"Blaise left a note," Draco said, picking up a piece of parchment from the kitchen table. He unfolded the parchment and cleared his throat.

"Read it out," Hermione suggested.

"'Hermione, I thank you for everything. But I don't thank you for warding the firewhiskey away. Luna came here. We figured something out, maybe I'll tell you later. Thank you again. Love, Blaise'," Draco handed the note to her, with the beginnings of a sneer on his face, "why did he write 'love' at the end?"

"Because we're friends, and friends love each other," Hermione said. 

"He doesn't have to write it every time, though," Draco's voice had the tiniest hint of a grumble.

"What is this I'm seeing?" Hermione feigned incredulity, "Draco Malfoy, jealous?"

"Not jealous," he scoffed, but Hermione didn't miss the slight fluster, "I'm merely asking."

"Alright," Hermione said, battling her laughter away.

She was about to say something else, but she stopped. Draco was walking to the living room to place his outer cloak on the couch. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. But Hermione was experienced in detecting any signs of injury. The way he walked was stiff, and unless her eyes were deceiving her, which was very unlikely, there was a neigh unnoticeable limp in his right leg.

"Stop."

He turned to look at her when she spoke. Hermione glared at him.

"You hurt your leg," she started, challenging him to dare contradict her, "at Hogsmeade, am I correct?"

He said nothing and looked at her with a mixture of guilt and shame.

"You could have told me!" Hermione stalked forward, her pink dress swaying behind her. She forced him to sit down, then cast a diagnosis charm on him. 

She felt the blood drain from her face as she saw what had happened. On the length of his right leg from his knee to his ankle was a large gash, badly serrated and torn. It wasn't bleeding, however.

"How did you stop the blood loss?" Hermione asked pointedly, "The injury is magical, not just a knife slash."

"Dittany," Draco gritted out. Hermione imagined that now that his pain numbing spell had been lifted, he was experiencing the complete feeling. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Hermione summoned a glass and her bottle of blood replenishing potion.

"Please don't make me drink that," he said pathetically.

"Drink," Hermione ordered, holding the glass to his lips. He made a face, but drank without further protest.

The moment he was done, Hermione healed his leg. She made sure to be extremely gentle, and carried the process out slowly, careful not to be too brash. He hissed once, clenching his jaw and turning away. He rested his head on his hand, and scrunched his eyes closed. 

"You are such an imbecile, I can't even begin to tell you how stupid you've been," Hermione stood when she had finished, not giving him a chance to speak, "you danced with that leg do you know the damage that it could have caused if you wouldn't have had Dittany? Do you have any idea how serious the injury is?"

He only stared at her, looking apologetic. But she would have none of it.

"Who was it?" Hermione asked snappishly, crossing her arms across her chest, "At Hogsmeade, who was it?"

"I don't know, I didn't get a chance to see," Draco said dejectedly, "I followed him into one of the back streets, keeping my distance. He stopped when he reached a dead end, turned around and shot a spell at me. It slashed my leg. I couldn't move, so I couldn't defend myself. He stunned me and left. I was unconscious for a while, I think. That's why I took time in getting back."

"You should have been careful!" Hermione struggled to keep her voice at its normal pitch, "What if it would have been something worse? What if I wouldn't be able to heal it? What then, Draco? What if you'd still be lying there in that alley, and nobody would know where to look for you, what would have happened then?"

She was completely distraught. She had had enough of everyone trying to be heroic and risking their own lives. Harry, who always ran out to sacrifice himself to save the others, never once thinking about what would happen if something happened to him. Ginny, who had nearly rushed into a duel with Voldemort. Now Draco. 

"Do you really think it would matter if I die?" Draco asked slowly, "It doesn't matter, it really doesn't."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Hermione could feel her eyes heating up, but she wouldn't, couldn't, cry now, "Why can't you see that there are people who love you? Your mother, your friends, Pansy and Blaise and Theodore. Blaise wanted to make you Godfather, Draco. All of these people, they love you, and you want to throw everything away?"

He looked at her with a sad smile on his face, "How come your name isn't on the list?"

Hermione felt like she had been slapped across her face. The air felt too heavy, the room felt too small, her dress was dragging her down. Worst of all, he was looking at her with his stupid storm colored eyes. Full of unasked questions, undisclosed thoughts, unacknowledged feelings. Two pools of stormy intensity.

"I'm sorry," he may have not said it at all, his voice was so quiescent. He was still smiling, although it wasn't a smile with humour or warmth, "I just had to know."

Hermione was rendered speechless. What was he saying? He expected her to say she loved him? What was she supposed to say now?

"Don't fret over me," a trace of bitterness edged into his voice, "I'll be fine."

He stood and began walking to his room, no doubt straining his leg. But he showed no signs of being in pain.

"No, Draco, wait," Hermione tried her hardest not to whimper, "please."

"What good will it do?" he was still smiling. It infuriated Hermione to such an extent that she was tempted to walk across and slap the smile from his face.

"Look, I don't blame you," he said irrelevantly, "it's hard to love someone like me, I know. But you went around kissing me, saying you care. And now to hear the contrary being said aloud it-it hit differently."

"I don't want to say that I love you and walk back on it later," Hermione said. She hated the way she sounded, so full of need and desperateness, "I wouldn't want to hurt you that way."

"This hurts too, though, doesn't it?" Draco said, his lip curling, "Forgot about that bit?"

Hermione stepped back involuntarily. His simple action of changing his stance had led to a wave of memories washing over her.

"You're scared of me," Draco said, sneering now, "you said you believe in me, didn't you? You said you trust me. Tell me, Granger, why did you lie?"

"I do trust you," she said, "I can't help the way I react sometimes, it's not that I do it willingly."

"Do you know what it feels like, Granger?" 

Hermione could see the way his eyes glistened, even in the semi-darkness. He was crying.

"Do you know what it feels like to have yourself pushed into something you don't want to be part of?" his voice cracked, "Watch your family threatened, watch your parents tortured? Do you know what it feels like to watch the place you grew up in get destroyed? I've been masking myself my entire life, afraid to open up to anyone lest they use it against me. My feelings, emotions, they're never considered because they're all bottled up inside. I opened myself to you, I let you see me for who I am. It took a lot of effort, but I couldn't help it. You're like the embodiment of light."

"If I'm the embodiment of light," Hermione laughed humorlessly, "why am I still facing darkness?"

"Because you're too stubborn to accept the light people offer you," Draco said viciously.

"I just don't want other people worrying about me, that's all," Hermione shrugged, her voice caught in her throat with the sob she was holding back.

"Like you told me people care about me," Draco said, "they care about you too. We're on the same page, Granger. We're too stubborn to accept help. We're willing to give everything away because we think nobody cares."

She knew he was right.

Hermione was about to say something, but she was interrupted. It had happened several times throughout the course of the evening and frankly, she was getting annoyed.

They both froze and listened intently. At first, Hermione thought she might have imagined it. But the harsh tapping sounded again. Someone was knocking at the door.

"Go," she took his robe and flung it over him, "go, quickly. Don't come out, it'll strain your leg."

He hastily made his way to his room and locked the door. Hermione wiped her eyes to remove any tears that may have escaped and went to open the door.

She might as well have ignored it altogether.

"What do you want." it wasn't a question, it was a statement uttered in the coldest voice she could muster. 

Ron was standing at her door. There was a strange expression on his face. Whether it was smugness, or guilt, or nostalgia, she couldn't tell. Perhaps his features constantly shifted between all these feelings. Hermione didn't know how long he had been standing there. Her mouth went dry, and her palms got clammy.

"I wanted to apologise."

Hermione was, once again, speechless.

"I shouldn't have behaved that way with you tonight," he said, the regret in his voice very audible, "can-can I come in?"

What else could she do? She moved a little to the side, allowing him to pass through. 

"Spit it out, what else do you have to say?" Hermione felt her anxiety building up, and nervousness doused her senses. It wasn't a pleasant sensation at all. Ron flicked his wand and the doorlock clicked into place. Hermione reached for her wand on the table, trying to be unnoticable.

"How much do you think," a small smirk lifted the corners of Ron's mouth, pretences of regret slipped away, "the Ministry will reward me if I turn you both in?"

The things that happened in the next few minutes happened fast. He had leapt across the room towards Draco's locked door with his wand drawn. Hermione shot a hex at him which caught his shoulder. He snarled at her and shot back his own spell. One of the hexes deflected to the kitchen, making the glass in the cabinets shatter. Glass shards flew everywhere, catching Hermione's bare arms. 

"Sectumsempra!" 

Hermione dodged the spell, and shot one of her own at him.

"Everte statum!" 

The spell caught her square in the chest. She was thrown off her feet, and collided with the wall in the other side of the room. Ron sneered at her and dashed to the door again, blasting it off its hinges.

There was a loud ringing in her ears. Her vision blurred at the corners. 

Draco was hurt, he couldn't duel. 

The thought pushed her to her feet and she was across the room in a second.

"Stupefy!" 

Ron deflected the spell, but it gave Draco a chance to get out of his room. 

"Draco!" Hermione cast a protego on him, then proceeded to throw jinxes and hexes at Ron, "Get my bag from the table!"

Draco accioed the bag and made his way to her with some effort, his face contorted with pain. Ron's face was twisted with all the energy he was putting in against Hermione. The war experience had left both of them with nearly equal skills at duelling. 

"I've called Harry, Mione!" Ron shouted from where he was standing, "You betrayed him, you betrayed all of us."

Hermione sent a stunner at him with as much malice and energy she could. Miraculously, he failed to deflect it on time. He lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground.

"Can you apparate?" Hermione asked feverishly. Draco nodded, unable to find his voice.

"Hermione!" 

Someone was banging at her front door, and had no doubt heard the commotion inside. Hermione instantly recognised Harry's voice. 

"Hermione, open the door!"

Hermione cast one last sweeping look around the apartment. The door crashed to the floor, Hermione grabbed Draco's arm, and twisted on the spot. The last thing she saw was Harry's face with hurt and betrayal written across it before their surroundings dissolved into darkness.