support as she read the names over and over and over again, her panic reaching a fever pitch. She prayed that she was dreaming, that this was all just a horrible nightmare. It couldn't be real, it couldn't.

Death Eaters inside the castle?

Her vision darkened and a high-pitched ringing started in her ears.

No. No. This couldn't be happening. Please, please, let this be a hallucination, please let the map be wrong. But Hermione knew that it wasn't wrong, the map never lied.

She thought back to a few weeks ago, when Draco had first told her about his tasks, about the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things.

My task is to fix it so that the Death Eaters can get into the castle and take it over.

She'd pleaded that there must be another way, that he couldn't let them in.

There's nothing we can do except complete the tasks. Trust me, I've thought it through long and hard. He's taken over Malfoy Manor, there's no way I can get her out, not without getting us both killed in the process. I have to do this.

The breath rushed out of Hermione, and her legs began to shake violently of their own accord.

She had thought that she'd talked him out of it. She'd thought that they were in agreement when she'd told him they would figure it out together, find another way. But now she could see that wasn't the case at all. It never had been. Draco had never intended to drop the tasks. He'd never intended to find another way.

He had promised her though. He'd promised!... Which ultimately meant he'd lied to her. He'd deceived her. He'd played her for a fool. And she was a fool, there was no doubt about it. She was the biggest fool of all.

Hermione looked down at the map again, mind reeling, as she tried desperately to get herself under control. It was hard, she could already feel herself slipping into despair.

Then something caught her eye - a lone dot on the opposite side of the Astronomy Tower.

Dumbledore. Dumbledore was there!

Relief flared inside her, and it was like a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing and comforting. Seeing Dumbledore's dot gave her hope, gave her courage. It wasn't too late. Dumbledore was arguably the most powerful wizard in the world. He wouldn't allow Death Eaters to take over the castle. It was going to be OK. They could fix this. She just needed to get to Draco, get him away from the Death Eaters. They would go into hiding, they would run away together. They would get Draco's mother and then they would run far, far away. It would all be fine. It would all be fine.

With that final thought, she folded the map and shoved it into her pocket, gripping her wand tightly and taking off at a dead run. Her bare feet stung as they slapped against the chilly stone floor. She was so cold that she could barely feel her fingers and toes and her lungs burned with each icy breath.

She didn't stop though, she ran and she ran until she finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, indistinct voices floating down, and she began climbing them one by one, as swift as her aching limbs would take her.

Hermione stayed as quiet as she could, it was difficult with her breath wheezing out of her, but the voices were getting louder the higher she climbed, and she doubted they'd be able to hear her anyway.

Her heart punched an uneven pattern on the inside of her chest, she was scared and she was nervous. She wasn't too proud to admit that.

"Draco!" came Professor Snape's sharp tone.

Hermione paused on the uppermost step, flattening herself against the wall, waiting, listening. She hadn't realized that Snape was there, in fact, she was almost certain that he hadn't been there. He must have just arrived before her.

"Draco, don't," Snape hissed. "Think about what you're doing," he urged. "You don't have to do this."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, refusing to entertain what Draco might be about to do, and made to step out. But another voice froze her, the high-pitched, grating sounds making her jump back into the shadows and cringe.

"Shut up, Severus!" Bellatrix, that had to be Bellatrix. "If Draco wants to do it, then let him."

Unease snaked up Hermione's spine.

"I will not!" Snape snarled. "This isn't right."

There was a long, pregnant pause, and even though Hermione couldn't see what was going on, she could feel the tension from where she stood, hidden behind the wall.

"You will," Bellatrix told him. "Otherwise the Dark Lord will know of your interference and I think you already know how displeased he will be. It may even end with you losing your head. Actually, on second thoughts, intervene all you like," she cackled manically. "I shall mount your head in my bedroom. It will look lovely next to the other Professor's head - what was her name? Burbage? Nagini barely left her face intact, but I'll make sure to preserve yours in perfect condition."

"Enough," Draco snapped, and Snape cursed colorfully. "Neither will be necessary."

Hermione listened, frowning. He sounded so calm, calmer than she thought he would, his voice was strong and commanding.

Why wasn't Dumbledore saying anything? Why didn't he have them all tied up already?

She crept towards the edge of the wall and peered around it, taking a quick glance around the circular room. Snape was standing with Blaise and Theo on Draco's left, and Bellatrix, Yaxley, and the Carrow twins were standing on his right. Dumbledore was directly in front of Draco with his back to the open archway. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rumbled in its wake, a fierce wind whipping his grey robes about him.

If Hermione had been paying close attention, she might have realized that someone was missing from the group, and perhaps then she would have been on high alert. But as it were, she didn't notice that Fenrir Greyback wasn't in attendance and therefore didn't hear the almost imperceptible sound of shuffling feet on the stairs behind her, nor the feel of hot breath on the back of her neck, before it was too late.

She screamed as two arms came around her, one tight on her waist, the other - a dirty, long-nailed hand - going across her mouth.

"Ooooooh, look what I've found," he proclaimed in a low rasping tone, dragging her into the room. "Fresh meat," he chuckled, his rancid breath fanning across her face and making her gag. He flicked his tongue out and swiped it along her temple. "Mmm, tasty."

Hermione breathed heavily through her nose, her chest heaving, and stared wide-eyed at all the faces turned in her direction, all with varying expressions. Snape - disappointment. Blaise and Theo - Horror. Bellatrix - Glee. Yaxley and Carrow Twins - Bordom. Dumbledore - Sadness. Draco - nothing, absolutely nothing.

She stared straight at Draco as she struggled to get free, kicking and scratching, but it was useless. Greyback was too strong. Draco stared back at her for a moment, his only sign of acknowledgment was the small muscle jumping in his jaw. Other than that, there was nothing, no surprise, no anger, no fear. Nothing.

She screamed against Greybacks hand, the sound broken and muffled, pleading with Draco to stop whatever this madness was.

Draco straightened his back and lifted his chin, a dangerous look crossing his face. For a moment Hermione was sure he was going to blast Greyback into next week for mauling her like he was. But then Dumbledore suddenly spoke, his tone warm and conversational, and everyone turned to stare at him.

Only Dumbledore could command complete attention in such a casual and understated manner.

"Draco, Dear boy. Is this really the path you want to take?" he asked, his words sending an instant chill through Hermione. Odd that he would use that specific wording. "Think carefully now, because there will be no going back. You have the power to do great things, to make a huge difference in this world. But it all hangs precariously in the balance, it all depends on what you chose to do right now," he paused, and Hermione flicked her eyes to Draco, watching as he took a deep shuddering breath. "Don't make the wrong decision. You're a good person. I know you have the strength to resist the call to darkness. I know you have the willpower and strength to stay true and loyal to what is right. You are remarkable, Draco, and I admire you for your courage. The road ahead is going to be difficult, regardless of which you chose, just make sure you have no regrets, that's all I ask. The right choices are always the hardest, but I find they are usually the most fulfilling in the end, burdensome though they are."

Hermione gazed at the old headmaster, feeling so unbelievably grateful to have him there. How could Draco not listen to him? How could he make the wrong choice now? He couldn't, it was impossible. Dumbledore had basically just welcomed him with open arms. She had spoken to Draco one evening about him joining the Order of the Pheonix. He'd laughed it off, saying no one would accept, that they'd never trust him. Now he had proof. Dumbledore trusted him. And if Dumbledore did, everyone else would too, eventually. She tried to catch Draco's eye again, but his gaze was fixed on the storm outside, watching the wind and rain get more and more violent by the second.

"What a load of rubbish!" Bellatrix spat. "Don't say another word, you stupid old fool, or I'll snatch your life from you before you can finish the next syllable. Do you understand?"

Dumbledore smiled and clasped his hands together, inclining his head politely. He was too nice, far too nice.

Hermione couldn't believe he was standing there and taking shit from Bellatrix Lestrange. She was thankful for what he'd said to Draco, for Draco did seem to be mulling over his words and taking them seriously. But she was baffled as to why he was allowing this farce to go on. He could have all the Death Eaters on their knees, tied up, in a matter of seconds if he wished it. What was he waiting for? Knowing Dumbledore, he was probably waiting for Draco to make his own decision. He wouldn't want to influence it in any way. As thoughtful as that was, Hermione hardly thought now was the time or place to just let things play out and see what happened.

There was a sudden, deafening clap of thunder, and Hermione almost jumped out of her skin.

"Scared, little girl?" Greyback murmured in her ear. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

Oh, she doubted that. She didn't need to see his face to know that he was leering at her, she could hear it in his voice. Her skin felt like it was crawling, she couldn't stand him being so close to her, knowing who he was and what he was. Hermione had heard all the stories about him, he was as sick as they came. All it would take is one bite, one bite, and Hermione's life would change forever.

She tried to ignore him, as much as someone could ignore being restrained against their will by a complete psychopath. She stared at the side of Draco's face, taking in his perfect, chiseled profile, willing him to look at her.

Please, please, look at me.

As if hearing her internal pleas, he turned his head towards her slowly, his sliver eyes dark and unfathomable.

God, it ached to see him like this, so conflicted.

She shook her head, pleading with her eyes. It was the only thing she could do - shake her head and struggle against the arms wrapped around her.

"Draco," Snape urged again. "We can leave now, just say the word -"

"He isn't going anywhere with you!" Bellatrix argued, cutting him off. "He will be leaving with me and only me. It's the Dark Lord's orders -"

Hermione tuned them out and continued to stare right at Draco, trying to convey with her eyes what she couldn't with words. Don't do anything stupid. It's not too late. We can fix this.

Draco pressed his lips together grimly, eyes burning into hers with such sadness it almost took her breath away. He shook his head minutely, his expression as grave as she'd ever seen it. No. He turned away from her and lifted his wand, hand steady and unflinching as he aimed it at Dumbledore's chest.

"Draco," Dumbledore breathed.

No. No. No. No. NO! He wouldn't. He can't. Draco didn't have it in him to kill someone. He didn't. He didn't. He didn't. He was good. He was pure. Hermione knew him. She knew the real him.

Hermione fought hard to get free, she kicked, she screamed, she flung her weight against the iron bands around her, but they wouldn't budge.

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Please," Dumbledore begged. "You can resist. I know you can."

Draco narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, I think you overestimate me, Headmaster."

Hermione bit down hard on Greyback's hand, and he howled in pain and shoved her roughly to the ground. "BITCH!" he snarled, kicking her savagely in the stomach.

Her breath rushed out of her in a horrible choked wheeze and pain, as she'd never felt, exploded in her abdomen. She gasped and coughed, clutching at her stomach as she reached out with a trembling hand towards Draco, but he wasn't looking at her. His attention was solely on Dumbledore, his face contorted with pure rage.

"AVADA -" he began, voice booming in the circular room.

"- DRACO, NOOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed.

"- NO!" someone else bellowed.

"- KEDAVRA!" a bright green bolt of light shot from the tip of his wand and buried itself in the center of Dumbledore's chest, sending him flying back to hit the edge of the archway, his body crumpling to the ground at odd angles.

Hermione, who had struggled into a standing position, collapsed back to the floor, her knees hitting the stone with a jarring jolt. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide with shock and disbelief as she stared at Dumbledore's lifeless form, his blue eyes blank and staring, the twinkle she'd become so fond of, gone.

No.

Then all hell broke loose, too much for Hermione to keep track of all at once. She saw Draco charge at Greyback, roughly tackling him to the ground, his fists coming up to pummel the werewolf's face, blood splattering his ivory skin with every strike. He looked deranged, he looked like he wanted to kill Greyback with his bare hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blaise and Theo sprinting across the room toward Draco, presumably to stop him before he killed his second victim of the night. Bellatrix cackled and spun around in circles, screeching, "Dumbledore's dead. Dumbledore's dead. Dumbledore's dead." Snape yelled that they needed to leave, right now! And Yaxley levitated Dumbledore's body into the air, making it dance like a puppet whilst he grinned like the evil bastard he was. He then flung the headmaster from the top Astronomy Tower to rousing applause from the Carrow Twins.

Hermione watched it all in a sort of stunned daze, slumped against the wall in complete and utter shock. She felt like she was dreaming. Nothing felt real, it was all too surreal and nightmarish. Because Dumbledore couldn't be dead. The Great Albus Dumbledore couldn't be dead. It was impossible. Not by Draco's hand. Not by her Draco.

She brought her hands up to her face, the reality of the situation finally catching up to her, and she sobbed brokenly, letting out a low keen that seemed to go on and on and on. Her body trembling so hard it made her bones rattle.

Snape grabbed Draco around the middle and the three of them - Snape, Blaise, and Theo - attempted to haul him to his feet. It wasn't easy, he was like a madman, fists flying, teeth bared, silver eyes flashing with fury.

"Draco, stop!" Blaise pleaded. "We have to go. For fuck's sake. Stop. STOP! You're going to kill him!"

They pulled once more and Draco allowed them to drag him away. "Alright, alright!" he growled savagely. His knuckles were split and swollen, his face covered in blood. Bright red blood, wet and glistening.

Hermione glanced down at the werewolf's motionless form and had to quickly look away again, her throat constricting as she tried to stop herself from heaving.

She looked back up again - and her eyes met silver. "Draco," she sobbed, voice cracking. She shook her head sharply to convey her disbelief of what he'd done. "Why?"

Why? Why? The million-dollar question.

Draco stared back at her, jaw working, and despite it all, she just wanted him to hold her. To tell her everything would be OK. Even though she knew, deep down she knew, nothing would ever be OK again.

She made to crawl towards him, too weak and shaky to stand, but he turned away from her. He turned away.

"Draco," she called out to him, lip trembling. She tried to reign in her despair, but it was beyond that now, it was a living, breathing thing inside her. "Draco!"

"What's this?" Yaxley asked, eyeing Hermione with distaste. "Is she your little girlfriend, Draco?"

Draco scrunched up his face and let out a low grunt of disgust. "No," he denied, the word coming out smooth and easy, no hesitation.

"Who is she, then?"

"She's nobody," he told the Death Eater bluntly, leaving no room for further discussion.

Yaxley sneered and turned towards the stairs.

Nobody. She was Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. It hurt, she wasn't going to lie. Even though she knew he couldn't exactly admit who she was, what she was to him... Or had it all been a lie? Had everything he'd said to her been a huge lie? She just didn't know anymore. She didn't know anything. He'd lied to her. He'd deceived her. How could she believe anything that came out of his mouth? He'd killed Dumbledore for Christ's sake, and he'd barely batted an eyelash.

Hermione's stomach roiled, and she hunched over unable to stop herself from spilling her guts on the stone floor. She gasped breathlessly, trying to suck in some much-needed air between bouts of retching.

Blaise gazed down at her, pity heavy in his dark eyes. "We need to go," he gritted to Draco, whose back was still turned to her.

Bellatrix, Yaxley, and the Carrow Twins had already begun descending the stairs with Greyback levitating behind them.

"No," Hermione cried out, voice croaky and raw as she struggled to stand.

"Let's go," Draco said, completely ignoring her and the four of them started to leave.

"No. NO! You can't go," she yelled after him, all sense leaving her. She didn't care if the Death Eaters heard her. She couldn't let him leave. "Draco, please. Please, don't leave me," her voice broke on the last word and tears streamed down her face.

He didn't even turn, none of them did, it really was like she was nobody, a ghost, invisible, unimportant.

"DRACO!" She screamed, tone piercing. "Don't do this! If you care for me at all, do not leave like this."

His steps didn't falter.

"I will never forgive you for this," she sobbed, breath shuddering in and out of her. "Never. NEVER!"

She watched him disappear into the stairwell, her heart thudding erratically. He'd turn back in a minute. He would. He would. He wouldn't really leave her.

One minute passed and then another, and another. When he didn't come back, she made to stand up, limbs shaking uncontrollably. She'd go after him, he couldn't have gotten far. She'd chase him to the ends of the earth if she had too. He wasn't leaving her, she wouldn't let him. Over her dead body, she wouldn't let him! But arms came around her, stopping her, and she felt herself being pulled against a firm chest.

"Shhhhh, Hermione. It's OK. You're going to be OK. I'm here. I'm here," a gentle hand came up to brush her hair from her face and she slumped back down to the ground.

Harry.

"Harry," she turned to him frantically, knees biting into the cold stone floor, hands grasping at his t-shirt, eyes wild. "You have to stop him. He's going to Voldemort. He... You must stop him. Go now, quickly!"

Harry stared at her, his startling green eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. The look he gave her was like a punch to the gut, more vicious than the kick Greyback had given her. He shook his head solemnly, jaw tight, lips thinned. "No," he said, firm and direct. "He's gone, Hermione. You have to let him go, it's for the best -"

"NO!" she screamed, the sound high and grating. She lashed out at him violently, her hands connecting with the side of his face, his arms, his chest. "Let go of me. Let go of me! I need to go after him. I have to stop him. Let me go!"

Harry took the brunt of every hit without so much as a grunt or complaint. After some struggling, he managed to flip her over and pin her to the floor with his weight, wrapping his arms and legs around her, making it impossible for her to get away. "I'm sorry," he gritted brokenly. "One day you will understand. I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me."

Hermione screamed and she screamed and she screamed. She screamed until her throat ached and her head throbbed. She screamed until she strained her vocal cords beyond recognition. She screamed until she could scream no more.

~ End of Part 1 ~

A/N: Wow, I can't believe it, part 1 is finished! It feels so good! I didn't think it would end up being 175,000 words when I first started writing it, haha, but oh well. What did you guys think of this chapter? There was a lot going on, that's for sure. Big conversations, big revelations, confessions, secrets, heartache, murder, you name it. The reason this chapter took so long is that I wanted it to be perfect, obviously - I always do, but more so with this one being that it was the final chapter of part 1. I was very hard on myself with this one, beating myself up constantly. I think I ended up deleting close to 12,000, which when you think about it is a hell of a lot, this chapter alone is 27,000 words, add 12,000, and that is the reason you've been waiting so long. I hope it was worth it. I know it was a sad ending, perhaps it wasn't the ending you were hoping for, but remember, we still have part 2! :D I'm going to give myself a week to do a little planning and then I'm going to start writing. Part 2 is going to be posted separately. I'm calling it 'Inevitable'. Please keep an eye out for it, if you wish to continue on this journey with me. Actually, I will post a note here when I post the first chapter of Inevitable that way you won't miss it :). Get ready, it's going to be dark and sexy. I'm so excited about it! Also, I just wanted to say a massive thanks to everyone who has read my story, especially those who leave such lovely comments - you keep me going! I appreciate you so much. I hope you keep following the second part to see where Draco and Hermione end up.

Black_Osmosis, thank you for all that you do. You and your editing skills are amazing! Even though we haven't met in person, you've become a great friend over the past year or so. We've shared lots over email, I'm so thankful to have you in my life. Sending lots of love and hugs xoxox