Isolation Chapter 15: Glass

Chapter 15: Glass

The final days of November were misty and bitter, and December crept in before she'd even noticed.

The nights were the kind that made you long for company; cold and eerily silent as nature slowly died by the frost. The winds had faded, and for that she was grateful, but Oh God the silence was haunting.

She was doing everything possible to keep busy, spending less time in her quarters, and flitting between the library and organising the ball with Michael and the Prefects. The dorm had become so suffocating after her fight with Draco, and she didn't dare spend more than a few moments in his presence. Despite the fact that their stormy altercation had happened just over two weeks ago, she still felt uneasy. Anything more than a necessary moment, and her body would start to react; heat crawling into her cheeks and pixies fluttering in her stomach.

Draco, on the other hand, seemed to seek her out whenever he could, randomly emerging from his room when she was in the kitchen or sitting area. In the last fortnight, they had crossed paths no less than ten times, and it was all due to his efforts, much to her confusion. She always made a quick exit and tried to avoid his eyes, fearing they would drag her in, but she had yielded and caught them once or twice. Her breath would hitch and her mouth would go dry, but she always managed to keep her expression indifferent as she ducked into her room, with his stare always boring into her back.

In the days since their kiss-come-argument, Draco had seemed to deteriorate; his features becoming worn and defeated. She ached to interact with him, if only to chase away some of the pain etched onto his face, but she was determined to keep a healthy distance from him. She still cooked the meals, of course, but that was the extent of her Malfoy-related activities, even if she was yearning to do more.

Despite her best efforts not to, she still cared.

But distractions were plenty with Michael requiring her help for the Ball and the end of term arrangements, and Ginny had successfully managed to convince her to go dress-shopping. The students had been given today, Sunday, to visit Hogsmeade and buy their formal outfits; and Hermione had hoped that the village's festive atmosphere would warm her mood.

She had always loved Christmas, but the cheer seemed forced and awkward this year, and she was very much aware that she wouldn't be spending it with Harry and Ron or her family. The risks were simply too high. Even the snow, which she adored with the appetite of a toddler, seemed to be in hiding, and not a flake had fallen this winter.

There was still time though…

"What do you think?" Ginny asked as she pulled back the dressing-room curtain. Hermione raised her head and felt a genuine smile tug at her lips. Her beautiful friend had selected a charming black dress with an intricate bead pattern across the bust and seams, and it suited her perfectly. "Well?" she prompted eagerly, flicking her fiery hair over her shoulder. "Is it okay?"

"You look stunning," Hermione told her affectionately. "Really, Gin. Didn't you like it in the mirror?"

"The mirrors are charmed to bullshit that every dress looks good," the younger witch scoffed. "Are you sure you're not just being polite?"

"No," she shook her head. "That's the one, Gin. You look wonderful."

She grinned and smoothed down the fabric. "Thank you," she said. "Is it good enough that I should take some photographs for when Harry gets back?"

If he gets back…

"Definitely," she nodded instead, deciding that dampening the mood was unnecessary. "He would stutter like a fool if he saw you in that dress, although I'm sure Neville will do the same."

"No," Ginny chuckled. "Neville's puppy-dog eyes have been steering towards Hannah Abbott recently."

"Really? Then why didn't he ask her to go?"

"You know how shy he gets," she spoke of him fondly. "Plus, I got in there before he really had a chance to ask anyone. I wanted a date who I trusted; something you should have done, Hermione."

"Michael is innocent enough-

"He has a soft spot for you," Ginny interrupted with a disapproving tone. "I know he and Ron weren't close, but still; he should know better-

"Ron and I were never official," she reminded the redhead. "And Michael is just a friend, Ginny-

"Well if he tries anything, he'll be shitting slugs for a week."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, and it felt good. "Your brother is fond of slug-hexes too."

"Even after it backfired?" Ginny smirked, cocking an amused eyebrow. "Okay, well that's my dress sorted. Which one do you like?"

"I have dresses-

"But you should get a new one," she insisted, gesturing to the variety of gowns in Gladrags Wizardwear. "That navy one would suit you-

"I don't see the point in buying a dress for a ball I don't even want to go to," Hermione argued, although the dress held her attention for a moment. "And it's not like I want to impress my date-

"Don't do it for him, do it for yourself," Ginny told her as she moved to pluck the gown from the rail. "This colour is lovely, and it doesn't have any of the frilly stuff you hate."

Hermione hesitated and reached out to finger the chiffon gown; simple compared to the other dresses decorating the shop, but she had always followed the less-is-more principle. "It's very beautiful," she mumbled thoughtfully. "But I-

"Just try it on."

.

.

The Head Girl headed back to her chambers with some Christmas gifts and the new dress in hand. Ginny's incorrigible and convincing behaviour was to blame, but Hermione would admit that she felt a little more relaxed after some shopping and a Butterbeer in the freshly-decorated pub, but it dissipated as she came to stand in front of her door.

Taking a deep breath, as she always did, she shoved it open and cursed herself yet again for forgetting her charmed bag as she struggled with her purchases. Her plan to make her entrance quiet and quick was hopeless when she stumbled, and some of her bags went flying across the floorboards.

"Bugger," she murmured, kneeling down to collect them.

She grabbed the final item just as she heard Draco's door open, and she kept her eyes low as he strode into the sitting area. The air in the room instantly shifted and grew heavier, and she swallowed back some nerves as she rose to her feet and rolled her shoulders.

"What's that for?" he questioned critically, gesturing to her dress in the transparent cover.

He was partially blocking her way, and the answer slipped out of her mouth before she could catch it. "Christmas Ball," she mumbled quickly, manoeuvring awkwardly around the sofas, but he moved into her path anyway; his eyes lingering on her dress. "Get out of my way please-

"You've been avoiding me," he accused in a scratchy voice. "Why?"

Hermione averted her gaze. "You know why, Draco," she snapped. "Move out my way-

"Exactly how long you do you intend to keep up this silent treatment?" he continued irately. "It's starting to piss me off-

"I won't ask you again," she said between tense lips, clumsily rummaging in her pocket for her wand. "Get out of my way, or I'll make you."

He regarded her with conflicting eyes, biting the inside of his mouth with irritation, before he stepped to the side with a resigned breath. His balled fists were shaking at his sides as she brushed past him, and she tried desperately to ignore the breeze of his comforting scent. His breath stroked across the shell of her ear, but she managed to stifle the shiver that threatened to betray her weakness.

"We have argued before, Granger," he said before she could reach the door, his voice almost dejected. "Why are you so…effected this time?"

She halted her steps and felt the ire rise in her chest. "You asked me to leave you alone," she responded coldly. "And that's what I'm doing-

"But I-

"You made this bed, Draco," she told him stiffly, determined not to get dragged into an argument. "So lie in it."

Fumbling with her wand, she cast a quick Muffliato to whisper her recently-changed password; Crookshanks. She doubted Draco would know the name of her beloved pet, and knew now to be careful when going into her room. She thought she heard him whisper something as she went inside, but she refused to dwell on it.

"Wait," Draco murmured, but she slammed the door anyway.

He recalled that fickle phrase his mother had used when he'd first started to attend Hogwarts and he'd denied he would miss the Manor; you don't realise what you've got until it's gone. After a fortnight with only a handful of sentences exchanged, he was beginning to regret the way he had handled their tempestuous row, and she was apparently adamant to not even look at him. It was beginning to slowly erode his resolve to pretend it wasn't bothering him, but the pride-damning truth was he pined for something from her.

A passionate fight, an educated discussion…a kiss.

Anything.

.

.

Wednesday had the pace of a limp-limbed sloth.

Hermione's classes had droned by, and she had spent the remainder of her afternoon helping to finalise the decorations for the Great Hall. She had managed to tear away from the overly-enthusiastic Prefects and steal a few hours in the Library, but her research on Horcruxes had been frustratingly unproductive. It was around ten in the evening when she decided to yield to her heavy lids and return to her dorm, hoping that Draco wasn't loitering in the sitting area.

She managed to sneak soundlessly inside and grab a glass of water, but a knock at the main door startled her. The glass shattered at her feet and she cursed under her breath, casting a wary look at Draco's room.

"Are you okay in there, Hermione?" Michael's voice called from outside, and she rolled her eyes. "Did I hear-

"I'm fine," she bit back. "What do you want, Michael?"

"Just a quick word-

"I'm just about to go to bed," she told him, sidestepping the shards carefully. "We can discuss it tomorrow-

"It won't take a moment," he insisted. "Come on, Hermione, it's only ten."

The witch exhaled and massaged her forehead, turning to give Draco's door a sceptical glance. Surely he knew better than to reveal himself when she had a guest, but he was unpredictable at the best of times. Deciding it was best to get rid of Michael as quickly as possible, she transfigured her clothes into pyjamas and kicked off her shoes, leaving her bag and wand in the kitchenette before she made to answer the door.

"Can I come in?" the Head Boy asked once she's opened it a crack.

"Not right now," she shook her head, too tired to even invent an excuse. "What do you need?"

"Well, I was just wondering what the arrangements are for Friday?"

"You know what's happening," she frowned. "I sent you all the details."

"I meant with us," he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. "Am I picking you up from here? Or do you-

"Oh that," she mumbled, trying to remain patient. It wasn't his fault that she'd been rather exasperated recently. "No, that's fine, Michael. We all agreed to meet outside the Great Hall, so we'll just do that."

"Okay," he nodded, barely concealing his disappointment. "Are you sure you don't want to meet up beforehand?"

"No, we're going to be rushed as it is, so it's just easier to meet there," she explained, pretending to stifle a yawn. "Was there something else? I'm quite knackered."

"Um, no," he shrugged in defeat. "That was all. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Good night," Hermione offered, promptly closing the door and listening to Michael's footsteps echo down the corridor. She stilled her breaths when she felt that familiar tingle across her shoulders and back, and she knew her Slytherin housemate was behind her. "What are you playing at?" she questioned, whipping around and making the mistake of catching his eyes. "Are you trying to get yourself caught?"

Draco's snowy features were creased into a pained scowl that made her falter. He looked…betrayed. "You said that there was nothing going on between you and Corner," he growled darkly, and her chest constricted.

Hermione made to move forward, but he predictably obstructed the route to her room. "There's not," she murmured hesitantly. "Move, Draco-

"Clearly there's enough going on that you would go to the ball with him," he continued in a hoarse voice, slowly stalking towards her. "I didn't peg you for a liar, Granger-

"I'm not lying," she argued, cringing when she remembered that she'd left her wand on the kitchen counter. "Let me get to my room-

"He likes you, Granger," he told her. "I can tell-

"You're being ridiculous," she scolded, unnerved by his stoic tone. "Move out of the-

"Make me," he challenged. "I'm not done talking about that prick."

Deciding the situation may require some magical assistance before she got too absorbed, her eyes flickered over to her discarded wand, and she lunged for it. She yelped as she slipped on the water she had spilled before; falling hard against the floorboards and smacking her hand into the crushed glass.

Hermione whined as the pain shot from her palm to her wrist, and up the rest of her arm. She glanced down and cringed when she saw the Galleon-sized shard stabbing her hand and the warm blood spilling between her fingers. She pulled herself up to lean against the cupboards, and before she could really understand it, Draco was kneeling next to her; his face calculating and composed, but with an edge that could have been misconstrued as concern.

"Pass me your hand," he instructed steadily. "I need to get the glass out-

"No, it's fine," she hissed through the pain. "Just get my wand-

"I can't touch your wand," he reminded the witch. "Let me take it out and you can heal it when you've calmed down-

"Help me get up-

"Stay still," he told her sternly. "Come on, Granger. Pass me your hand and I'll make it quick-

"Ow, ow, ow," she breathed as he gently cupped her wrist and took a closer look at the damage. His unexpected tenderness and poise calmed her, and her confused gaze studied his pensive and softer expression before she exhaled in submission. "Okay," she sighed. "I'm ready."

Hermione choked on a gasp as he fingered the glass and tried to pluck it from her flesh. "It hurts," she blurted before she could stop herself, swallowing a whimper. "Draco-

"It's alright," he hushed her, giving the wedge a final tug that yanked it loose. "There; it's done."

Draco watched the relief swim across her honey-soft features and felt something in his chest twinge. Her blood was streaked across his fingers and tucked beneath his nails, and while he was aware that it should have repulsed him, it didn't. His thumb absently rubbed invisible circles over her pulse-point as she took some deep breaths to help the sting in her palm subside. The inevitable tense silence slotted between them, and he watched her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

"Accio wand," she whispered, snapping her attention away from him.

Draco reluctantly released her wrist as she began to repair the messy cut, but he remained crouched at her side. Granger hadn't allowed him within an inch of her, and he took advantage of the opportunity to relish their proximity before she reverted back to her plan to avoid him. He dampened his lips with a serpentine flick of his tongue and forced himself to be patient, watching her with measuring eyes and realising he would have to be tactical if he wanted to end this well.

"I could have done that without you," she told him firmly, apparently satisfied with her healing charms.

"Perhaps," he conceded with a lowered brow. "I have-

"This doesn't change anything," she rushed out, leaning away and firing him a warning look. "I am still angry at you-

"Is that why you're going to the Ball with bloody Corner?" he growled, the jealousy rich in his voice, much to his disdain. "To prove a point?"

"I have nothing to prove to you!" she fired back, pulling herself up to stand and heading straight for her room. "You made your opinion of me clear-

"Don't run away from me, Granger!" he shouted after her. "Why the hell is this time so sodding different?"

"You know why!" she yelled; cheeks cherry-flushed and eyes starting to water. "I am tired of you tossing me aside and screwing with my head! I made how I feel about you obvious and you just-

"How you feel about me?" he repeated, his heart hammering under his ribs. "What are you-

"It doesn't matter anymore," she interjected hastily, scolding herself for letting that slip out. "You wanted nothing from me, so that's what you can have-

"Granger, wait!" he barked, but the only response he got was the shrill slam of the door. "For fuck's sake," he hissed into the empty space, making his way towards the bathroom to wash away the blood staining his fingertips.

He didn't bother to scrutinise it for indications of Mud this time; he knew it was just like his.

He hunched over the sink and flicked on the tap, eyeing the silky-red liquid swirl around the basin until it faded to a soft pink. Grinding his teeth and clenching the porcelain, he braced himself as a painful throb overtook his chest. This separation she was enforcing was weighing him down, and after two weeks, he was starting to forget how she felt; how she tasted.

He couldn't realistically blame her for acting like she was, but the prospect of her giving up on whatever it was between them made him feel physically sick. It had been fine toying with her emotions when there was a dormant promise that she would persevere regardless, but he knew her stubborn behaviour well enough to recognise that this time was different.

He had pushed her too far, and was paying the price.

It pained him to acknowledge it, but he wanted her, and the intensity and rawness of it overpowered the voice in his head telling him it was wrong. He could feel the need to act on his longing for her brewing inside his gut, and he was very much aware that something would happen soon.

He was beginnin to get restless.

.

.

Hermione shrugged at her reflection and dabbed a final layer of balm across her lips.

The midnight-blue gown seemed wasted when she didn't feel an inkling of anticipation for the Ball, but she had experimented with some light make-up to pass the time. Ginny had given her some spray to calm her curls, similar to the product she had used for the Yule Ball, but she had left her locks loose this time. She had no doubt that on any other night, she would feel rather elegant and excited, but she couldn't shift the melancholic cloud that had misted her brain since Wednesday.

Draco's considerate and placid behaviour when she had injured her hand had completely bewildered her. She could have so easily abandoned her vow to stay from him at that moment, but she had to remain logical. A flashback of his words 'convenient fuck' had sobered her, but she had pondered about delicate handling of her ever since. He'd treated her like fragile glass, and she had been fascinated by uncharacteristically considerate nature. Perhaps the distance was having an effect on him…

She shook her head to banish her wistful thoughts, and decided that she had delayed heading down to the Great Hall long enough. She dropped her wand into her charmed bag and left her room, freezing in the doorframe when she spotted the solitary figure sat on one of the sofas.

Draco's head was bowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat as he absently drummed his fingernails against his knee. She suddenly felt conscious of her appearance, despite her earlier indifference, and she ran her hands over the soft fabric as her stomach did a nervous flip. He must have heard the quiet rustle of her dress, as his head snapped up, and his winter-sky eyes widened and began to drink her in; warmth rushing to her cheeks as he studied her with uninhibited interest.

Draco felt his pulse quicken as he absorbed her, and his plan to play this situation skilfully and tamely was quickly discarded. She was simply too appealing for him to remain prudent, and he couldn't let her leave here knowing that she would be in the presence of that Ravenclaw fucktard; innocent intentions or not.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, severing his trance. "I-

"Don't go with him," he blurted, and he genuinely didn't care if he sounded pathetic. "Don't go with him, Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips. "You have no say in this-

"Yes I do," he argued, rising from his seat. "Stay here-

"Why should I?"

"BECAUSE I CAN'T STAND IT!" he screamed; every muscle in his body seizing up. "I can't…I can't do it! Don't ask me to do this!"

"I'm not asking you to do anything!" she countered, hoping the emotion wasn't too strong in her voice. "Michael is just a friend! And even if he wasn't, it has nothing to with you-

"Then make it something to do with me!" he shouted, marching towards her. "Make it my business-

"Don't come near me," she warned, but it was weak. "Please, Draco-

"Stay," he requested again, moving close enough that his breath roused goosebumps across her collarbone. "Stay," he repeated, softer this time. She closed her eyes and he tried to lean in and kiss her, convinced that he had won this fight, but she desperately pushed him away before he could catch her mouth. "Granger-

"No!" Hermione protested, shaking her head. "I gave you so many chances, Draco! And you always do the same thing! I can deal with the Mudblood comments, but I will not let you mess with my heart! You hurt me!"

The wave of guilt that hit him was crippling. "I won't-

"Yes you will!" she yelled, pointing a trembling finger at him. "I am not for you to use and then chuck away!"

He tried to near her again but she sidestepped him before he could reach her. "Granger-

"Tell me I wouldn't be a convenient fuck!" she spat the words like they burned her tongue. "SAY IT!"

He flinched but looked her dead in the eye. "You are anything but convenient, Granger," he told her honestly. "But I know you want me to…to touch you-

"Stop it," she mumbled breathlessly, rubbing away a tell-tale tear. "That's enough-

"I know you want to touch me too," Draco continued boldly, stepping into her space again and grasping her shoulders. "You told me-

"I know what I said," she hushed him, making no valid effort to break out of his hold this time. "But you said-

"Fuck what I said," he growled huskily, tilting his head. "If you tell me not to kiss you, I won't."

The limits of his patience were judged by milliseconds as her eyes darted over his face. She looked petrified, but something that resembled acceptance graced her features as the third second ticked by, and he decided that he'd waited twenty days too long to waste another moment.

Draco kissed her roughly; unable to hold back and ready to drown in her if she'd let him. Hermione responded almost immediately, parting her lips so he could lick and suck at her with blissful ease. He could feel her nervous heartbeats against his chest as she clutched his face; her fingernails drawing teasing patterns by his ears and down his neck. Grabbing her hips tight, he rammed her back into the nearest wall and felt her moan vibrate at the back of his mouth. It trickled down his spine and stirred that dangerous twitch between his hips, and he kissed her harder.

Sweet, wet sounds mingled between them as they became more frantic, and Draco dragged his teeth across her bottom lip, and down her chin to land on her throat. Her pulse thrummed against his tongue as her dreamy little sighs ghosted across his crown, and he nibbled greedily at her flesh.

Whether he liked it or not, this tension and need had been bubbling within him for weeks, and he couldn't help but slide his palm across her stomach, and then lower. He knew he was rushing it, but after countless mornings of shower-inspired fantasies, he couldn't help but slip his anxious hand between her thighs.

"Stop," Hermione panted, digging her nails into his shoulders. "I need to go-

"No," he groaned against her skin. "Granger-

"It's too fast," she insisted, and he reluctantly pulled himself away from her. "I-I have to go to the ball-

"No!" he said more forcefully, trying to get her to meet his hazy eyes. "I know you want this-

"I need to think," she murmured, moving away from him and heading for the door. "You…you could just be doing all this to-

"I'm not!" he argued, feeling the anger rise in his voice. "Don't you dare walk out on this, Granger!"

"I…I just can't," she stuttered, scrambling to leave the room.

On the other side of the door, Hermione took a long minute to gather her composure and fix her ruffled appearance with some help from her wand. Hot tears swelled behind her eyes as her chest continued to heave, and her body failed to cease shaking.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

She started for the Great Hall on quaking legs, using the walls to help her move down the corridors. She was late, and she could hear the music echoing amongst the castle's ancient acoustics as she neared the ball. The beat seemed to encourage the sensitive throb beneath her stomach, she tried to ignore the reminiscent tingle between her legs. She could hear the voices of students now, and she quickly schooled her features into a calm façade to conceal her shock and angst.

"Hermione!" Michael's voice called, and tried not to flinch as he came into her sight. "There you are, I was worried something had happened to you. You look amazing."

He approached her eagerly and tried to peck her cheek, but she managed to avoid the unwelcome gesture. "Thank you," she nodded politely. "Where are Ginny and the others?"

"They're already inside," he explained. "Are you ready to go in?"

"Um…sure," she mumbled, allowing him to lead her to the doors.

They paused just outside the elaborate room, and Hermione scanned all the decorations and fixtures that she had spent weeks organising. She had kept it similar to the frosty Yule Ball theme but had added a few little extras, including faux snow that fell from the ceiling, and waltzing ice-sculptures that mingled with the students. A quick glance around the familiar faces confirmed that everyone was enjoying themselves, but the cheerful atmosphere, that she had been so desperate for since the beginning of term, did nothing to soothe her temperament.

All she could think about were the tracks of Draco's lips and fingers, still buzzing in her pores and sending static across her skin. Yes, she had been nervous about where the situation had been leading, but she had fled because she'd been convinced his actions were selfish and lust-driven, but now she had doubts. His behaviour tonight and on Wednesday had been different and seemingly genuine, but she could so easily be deluding herself, or he could be a brilliant actor.

But what if…

What if it had been something more; something real? What if she had been to hasty to escape? Godric, she needed to know…

"I'm sorry, Michael," she muttered quickly, taking a step away from him. "I can't do this."

"What?" he asked, giving her a long and puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted on her heel, and broke into an adrenaline-fuelled run that guided her back to her dorm. Back to him.

Isolation Chapter 14: Crave

Chapter 14: Crave

"No," Tonks shook her head. "The letter the boys sent Remus didn't explain much, but does it really matter? As long as it's gone."

"I guess not," Hermione agreed absently. "I just wish I could do a little more to help, and maybe if I knew how they'd destroyed the locket-

"You're doing fine," she assured her friend. "Things are going well; the Ministry is holding fine and another Horcrux has been destroyed. Don't get me wrong, we could be doing better-

"A lot better," she sighed, combing her curls out of her face with her fingers. "I should have gone with them-

"Your talents are best suited helping McGonagall at Hogwarts," Tonks said. "The boys are clearly doing okay, and the Order wanted one of you to stay where we could reach you-

"I know," she frowned tiredly, rubbing her eyes. "I just don't know how much use I am here. All I seem to be doing is organising Christmas balls and other Head stuff that is completely unnecessary."

"You can't blame McGonagall for trying keep spirits up," the older witch offered her a light shrug. "A Christmas ball could be good for you. You told me how much fun you had at the Yule Ball. Have any famous Bulgarians asked you to go this time?"

Hermione felt a smile crawl up her cheeks. "No, no Bulgarians," she mumbled. "Michael asked me if I would like to go with him."

"Who's Michael?"

"Michael Corner," she explained with a thoughtful click of her tongue. "But I think he only mentioned it because we're the Heads. I hope that's the only reason."

"Why?" Tonks asked, arching an eyebrow. "Is he a bit of an idiot?"

"No, he's nice enough," Hermione said. "I just-

"You like someone else."

Draco…

Hermione snapped her head up to study Tonks with wild eyes as panic seized her chest. "W-What?" she stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"Ron," the other witch grinned knowingly. "We all saw how friendly you were at the wedding, and you told me you liked him."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione breathed, taking a second for the relief to wash over her. "Y-yes, of course."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Tonks asked with a concerned look.

"I'm fine," she muttered with uncertainty. "I'm not very good with unfamiliar beds, and I didn't get much sleep."

It wasn't technically a lie; she had certainly been awake for the majority of the night, but the scratchy mattress had had little to do with her inability to savour a dream. She'd stared expectantly at her clock for long and lonely hours, waiting and almost hoping that the alarm would sound. It had been…unnerving to lie in bed and know he wasn't in the next room, and her thoughts had centred around him from sunset to sunrise.

Tonks had just been on the other side of the door, but she had felt very much alone, and she couldn't help but wonder how Draco was dealing with a secluded night in the Gryffindor Tower. After the last incident, when she had stayed with Ginny and he'd tried to escape, she had expected…something, but clearly he was doing just fine if her clock was silent, and that bothered her a little.

When she had finished her classes earlier today, she had considered stopping by to check on Draco, but a convenient flashback of her attempt to kiss him had made her think twice. After some lunch and a slow walk around Hogsmeade - where the first hints of Christmas were starting to glow - she and Tonks had discussed the War in depth, along with many other topics, but her mind always snatched her back to Draco.

"Ron and I aren't together, you know," she told Tonks, somewhat defensively. "We're just friends."

The Auror frowned. "You don't like him, Hermione? I thought-

"I thought I did too," she admitted. "But I just think we're better as friends. I…don't like him the way I should."

Tonks chuckled and gave the younger witch an affectionate pat on the back. "No one's forcing you to fancy Ron, Hermione. If you don't, then you don't-

"Did you and Remus get a lot of…criticism when you first got together?" she questioned carefully. "Because of your age difference?"

"A lot of people were quick to judge," Tonks said thoughtfully. "Remus was more bothered by it than me, but yes, we had a bit of hassle from nosy sods who had nothing better to do with their time."

"Did you ever question your feelings?"

Tonks sighed and tapped her knee pensively. "I knew people wouldn't think it was normal," she confessed after a moment. "And it probably would have been easier to be with someone my own age, but you can't pick and choose things like that. It just happens."

Hermione tiled her head and gave her friend a gentle smile. "Was it worth it?" she asked. "The disapproving looks and-

"Bloody hell, yes!" she exclaimed. "Look, when there's a War going on and a baby on the way, the gossipy pricks of London are the least of your worries. Plus, if I had ignored my feelings for Remus, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life."

The brunette chewed her lower lip and hummed in consideration. "I guess time's too precious when the world could end tomorrow."

"That's a little pessimistic," Tonks gave her a friendly wink. "But yes, life's too short. Have you got your eye on someone, Hermione? Scared the boys won't approve?"

Her lip twitched. "Something like that."

"Anyone I know?"

Your cousin.

"No," she shook her head. "He's…just one of the boys in my year, but Harry and Ron aren't very fond of him." Not a lie.

"They'll get over it," Tonks assured her with a dismissive wave of her hand. "So, what's he like?"

Hermione paused to gather her wits and words. Tonks had that trustworthy manner about her that often coaxed secrets to tumble out of her mouth, and she needed to be careful with how much she divulged.

"He's an arsehole," she started bluntly, noting the amused flash in Tonks' eyes. "He's incorrigible, he's complicated, and he doesn't listen to a word I say-

"That's typical of most men-

"He's rude," Hermione continued with her rant. "He's arrogant, he's cruel and very cold-

"Also quite common-

"And sometimes he makes me so angry I could just throttle him or hex him into the next bloody continent!"

Tonks cleared her breath to smother a laugh, and studied her young companion with a wise smirk. "But?"

Hermione swallowed and felt tears scratch the backs of her eyes. "But he's beautiful," she whispered sadly. "Completely messed up and utterly awful, but there's something there which is just beautiful to me. I can't really explain it."

It felt so weird and wonderful to say it aloud to another person, but of course she was censoring all the darker details that came with her Slytherin housemate. Her pseudo-big sister was eyeing her sympathetically, tucking some strands of violet hair behind her ear and looking very much pleased with Hermione's confession.

If only you knew…

"Do you know how he feels about you?"

Hermione frowned and bowed her head. "He tells me he hates me-

"Have you two ever kissed?" Tonks pushed boldly.

She felt a hot blush stain her cheeks. "A few times," she murmured quietly. "But they were…impulsive and they didn't last long-

"Who kissed who?"

"Well," Hermione hesitated. "I…initiated the first one, but he's kissed me twice since."

Tonks' playful smile stretched up her face. "Sounds promising to me."

"No," she said, wrinkling her nose with disappointment. "It's more complicated than that. He shoved me away the last time I tried, and I don't even know if I like him really. There's just…something there that…

She trailed off, and Tonks gave her a reassuring nod. "Go on," she urged. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Something…that hurts," she finished, her voice hitching. "He has this…this shield up, and I don't think I can get through to him. I'm trying, but every time I think I'm getting somewhere he just ruins it, and I don't know if I have the energy to do it anymore-

"Hermione-

"I keep seeing these glimpses of a decent person," she carried on, a tear skimming down her cheek. "And I think that's what I'm…attracted to, but I-

"Hermione," Tonks interrupted again. "It's okay. He just sounds a little confused. He'll come round."

"But what if-

"Just do what feels right, sweetheart," she advised slowly, and Hermione recalled saying some very similar words to Draco. "Would you like some tea before bed?"

"Could I have a hot chocolate instead, please?"

.

.

Draco was sat in a crumpled heap on the cold floorboards, absently fiddling with the remains of Granger's snow-globe. He caught a shard awkwardly, and he hissed the air through his teeth as his finger wept a ruby teardrop. He eyed his blood critically, and a cold shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the day in the bathroom when there had been so much more blood, and not just his.

Granger's was exactly the same.

That had been a damning realisation, and he blamed that for every predicament that had followed, and the epiphanies that had struck him in her absence. The crippling fact of the matter was, Granger had every trait that he admired; intelligence, wit, strength, and then something that he couldn't put his finger on. She was simply…good.

If I was a Pureblood with exactly the same personality, would you be so quick to discard what happened this morning?

His brain had been flooded with her words since she'd left; every sentence that had ever made him doubt his prejudices had reverberated in his skull, but he was holding firmly onto the flimsy whispers of his family's ways. What had once felt so obvious and right now felt fickle and faint. He'd like to blame it all on her, but he had come to acknowledge there must have been cracks in his beliefs, but it didn't make it any easier.

You're human, Draco, and you've made mistakes, but I can't hate you for that.

He clenched his eyes shut. Mistakes…Astronomy Tower. Surely, if he'd been so certain that Voldemort and his principles were correct, that task would have been an easy thing to do. Maybe he'd started to doubt it all then…

They're just labels, you know. Slytherin, Gryffindor. Pureblood and Mudblood. They don't dictate how we should live our lives.

It was easy for her to say that. There were expectations that came with his infamous surname, and she couldn't begin to imagine the pressure he'd been under. He was certain that Potter had told her all about his breakdown in the toilets last term, but that had been a sliver of his turmoil. There had been times when he'd cast every silencing charm he knew and just screamed until his lungs had torn. Blaise and Pansy had seen some of his weaker moments, but nobody had been there to witness his real outbursts of chaos. Even before he'd been given his task, Draco had sometimes found himself staring at his reflection and wondering if a lifestyle full of hatred was all too much for him.

Why do you have to put on an act when I am the only person who sees you?

Because if he didn't, then what else was there? He'd been stripped of his wealth, his magic, his status. If he abandoned what he had been designed to become, there was nothing left.

Some people are beyond change, Granger-

Not you…

"Fucking hell," he groaned to himself, dropping his face into his palms.

You asked me to stay. I…I wanted to stay.

He'd never kissed someone like that before; like a rebellious burst that had made him feel loose and unchained. He'd been aware of who he was kissing and that he shouldn't have been touching her at all, but, at the moment, he couldn't have given a shit. On closer inspection, he didn't really give a shit now. There was no one here to scold him for thinking for himself, and doing what felt…

Just do what feels right.

Too dangerous, but ultimately too tempting.

The pathetic truth was he missed her, and not just as a distraction; he missed her as a person. Her voice, her little quirks, her fire…just everything. She would be back tomorrow, although he had no idea what time. It could be fairly early in the morning for all he knew, so his decision to sleep in her bed again was a rather risky one, and another damaging blow to his pride.

But it felt right.

.

.

Tonks had left at eight, and Hermione had managed to get to the school before the weekend-lazy students had started to rouse and roam. She was so nervous she had worried her lower lip until it had bled, which had meant a slight detour at the prefects bathroom to heal the cut. Perhaps she was stalling, but she spent a good few minutes scrutinizing her reflection and trying to concoct a strategy to deal with Draco after her embarrassing behaviour two days ago.

Deciding that she had put it off for long enough, she headed to her dorm, hesitating to take a deep breath before she muttered the appropriate password. She slipped inside, intending to be as quiet as possible, but a rush of wind slammed the door shut behind her.

Bugger…

She froze as she heard shuffling from the other side of the dorm, but it sounded misplaced, almost like it was coming from her room. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind that her door was flung open to release a very intense-looking Slytherin. Draco had clearly just woken up; his hair roguishly mussed, and he was clad in just a vest and loose pyjama bottoms, but it was the purposeful and slightly wild glint in his eyes that made her heart pause.

He lingered in the doorframe for a moment, staring hard at her like he wasn't sure she was there at all. Hermione shook away her trance and the anger hit her, just as he began to march towards her with bold strides.

"You were in MY room?"

"Yes," he spat, quickening his steps and slicing the distance between them.

"How the hell did you-

Draco cut her off; grabbing her face and snatching her lips with a desperate kiss. He sighed shakily into her mouth, uncaring that she felt stiff and unresponsive against him and just acting on instinct. He pulled away but kept her close, relishing her little pants tickling his chin. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes closed, readying himself for her rejection and outrage, but she tilted her head to latch back onto him.

Her gesture was timid but it was enough for him, and he shoved her roughly against the door, swallowing her gasp. His movements were frantic and almost feral as he sucked her in and took greedy nips at her winter-wet lips. She kept up with him, licking and pecking back with dissipating nerves; clutching onto his arms with trembling fingers. His hands drifted up her cheekbones and into her coffee-curls, coaxing a moan from her that made his hips twitch.

He pressed himself against her as much as he could, dragging his fingertips down her neck, shoulders and ribs to settle possessively at her sides. He groaned as she combed her nails through his hair, catching a sensitive spot at his spine that made him shiver in a wonderful way. Their hot breaths clashed between kisses and Draco decided he needed more; craved it actually.

He tore his mouth away and moved to her throat, pleasantly surprised when she lolled her head back and sighed in apparent bliss. Her grip on his biceps tightened as he found a receptive spot near her ear that made her blood rush, and her pulse felt tantalising under his tongue.

"Tell me to stop," he mumbled against her skin, barely audible.

Hermione swallowed hard but didn't utter a word to break their contact; too lost in the pace and passion that was completely foreign to her. She was vaguely aware that he was pushing away her robes, but the thought of stopping was a distant whisper at the back of her skull. She heard them thud to the floor just as he lifted his head to steal her lips again, his warm and eager palms sliding under her jumper. Her hands dropped to rest against his chest, and she scratched curiously at his collarbone and neck.

"Tell me to stop," he hissed out, more urgently this time, nipping at her jaw.

His hands grazed upwards until his thumbs stroked the underside of her cotton-covered breasts. Her fingernails were raking down his stomach, and he felt himself harden as she went lower. That was when reality struck him.

"TELL ME TO STOP!" he screamed, ripping himself away from her so frantically he stumbled to the floor a few feet away.

Hermione felt all her limbs go weak, and she slid gracelessly down the door, studying Draco intently and anxiously. He looked broken and battered, like all his energy was being used to refrain from touching her. He slowly raised his head and they locked eyes; both sets shocked and wide.

"Why didn't you tell me to stop?" he growled accusingly. "Are you fucking stupid, Granger? Do you think this is normal?"

She was shaking. "I don't-

"Do you have any idea what this place is doing to me?" he asked coldly. "What you are doing to me?"

"Draco, please-

"LOOK AT ME!" he yelled. "I do NOT do shit like this! That desperate for a quick fuck that I would touch the Mudblood virgin-

"Don't you dare call me that!" she warned angrily.

"Which one?" he fired back. "You're telling me someone has actually crawled between your thighs?" Hermione cringed but remained silent, and Draco felt the jealousy stab his stomach painfully. "Let me guess," he sneered darkly. "Weasley?"

"That's none of your business-

"IT IS NOW!"

"Why?" she retorted bravely, squaring her shoulders. "You've made it quite clear that this…mistake was just an attempt to land a 'quick fuck!'"

He faltered at her brazen language but kept his scowl firm. "What the hell were you expecting, Granger? All your pro-Mudblood shit to sink in?"

"I know some of it has," she said steadily. "You know it too-

"Why the fuck should I have to change to appease you-

"It's not about changing yourself!" she argued loudly, too enraged to cry. "It's about finding yourself!"

"Don't waste your Gryffindor crap on me-

"Have you ever been happy, Draco?" she asked him hopefully, carefully shifting a little closer to him. "Have you ever really felt content with your life, or done anything that felt right to you?"

He hesitated, shuffling through his fractured memories and trying to find one with her requirements. The only time he could ever recall feeling a sense of peace was the night she had slept in his lap, and perhaps just now when he had been gorging on her taste, but before that…only darkness. Just a hatred for her kind that had engulfed any chance of contentment.

"Look me in the eye," she said softly, coming to sit at his side. "And tell me that you still completely believe that Muggle-borns are inferior; that I am disgusting."

He parted his lips to indulge in a vile and scornful rant, but he couldn't do it. Salazar knew he wanted to, but she looked too perfect then for him to even pretend she was filthy; lips slightly swollen and hair deliciously tousled.

No, he couldn't.

"Leave me alone," he murmured instead, hoping he sounded somewhere near threatening although he doubted it. She leaned in to rest her palm against his shoulder, and the tingle was too reminiscent for him. "Don't touch me."

She withdrew her hand reluctantly. "D-do you…like kissing me, Draco?" she stuttered uneasily.

Yes…

"Ask me if I like betraying my family," he shot back harshly. "Ask me if I would be doing this if I wasn't in this hell-

"I like kissing you," she confessed in a rushed whisper. "But I…I am getting so tired of trying to convince you that I am not someone you should hate-

"What do you want from me, Granger?" he asked.

"Nothing more than you can give," she told him gently. "But I want you to stop pretending and do what feels right for you for once-

"How the fuck would you know what feels right for me?" he challenged. "You think a few stupid kisses are going to erase what I think about you and your kind?"

She released a sad breath. "You and I-

"You and I are nothing!" he protested heatedly. "I told you! I clearly need a shag bad enough that I would-

"Lower yourself to touch a Mudblood," she finished for him. "You know, you flinch when you say it now."

He faltered. "No, I do not-

"Yes you do."

Something about the conviction in her tone stirred that heat in his gut again, and before he could stop himself, he had practically pounced on her and was kissing her again. The unsatisfied aftershocks of the last round were raw and consuming, but he managed to stop himself before he got carried away this time. He released her with a loud groan, resting his forehead against hers and drawing in loud and ragged breaths as he fought his cravings. He'd gone too far.

Hermione studied his agitated expression and felt her chest ache. She willed herself to be patient and understanding, but she wondered how much more she could give him. Gulping back her nerves, she decided she would give him one final opportunity to redeem this situation, even if it meant sacrificing another piece of her waning dignity for the sake of a Death Eater. Merlin, help her.

"Draco," she murmured breathlessly. "Look at me." His eyes snapped open and regarded her wearily as she placed her soothing palm against his cheek. "It's okay," she told him. "I know this is-

"You don't have a fucking clue," he ground out, yanking away from her again, and scrambling to his feet. "You can't even begin to comprehend what this place is doing to my head!"

"Draco-

"I am telling you now, Granger, that nothing like this will ever happen again," he promised, and his words were so measured and crisp that she found herself believing them. "We are done here-

"Yes we are," she replied, rising to stand and straightening her back defiantly. She'd reached her limit. "I refuse to do this anymore! I do not deserve to be treated like this by you! Do what the hell you want, because I don't give a shit!"

"Finally!" he exclaimed. "She gets it! Well, I'm glad you eventually decided see some sense. Accept this for what it is, Granger; me wanting a convenient fuck, and you being the only option-

"Get out of my face!" she shouted, removing her wand from her back pocket. She could feel her eyes watering, and she refused to let him see her crumble. "Now!"

He held his ground for a few moments; his incensed glare shifting between her face and her wand before he spun on his heel and disappeared into his room. The witch was quaking violently and her chest heaving as she tried to gather some semblance of control, but it was impossible. She managed to choke out a quick silencing charm before she collapsed to the floor and coughed up a string of heart-hurting sobs. She passed the stage where her lungs burned but couldn't stop despite the physical pain searing through her chest.

It shouldn't have killed her; she had, after all, experienced his cruel attitude on so many occasions, but that kiss…

It had been deceptive, leading her into a false sense of promise that had convinced her to bare her soul to him, and he had just spat on it. She felt cheated and used, and the worst thing was, she had no idea at what point she would have told him to stop. If she would have told him to stop.

Screw that Gryffindor tenacity; she gave up.

Isolation Chapter 13: Alone

Chapter 13: Alone

Hermione could never recall feeling so warm and content.

She released a lazy hum as the rhythmic falls of a masculine chest lulled her back to that wonderful purgatory between sleep and reality. A tasty smell of peppermint and sinful Slytherin tickled her nose, and she blinked away the remains of a blissful dream as she remembered where she was.

Judging by the heavy breaths toying with her hair, Draco was very much ignorant to the world, but his arms must have snaked round her during the night, and she couldn't help but push her body a little more into his. He felt so good wrapped around her like this, and she wanted to absorb as much as she could before the inevitable denial and arguments came. Frowning with that thought, she realised it was probably best she leave before he stirred, if only to save them both the embarrassment and hassle.

Unsure why, but unable to resist, she craned her neck to plant a lingering kiss against his jaw line, before carefully removing herself from his hold.

The absence of his touch left her feeling neglected and cold, and as an afterthought, she pulled down one of Draco's blankets to cover him. With a final sad look, she turned to leave, oblivious to the set of grey eyes slowly opening behind her.

Draco brought his fingertips to where her lips had been, and stared at her back as she left him alone. A random idea stole his brain, and he silently eased himself up, just managing to the catch the door before it closed behind her. He poked his head through the gap and strained his hearing ability to successfully catch her password.

Lutra, lutra?

He had no idea what it meant, nor did he care; he just felt satisfied that things could be a little fairer now. If she was so bloody eager to wander into his room whenever she liked, now he could do the same. He told himself it was purely for tactical purposes, but as he raised his fingers again to his Granger-grazed jaw, he couldn't help but wonder if there were darker motives to his prying actions.

.

.

After a light lunch and a trip to the library, Hermione had returned to her room to find Hedwig pecking at her window.

Hermione read the letter again, and her smile widened. The envelope had been addressed solely to her, so she hadn't tracked down Ginny this time. After weeks of nothing but disappointment and fuel to her ever-growing pessimism; finally there was a light in the darkness. The note was scrawled in Ron's familiar and clumsy handwriting, but the words were bold and clear across the parchment.

We found it. It's destroyed.

Searching for the others.

I miss you.

R&H

There was no question about what 'it' was. They had found the locket. Her curiosity about the details would have to wait; she knew it was far too risky for Harry and Ron to provide her with too much information. But for the moment, she didn't care, they were one step closer to defeating Voldemort and ending this War.

I miss you.

Her broad grin creased into a sad frown as a spell of guilt hit her hard. Visions of her recent…activities with Draco waltzed across her conscious, and she realised, with a cringe, that she hadn't once considered how her behaviour would affect her friendships with the boys, specifically Ron. The details of her relationship with him were complicated to say the least, and she guessed she should blame them both for never having a civilised conversation about the subject.

While she didn't regret losing her virginity to her best friend, it had been made perfectly clear to her that that was all she and Ron ever would be. Friends. There had never been any passion between them; just crushes and curiosity that had now been, for her, sated. She loved him dearly, but she wanted that lust that she'd heard so much about; that burning throb inside your soul that made you crave someone's touch.

And that someone just wasn't Ron.

But Draco…

Draco had this…intensity with everything that he did, and it made something behind her navel tingle. The sensation was new and foreign to her, and she had no idea if she could call it lust or simply intrigue, but it was different and exciting. It encouraged her to interact and watch him, and in the safe solitude of her showers or her room, sometimes she couldn't help but imagine…

She shook her head to chase away the risqué thoughts and reminded herself that she had just received some promising news.

Priorities, Hermione...

.

.

After two days of awkward glances and an obvious reluctance to address the night spent in forbidden arms, Hermione was beginning to realise she quite missed Draco's company. She was still struggling to really identify what she truly felt for her Slytherin housemate, but she had done her best to ignore her curiosity, and instead focus on her Horcrux research. But she couldn't deny her interest in him, nor could she really figure out why she desired to spend time with him when all they seemed to do was fight.

Perhaps it was because she could see him slowly dropping his defences, or possibly because the arguments reminded her that she had some fire still thundering in her bones. Hell, maybe she just enjoyed the spasmodic little flutters that crowded her gut whenever they were close…

It was Tuesday, meaning she would be leaving in two days to visit Tonks, and she needed to tell Draco. Smothering her anxiety and steeling her courage, she slipped out of her room, urged on by the winds slashing the night, and tapped lightly against his door.

"Why do you bother knocking?" Draco's voice called from inside. "You will come in whether I say you can, or not."

She found a little smile toying with her mouth as she used her wand to unlock his door, and she licked her dry lips before padding her bare feet over his threshold. He was sitting on his bed; shoulders hunched over and elbows resting against his crossed legs, while one of her books lay discarded near his feet.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked, barely offering her a sideways glance.

"I wanted to talk to you about something-

"And you decided that three in the morning was the best time to bring it up?"

"I've been busy," she lied, carefully easing herself down to sit at the foot of his bed. "And we're both up, so I figured-

"Spit it out then," he said tiredly. "I actually planned on getting some sleep tonight."

"Okay," she sighed, hesitating as she tried to select her words. "On Thursday, I shall be staying in Hogsmeade for a couple of days-

"What?" he blurted. His head snapped up at her words, and a violent sense of dread seized his chest. The thought of her leaving him alone in this sanity-starving hole made him feel sick to his stomach, and an itchy shiver clawed its way up his spine. "What the hell do you mean you'll be leaving for a couple days?"

"Well, I'm visiting someone," she explained, nervously tucking a an unruly curl behind her ear. "I will leave you enough food and-

"Are you going with that Corner prick?" he hissed quietly, fixing her with a fierce glare. "Romantic fuck-fest for the Heads at The Three Broomsticks?"

Hermione flinched. "No, that's not-

"I suppose I should be grateful that you're not denting the headboard in your own room," he continued viciously. "And if you have to slag it around-

"Draco, stop it!" she barked with offence and the shadows of tears scratching at her eyes. "I'm meeting a female friend for Godric's sake! Why do you always have to do that?"

His mouth clapped shut as he willed his stormy thoughts to simmer, and he wondered why he'd found his rant necessary. He considered the possibility that she was bluffing to save face, but he doubted Granger was capable of lying; and in a world rife with deception, he found her honesty rather refreshing.

"I'm sorry."

The words were rushed and tumbled past his lips before he could stop them, but for a brief moment, he thought the charming softening of her features might be worth his error. The way she looked at him then, like he was worth something more than the pitiful mess he felt, made that incessant craving to touch her tickle his fingertips.

"I'm sorry that I won't be here for a couple of days," she said before he could retract his comment, and he found himself weaving his fingers to keep his hands busy. "I will arrange some way for you to contact me if there's anything you need-

"I am perfectly capable of surviving two days by myself," he scoffed quickly, but the idea of her not being around to chase away the boredom made his soul ache. "It's a bloody shame you don't fuck off more often."

"Maybe-

"You have been a lot more…cheerful recently," he commented suddenly, giving her suspicious stare. "It's annoying."

Hermione frowned and wondered if her reaction to Ron's letter had been a bit more obvious that she'd thought. "What makes you think I'm happier?"

"It's written all over your face," he said with a roll of his smoky eyes. "And if I'm guessing right, this friend that you are meeting is one of your Order lot. Would I be right in assuming that your side is doing well, and that is to blame for your good mood?"

"You know I can't discus that with you-

"Why not?" he countered. "I'm hardly going to walk out the front door and spill all your secrets to the manwho wants me dead."

Hermione exhaled wearily and swivelled her body to face him. "I just don't think we should talk about it-

"I'm sure everyone else is talking about it," he muttered thoughtfully. "Why should we be any different?"

"Because we are different, Draco," she told him, somewhat sadly. "We are-

"On different sides," he finished for her, bowing his head to hide his eyes.

Hermione tilted her head, confused about the trace of melancholy in his tone. He looked troubled tonight, as though a horde of questions were streaming across his brain and he had no idea which one to answer first. She could see the muscles of his face were strained in an attempt to keep whatever was brewing in his head hidden from her, perhaps even from himself. That rare bearing of vulnerability was there again; in the subtle twitch of his lips or the anxious flicks of fingers, and she wondered when she had learned to read him so well.

"Different sides," she repeated in a solemn tone. "You still consider yourself one of them, Draco?"

That was the question…

He swallowed away the clot of angst in his throat and bit down hard on his tongue. It was the question he'd been asking himself since he had been forced to run from Voldemort; for how could he truly be part of a side whose leader wanted him rotting in a shallow grave? The question had grown louder and dominant since Granger had started to invade his senses. Everything was monumentally fucked up, and she seemed to be the only steady and, dare he think it, good aspect of his pathetic pseudo-life as a prisoner. He may detest the way he reacted to her and yearned for her company, but there was no denying her presence soothed his fractured soul.

Salazar, forgive me for that.

But he couldn't help it. She was the first and only person to make him challenge the beliefs that had been engraved into his skull. How could he realistically follow the psychopathic ideals of that creature when he'd put a price on his head? How could he really believe that Muggle-borns were inferior when Granger was the brightest witch to stumble into Hogwarts for decades? How could he…How could he pretend that those prejudices still made sense, no matter how bad he wanted them to?

"Don't you?" he asked her absently, removing his bare arm from under the blanket to display his Mark. "Doesn't this make me one of them?"

Hermione frowned at the ugly and twisted blemish on his snowy skin and was surprised to find that it didn't bother her anymore; not on him anyway. Perhaps it was the slightly softer edge to his voice tonight, or the defeated slump of his shoulders, but she felt like pushing the boundaries with her struggling companion. She shuffled a little closer and carefully reached out to stroke her fingers across his still-healing flesh, and felt encouraged when he didn't immediately snatch his arm away from her.

"That Mark doesn't define you," she said gently, catching his confused eyes purposefully. "The same way my blood does not define me. You define who you are, Draco; your actions and your thoughts-

"And if I don't know who I am?" he questioned, his voice quivering slightly. "What if I am…lost?"

A scary bout of affection soared in her chest. "Then just do what feels right," she urged eagerly. "And the rest will follow."

Draco's brow creased and his distant stare fell to her calming fingers, still softly teasing the sensitive scar on his forearm. Just when Hermione thought he was beginning to absorb her words, he snorted and pulled away from her too-tempting caresses.

"You Gryffindors are so quick to seek the good in people; to assume people can change," he scorned with questionable mirth. "Some people are beyond change, Granger-

"Not you," she protested quickly. "Not you, Draco."

Doubt flickered in his ashy glare, but she could see he was determined to resist her tonight. "You should go," he told her, nodding his head towards the door.

She contemplated telling him that she wanted to stay; to surrender some of her pride and admit that she felt safe with him, and that she'd never slept better in her life than when she had been locked in his arms. But the prospect of him laughing in her face and rejecting her made the cold scratch across her skin, and she decided not to push her luck. Leaving his bed, she headed out of his room, but paused in the doorframe.

"They're just labels, you know," she mumbled, keeping her back to him so he wouldn't see the first tear roll down her cheek. "Slytherin, Gryffindor. Pureblood and Mudblood. They don't dictate how we should live our lives."

Behind her, Draco fought hard to ignore the quickening thuds against his ribcage. As she disappeared, he glanced down at his Mark again, and could still feel the lingering tingles from her touch. He felt so alone at that moment; almost aware that the flimsy remains of his stubborn prejudices were starting to shatter and crumble under the weight of her words. He knew that her absence, even if it was only for a couple of days, would do damaging things to his muddled brain.

As if to confirm that he had finally yielded to the somewhat blissful beginnings of madness, he waited an hour before he crept soundlessly out of his room, and found himself outside of her door. He toyed with the thought of murmuring her password and slipping inside, but he had no idea what he intended to do.

You pathetic twat…

.

.

"Michael and I agreed on the eleventh of December for the Christmas ball," Hermione explained. "I know it's a little earlier than usual, but you mentioned that you might have some problems with the transportation for some students this year."

"Yes, that's true," McGonagall nodded. "I've decided it's wise to send small groups of students home for the Christmas holidays over a week or so, just in case. I'm not sure using the Hogwarts Express is a good idea either, but there are alternatives. The eleventh works well."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Do we have to continue with this charade, Professor?" she asked wearily. "It seems silly to have a ball when we are at War-

"You know I want to keep spirits up," the headmistress said evenly. "Hogwarts is acting as a haven for now, and I would like the students to feel safe here-

"But they-

"The eleventh is fine," the older witch hushed her. "Classes will finish on the tenth, and that provides myself and the other professors with two weeks to ensure everyone gets home safely. Are you staying here, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she replied a little sadly. "I've told my parents that I'm staying at the Burrow. They still don't really know much about what's going on, and I'd like to keep it that way."

McGonagall creased her brow. "Have you given any more thought to that memory charm you discussed with me?"

"It's a last resort," Hermione told her professor quickly. "I don't want to use it unless I absolutely have to."

"Well, let's just hope that things don't come to that," she sighed. "On a more positive note, I've heard from Nymphadora, and she is expecting you when you are ready."

Hermione's stressed features instantly brightened with that information. "I can't wait to see her," she confessed. "Do you need anything else from me? Or can I-

"You are more than welcome to go now," McGonagall offered with a warm expression. "Would you like me to get Professor Slughorn to escort you?"

"I'll be fine," she assured quickly, rising from her seat. "I need to head back to my dorm first anyway."

"Very well," the headmistress nodded. "I shall see you in Transfiguration tomorrow then. And I expect you to be at the Christmas ball, Hermione."

Great.

"Okay," she nodded reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Professor."

.

.

Hermione anxiously drummed her fingernails against the wall next to Draco's door. She had been lingering in the same spot for close to five minutes now, wondering why she was so concerned about her parting words to her blond guest. Since their reasonably intense conversation, she had kept her distance, deciding that she had once again probably surrendered too much of her hope to him. But he had been so human…practically bleeding a level of vulnerability that had left her with trusting heart-flutters and a whole new batch of emotions that she didn't understand.

What if I am…lost?

She could have cried for that comment. His customary arrogance had momentarily melted away to show her that perhaps all of her efforts hadn't been in vain. Maybe she had nourished that seed of doubt in his mind enough that it was finally starting to blossom…Or maybe she was getting ahead of herself. His flash of decency had diminished so quickly, she was beginning to wonder if it had happened at all.

"Is there a bloody reason you're loitering outside my room?" his voice disrupted her thoughts, muffled through the tick wooden door.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and found him, once again, casually sitting on his bed with one of her books in his lap. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Am I interrupting you, or-

"Yes, because I have so much on my plate," he said snidely, rolling his eyes. "What do you want, Granger?"

"I'm leaving for Hogsmeade now," she told him. "I have prepared enough food for you to last the two days-

"Sod off then," Draco spat coldly. "What were you expecting, Granger? A fucking farewell party?"

"I wasn't expecting you to be so angry," she murmured, taking some steps towards him. "And I certainly don't know why you're angry."

Neither did he.

"I'm not angry," he defended quickly. "I just don't understand why you found it necessary to barge in here again and bore me with your shit again. You told me you were leaving the other day."

"Yes, but I-

"Are you done?" he snapped. "I might have sod all to do, but I'd rather do it without you here."

Hermione sighed and turned to rummage in her charmed bag, in which she had stored all of the belongings she would need for her stay with Tonks. After a couple of shakes, she removed a small snow-globe containing a miniature replica of Hogwarts Castle inside, surrounded by fake snow. Draco arched an eyebrow as she rested the little object in her lap and stroked the glass thoughtfully before she caught his eyes.

"I've charmed this," she said slowly. "If you shake it five times, it will set off an alarm on my clock. I've extended the wards too, so if you try to leave, that'll also set the alarm off."

He shouldn't have really been impressed with Granger's magical abilities, but once again he found himself with an unwelcome sense of admiration for her. He scowled away any semblance of respect that could have betrayed him, and released a haughty scoff.

"I don't need-

"It's just a precaution," she stopped him. "In case you fall and break you leg, or something-

"Wishful thinking there, Granger?" he said with an easy smirk. "You haven't lined the dorm with traps, have you?"

Hermione's lips twitched into an almost-smile, and she edged forward to place the snow-globe next to Draco on the bed. The flash of humour that had suited his features so well faded away as he eyed her dainty item with distaste and pushed it away from him, and Hermione wanted very much at that moment to touch him. The temptation had hit her so quickly and suddenly that she flinched, clenching her hands into tight fists in an effort to ignore the tightening of her stomach.

"You know, Draco," she mumbled uneasily, frowning when her voice hitched. "I could make other arrangements. If you don't want me to go, you only have to say."

Don't go…

"If you have no more pointless toys in your little bag of tricks," Draco growled. "Then I see no reason for you to still be here, Granger."

She was certain he could see the disappointment behind her lashes, but it quickly turned into irritation. "Fine," she said brusquely. "If you insist on being so bloody cold all the time-

"I wasn't expecting you to be so angry," he repeated her earlier words condescendingly. "Was there something else you wanted, Granger?"

"No," she huffed, swiftly rising from the bed. "I just don't understand why you have to be such a bastard all the time-

"Hey!" he shouted, standing up and grabbing her wrist. "What the hell were you expecting, Granger? Some gratitude for this poxy ornament when you're leaving me alone in this sodding prison-

"I am learning to expect nothing from you!" she fired back, bringing her face close to his. "Just when I think you might have a shred of decency in you, you go right back to being a selfish prick!"

"What the hell are you talking-

"The other day," Hermione reminded him in a quieter voice. "When we were talking about sides-

"You read too much into things," he growled defensively. "Did you ever think that maybe this place is just screwing with my head a little-

"Not as much you'd like to think," she retorted, swallowing when she realised how close they were. "Why do you have to put on an act when I am the only person who sees you?"

He parted his lips but hesitated to say anything. There was something familiar in her golden eyes that reminded him of the day she had kissed him in her allergy-stricken haze. It was there between her anxious blinks; a spark of courage amongst a storm of nerves, and he felt her lean into him. He clenched his eyes shut and debated allowing it to happen; tempted to just to drop all his defences, and let her do whatever she wanted. This was his only opportunity to get a final dose of her; that forbidden fix, before she left him alone with his demons. They had grazed lips before, so what difference would one more taste make?

But when her warm breath ghosted across his chin, it dragged Draco back to reality, and he hastily shoved her away before she could touch him. He sneered viciously at her as she stumbled, but the venom in his features was forced and practised; simply a mask to cover how disorientated he felt. Granger, on the other hand, had no time to hide her humiliation and surprise; her movements jerky and her eyes misted with hurt. Draco was a heartbeat away from screaming at her to leave, but she whirled around and fled before he could even draw in a breath.

The slam of the door ricocheted around his lonely room like the clap of the Wizengamot's hammer. Thus was his sentence; two days with only his shadow for company and wondering what he would do without her presence to chase away the damning solitude.

He should have let her kiss him…

.

.

The cold air made her tear-sodden eyes sting.

Hermione's walk to Hogsmeade was a rushed one; plagued with the realisation that she was beginning to feel things for Draco that were far from normal.

The first time she had kissed him, she had been woozy and dazed; acting on a commanding impulse that had been too much for logic to repress. But her attempt to catch another taste just moments ago had been different. She had wanted to lean in and test her luck. It had been a conscious decision, that had resulted in her feeling rejected and completely mortified. The thoughts in her brain were muddled and mangled into a catastrophic mess, and she had no idea where to even begin dealing with them.

As The Three Broomsticks came into view, she sleeved away the evidence of her cries and tried to gather her composure. At least the excitement of seeing Tonks would drown some of her questions about Draco, and she managed a half-hearted smile as she entered the familiar inn. A few of the usual punters were scattered around, but she barely noticed them as she caught Madam Rosmerta's wise eyes. The older witch offered Hermione a knowing nod and discreetly passed her a key across the bar, and she wasted no time in rushing to see her friend.

"There she is!" Tonks beamed as Hermione barged into the room. "I thought you might have lost your way."

"It's so good to see you," she gushed, rushing in for a hug, but faltering when she spotted the slight swell of Tonks' stomach. "Oh, Tonks! You're starting to show!"

"Meet the bump," she said with playful grin. "And I'm warning you now that I am going through the craving stage, so if you see me huddled in the corner clutching a marmite and jam sandwich, just ignore me."

Hermione smiled, but couldn't quite manage the laugh that would have normally come so naturally with Tonks' humour. An image of her encounter with Draco, when his lips had been barely a breath away, danced across her lids and left her mouth dry and her heart heavy.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Tonks asked. "You look a bit troubled."

"I'm fine," she lied quickly. "I just miss Harry and Ron."

"Of course you do," she nodded sympathetically, giving the younger witch a warm smile. "But at least you have some friends here who you can talk to. How are things at Hogwarts?"

Hermione couldn't help but flinch.

Complicated…

.

.

Draco scowled into the darkness.

It was late, and the glow of the moon didn't reach the windowless living room where the silence was ringing in his ears; a loud reminder that she wasn't here. Her scent was starting to fade, the dorm felt eerily hollow, and all he had done for the last several hours was stare at the fucking snow-globe.

All he had to do was rattle the ugly little thing, and she would return, and he could steal a taste of her, as he should have done before she'd left.

He lunged at the magical ornament and hurled it at the wall with a loud roar ripping his windpipe. He watched it shatter before he turned on his heel and marched towards Granger's room with elevated breaths. Mumbling her password, he instantly calmed as he greedily inhaled the air in the room.

Definitively Granger.

He studied his surroundings critically, expecting to find a huge collection of personal belongings, but except for a few photographs, the predicable red bedding, and an impressive collection of books, it was similar to his own room.

Draco eyed the photographs sourly, lingering on particular one of Granger with those feckless pricks she considered good company. He slapped all the frames down so he wouldn't have to look them and settled himself on her bed, absently running his fingertips over her covers. His lids felt heavy and he leaned back; lulled by how strong her scent was amongst her pillows and blankets. If he slept here, surrounded by soothing whispers of her presence, who would know?

"Sod it."