"He asks about you, you know, and don't pretend to play stupid with me."

I felt my shoulders tense as I sat stiffly down on one of the armchairs in the center of the room. I listened as she made her way towards me. She took the chair directly opposite me; she truly was a pretty girl and with any luck, whatever Weasley offspring she produces will take after her.

"Your Mother's also pretty scary when she chooses to be and has demanded that you either talk to me, her or Harry. Your pride would never permit you to speak to the other two."

I bit my lip; one thing I suppose I never noticed about her before, she gets directly to the point.

"Granger does any of this get to you? Or do you simply hide behind that massive intellect of yours? I was asked to kill a man and you're chatting me up as if this is a normal occurrence. You should be yelling at me, cursing me even, hitting me, something other than this, this mindless talk!"

I clenched my fists into the ends of the armchair at her slight smirk. Her idea was to get me to open up unwillingly to her, meeting my Mother's requirements.

"Do you forget Draco, that I'm one of Harry's closest friends? That I've heard him tell me of the nightmares he has, the vis—but do you honestly think that being his friend keeps me safe? Who was with Harry in the dungeons? The chamber? I was petrified! Who helped him with Buckbeak? He stood up for me when everyone else, even those of my own house, ridiculed me. So don't you dare accuse me of not being effected by any of what has happened."

I've never heard her voice hold that tone before.

"I hit you in the face once before, I'm not beneath doing it again, if that's what it takes for you to come to terms with the fact that we're now in the middle of a war that rests solely on the shoulders of a sixteen year old boy. It's not fair and he can use all the help and support because it's not just his life that's on the line. You're far from stupid."

She picked up the book that was on the table beside her and started reading—ignoring me, pointedly. We sat in a tense silence for nearly twenty minutes before I finally burst from the pent up tension she wittingly placed between us. Her attention was on the book on her lap, as if I didn't matter to her—perhaps I didn't and I could understand if it were true. I closed my eyes as I began speaking.

"He took my Mother as incentive for my father and I to not fail the tasks set upon us. My Mother, Granger. I was forced to watch some of their meetings, watch the torture of muggles…I had to succeed for my Mother's safety…I…I knew I would fail and that I wo—would've died…especially had it not been for Severus."

I felt her gaze on me, it was weighted. Not with pity, but mere interest for the words coming from my mouth. I finally opened my eyes, taking in the sight of her merely listening to me. I felt something bubble up within me, this overwhelming urge to redeem myself, to apologize for what I had done to her—I felt guilty.

"Granger, Hermione, I…I'm sorry."

And I am terribly sorry the horrendously long delay!

It's unedited, so any mishaps, feel free to point 'em out and I'll fix 'em.

ladious18 I dare say this is for you. :) You gave me the push I needed to finally just out with what I had next. I think, I may have gotten the groove to this story back! Thank you!