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This Subdued Fire	By : gammiepie Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 26030 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
Disclaimer: I do not own, either in part or in whole, any characters from the Harry Potter canon. They belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros., and everyone else. I am not making any money off of this work of fiction, nor do I intend to do so. Translation: Don't sue me!! I'm poor!. :) As always, to my readers and my lovely beta-ladies. And I was looking at the calendar from 1998. My Hogsmeade weekend, does, indeed happen on Valentine's Day, so I didn't just rip that from OotP. :)

A new note: Since I've been informed by some unofficial afficionado (yes, I do see the irony here) that the "tea and bitter revenge" lines are from Cassie Claire's DV series and not from Buffy, I am legally obligated to say that they are used by permission and to give her credit for them. So yet again, credit where credit is due. I got them from Cassie Claire.

A new new note: I got called on my bitchiness. (the above disclaimer was said to be bitchy and actually, it wasn't bitchiness to Cassie Claire, but to the reader who has too much time on their hands) Boo hoo. Although yes, the bitchiness was somewhat undeserved, the reader who narced on me has huffily informed me that they'll never read anything by me again. Aw. Wait...that was bitchiness again! *smacks forehead* Actually, I'm more peeved that there wasn't any constructive criticism or praise for the piece. Just a big "OOOOH! I'm gonna TELL!!" when a good 88% of writers get quotes from things and use them. But enough ranting. On with the chapter.
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Angry Son

January sped by and it was well into February. As it so happened, the next Hogsmeade weekend fell on Valentine's Day. Hermione and the other students walked outside to pile into the carriages. For the first time, she could see the thestrals pulling the conveyance. Knowing now that they weren't vicious or unfriendly, she was unafraid of the beasts but was rather shocked that she could now see them as if they'd always been there.

Harry and Ron were still talking about her duel with Malfoy more than a month later.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us you knew how to swordfight!" This was from Ron, who managed to stay excited over her victory when she'd already grown weary of the subject.

"I do not 'swordfight'. I fence. There's a bit of a difference." Hermione sniffed at her friend. "I started when I was about nine. Been going every year since." She sniffed again. "Ron Weasley, are you wearing *cologne*?"

Ron blushed nearly as red as his hair. "Erm...yeah....got a date."

Hermione's eyes widened as they were jostled about in the coach. "With who?"

He mumbled incoherently. "Who?" she asked again.

"Lavender." Ron looked sheepish.

"It's about time. That girl's liked you for years."

"Well, you see, I had a crush on someone else..." Ron and Hermione exchanged salty grins.

"Point well taken. Where are you going to take her?"

"I was thinking the tea house?"

"Good idea. She'll like that.

The pair looked over at Ginny and Harry, who were engrossed in one another.

"Hermione, smack me if I ever get like that." Ron looked disgusted at his friend and his sister.

"Will do." She gave him a merry little salute.

The carriages pulled rumbled up the Hogsmeade high street and stopped. Floods of students came barrelling out of them. As usual, most headed for Honeydukes and Zonko's and the new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop. Fred and George had done so much business from their Diagon Alley address that they were able to open a second store in Hogsmeade. Hermione went to the Bell, Book and Candle, hoping to find something interesting to read. She saw Ron and Lavender pass by hand in hand. Hermione grew wistful.

As much as she'd wanted to be with Ron, something in her heart prevented her from doing so. She and Harry weren't very compatible, either. And ther seemed to be no one else to engage her heart nor her mind very much. Her thoughts drifted as she browsed the vast shelves of the bookstore, enjoying the smells of the various lit candles scattered around.

She reminisced on the few genuinely soft moments that she and Draco shared during their brief time together. Hermione had been hurt and angry and even more so when he made his comment about the golden chopsticks. Never before had she done sword play with the intentions of doing someone harm. The only thing that had kept her from flaying Draco open for the whole school to see were her feelings for him. (Stupid, stupid Hermione!) she thought.

She thought it strange that they could go from where they were to where they are with no middle ground. One day Draco was warm and the next he was colder than ice. He'd made the promise not to reveal her secret to anyone, yet he did it with no compunction whatsoever. It broke her heart.

Hermione left the bookstore disgustedly, not finding a single tome to occupy her mind. She crossed the cobbled path and went to the Hog's Head. She ordered a butterbeeer and settled at one of the dusty worn tables to sit in silence. A familiar figure swept into the nearly deserted tavern. He hadn't noticed her sitting in the shadows but she saw him. He ordered a shot of whiskey and settled on one of the stools that lined the far end of the bar. The barkeep slid the glass down to the man and he took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through him. As he looked around the room, his dark eyes lit on Hermione.

Neither of them said a word. He saluted her with his glass and she, him with her bottle. They sat together, yet apart, enjoying the silence and the alcohol.
*************

The days passed in a blur. Hermione never saw Draco aside from classtimes and at some meals and prefect meetings. She was roaming the halls of a Friday night, aimlessly talking to Ginny, when the youngest Weasley turned the conversation to Draco. "H "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Why Draco?"

Hermione chuckled darkly. She had been waiting for that question. "I don't know. I guess because he was there?"

"No!" Ginny looked aghast. "You mean...he was merely for convenience?"

"At first. Well, that's not necessarily true. It was blackmail at first. Me in exchange for him not telling his father about my being a mage."

Ginny's eyes grew wide. "You mean...your parents...because Draco squealed on you?"

"That's the short of it, Gin." Hermione grinned sadly.

"I'd be ready to kill him, too," the younger girl said fiercely. "And to think! I used to actually date him!"

"Well, neither of us is dating him now." Hermione shot Ginny an amused glance. "Besides, I didn't kill him, although sometimes I think I should've."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well...I couldn't live with myself if I had."

"How is it that Draco has managed to stay out of Azkaban for this?"

"Because aside from you, the only people who know the story are McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape," Hermione replied to Gin's query.

"Oh, Hermione." Ginny pulled her friend into an embrace.

Hermione was startled. It had been so long since anyone had hugged her, genuinely hugged her, that for a moment she just stood there with her arms flopping at her sides. Ginny pulled back, smiling a bit. "You know, it's customary to hug a person who's hugging you back."

"I know...I just..." Hermione trailed off.

"It's ok. I understand," the redheaded fairy said gently.
***********

From a hidden corner, Draco had heard every word that Hermione had said. It stung him that he was merely a 'convenience', as she put it. He'd been feeling sorry for her and for himself, despite the horrid trick she'd played on him in retaliation. The only reason she'd not fileted him was because *she* couldn't live with it if she had. She felt nothing for him, nothing at all. Draco felt angry and underneath the anger a vague hurt that was growing stronger. Why couldn't he make anyone love him? Not even the people who were supposed to him him, his mother and father, loved him. And this girl, this mudblooded girl with her plebian lineage and her extraordinary talents, had managed to twist his heart twenty ways from Sunday.

How he hated her for that.

There was nothing more for him to say on the matter. If he thought anymore on it, Draco sensed he might do something drastic. Already he could feel the excessive anger welling up inside him to leave faint scorch marks on the stones where he gripped the walls. Pale pale green drips of plasma dripped from his hair and fingertips and a faintly green-gold sizzle edged his form.

He hated this situation even more. (Damn Lucius and damn Voldemort,) he thought.

Just then, the mark on his arm burned. He gripped it tightly, willing the brand to stop its infernal aching. But it didn't. The pain doubled and Draco was nearly on his knees. He made his way to his quarters and gathered up his robe and mask. Creeping out of the dungeons,foy foy left the ground and slipped out of the gate, Apparating quickly into the circle.

Nearly everyone was there. He could see Lucius standing there, proud and unmasked before the Dark Lord. Tonight was to be yet another interminable revel, the same old torture and crap. Draco didn't understand how some of the most brilliant witches and wizards of the age couldn't figure out a better means of entertaining themselves.

However, Draco was to be surprised. The preparations for a ritual were taking place. A circle was placed on the ground, outlined in salt. The blond was taken aback. Salt was an indicator of white magic, not the dark arts. Voldemort allowed himself to be led into the circle by Bella Lestrange and Blaise. Draco couldn't hear the words that the Dark Lord uttered but when he plunged his wand into Blaise's shoulder, his mind and stomach rebelled violently.

Draco could see a thin line of pale purple evanescance flow from Blaise into Voldemort's arm. Bella took her dagger and cut the mangled wizard's palm and flames dripped from the opened wound. The fire that was Voldemort's blood mixed with Blaise's life essence and slowly but surely the reptilian wizard was changed. Standing before them was a man. He stood straight and tall with curly black hair that was touched at the temples with silver. The chiseled chin and straight nose were familiar to Draco. He'd become Tom Riddle again. Of ce hee he was an older Tom, but Tom nonetheless. Voldemort had been trying to find a way to regain his former appearance. He'd been sorely disappointed after his rebirth to find that he'd become this snake-like thing.

Tom pulled his wand from Blaise and the paper-white girl fell over, seemingly dead from her lord's attentions. Two hooded figures came forward to take her from the circle. The members present erupted in pleasure. No longer was their lord and master a monster - a figure of fear. He had been returned to his former glory and he shone like an archangel.

Draco turned from the group and quietly vomited up his dinner as the sounds of celebration reached his ears.
***************

After her walk with Hermione, she fled upstairs to her room and began to think. She'd banished Draco from her life, but there was still more to do. He was done for no matter what he did so she pushed thoughts of him aside. She still needed to tend to Voldemort. Her fists clenched and her nails cut into the skin of her palms when she thought of the megalomaniacal wizard.

Hermione needed to think logically about the situation. There was a war going on, true. And Harry was 'the chosen one'. But she had a vested interest in bringing Voldemort down. She needed closure. She needed revenge. He'd hurt far too many people and destroyed far too many lives to continue to do so.

The problem was where to begin. Voldemort had the most disconcerting habit of being a slippery bastard. Snape knew some of what went on but not all. His spying could only be given so much weight. A surprise attack could be the thing. Sometimes a good offense is the best defense, she thought.

Hermione pulled out parchment and quill and began to write down things. She always thought a little clearer when she wrote things down. (Perhaps there is a potion...) she thought.

She got up from the desk and went to the small bookcase that rested along the windowed wall. The girl pulled down her copy of 'Most Potente Potions' and began looking up things that would counteract the effects of prolonged exposure to unicorn's blood and serpent's milk. The only two known substances were phoenix tears and gryffon heart - two things that were very hard to come by.

But coupled with a powerful ritual performed by the right people, it might have the proper effect. She got up to go over her findings with Dumbledore. Hermione was loping down the stairs when she was distracted by something she could see out of the windows, close to the edge of the ground, in the Forest.

There were flashes of bright blue light and faint pinpricks of what looked like flames in the darkness. She changed course and made herself invisible. Slipping out of doors, Hermione made her way quickly to the Forest.

She saw Draco and Lucius standing in a heavily wooded area. Lucius was repeatedly hexing his son, calling him weak and foolish. Apparently Lucius was still highly displeased with Draco being found with Crabbe and by being bested by Hermione. Draco began to sport bruises from the continuous hexes.

"Does the girl know?"

"No," Draco wheezed out. "She knows nothing."

"Good. You see, Draco, instead of using you, he's decided to take the Mudblood and use her for the ritual. And now that his physical form is restored, he's more powerful than ever. All he needs is the Mage-rite and those powers. Ah..." Lucius sighed with undisguised pleasure. "Well...I've toyed with you enough. Any more and you'd be completely useless, not that you're all that useful to begin with."

Father looked at son for a moment. The older man shook his head at his offspring. "I do believe you've gone soft, Draco. You wouldn't have told me if I hadn't spelled, you, would you?"

Hermione could see Draco struggling, trying not to answer. But the words were painfully pulled out of him. "No, Father, I wouldn't have said anything."

"Merlin's bones," Lucius swore. "Don't tell me you fancy yourself in *love* with the little bitch." He sneered.

"Not anymore." Draco ground out. This wasn't necessarily the truth but it was close enough to pass.

"At least you've come to your senses. Tsk. I expected better from you, boy. Be glad you're my only heir. I've half a mind to let the Dark Lord take you, too." Lucius suddenly became a hawk and flew off, leaving his son shaking in the space where he wept.

Hermione stood there, slowly becoming visible. Her mind reeled at what she'd heard. Draco hadn't betrayed her after all. Not willingly anyway. And apparently Voldemort needed the ps ofs of a mage to defeat Harry, who was also a mage. The Dark Lord had intended to take Draco but decided instead to take her instead...She shook her head, trying to clear it and sort through all the information. But first she needed to take care of Draco, who looked severely bent, if not broken.

She walked slowly over to the boy, who was curled up on the ground, trying to will the pain away. Hermione bent down to touch his shoulder. He flinched and balled up tighter.

"Draco," she whispered.

He uncurled and rolled over with some effort. Hermione could see that his face was streaked with red and pink from the bloody tears he'd been forced to cry. In that moment she hated Lucius with a passion and vowed to hurt him as much as he'd hurt Draco.

"What do you want?" The hurt was receding and Draco found his voice.

"I heard you and your father. Is it true?"

Draco sat up slowly and gave her a disgusted glance. "How can you sit there and watch him hex me twenty ways from Sunday and ask me if it's true. Of course it's true." The blond rose on shaky legs. "I told you once, Granger, I don't k prk promises and I promised you that I wouldn't tell and I nearly didn't for all that it almost killed me. Now why don't you be a good girl and run to Dumbledore and tell him all about me and Lucius' little chat?"

He began walking back to the castle. Hermione called after him. He didn't stop, only gathered speed and Hermione was forced to run to catch up with him.

"Draco...please."

"Please what? Oh, I heard your little conversation with She-Weasel. I'm nothing more than a convenience, am I, Granger? You make me sick."

"You were more than that and you know it!"

"You can't prove it by me. Now if you'll excuse me." He turned away again and began walking.

Hermione walked with him. He snapped at her, furious. "Look, you can't turn on me and now that you know the truth decide all that all of a sudden that you want to be with me. It doesn't work like that, Granger."

"Well what the hell was I supposed to *do* Malfoy? Continue on as we were, knowing that you were the one who betrayed me? I may be a 'silly little bint' but I'm not that stupid. Why do you think I didn't kill you that day? I could've easily slit you from stem to stern and I didn't."

"Because you wanted to play the magnanimous Gryffindor and spare the life of your vile betrayer!"

"That's not it at all." She spoke quietly, having lost all will to shout.

"Oh, yes. I remember now. You couldn't live with yourself if you'd taken my life. That would make you no better than me or any of my ilk. You're so full of shit, Granger." He began walking away again.

"Don't you walk away from me, Draco Octavian Malfoy!"

He continued on, not wanting to hear any more. *"Petrificus Totalus!*"
Draco fell over as he was placed in the full body bind. His cloak was wet from the snow that still lay on the ground. Hermione was frozen near to death but she needed to tell him before things spun out any further than they did.

"I didn't kill you that day because...well, dammit, because I still have feelings for you. Hell. Thoughts of you were sometimes all I had to go on, even though I hated you, hated the thought of you."

Draco's eyes lit in their staring position and she knew that he was comprehending her words. "I just wish you've have told me all this from the beginning, instead of distancing yourself from me and being with Pansy all the damn time."

She could see that Draco needed to speak. *"Finite Incantatem"* His body released and he got up.

"Would you have believed me if I had told you?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know." At his scowl, she continued. "I'm being honest here, Malfoy. I would have wanted to believe you."

"That's not good enough."

"I'm sorry, it will have to suffice. I just...Fuck it, I don't know what I want to say, and I'm freezing out here." Hermione turned and began running back to the castle. She'd nearly reached the stairs when Draco caught up with her.

Malfoy was caught up in the tugging of his own heartstrings as he spun her around. "I can make do with what you're offering." He gave Hermione a lopsided grin.

She gave him his smile back and they walked hand in hand through the doors of the sleeping castle.
*************

The weeks passed quietly and it was now the ides of March. During the day, Hermione and Draco carried on as before. But at night they spent their time renewing their acquaintance and deepening what they had into a true friendship. Hermione rediscovered the funny and charming man under the arrogant exterior. Draco was astonished at the changes that grief had wrought in her. They spoke of many and varied things. Mostly though, they talked of the best way to defeat Voldemort. Hermione shared her plan of trying to poison the Dark Lord and Draco gently shot her down.

"Nix on the poison. He has everything tasted before he takes a sip of anything. He's so twisted that he can't even do a simple thing like eat anymore."

"From my research the potion wouldn't harm a normal person. And I can tweak some of the ingredients to fit him. You told me yourself that he's back to being Tom Riddle."

They sat facing each other on the couch in the dungeon room, shoes off, feet up on the cushions. Neither one felt comfortable enough to share so much as a hug but they spent quite a lot of time talking, just talking.

"Hermione. He's just Voldemort in Tom Riddle's clothing. Underneath the fleshly exterior he's still a snake. And a snake with fire for blood. It would be extremely hard to kill him," Draco replied reasonably.

Hermione jumped from the couch irritatedly. She began pacing in front of him. "I can't just sit here and do nothing, Draco. I have to *do* something. I want revenge."

Draco conjured up a pot of tea and scones with raspberry jam. He poured a cup for her and added a bit of honey and lemon. "Have a cuppa."

"I don't want any tea." She scowled at him.

"Well, I'm all out of bitter revenge, so it's tea or nothing."

Hermione sat on the couch. "There's got to be something I can do. I feel like a sitting duck in here. And I don't like lemon in my tea, you know that."

"I do agree with you that we need to strike before he makes his move. May first is drawing ever closer." He sipped the hot liquid slowly. "I keep going to the meetings but the place is always different. I haven't the faintest idea of where the ritual is going to take place. No one knows except Bella. She does the arrangements and when they're done, he summons each of us." Draco rubbed his left forearm absently.

"Is that -?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

"May I?"

Draco looked apprehensive but set his cup on the tall table that rested behind the couch and pulled his shirt sleeve up. Hermione stared in fascinated horror at the livid weal on his otherwise smooth milky skin. The skull and the serpent intertwined in vulgar harmony. Hermione trailed her fingers over the brand gently. The flesh there was dead and numb and Draco felt nothing.

"Now I know Tom's a madman," she uttered softly, sitting next to him on the couch.

"What gave you that idea?" Draco teased h
"That anyone would want to mar your skin is...unbelievable to me."

Draco felt himself flushing with undisguised pleasure and embarrassment. "Please."

Hermione laughed. "Surely you know your own charms, Draco."

"I do, it's just..."

She cocked an amused eyebrow at him. "Don't go getting all new on me. You're a beautifully made man and well you know it."

Her words made something warm inside of him. Draco sat back against the cushions of the cranberry-red sofa and looked at her, mapping her features. He reached out a hand and touched her hair, which she'd worn loose in deference to him.

"I've always loved your hair."

"Bollocks. You always teased me about my hair."

He tugged a curl lightly. "No, I do. It's so...energetic, like you. And it's full of colours: deep brown to ash blonde. Like a tiger's eye."

"Jesus, you do wax poetic." She grinned at him.

"No taking the mickey out of me, Granger. I mean it."

"And what are you going to do if I don't stop." A teasing light filled her mellow golden eyes.

He tugged her down so that she sprawled across his chest. Taking Hermione in his arms, Draco sat up slightly so that she lay half on him and half on the couch. He could read the uncertainty and the banked fires in her fine eyes. Draco dropped a kiss on her lips, lingering a bit. He felt uncomfortable himself, just a bit.

When he pulled back, he could see her eyes had glazed slightly and there was a faint smile curving her mouth. She reached her hands into his hair and pulled him into another, deeper kiss. They stayed locked that way until Draco pulled away.

Hermione frowned. "Why did you stop?"

"Because...just because."

"I see." And she did. Draco was loath to do anything that might shatter their tentative relationship. She eased himself from his embrace and went over to the desk that sat against a wall.

"What are you doing over there?"

"I need to finish my research and then figure out a way to deploy the potion." Suddenly Hermione was all business again. Draco rather liked that aspect of her personality.

"Deploy? You sound like an army general," Draco chuckled.

"We *are* in a war, Malfoy." He could see her quill scribbling madly.

That sobered him up quite a bit. "You're right." Draco picked up his own book from the pile and began reading and making the occasional note.

They worked in silence for hours and then each began yawning. It was a Sunday and neither felt the inclination to leave each other's company for the lonliness of the dorms. Hermione made the decision to shove off first, although, she thought, it was under duress.

She scraped her chair back and got up. Draco looked up at her when she laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's after midnight. I'm going up to my room. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Draco smiled. "Ofrse.rse. I think I've come up with something that could be useful."

"All right." She leaned down and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Draco." Hermione walked over to the door and slipped out.

Draco sat in his place, grinning faintly.
****

The next night was spent in much the same manner, both researching and discussing this or that method. Hermione discovered that underneath that blond mop and pretty face was a facile mind. Draco didn't just skate by, he'd earned every one of his grades and she was impressed with his brainpower. One night, they'd exhausted themselves and were lying on opposite couches, quietly conversing.

Hermione learned of Draco's violent history with his father and of his uncaring mother. Lucius didn't just dole out the physical abuse, oh no, that would be too cliche. He was also a skilled manipulator, knowing just what to say to get his victim to crumble like a muffin with too little butter. Hermione felt disgusted with Lucius' behaviour towards his son and her resolve to bring both him and Voldemort down hardened with every word Draco spoke.

She rose from where she lay to kneel by Draco's head where it rested on the cushions of the sofa. Hermione stroked his head tenderly. Draco stiffened and pulled away.

"I didn't tell you all that to get you to feel sorry for me."

"I know you didn't. And I don't feel sorry for you."

Draco was surprised. "You don't?"

"No." And that was all she said. Hermione knew, even if she said nothing, that Draco hadn't been given anything he couldn't have handled. It was a lesson that had been long in coming for herself.

He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this peace that ran through him whenever they were together. Draco felt as if he could solve all the world's ills when Hermione was by his side. He made a face at hlf. lf. If he didn't stop, he'd soon be spouting love poetry at her.

Draco sat up and pulled Hermione into his lap. She'd lost that wary quality of the night before. However, it still was not as it once was between them. Perhaps it never would be. They were each different people than they were before. They kissed soft butterfly kisses that wouldn't ruffle the petals on a rose. They were satisfied with that and broke apart.
************

Hermione and Draco sat in the dungeon hideaway that Friday night. Draco was reading up on potions and Hermione did her research on charms and hexes. Hermione began turning pages rapidly and writing furiously. Draco could hear the scritch-scratch of her quill on the parchment. He looked up from his place at the desk, annoyed.

"Must you make that infernal noise?"

"Hm?" She replied, distracted.

"The damn quill, Granger."

His use of her last name was what got to her. "What do you mean, the quill?"

"I mean, it's been going 'scritch-scratch-scratch' for the last hour or more. And it's annoying the hell out me." Draco turned around and glared at her.

"Oh." Hermione replied shortly. "Excuse *me*. I thought I'd happened upon something that might make a world of difference in our findings."

"It had better be good to justify all that racket."

"Ho. Ho. Ho." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Well...I've found the spell that Voldemort used to rise again. Apparently the whole thing is very arcane and it hasn't been used since middle ages. If he hadn't been mucking about with unicorn's blood before he rose again, he'd have risen wholly human and terribly powerful. Says here, only the blood of a mage can break it and return him to his wasted form."

"No. It's too risky.

"It's the only chance we've got, Draco. You know that as well as I do."

"Well, which one of us are you willing to risk? Me? Potter? Yourself? Knowing you, you'd try to do something terribly brave and oh-so-Gryffindorish and I won't have it."

"You can't stop me. And I've already decided that there's no one else TO do it. Harry has to be the one to actually cast the killing curse or something to get rid of Voldemort."

"Yes, yes I know all that. But I won't let you. Understand?"

"Peaches," Hermione replied sarcastically. "There's nothing you can say to make me not go through with it. Besides, the mage whose blood is spilled has to be a bitter enemy. I kind of fit the description, don't you think?"

"Oh, and what am I? Voldemort's fucking lapdog?" Draco got up and paced the floor, stopping to where she sat at the dining table. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I trust you, I'm here, aren't I?" Hermione pooh-poohed Draco's display.

"Then why the fuck would you say something like that? I him him just as much as you do. Do you not comprehend? I was born and bred just to be used by him! If my father hadn't found out that you were a mage, I likely wouldn't have seen the light of day after May first."

Hermione looked down, slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry Draco...I hadn't realized."

"Of course you hadn't. You just keep chugging along, thinking you can fix everything. Well, somethings *can't* be fixed."

"At least I can try!" Hermione leapt from her chair, coming around the table to stand toe-to-toe with Draco. "I haven't just given in and and prepared for the worst."

She levered herself up until her nose was even with his. "Now are you going to sit here and sulk and shoot down my ideas or are you going to make yourself useful and come up with something?"
"Yo"You're right. This is counterproductive." Draco went back to his chair, leaving Hermione to stare after him, hands on hips, glaring. She took her place at the table, scratching away madly at her parchment once again. After awhile, Draco spoke again.

"Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

"That's ok. You're under a lot of stress."

"Not only for that...but for everything."

Hermione's quill stopped its scratching once again. She took a deep breath. "You're forgiven. Now get to work."

Draco smiled, hearing the smile in her voice. He felt better than he had in a very long time.
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