"Draco," Professor Snape didn't even look up from the table where he was grading papers and scribbling furiously on some.

"Yes, professor, you wanted to see me?" Draco glided into the room as comfortably as one could, into Snape's dank office.

"I am well aware of what he has planned for you," he began, with no warning and eyes still on the parchments before him, "and I have... assured your mother that I would do everything in my power to help you. I had expected you to come to me, but it seems you have remained... stubborn."

Snape's dark eyes find Draco's now, "Are you planning on being... uncooperative?"

"No, sir."

"The Dark Lord does not take kindly to incompetence, as you may well know."

"I know... I know! All I need is a little bit of time!" He sounded petulant, even to his own ears. Snape raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his proclamation.

"Prey tell, what exactly is your grand plan?" His hand hovered above a parchment and Draco stared at the tip.

"I haven't got all the details sorted, but I will get it done, you can keep your meddling–" He stopped at the look Snape gave him and, unable to continue, mumbled, "I don't need your help."

"You do understand what I am saying, don't you, Draco? I am on your side, I can assist you–"

"I'll ask for it when I need it!" He said, heart racing. How many people were waiting to see him fail? For his mother to appeal to his teacher – fellow Death Eater or not – was simply too much for him. He stumbled out of the office and held himself up against the walls, taking a step at a time. Away from Snape and his offer, away from fear.

He found himself somehow on the second floor, outside of the girl's lavatory, heaving in panic. It hadn't seemed real, until now. Until Snape laid everything out on the table.

He suddenly discovered the immense weight of what he was to do, heavy on his shoulders. He knew it was too big a task for a mere boy, but having never had any real responsibilities in his life, he hadn't realised how it was his burden to bear.

There was no one who would do it for him. For Snape to offer assistance and not simply carrying it out without Draco's knowledge meant that it was his duty. It was his and his alone. All of a sudden, it dawned upon him that Voldemort had fully expected him to fail. It was a punishment. He was never meant to actually carry it out.

On the verge of throwing up, he flung open the doors and ran to the nearest sink before relieving himself.

"Oh, look!" Draco's head whipped around at the sound of a girl's voice.

"A boy!" A giggle followed this time. He quickly washed his face and began walking out with his focus on the floor as a girl's face materialised under his feet.

Letting out a little yelp, he leapt back and stared as the girl floated towards him.

"Sorry, Myrtle." He mumbled, "Don't feel well."

"Oh, you can talk to me and tell me all about it," Myrtle said, floating towards the sinks and sitting on a ledge, "I'm a great listener... Even though not many people talk to me... It gets awfully lonely in the pipes, y'know?"

"I'm sure it must be– I– gotta go, class." He said before slipping out and heard her high pitched voice seeing him out.

"Come back whenever!"

The little encounter managed to calm him down, somewhat but the dread still hung over him like a dark cloud. He didn't say another word throughout his classes and who should notice but Hermione.

She wondered if he was affected by the abrupt end of their companionship and found it hard to believe that it would have such a discernible effect. It was only a meaningless but candid moment between two individuals craving an escape from their lives, was it not? But she couldn't keep her eyes off him and noted the unhealthy pallor of his skin. Perhaps he was sick? She felt a surge of concern and tried to think. Harry might not be happy with what he stumbled on, but it was because he didn't understand it. He didn't know Draco. Past his tough exterior, beneath his posturing... She wished she could be there for him, a helping hand, a guiding friend. She glanced at Draco once more, steeling her resolve. She would save the lost boy.

She sat through class patiently, waiting for the bell to ring with her mind made up. The moment class was dismissed, she quickly bid Harry and Ron goodbye to go to her next class – Arithmancy. A class neither of them took. Instead of heading into the general direction of the Great Hall, she doubled back and watched where Draco was headed and followed him instead.

Halfway to History of Magic, Draco noticed Hermione. Confused at why she was half concealed behind a pillar, he turned to look at her. She gestured at an empty classroom and disappeared through its doors. Looking around to see if anyone was watching him, Draco slipped in after her.

"What's going on?" Draco asked. Hermione was standing just inside the door and she shut them quickly.

"Nothing, I just– are you– I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"And why wouldn't I be?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It's just... You looked a bit sick in class."

A slow smirk spread itself out over his features, "And you care, do you?"

"What are you saying, Draco? Of course I do care. I thought all that time in the library–"

"And we're what, suddenly friends?"

There was a sick sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach, but she knew him, this boy who needed to kill kindness in order to believe it's real.

"Yes," Hermione said, "I happen to think so."

"Well then you're more presumptuous than I gave you credit for," Draco said, "if there's nothing else..." he made to leave and Hermione flicked her wand at the door, which locked with a decisive click.

Draco pulled out his wand lazily and unlocked it with a tap.

"Draco." Hermione said, "Don't."

"Don't tell me what not to do, mudblood!" He was incensed now, the fear of Voldemort which had festered within him had turned into molten anger. It wasn't Hermione he was angry at, but she would have to do.

It was the world he blamed and held accountable for his current misery. But he was unable to help himself, especially when such a pretty opportunity presented itself for him to lash out at.

"Then stop being so childish!" Hermione screeched. "Whether you want me as a friend or not, you will just have to learn to deal with it. While I don't appreciate you trying to blow my friends up behind my back, I understand that it's the kind of person you've been shaped to be and that's what's sad and regrettable – you are a product of your environment. Your toxic, abusive environment. In the right one, you would have been good. Instead of entitled and arrogant. I see it in you, Draco. You are good. And while I may not know why you're acting like a child, I know that it has to do with you being the spoilt brat of Slytherin."

Her words hung in the air between them and it was a picture of tension. A girl with hair frizzed by the energy of her speech, a boy whose fingertips were touching the doorknob and the door slightly ajar, as was his mouth. Both had eyes narrowed at each other. Who knew that the fire behind brown eyes burned with so much heat? Hermione certainly didn't know how those blue eyes hid such a white-hot flame.

Retorts flew around wildly in his head and he might have closed and opened his mouth twice in an attempt to speak but no words came out.

"You clearly have me all figured out." He finally spat out in a condescending manner, "well, then, you won't be surprised then, that I have no interest in being your friend." The last word came out in a sneer and it hurt her more than his constant slurs.

"You don't mean that," Hermione said uncertainly, dropping her arm to her side. Draco took the grimace on her face to mean that he had hurt her with his words and wanted to cushion the blow.

"You do know more than I give you credit for," he said, almost sadly, "but not nearly enough."

The truth was, she was disgusted with herself for thinking that she could be his hero when he didn't want anything to do with her. She watched helplessly as his slender figure blocked the sunlight coming from the open door, shrouding her in shadows for just a moment. Hot tears swam in her eyes and threatened to fall. She rubbed them away viciously, feeling embarrassed and–

"I'll be at the library tonight."

Draco's voice floated in with a breeze and her spirit lifted. It wasn't enough to save a lost boy – he needed to want to be found, too.