Draco didn't want to show Hermione that he had the Elder Wand, but his thoughts swirled around with the fact that, without Granger, this all would be easier. He wouldn't have to lie, he wouldn't have to be helped, he wouldn't have to keep things an even bigger secret. No, without her in the picture, everything might be smoother. This is why he found himself pointing the Elder Wand at her, he knew it could destroy her, and he knew it wouldn't let him down.

"Draco," she whispers, hoping he would open his eyes, see that this wasn't the way it needed to be. Hermione still had the Time Turner in her pocket, but she was afraid to move, afraid that one slight movement, and this all would be over. She had even stayed, stayed to help him and keep her promise, and this is what she was given in return.

However, Draco found himself breaking whenever he heard his name come out of her mouth. Her voice had cracked, her body trembled, and it was as if something had been woken up inside of him. He wanted to destroy her, but yet he couldn't. He couldn't do anything, but stand there with the wand pointed at her, while she stood there defenseless and unarmed.

"No!" He shouts, trying his best not to break down, trying his best to be brave. "I will do this!"

"Draco?" Another voice speaks, a voice that causes Draco to hide the Elder Wand in his jacket, before he turns around and watches Narcissa walk into the dining room. "What's — what's wrong?" She asks, as she looks between her broken boy and a crying Hermione.

Draco couldn't reply. He couldn't even find his voice, so, instead of trying to explain why they were both a wreck, he fleed the room. He was so used to fleeing from problems, that it seemed almost natural.

However, Hermione was still trying to recover, trying to pull herself back from what she had witnessed and lived through, that she couldn't find words either. She just stood there, her breathing heavy as more tears flowed down her cheeks. She had tried so hard to be brave, but that was before the most powerful wand was pointed at her heart. That was before — well — everything.

"Hermione?" Narcissa whispers, wondering if Hermione would tell her what was going on.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Hermione chokes out, before walking past Narcissa, and walking out of the manor. Her promise didn't matter, her thoughts of helping Draco didn't matter, his pain didn't even matter to her. What mattered, was getting out. She just needed to get out.

The cold air wrapped her in its arms, the snow beginning to fall, but she didn't pay any attention to the weather. She didn't pay attention to anything, except escaping. Nothing else mattered, not her bravery or tears or even pain, she just had to get out.

However, she was only outside running for a few minutes, before she could hear steps behind her. She knew it was him, and she found herself running as fast as she could, past trees and over freshly fallen snow. Malfoy was faster than her, however, and before she knew it, he had caught her arm and they were rolling in the snow.

"Granger," Draco said rather loudly, as he straddled her waist, trying to get her to calm down. She was scratching and screaming and crying, trying to free herself from his grip. "Granger!" He shouted as loud as he could, his face only inches from hers. "Granger, stop."

Hermione finally stopped fighting, knowing it was useless. All she could do, was lie there in the wet snow, Draco on top of her, and cry. She couldn't do this any more, she couldn't help him and she couldn't pretend and she couldn't stay to just be slaughtered. It was over, she had done her best — despite it being only a day and a half of trying — and that seemed to be all she had. It was too much for her, to be threatened, to see Draco's pain, to be in the manor, to see that Draco had been given the Elder Wand, to see that one of her best friends may die, to be reminded that her other best friend doesn't even know her, and to hear that Draco is spreading Skeeter's lies around. It was all too much, and she was done.

"No," she said after a moment, her voice weak, her body cold and tired. "I can't. I can't."

Draco sat there — his body still straddling hers — and he told himself he couldn't let her go. It'd be too risky, and he just couldn't. "You can, Granger," he whispers. He didn't know why he was encouraging her, but what he did know, was that he wanted her tears to stop. He wanted to stop looking at her and be reminded of so much. She wasn't the only one that couldn't do it any longer.

"Just kill me," she sobs. "Get it over with already, you coward!" She had begun to scream and kick once again, but her attempts were in vain.

"Stop it!" He shouts, before his voice becomes weak, and he finds himself on the brink of tears. Even Draco had to encourage himself to be brave, for tears showed that he was weak, and that wasn't something he wanted to be called — although, it was true. "Stop," he almost begs, before getting off of her, only to lie in the wet snow next to her, their breathing heavy as it sends out clouds in the air from the cold.

"What did I ever do to you?" Hermione whispers after a moment of composing herself. "Did I do something, to make you hate me this much?" Her voice was shaking, from the cold and emotion, and she hugged her arms closer to her body, trying to stay both composed and warm.

Draco was at a loss for words. There was really no real reason as to why he disliked her. She had never done anything to him, except punch him, and, there was always that thing that happened a few years ago. That thing where she stole his heart. But, she was muggle born and he was pureblood, it was like mixing water and oil. It would have never worked. And it wasn't worth bringing up, especially since he never would want her to know. Pretending to have an affair with her is one thing, but admitting to have fancied her when they were younger, is another. Besides, it didn't matter now, for those feelings were replaced with bitterness and anger long ago. After all, he wasn't the person he used to be.

"No," Draco breathes out, the air feeling just as cold as his heart. "You were just a muggle born, a Potter lover, and a Weasley sick puppy. I couldn't stand it. You were all the things I learned to despise."

"I hate you, Draco Malfoy," Hermione cries, her voice rather loud from the new tears falling down her face, as she sits up and looks over at him, her body not having enough energy for hate, but she knew there was so much anger and hurt directed towards him, that that's all she could even manage to say.

"I know," he mutters, before grabbing her hand and apparating back to the manor. He couldn't let her escape once again, and he couldn't stand being out in the cold any longer. He also couldn't stand the way Granger said she hated him, as if he were the most vile person she had ever met. But then again, perhaps he was.

|||

Despite Hermione sleeping marvelous the first night at the manor, the second night was another story.

She was in the guest bedroom — Draco took residence in the chair once again, and was occupied with the Daily Prophet — and she couldn't sleep. She couldn't even think of sleep, not after the day she had, not after the things her and Draco talked about, not after the truths that had come out. She couldn't sleep, and she couldn't eat.

Draco had tried to make her eat when they came in, but she refused. She refused to do anything, including talk. She hadn't known why Draco continued to spare her, but it was wearing her down. It seemed as if all the progress she had made in the last three years, no longer mattered. After all, she's sure the entire wizarding world finds her appalling, especially with what Rita Skeeter had been writing about. She can only imagine how Ron feels, and just the thought of him makes her want to cry more. However, she seemed to have cried all of her tears, for her face and eyes were dry, nothing residing on them except the broken pain.

"I can't do this any longer," Draco grumbles, before throwing down the paper, and standing up from the chair. He assumed Hermione was asleep, for she had been quiet for well over an hour. Actually, she had been quiet since he brought her back into the manor.

Her silent treatment was worse than her yelling, for it was as if she were no longer acting like a human, it was as if she has just given up already. It was only the second day of having her here, Draco knew this was why it would have never worked when they were younger. He would have ruined her, but then again, isn't that what he's doing now?

Cursing under his breath — not being able to stand there and think and look at her any loner — he decided to leave and do the one thing that evaporated his emotions and feelings.

Leaving the room, he returns only a few moments later with a bottle of rum. He was tired of whiskey, but he still needed something to drown himself in. Especially with his plan and his mother and Granger.

He sat back down in the chair, his eyes focused on the girl curled up on the bed in front of him, as he began to drink. He tried to stop thinking of everything and just enjoy the alcohol. The burn was welcomed, and before he knew it, his body was feeling numb, it being exactly what he needed. A little escape, for even the darkest people need a break from life every once in a while.

It wasn't much longer, before he eventually falls asleep, dreaming of curls and brown eyes.