A/N: Hey – sorry it's been a little longer than usual with the update, but I started reading a few Dramione fics and got depressed by how good they are . Also...I think this chapter turned out a lot darker than I'd hoped it would be o.o I watched Sweeney Todd so that may have had an influence...I hope you like it though, bit of a plot development.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I always get excited when I open my emails and there's a nice long review waiting...
Sharpestsatire...you have no idea how much love I have for you xD Your reviews literally make me squeal in excitement! xD Oh, and for the record, yes, OF COURSE I've read/seen P&P :D I named my cat Mr Darcy :P (he was black and quite big so we decided he was suitably tall dark and handsome.)

Draco was pacing back and forth in the empty common room, his feet shuffling quickly over the flagstone floor. Each time her turned to retrace the steps he had just taken, he caught his reflection in the iron-framed mirror which stood on the opposite wall and shuddered. He couldn't sleep and it showed. His eyes looked sunken and heavy; his hair was, unusually, in disarray and his breath came quickly as he gazed at his reflection.

And then it happened again. His Master was calling him. A guttural whimper was wrenched from his throat as he thrashed his arm against the stone wall for the eighth time that night. The impact and coldness of the stone helped distract him from the unbearable stinging which travelled around his mark each time.

When it had stopped, Draco braced himself against the wall, placing a hand on either side of the mirror. He gazed into his own dark, mutinous eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Why did the Dark Lord do this to him? He knew that there was no way for Draco to leave Hogwarts during term time, and yet he insisted on torturing him, calling him, forcing a part of him to be torn away, only to find that it was trapped inside his body. Inside Hogwarts.

Draco couldn't decide whether he hated the school for causing him this pain, or appreciated it for protecting him from having to see his Master. Because being in the presence of the Dark Lord...

Draco shuddered and looked away from the mirror so he didn't have to see the fear and loathing that weren't supposed to be in his eyes.

Fuck it, he thought. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. In Draco's life, everything had always turned out okay, no matter how much shit he appeared to be in, he just rode it out and everything seemed to settle itself back into place. But he didn't think that was going to happen this time. He was marked now.

Draco slumped dejectedly against the mirror once more, his face pressed against the cold glass, his breath clouding the smooth surface as his eyes slipped shut. He really needed some sleep, but at that moment, Draco heard the heavy stone entrance to common room heave itself open and jumped up quickly.

It was time to become Malfoy again.

When Blaise entered the common room, Malfoy was already lounging lazily on an armchair, his legs slung over one of the arms and his face fixed into a nonchalant expression, but the minute he saw the taller boy, he seemed to relax and Blaise immediately saw how tired his blond house mate was.

Walking further into the room, Blaise loosened his tie before taking it off and chucking it onto the marble mantelpiece. The common room was supposed to be a communal area, but it was accepted that Malfoy and Zabini could do what they liked there, including leaving their things lying around.

Blaise paused for a moment looking at the boy in the chair, and then turned towards his dorm before Draco's voice called him back.

"Where have you been?" He asked, "Tonight wasn't your patrol night, was it?"

"I took an extra shift." The taller boy replied simply without turning to look at his fellow Slytherin. Draco snorted.

"With that mudblood I bet." He said nonchalantly, adjusting his position so that he was more comfortable in the chair. It was obvious he wasn't going to get a good night's sleep so he might as well settle in for the long wait before breakfast. Draco was shocked out of his musings by his house mate's voice, closer than he expected and louder than he'd heard it since their first day of school.

"Don't call her that," Blaise almost growled a mere few feet away from Draco and looking intimidating as he loomed over the blond Prince in the darkness. Draco opened his mouth to reply but for once Zabini spoke over him, "and if you touch her again I'll..."

Draco's mind immediately jumped to the kiss and he cursed the stupid mudblood wench for spilling so quickly. She was supposed to be intelligent. Draco looked up at his friend sharply, suddenly wide awake, his eyes narrowed and defensive.

"What?" He said, rising to meet the height of his opponent, "What are you going to do?" Draco was fuming, angry that his momentary madness had been discovered, but mostly confused as to why the boy before him cared so much that he'd kissed the Gryffindor girl.

Blaise, who usually would have walked away by now, merely pulled himself up to his fullest height and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I doubt Professor McGonagall would be best pleased to know you'd been beating around her best student." He replied, his voice returning to its usual serenity, but his eyes blazing. Draco blanched for a moment, unsure of what Blaise was talking about, and then realised he was referring to the injury Hermione had had in Potions class a few days ago...Draco's heart beat began to slow down as he realised he hadn't been caught, and he almost chuckled at how close he had been to telling Blaise the secret himself. But he was relieved.

Why would anyone care if he hit a mudblood? As long as no one knew he'd kissed one, he was safe.

Blaise registered the slight smirk on Malfoy's face and turned away, disgusted.

Draco watched him leave with a heavy heart. His relationship with Blaise had become so confusing, and before he could stop himself, Malfoy heard a small, somewhat meek voice speaking and realised it was his own.

"We used to be friends," the voice said, ringing out across the cold dungeon room despite its softness. There was a pause as the dark skinned boy turned to face his house mate. He seemed to halt for a moment, sizing up the boy in front of him before he sighed slightly, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

"I'm still your friend Draco." He said, his deep voice ringing out as clearly as the first had.

"No." Draco replied quickly, "You're not. Not since..." the two shared a look of sad understanding and Draco could almost feel the mark on his arm burning into his skin. "Why can't you just understand?" He asked in a small voice, feeling more like a child than he ever had in his childhood.

"You know why," Blaise replied, "I can't just forgive what they did." Draco looked up at his friend, his eyebrows drawn together to form a heartbreaking expression of sadness.

"That was an accident..." he said, knowing he wasn't convincing anyone. It hadn't been an accident, but Draco's eyes pleaded Blaise to pretend. To pretend it hadn't happened, or at least to pretend that Draco wasn't one of them now...

But it was too much to ask of anyone, and without another word, Draco's only friend broke his gaze, and sunk quietly into the shadows of his dorm room, leaving the blond boy alone once more.

Draco's eyes stung with tears, with the sort of emotion only those close to him could bring out. The sort of emotion only Blaise could bring out. The rational part of Draco's mind knew he couldn't expect his friend to understand, but another part, the dark, selfish part which had got him into this mess, insisted that Blaise was doing this on purpose. That Blaise wanted Draco to be alone, and friendless, left to fend off the evil of his family, his life all by himself...

Draco felt warm tears dripping down his cheeks and willed them away. But they wouldn't do as he said, and he began to feel angry. Angry all over again. Angry at Blaise, angry at his parents, angry at himself, angry at the mark that was etched eternally into his skin...

And angry at her, at Granger. Her and all the other mudbloods like her. She and her kind were the reason he had to go through with this. The reason his parents could never love him for who he was and the reason nothing he did satisfied the Dark Lord...

But worst of all...they were the reason...the reason he could never give himself completely to his Master, the reason his parents looked on him with shame when he failed his task. It was their fault he couldn't stand to watch muggle children being beaten. Their fault that the sight of a limp, twisted corpse whose only crime was being left him sick. It was their fault that the only son of the glorious Malfoy family was a coward.

Because he cared. More than he should. More than he understood, and more than anyone had ever have expected from someone like him. He couldn't let go of the fact that the people he was born to hate had done nothing, nothing other than just existing. He couldn't accept that they should be tortured and terrorised for something over which they had not control...he knew this was true. But he also knew that it made him a coward. For he was supposed to enjoy it. He was supposed to gain some kind of pleasure from watching innocent people being torn apart, like his mother and his father and his Master did.

But he didn't. And Draco wasn't sure how much longer he could hide that.

As time went on, Hermione found it easier and easier to forget about the kiss with Draco, to ignore him completely in fact, and to focus her attention on Blaise who was rapidly becoming her closest friend.

Lavender insisted to anyone who would listen that the two were a couple, of course, and Ron was in a constantly foul mood, but to Hermione it simply felt as though she had, at last, found something akin to a soul mate. She felt more comfortable around Blaise than she ever had around Ron, but this was mostly due to the fact that Blaise listened to her, in fact Hermione often found herself rambling on for hours on end before realising that her poor companion must have been bored to death by now...however whenever she paused for breath she always found the Slytherin boy gazing at her, a mild look of interest on his face.

And, as time went by, he too began to open up to her more. Of course, she still dominated the conversation as no amount of closeness could change the fact that Blaise was not talkative by nature, but the small snippets she heard about his own feelings and life became more frequent, and Hermione still felt special every time she learnt something new about him that she was sure no one else but Malfoy could know.

Gradually, the school grew accustomed to their relationship, and as the Christmas Holidays approached it was only Lavender who still thought it gossip-worthy that the two were walking alone in the grounds after lunch. On one such day, whilst walking past the frozen lake, Hermione decided to broach one of the few topics the two had yet to discuss. So, with the utmost caution, she began to discuss her plans for the holiday, and along with them, her family.

As she rambled on comfortably about her parents, her cousins, her aunts and uncles, and all the other relatives who squeezed into her small suburb house for the Christmas festivities, Hermione failed to notice that the solemn boy beside her was even more silent than usual, and when she finally turned to look at him, she was surprised to see his face blank...stone cold.

She stopped immediately in her tracks, both verbally and physically, and the tall boy, too, ground to a halt beside her. Hermione was worried that she had bored him...or worse yet...that he had found the talk of her muggle family revolting.

"I'm sorry," she said hesitantly, "is something the matter?" Hermione feared his response but new by now that there was no point skirting around the subject. Blaise remained facing forwards as his lips formed the soft words, "it's nothing."

Hermione was not convinced, however, and, worried that all the progress they'd made over the past few months was coming to a grinding halt, she jumped out and stood right in front of him, forcing his eyes to fix on her face. She was determined and her facial features showed it. Blaise couldn't help the small smirk which tugged at his lips at the bizarre expression on her face and Hermione's heart sang out in relief at the sight of it. Clearly he wasn't too disgusted with her.

"So," She said raising one eyebrow, "what's the problem?" Blaise's gaze didn't move, nor did his features change. He remained completely still as Hermione grew increasingly impatient before him.

She couldn't help the childish urge which bubbled up inside of her, and without thinking, grabbed onto his glove-clad hand and tugged on it repeatedly.

"Come oooon!" She whined, "Tell meeee!" Hermione couldn't help but feel a little pleased with herself as she saw a small smile appear on Blaise's lips.

"I don't want to dishearten you." He said simply and continued walking, "But I can see you won't be dissuaded," He continued, leading the now confused Hermione to a dry spot by the lake and sitting down gesturing for her to follow. When she was seated he sighed dejectedly and shoved his hands in his pockets, he didn't like talking about himself.

"I suppose," he began, his voice seeming unusually loud after the silence of the snow-clad landscape, "it's time to tell you my sad little story." Hermione's heart suddenly clenched in her chest, this was not what she'd been expecting at all, but she leaned forward nonetheless, eager to hear anything of this boy's life.

"You spoke of your family," he began, looking towards the castle, "they sound wonderful by the way," he added politely and Hermione blushed recalling the brash way she'd outlined the personalities of her rowdy family members, "but, I'm afraid I have little to tell when it comes to family. My father, as I hope you will not be shocked to hear, was a Death Eater. One of the first to join as it happened. He was often away and mother raised me by herself mostly. She didn't mind though, and father came home rarely. But the night Voldemort killed Potter's parents, my father fled, came straight back to where we lived. He told mother to pack her bags, that we had to leave because they were looking for him. And we ran. Father was good, he was a very intelligent wizard and he hid us well. But when I came here everything changed. They tracked him down after those most faithful to the Dark Lord heard he had returned. They wanted him to join them, but he'd built a life now, his Death Eater days were behind him. They killed him," Blaise said, his face a blank, emotionless mask, "and then they killed my mother," At this moment Hermione saw a flash of something that looked like anger in his eyes and when he continued, there was a new, hard tone to his voice, "but not before they'd reminded her that she was filth. Dirty blood, they said." Blaise was breathing heavily now, his eyes still gazing fixatedly at the castle.

"Your mother was a muggle born?" Hermione asked with gentle surprise, wanting desperately to comfort him but unsure how.

"No." He replied, and a dark chuckle escaped his lips, "Both her parents were wizards. But her grandmother was a muggle and what was all they needed to hear." Hermione watched his face in horror. She would never have imagined that the boy in front of her had had to deal with such monstrosities, and she almost regretted asking him in the first place. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to regret it entirely. As selfish as it was, she liked being someone he could confide in, someone he could tell his deepest secrets to and, she hoped, someone who could comfort him when he needed it.

She had never seen him like this before, his face contorted in anger, his voice sharp. She was scared, but she knew that he wouldn't hurt her so, as slowly as she could, she draped her arm across his shoulders and squeezed him gently to her.

He turned to look at her slowly, and his eyes were filled with such anguish that Hermione could barely stand to look at him.

"I hate them as much as you do, Hermione. You need to understand that." And then suddenly his face returned to its usual blank yet interested expression. Everything was back to normal, and yet Hermione knew that something irrevocable had happened between them today. He'd let her in behind his mask, and whilst it had been frightening, she felt a new bond to the boy in front of her. Something had been sparked inside her, an irrational need to protect this strong boy, and as her arm slipped from his shoulder, she vowed that she would always be there to protect him from harm.

A/N: Slightly shorter than some of the other chapters and I'm sorry, but this was full of in depth character analysis and it's bloody tiring! On a side note, I realise that a lot of depth has been added to Draco and Blaise in this chapter, and I'd be very interested to hear what everyone has to think about it, even if it's just to say that I've gone way too deep/dramatic. I hope you liked it either way, I quite wanted Hermione to realise that she wasn't just some poor little muggle born who all the Slytherins hated, but that here were people other than Harry who had true horrors in their pasts. Anyway, let me know what you think!

Thank you all for the reviews last time, keep reading please and I hope to hear from you all again! xx