It was day three with Malfoy, and Hermione woke up to a knock on the door. She didn't get a good night's rest the previous night, causing her to hide under the duvet, not wanting to get up and see who was knocking. However, the person was persistent, and knocked once again.

"Bloody hell," Draco replies, rather loudly. "I'm coming!" He was experiencing a hangover from last night's rum drinking, which immediately put him into a bad mood. Not only that, but he blamed Granger for causing him to drink so much. Just the reminder of her lying there in front of him, makes him irritated.

However, he forces himself to open the door, only to be greeted with his mother standing there. "Oh!" She says once she sees Draco, not expecting him to sleeping in here with Hermione. "I — I didn't expect to see you in here," she tells her son. Draco was an adult, and Narcissa wouldn't reprimand him for much, but she wasn't very fond of this type of behavior, and Draco knew immediately where she was going with this.

"It wasn't like that," Draco snaps. "I slept in the chair. Had to make sure she wasn't going to run off. What am I even saying? I don't need to explain anything to you," he huffs, his headache increasing the more he thought about things.

"Fine, but I need to speak with Hermione," Narcissa huffs in return, before forcing her way into the bedroom. "Hermione, are you awake?" She asks, before touching Hermione's shoulder.

"Yes," Hermione breathes in reply, not wanting to get up. Not wanting to do anything, but lie there until she dies of either starvation or thirst. After all, what mattered anymore?

"May I speak with you for a moment?" Narcissa requests.

"Of course," Hermione whispers, before removing the duvet from her body, and sitting up in the bed.

"Perhaps we could chat over breakfast? You must be hungry, and my son here needs more sleep — " Narcissa pauses, before glancing over at Draco, only for him to roll his eyes. "So, what do you say?"

Hermione wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not a Malfoy, but she was in the Malfoy Manor, and she knew she had no other choice. "Okay," she agrees.

"Wonderful," Narcissa replies, before walking out of the room, not waiting for Hermione to follow.

"Wonder what she needs," Draco grumbles, before slumping down in the chair. It was then, that Hermione noticed the empty rum bottle on the table next to the chair, and she wondered how much he had drank the previous night. It also explained his sour mood.

However, she didn't care to ask him — she still was giving him the silent treatment — so, instead, she walked out of the room and down to the dining room. Just the smell of breakfast, immediately caused her stomach to growl.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" Hermione asks, as Narcissa passes her a cup of tea, it being just the two of them.

"I came home yesterday, to two young people falling apart in this very room. One of those young adults, was you, and I was hoping you would tell me what is going on?" Narcissa didn't seem like a violent witch, but she was indeed intimidating. There was that look in her eyes, that made Hermione squirm slightly in her chair. "After all, the deal was to heal my son, not cause him to break down."

"Are you accusing me of making Draco break apart?" Hermione was offended, especially since Narcissa had no idea how her son talked and treated Hermione. Perhaps, if she knew, she might actually understand.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Narcissa replies, before taking a sip of her tea. "I'm just wondering what caused the commotion that went on yesterday. After all, it had been a very long time since I saw so many emotion in his eyes." Narcissa's eyes gaze out across the dining hall, her mind full of the thought that Draco may get better. That he may even heal. So much hope, and she refused to be let down.

"He blames me," Hermione admits, her voice small and weak, as she looks down at her hands in her lap. "He blames me for his pain."

This was not what Narcissa was expecting, and it most definitely didn't make any sense to her. "Why on earth would he blame you?" She asks, her facial expression holding confusion.

"He — he assumes I make him a coward. He says that without me here, he wouldn't be in so much pain." Not only did this remind Hermione of having the Elder Wand pointed at her heart, it also reminds her of the boy that would cause her constant pain in school. However, she never threatened his life. She is then reminded of how he hates her, for nothing at all that she's done, and she finds herself taking a bite from her biscuit, hoping to drown the memory.

"I told you, you have an effect on him," Narcissa whispers. "He pretends to hate you, but he will listen to you. Despite his pain and broken heart, thank you for giving me the chance to see my son under all of the masks. I don't like to see him unravel, but I enjoyed seeing he still had feelings. I once thought he no longer had those."

Hermione couldn't reply to that, she just knew she had to keep trying. Keep trying for a mother that loves her son so much, and that was what made Hermione realize what mattered. A mother and a son's relationship, that's what mattered.

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The Time Turner was still in Hermione's pocket, as she walked around the manor. Narcissa had left and Draco was still in the spare bedroom — or so, she assumed — leaving her all alone. There was no happy memories in this house, which made it difficult to look around. However, Hermione hadn't planned on looking around, anyway, she just wanted to find the library and read some more. She deserved a bit of an escape, especially after all that had happened between Malfoy and her in the past forty-eight hours. A break was well deserved.

As she entered the library, she knew she could make another run for it. Perhaps, she wouldn't be caught this time, and she could actually get away. Perhaps, she could find Harry and warn him, perhaps, she could officially end this all. However, breakfast made her realize that she had made a promise, and despite the aching pain she feels whenever Draco is around, she knows she can't just quit. It wasn't in her bones to quit, and it also wasn't in her bones to break a promise. After all, Draco still hadn't killed her, despite his many chances. Narcissa may have interrupted one of his chances yesterday, but he could have ended her when she was running from him. He could have ended her when he was lying on top of her, begging for her to stop. So many chances, but nothing to show forth.

Stuffing her hand into her jean pocket, she takes out the Time Turner, before looking it over. Such a device had helped her tremendously in third year, before they were all destroyed in the Battle of Hogwarts. However, apparently the Ministry didn't destroy all of them, the little trinket in her hand was proof of that.

She didn't get to look at it for very long, before she heard footsteps in the hallway. As quickly as she could, she shoved it back into her pocket, only to turn around and see Malfoy leaning against the door frame. "Secrets don't make friends, Granger," he mutters, before shaking his head, as if ashamed of her. He had whipped up a concoction that took away his headache, leaving him to be in somewhat of a good mood. Draco's good moods didn't last long, and he knew it would soon fade if he found Granger, but he didn't have anything else to do.

Hermione wanted to shout at him and say speak for yourself! but, she still didn't want to talk to him. Their episode in the snow last night, was enough chatter to last her a lifetime, and despite promising to help him, she needed her time to heal from that. She at least deserved that much.

"Still not talking to me?" He scoffs, before making his way over to her. "Stop being stubborn, Granger, you get hurt when you fraternize with the enemy."

Hermione didn't want to hear that, for not only did it not help, it reminded her of what Ron told her many years ago. Before everything had gone all wrong, before death was all she saw when she closed her eyes, before her arm held a permanent scar she couldn't erase. Before it all.

"Why would I talk to you, Malfoy? You hate me, remember?" She finally whispers after a moment, not being able to stay silent any longer. "You've hurt me, you should be proud. Isn't this what you wanted? To bring me down, to destroy me? You tell me I give you pain? What do you think you give me? What do you think you constantly remind me of? Huh?!" She was shouting now, her voice echoing off of the walls, but there were no tears. There was no trembling or cracking voice, there was no hurt, there was just anger. Hermione Granger was angry, and it was all because of Draco Malfoy. "I don't think you understand, that without you, perhaps, I wouldn't be the woman that I am today. I don't think this mark would be as heavy. Without you, perhaps, I wouldn't be such a coward, either." She had repeated what he, himself, had told her, and, somehow, it made him understand.

They were more alike than they would have wished to admit, and Draco found himself shaking his head, before letting out a laugh. A real laugh.

"Find this funny, do you?" Hermione snarls, tired of being hurt, tired of being the one knocked down. It seemed as if all that hurt turned into a ball of anger, and Hermione couldn't help, but let it all out.

"It's just — it's just we're so similar. I find it amusing. Two people that absolutely despise one another, are so much alike." Draco didn't like to admit that he shared similarities with Hermione, but what else was he going to say? There was nothing else that he found amusing, so, why not tell her the truth? It's not the worst or deepest thing he's told her these past few days.

"I am nothing like you," she spits, as certain images invade her mind. Images from the past.

"Yeah? Lift up your sleeve," he tells her, his laughter turned off, as a serious look overtook his face. "Show me your scar. I have one, too, see? Show me your pain, I have it, too, see? Show me you lost people you cared about in the war, I did, too, see? Show me you're not as brave as you would like to be, for I am not, either, see? Or, perhaps, show me how much you hate and despise me, for I do, too, see?" All amusement was gone from his eyes, as he looked down at her. She was a muggle born, and he was a pure blood, yet they shared more similarities with one another than he did with his own father.

"Why do you care if we're similar?" She mutters. "You're just going to kill me, anyway."

Draco takes a step back, before shaking his head. Granger didn't understand. She didn't have the pressure he had, for despite them both having pain, her pain was different from his. Despite them both losing themselves, their burdens were both different. She didn't understand him, just like he didn't understand her.

"Why didn't you try to escape, again? Potter must not be as important to you as you let on, if you're not trying to warn him. Or have you forgotten that the most powerful wand ever created for a wizard, is in my possession? Because, Granger, I still have it," he tells her, before reaching into his jacket, and removing the wand. "I have this, just like you have something in your pocket." He points the wand at her, before taking a step forward. "What did you take from Nott's?"

"Secrets don't make friends, and since I am in no way wanting to be your friend, I think I'll keep it a secret for a bit longer." Hermione wasn't angry any longer, she felt rather neutral, actually. She was more drained than anything, and she knew Draco had no right to whatever it was that she took.

"Do you think the Ministry would approve of their own stealing illegal artifacts? Shame," he tsk's. "Maybe, I'll turn you in. What would Potter do, if he found out his best friend was sent to Azkaban, and her lover sent her there?"

"Harry wouldn't believe that I would do anything like that, with you. I don't have to worry about him believing Skeeter's lies," she replies, even though the thought of Azkaban gives her a chill.

"Funny you would mention that," Draco smirks. "Because I found Saint Potter in Diagon Alley a few nights ago, and he demanded I tell him what happened to Weaslette. I then preceded to tell him I had nothing to do with it, that it was all you. After all, if She Weasel was to find out about our affair, wouldn't you want her to forget it? So, I simply told him the affair was real, and you used obliviate on Weasley to erase her memory of ever knowing about us. However, the spell sort of went wrong, and, yeah, you ended up erasing her entire memory of you."

There may have been amusement on Draco's face, but, there was no amusement, whatsoever, on Hermione's.

"You — you what?" She gasps, before shaking her head. "Harry wouldn't believe that, he knows me better."

"Apparently, not. You should have seen his face, it was as if you disappointed him."

Hermione was growing angry and hurt once again — just at the thought of Harry believing Draco, and being reminded of how Ginny no longer knew who Hermione was — that, what happened next, happened rather quickly. For before Draco could defend himself, Hermione's fist connects with his nose, sending out a crack and an ow! that rang against the large library walls.

"You bastard!" She screams, as he steps back, only to trip and fall to the ground. "How dare you!" She shouts, before getting on top of him — in the same manner he did in the snow the previous day — and punching the daylights out of him. Wherever her fists landed, a cry was let out.

"Gr – Granger! Stop!" Draco shouts, before dropping the Elder Wand, to catch Hermione's flying hands. "Stop." Draco's nose was bleeding slightly, and he wipes away the blood with one of his sleeves, not paying attention to the stain that would be there later. All he paid attention to, was holding Hermione's hands, trying to stop her from causing him any more physical pain.

"Why should I?" She shouts. "After all you've done, I deserve to break your nose!"

Hermione was crying, now, for the pain was too much to handle. Not to mention her hand hurt from hitting Draco's face as well.

"Granger," Draco breathes. "Stop."

Hermione was no longer trying to hit Draco, instead, she was trying to keep herself composed as she sat there on top of him, his fingers holding her wrist.

"No," Hermione whispers, her voice muddled from her tears. "I won't stop, not until this is over."

"Until what is over, exactly?" Draco scoffs. "Until you fix me? Until I destroy Potter once and for all? What is being over? Because, clearly even the war isn't over. We're proof of that."

"Until you murder me," she whispers. "I can be free of my promise, I won't have to be reminded of my best friend's memories of me being gone, I won't have to be a disappointment for there will be no more lies. It will all be over, I just want it over."

Draco had let go of her wrists, giving her the chance to wipe her eyes. She was ashamed of how much she had cried, but what is she supposed to do? Everything has fallen apart around her, and there is no way she can even change any of it.

Draco was tired of seeing her crying, too. He was tired of seeing her pain and constant tears. He had caused all of this, however, and he felt as if he were going to be sick. But, why should he feel sick? Weren't they enemies? Then again, enemies was a term lost long ago. A term that he should forget about, but his pain was too strong to let him.

"You've forced me to do this," Draco grumbles, as he reaches for the Elder Wand. Hermione thought for sure he was going to end her this time, but just as he grabbed it, they apparated out of the manor.

In less than a second, they were in Diagon Alley, and it took only about a second, for people to start pointing and whispering. This caused Hermione to feel not only embarrassed from her tear stained face, but also ashamed for what people have been saying about her.

"What are we doing here?" She hisses to Malfoy, just as he reached down and takes her hand. "The bloody hell you think you're doing?" She growls, before trying to pull her hand away, only for Draco to squeeze harder.

"Keeping up appearances, love, just doing my job. And — " he begins as he pulls her closer to him, just so no one else can hear what he's going to tell her. "I expect you to do the same. If you don't, I'll use an unforgivable curse on you, and I swear to it." Draco's eyes were wild, and Hermione felt slightly frightened.

"Why do you care so much about appearances?" She whispers, wiping away the rest of the tears with her free hand.

"I don't want people to know the real reason you're with me. Not yet, at least. I'm not ready for that, so, you want to help me? Play your part," he snaps, before dragging her down Diagon Alley, all eyes on the couple, as they walk into the Leaky Cauldron.

"At least be nicer," she snaps back. "Hex me and curse me all you want, you selfish prick. You don't care how I feel about these lies, it's all about you."

"Shut it," he snaps, almost waving her off. She had gone from crying to snapping in only minutes, and he was ready to drown out the day with some Firewhisky. "Have a drink, Granger, you need it."

"I — I — "

"You have an alcohol problem, I know. However, you need some. Drink it, Granger, it'll do you good." Draco took a swig of the Firewhisky, before giving Hermione the stare down, until she took a small sip, the burn bringing back both terrible and lovely memories.

"Why are we here?" She asks him, as they take a table in the far corner.

"You see, this is another thing we have in common. When we're upset, we turn to alcohol. You've cried an awful lot lately, and I'm not sure if it's just because you're around me, or if it's something you do often. Nevertheless, I don't really care. The war hurt many people, but they've all moved on. So, why haven't we? You ever wonder that?"

Hermione had wondered why it seemed she hadn't healed like everyone else. Then again, perhaps, they didn't, either. Perhaps, they're just very good at pretending.

"I have," Draco continues. "So, drink up. Drown yourself, Granger, Merlin knows you need a drink."

Hermione didn't want to be there with Draco. She didn't want to pretend the affair was true, she didn't want to act as everything was fine in public, she didn't want to drink the liquid she had craved ever since pushing herself off of it. However, it seemed as if she hadn't had one choice for three days, so, who says she has one now?

Forgetting about the Death Eater she couldn't stand that was sitting across from her, she takes another drink of the Firewhisky, and another, until it's eventually all gone.

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