The Sweetest Sin.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Chapter 15: Numb


"...free to settle yourselves in our sitting room while I go attend to some business at the Bridge. My Mudblood servant will attend to you."

Upon hearing herself mentioned, Hermione froze in her tracks. She had just been heading up to the second floor to escape the possibility of having to greet the visitors Draco had brought to the house that afternoon. She'd caught a quick glimpse of them as they passed through the main doors earlier that day, and, judging from their crimson -- a colour that was the mark of a close acquaintance of Voldemort's -- robes and cold sneers, it was obvious that these were not men she wanted to be associated with.

However, she could no longer avoid them and so, with a growing feeling of dread, she turned around and began to walk to the lounge as slowly as she could.

When Hermione arrived at the doorway that led into the lounge, Draco was just leaving. He stopped abruptly when he saw her standing there. For a few seconds, he stared at her; then, as if reprimanding himself for being surprised by the sight of her, he shook his head slightly and picked up his stride again.

"I'm leaving," he said tensely as he brushed past her. "While they are here, I am expecting you to obey their orders. When I return in an hour, this house had best be in the state it is in now...or else."

Leaving his threat hanging open-ended, Draco strode away briskly. He stopped in the middle of the hall, shot one more look at Hermione over his shoulder, then apparated away with a small pop.

Hermione stood rooted to her spot, staring at the spot where Draco had stood moments ago. For the first time in her life, she wished he hadn't left her alone. With a growing feeling of dread, she bit her lip, closed her eyes and made a silent prayer that she would live through this, and walked into the lounge.

When Hermione dared to open her eyes again, she found that the four or five wizards in the room were all staring her with facial expressions ranging from amusement to disgust. She immediately recognised two of them: Vincent Crabbe and Michael Stimson, two Death Eaters she had gone to school with. Fortunately, they didn't seem to realise who she was for the matching sneers on their faces showed no sign of recognisation.

Blushing furiously, Hermione bowed her head and moved to the back of the room. It's possible, she silently reassured herself, that they don't even want anything to do with you. Just as long as you shut up, they will probably leave you alone.

"Well, well, well," said a tall, muscular Death Eater with stringy grey hair and slitted eyes, "looks like Malfoy's got himself quite the catch."

His friends laughed.

"Wish my Mudblood was this good-looking," added Crabbe. His comment initiated another round of snickers from the wizards sitting around him and his pudgy face widened into a grin. "Hey, c'mere will you?" he added to Hermione.

All but shaking with fright, Hermione obediently edged over to the group of Death Eaters. Her fists, hidden by the long sleeves of her robe, were clenched so tightly that she could feel blood being drawn from her palms by her nails.

"You certainly are pretty," murmured the Death Eater who was sitting on the seat nearest to her. He looked about her age and would have been very handsome if not for the long, jagged scar that ran from his right temple to his upper lip. Smirking, he lifted one of his hands and placed his fingers under Hermione's chin to bring her face closer to his. His fingertips were inhumanly cold, and Hermione couldn't help but shiver as he forced her to look into his murky brown eyes.

"Hey now, you can't steal her for yourself, Keynes," shouted the first Death Eater, standing up.

Keynes lowered his hand and Hermione immediately backed away. "Shut up, Hayek," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You know," interrupted Stimson, cocking his head thoughtfully, "she certainly looks a lot like Zabini's sister. Y'know, the one the Dark Lord killed...What was her name again?"

"Iris," replied Crabbe immediately. They looked at him, apparently surprised that he'd come up with the answer so quickly. "Malfoy was always talking about how he was in love with her and wanted to marry her," he added quickly.

A few of the Death Eaters rolled their eyes.

"Hah!" snorted a short, wiry man with a thick mop of black hair as he brushed imaginary dust off of his scarlet robes, "Yeah right...Like Malfoy could ever love someone. Look at him and his wife."

Hermione tuned out of their conversation as they began to joke about Draco's past failed relationships. Stimson's words had answered one of the questions that had been burning in her mind. So this is why he called me by her name, she thought grimly as she painfully recalled the night Draco had raped her. In his eyes, I was Iris.

Aside from the occasional jeers or taunts, the next two hours passed by as free of conflict as the circumstances could allow. Hermione, grateful for the expensive objects on display on the mantelpiece that had caught the attention of the group of Death Eaters, spent the time trying to find an exit through which she could leave without being noticed.

Unfortunately, by the time night had fallen, Hermione was still trapped in the same room. She was nearly falling asleep, but struggled to keep herself awake for fear of what would happen if she drifted off for even a minute. Her muscles were still tensed, ready to spring to action if any conflict should arise.

As if to finally give Hermione what she had been expecting, Stimson and the Death Eater with a scar across his face, Keynes, suddenly stood up. The former advanced towards her, while the latter moved over his short, wiry friend and began whispering something in his ear.

"You've been awfully quiet," said Stimson with a sneer. He stood uncomfortably close to Hermione and she could feel his putrid breath on her skin.

Restraining the urge to gag, Hermione pushed him away. "Get off me," she hissed.

Stimson stumbled, and the watching Death Eaters roared with laughter. "Let me have a go!" cried one of them.

"Shut up!" bellowed Stimson, briefly looking over his shoulder to glare at his friends. He then turned back to Hermione with a smile plastered on his face. "I apologise; I missed what you said...Would you care to repeat it for me?"

"You heard what I said," she said icily. "I have enough filth accumulating on me from living in this house, thanks. I don't need you to add more."

"Oho!" shouted someone. Hermione recognised the voice as Crabbe's. "She's giving you cheek!"

The smirk had suddenly slid off of Stimson's face. His small eyes were narrowed as he growled, "I'm surprised Malfoy hasn't broken you in yet, you little very *friendly* person."

"I'll never -- never -- be broken in, much less by the likes of him," Hermione spat out. Though she was getting pleasure from watching his temper mount, his words were also angering her more than she was letting on. Somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice was urging her to stop now or she would regret it, but as usual, it went unheard.

"Well...I suppose if Malfoy can't do the job..." Stimson reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wand.

Before Stimson could get the chance to say or do anything, Hermione had spoken up again. "Oh yeah?" she retorted. "You think you're so great, don't you? Cursing Mudbloods and other wandless people. Looks like you haven't changed a bit since seventh year when the best victim you could get your hands on was the caretaker's cat."

Stimson's eyes widened and he nearly dropped his wand. "You...what?"

A quick glance over Stimson's shoulder showed Hermione that the other Death Eaters were just as stunned to find out that she had known their companion back during school.

"And," continued Hermione, her voice growing stronger now that the men in the room had been shocked into silence, "you yourself know that you're pathetic. Funny how You-Know-Who stresses the importance of a fair fight, and his closest followers are out there torturing defenceless half-bloods while their backs are turned. None of you even deserve the titles you hold. You're all cowards and--"

Hermione was suddenly interrupted by a high-pitched shriek of pain. One of the Death Eaters behind Stimson had cried "Crucio!" while she was talking, and it was her who was screaming -- screaming as the sensation of a thousand needles being stabbed repeatedly into her faces, chest, arms, legs hit her like a slap in the face, screaming as her mind throbbed so violently that she was sure her head was going to burst open. A single tear edged out of the corner of one of her eyes and rolled down her cheek, but Hermione had no idea; she had gone numb from the agony, her lungs must have been torn into a million pieces by now, one more second and she would surely die...

And suddenly, it stopped. Unable to move or even breathe, Hermione remained on her knees, shaking madly. In the faint distance, she heard a man say scathingly, "That will teach her to not mess with me."

At this, Hermione opened her mouth, took a deep rattling breath, and coughed out, "You disgust me."

Although she was braced this time, the impact of the Crucio curse still forced a scream of torture out of her. In her mind, Hermione could see flashes of her previous owners slapping her, abusing her, raping her, and her hands instinctively flew to her head and started wildly trying to gouge her own eyes out; anything to get the images out of her mind and anything to stop this pain.

Once again, Hermione found the curse lifted a few moments later; this time, she was so battered that she couldn't even find the energy to open her eyes. She could distinctly hear their voices muttering together, but could hardly pick out what they were saying for the deafening ringing in her ears muted out everything but the echoes of her screams, still resonating within her head.

Then, Hermione felt something hard collide with the side of her head. Pain streaked like lightning across her skull, but when she opened her mouth to scream, no sound came out. Having been knocked onto her side, another foot now brutally stepped on her back, crushing her to the ground.

This is it...I'm going to die.

Just then, an odd sensation came over her. The pain suddenly disappeared and Hermione felt as though she were floating peacefully somewhere in space. Miraculously, she slowly got up with ease and turned to look at her attackers. She couldn't see them; a cloud of white was obstructing her view; however, she heard one of their voices in her mind ordering her to beg for mercy.

No, she thought weakly as she struggled against the urge to obey the command. No, I won't, I've experienced all of this, I can handle it, leave me alone...

All of a sudden, the dreamlike trance Hermione had been in for a few moments disappeared without warning, and pain beyond anything she could remember slammed into her. Gasping for breath, she collapsed on the ground. There was shouting all around her; one of the voices sounded more familiar than the others but she had no idea what was going on.

After a few seconds, Hermione felt a cool hand brushing her hair away from her face. Gently and briefly, the person pressed two fingers against the side of her neck. Then, without warning, Hermione felt herself being lifted up off the ground and carried out of the room.

At this point, she had gone completely numb. The stabbing pain was easing away as darkness began to blot out all existing thoughts in her mind. Just as Hermione was about to fall into a state of unconsciousness, she heard a voice next to her ear murmuring something.

"I'm sorry..."

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Chapter 16: Ice


Hermione woke up shivering. The air around her was frigid; so cold, in fact, that Hermione felt as though her eyes were frozen shut. Momentarily oblivious as to her surroundings, she blinked twice with some difficulty, then opened her eyes and looked straight up.

She was lying in some sort of a bed. Above her spread a pale grey canopy while hangings of a similar colour were pushed back, leaving Hermione exposed to the freezing air. The only form of protection she had against the cold was a thin blanket, also grey. This Hermione pulled up to her chin as she hugged herself tightly in an attempt to keep herself warm.

Feeling slightly dazed, Hermione's eyes wandered around the room, taking in the plain white walls and ceiling. The floor, made of polished wooden boards, was spotless. A single lamp hung from the centre of the ceiling, shedding a dim orange glow over the foot of Hermione's bed.

"Hello?" she whispered, her voice cracking. There was no one else in the room so Hermione did not expect an answer, but the sound of her voice managed to assure her that she was in fact awake and not dreaming.

Just then, a quiet pop shattered the silence and Draco apparated into the room. His mouth was set into a deep frown and his eyebrows were furrowed together in a worried expression. When he saw that Hermione was awake, the lines of stress on his face seemed to ease away slightly.

Walking over to the right side of the bed, Draco conjured up a hard-backed wooden chair and sat down on it. For a few seconds, he observed Hermione who, at the moment, felt too groggy to even wonder why he was here. At length, Draco spoke up.

"How are you doing?"

Hermione attempted to shrug, but found that her muscles were too stiff from the cold to move. Therefore, she settled for a wince.

"You could be doing worse," said Draco grimly. He raised an eyebrow when Hermione pulled the sheets up further, then resumed talking. "I got rid of them just in time. They were going to kill you, you know."

"I never would have guessed," mumbled Hermione sarcastically.

Ignoring her response, Draco leaned over and touched his fingers to a deep wound on Hermione's cheek. She grimaced and jerked her head away from his touch.

"That will take a few more days to heal," he murmured to himself. "And your body needs more time to recover from the strain of the curses."

"Were you the one who saved me then?" asked Hermione, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Yes."

"I suppose I should thank you," she said grudgingly.

Draco shook his head. "No. Don't bother. It was...it was my fault."

Stunned that Draco was actually taking the blame for something, Hermione said nothing. Instead, she shifted slightly under the blanket, trying to arrange herself into a more comfortable position. All the while, Draco continued to watch her.

"I had intended to return earlier, but business held me up. I had no idea they would...well, do what they did. When I walked into the sitting room, I found them crowded around you, laughing while they attempted to make you do their bidding with the -- I'm going to assume -- Imperio curse?"

Hermione silently nodded.

"I pushed them away and ordered them to get of my house, then brought you up here. I had a Healer I know come in and heal your wounds then put you into a dreamless sleep. You've been sleeping here for two days now."

"Two days?" repeated Hermione, surprised that she had been here for so long.

Draco nodded. "Two days," he echoed softly.

Sighing, Hermione rolled over on her side so that she was facing Draco. "You know," she said, "you didn't have to save me."

He stared at her, his expression suddenly cold. "Why would I not?" he asked in a forced voice.

"I didn't think you would care about a filthy little Mudblood like me," replied Hermione casually. Though the tone of her voice was light, she was watching Draco carefully.

Draco's eyes flashed, then he replied shortly, "I don't."

"Then why did you do it?"

There was silence. Then, Draco said stiffly, "I'll leave you to rest now. The Healer should drop by later this afternoon to see how you're doing. I expect you to be back on your feet in three days. The children" -- he paused briefly, then finished his sentence -- "have not seen you for too long."

As Draco began pushing back his chair to stand up, Hermione said quickly, "Wait!"

He stopped and looked at her. "What?"

"What happened to Iris?"

Every last droplet of blood seemed to drain from Draco's face, leaving his complexion paper white. His eyes widened as they stared at Hermione in disbelief and shock. With a clatter, his wand fell from his suddenly-limp hand; however, he paid no attention to it.

Hermione steadily held Draco's gaze, waiting for him to answer. She had expected this kind of reaction, and was not fazed one bit by it.

"How...how did you...you didn't..."

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione replied, "Yes I did."

Swaying slightly, Draco was forced to grip the edge of the bed tightly as he struggled to remain upright. His mouth silently opened then closed three times, but words failed him. Finally, his features distorted into a grimace of pain very uncharacteristic of a Malfoy.

Still, Hermione remained calm. She waited for him to answer her question.

Then, without any warning, Draco stood up abruptly. He started to back away, but Hermione was too quick for him -- she grabbed the sleeve of his robes and pulled him back down onto his seat.

"Tell me," she hissed, still clutching his robes.

For a split second, Draco looked as if he were going to whip out his wand and hex Hermione. Then, much to her surprise, he slumped over. It was if all the life had just been sucked out of him as his shoulders slumped and he ceased strug gling against her hold.

When Draco spoke, his voice chilled Hermione even more than the frigid air around them. "You want to know about Iris?" he whispered icily, turning his eyes to hers. "The Dark Lord killed her. He murdered her behind this very mansion as I was forced to stand by and watch...watch as he tortured her, watch as his Death Eaters -- my friends -- laughed and jeered at her mercilessly, watch as her eyes begged me to save her. And then he told me to hold her hand while he killed her."

"You --"

"It was then that I began the life I had been damned to since the start -- one of cold, unyielding emptiness. After I lost her, my world became black and white."

"But there --"

"You will never understand," he spat out bitterly. Venom was laced into his words as he tore his sleeve out of Hermione's grasp. "You have never loved and lost as I have."

"Draco, stop!" cried Hermione as he began to stand up again.

Both of them froze. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, stunned that she had said his first name out loud.

"Don't leave," she hurriedly said as she gathered the sheets around her and forced herself off of the bed. As her feet hit the cold floor, she stumbled. His hand instinctively shot out and grabbed her forearm to help her steady herself.

Ignoring the warm, tingling feeling that was beginning to spread throughout the arm Draco was holding, Hermione whispered, "Is that why you saved me?"

Draco looked away. "Yes."

Without thinking, Hermione reached up, placed her hand against the side of Draco's face, and gently turned his head so that he was looking at her again. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

He was so close to her that breathing soon became a difficult feat. However, unlike the first time Hermione had lost breath being so close to Draco, it was not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, as her head began to spin, she couldn't help but notice how captivating his eyes were. Like a layer of ice over liquid silver, she found herself thinking.

After what felt -- though in reality, it was probably much shorter -- like hours, Draco let go of Hermione's arm and backed away. He had an odd, unreadable expression written across his face. Hermione blushed and quickly shifted her gaze to the floor when she realised what had happened.

"You know," he said softly, breaking the silence that had ensued after Hermione's words of sympathy and causing her to look up at him, "I thought I had forgotten the sound of her screams until two nights ago."

With that, he turned on his heel and apparated out of the room.

Now alone, Hermione took a step backward and fell onto the bed. She suddenly felt exhausted and breathless. For once, her head was flooded with answers rather than questions. At last, she had discovered the full truth about what had made Draco isolate himself from the people around him, what had made him so...heartless. It was not childhood grudges that made him such a detestable person; it was a broken heart.

Hermione briefly recalled the feel of his hand on her arm and trembled involuntarily. The warmth that had resulted from their skin making contact still lingered despite the cold air. Feeling absolutely worn out, Hermione lay back down on the bed and hugged the sheets around her. Within moments, she had fallen asleep.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Chapter 17: In the Midst of a Storm


What was that?

Hermione froze mid-stride, muscles involuntarily tensing as she slowly turned around to see what had caused the crash she'd just heard. Her eyes narrowed when she saw nothing but the empty hallway, thrown into shadows by the falling night. A person definitely made that sound.

Only a day had passed since Hermione had been cleared to return to her daily activities by the Healer. When she had returned to taking care of the kids, she had found that the atmosphere in the house had changed: Even though Kathryn was still as cheerful and innocent as ever, Thomas seemed to be brooding more than ever, and the only times Hermione had seen Pansy -- at meals -- she had always gotten the feeling that Pansy had wanted to tell her something but couldn't due to Draco's presence. Draco himself had taken to avoiding Hermione's eyes every time she walked by him, although there had been a new set of robes awaiting Hermione when she returned to her old bedroom.

Now, Hermione's mind fell back to the task of discovering the source of the noise. As she began to creep down the dark corridor, she found herself wishing she still was in possession of a wand. Sighing quietly, she continued on, keeping her eyes and ears alert for any movement or sound.

Just then, a sharp crack broke the silence and Hermione quickly stepped into a nearby empty room just as someone muttered, "Lumos." A blinding light suddenly illuminated the seemingly empty hallway and Hermione caught a fleeting glimpse of a pale hand clutching a wand before the light was put out.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Hermione waited before she heard muffled footsteps again. She then stepped out of the room and continued to cautiously pursue the mysterious person.

The person seemed to have stopped bothering to keep quiet, for now the previously-inaudible rustlings had grown quite loud. This helped Hermione greatly for it let her follow the intruder with more ease, though she continued to keep a comfortable distance between them.

At last, she heard the footsteps halt. Frantically, Hermione searched for somewhere to hide lest the person turn around. She caught sight of a large plant on the opposite side of the hall and dashed over to it. Ducking behind the plant, Hermione carefully pushed aside some of the leafy branches to make a peephole through which she watched the person move. Though the darkness prevented her from identifying him, she could still distinctly make out what he was doing.

Pulling out his wand again, the person murmured, "Formo Funis." A long rope fell out of the tip of his wand and landed on the floor. With a flick of his wrist, the rope began twisting itself into a crude ladder. A few more waves of the wand, and, save for the end of it which the intruder was holding firmly, the ladder wove its way out of a nearby window

Then, without further ado, the person stepped onto the window sill and began climbing the ladder. In the blink of an eye, he had disappeared.

Hermione's eyes widened. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she crept away from the plant and over to the window. With a rush of excitement, she saw that the ladder was still there.

Carefully, Hermione stuck her head out of the window and looked up. To her immense relief, the person had disappeared. Though she was aware that the rope could magically disappear at any second, Hermione eased onto the window sill and began to climb up the makeshift ladder.

The ladder led all the way up to the roof. By the time Hermione had reached the top, she was shivering. The night air was much colder than she had predicted and, with nothing but thin silk protecting her, goosebumps had quickly emerged on her arms and legs.

Now, Hermione took a deep breath and peered over the edge of roof. With a jolt, she realised that the person standing silhouetted by the light of the crescent moon was Draco.

Hermione's heart began pounding faster as she silently watched Draco. The night air seemed to grow even colder around her; a strong breeze swept by her, ruffling her hair and numbing her fingers, but she paid no attention to this. She was watching, with bated breath, as Draco pointed his wand at his other hand and muttered an incantation under his breath. A bright flare of light, and then a bundle of green flames seemed to snake out the tip of the wand and fall onto Draco's palm. The miniature fire immediately cast a greenish glow over Draco, making his facial features almost eerie. It seemed to be what Draco wanted for he smiled slightly and, with the miniature fire still resting comfortably on his palm, sat down against the side of the chimney.

The gusts of wind began to pick up in strength, and Hermione found that she was gripping the side of the roof so tightly to keep from falling that her knuckles had been drained of colour. Wincing, she relaxed and stretched one hand at a time, then returned to watching Draco with increased interest.

He was now pointing his wand at the tip of the flames and rotating it in small circles. In response, the small fire in his palm was now spinning very quickly in place, continually fading from one colour of the rainbow to another. Green, red, yellow, blue, violet, orange, indigo, then green again -- with each change, the next one came quicker so that within a few seconds, the colours were changing as rapidly as the flames were spinning.

As the flames flashed blue, throwing Draco's features into a bluish glow, Hermione caught a glimpse of something gleaming on his cheeks. Leaning forward as best as she could, Hermione squinted her eyes and, with a shock that left her mouth agape, realised that Draco was crying.

His sobbing was neither heavy nor light. He made no sound, but Hermione could see from the heaving of his shoulders and the tears streaming down his face that he was more than just a little bit upset.

Hermione was suddenly overtaken by the need to go over and say something. Draco looked so miserable, so pathetic, sitting there and crying silently; she felt like she had to go and at least attempt to relieve him of some pain.

Although somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was insisting that it wasn't a good idea to reveal that she had been watching Draco all along, Hermione nevertheless pulled herself up onto the roof, straightened out her robe, and tread softly over to where Draco sat. Upon reaching a spot a short distance away from him, she stopped and, after some hesitation, coughed lightly.

Draco's jumped up so quickly it was as if he had heard a shotgun go off. It took him all but a second to register the sight of Hermione standing there before him, and when he did, a mixture of rage, shock, and humiliation crossed his face.

Furiously, he brushed away his tears with the back of his wand hand and growled, "What the hell are you doing up here?"

"I-I heard you...I thought y-you..."

"No, don't tell me," he snarled. His features, illuminated by the multicoloured fire, were twisted into an expression of pain. "You have no excuse for following me anywhere."

Before Hermione could respond, she felt Draco's hands fly out of nowhere and shove her roughly away. For one heart-stopping moment, Hermione teetered on the edge of the roof; then, she felt an invisible hand seize the front of her robe and pull her back onto her feet.

Gasping for breath, Hermione took a step forward, stumbled, and fell against the chimney. Her legs, which had lost all their ability to support her weight, gave away and she collapsed onto her knees.

Daring to lift her eyes up to Draco's again, Hermione saw that he had his wand pointed at her. Though she knew that meant he had saved her from toppling over the edge of the roof, the look in his eyes brought the words of thanks she had been on the verge of uttering to a halt.

Never before had Hermione been regarded with such anger, for Draco's grey eyes were brimming with cold, hard fury. It was so chilling an expression that Hermione felt as though her insides had frozen over. Yet though she was helpless to do anything but cower under his gaze, Hermione could almost certainly detect -- but no, it wasn't possibly -- a glint of fear in his eyes.

"I just...I just thought..."

"Get out of here," interrupted Draco angrily. His fingers crushed the still-rotating bundle of flames in his hand as he advanced menacingly towards Hermione.

Hermione did not back down. Instead, she stumbled to her feet and, without even knowing why she did it, bravely placed her hand on his forearm, saying shakily, "Malfoy, what's wrong?"

Draco's gaze flitted briefly towards Hermione's hand before he wrenched his arm away. "There is nothing wrong. Nothing that concerns you."

"I just want to --"

"To help?" he interrupted, his voice dripping with scorn. "No, you can't help me. No one can help me, especially not you. I didn't bring you here to help me sort out my life."

"I was told that I'm here to work for you," retorted Hermione. "I think 'sorting out your life' qualifies as working for you. Maybe if you wouldn't shut everyone else out, I wouldn't have to --"

"You know nothing about my life," interrupted Draco coldly. His angry demeanor had suddenly changed into one of contempt. "I've told you countless times that you have no right to stick your worthless nose into my business, yet you continue to forget that."

Suddenly, the words Draco had said to Hermione the other day resurfaced in her mind. "You know, I thought I had forgotten the sound of her screams until two nights ago."

"You see Iris when you look at me, don't you?" she blurted out accusingly.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked stunned, as if someone had just slapped him across his face. Then, he growled, "How dare you even --"

"So it's true," interjected Hermione. "Could this be why you hate me so much? Because I remind you of her? Is it because you can't stand to look at me -- oh yes, I know I look like her -- that you come up here and wallow in misery when everyone else is asleep?"

Hermione lowered her voice and softened her tone, then continued. "You don't hate me because you see her in me...you hate yourself for allowing yourself to, Malfoy."

By then, towering storm clouds had congregated to form a heavy shield that blocked out the moon's pale glow. Without the light of the bundle of flames, Hermione and Draco had been shrouded in darkness. Hermione saw this as she turned to look at him, for the majority of his face was no longer discernible against the velvet black sky behind him.

"You don't know how I feel about her...about you..."

"Yes, I think I do," whispered Hermione.

Just then, there was a bright flash of light and a small fire once again fell onto the palm of Draco's hand. He held it up between them, and his facial features were again illuminated by a ghostly green light. Hermione was surprised to see that his cheeks were wet with tears once more.

Draco stood for a moment, his eyes fixed on her. Finally, he closed his eyes. When he spoke again, it was in a distant, dislocated voice that Hermione almost didn't recognise as his.

"You look so much like her..."

"No, I don't," said Hermione softly. She felt tears begin to form behind her own eyelids, but she blinked them back. "I was never so beautiful."

Suddenly, Hermione felt a drop of water fall onto her arm. Startled, she looked up and realised that it had begun to rain. Fat droplets of rain were now falling at a steadily increasing pace. Within seconds, the two of them were drenched. Hermione's robe was clinging to her body uncomfortably and her wet hair dripped water into her eyes. She simply shook it back and continued to watch Draco.

At length, he opened his eyes. They were filled with sorrow, but at the same time, determination. Wordlessly, he leaned down. And though Hermione had somehow been expecting it, nothing could have prepared her for the moment their lips touched...

Even though she could taste the saltiness of his tears mingled in with the earthy taste of the rain streaming down their faces, the kiss was sweet. His lips caressed hers with a tentative gentleness she was unaccustomed to, but blindly, without thinking, disgusted with herself for it, she returned the kiss in a similar manner. It was not long before they broke apart, and when they did, the understanding of what had happened instantly hit Hermione like a strong gust of wind.

"That was wrong," she gasped, unravelling her hands from his soaked hair and bringing them to her lips.

Draco had pulled his arms away from Hermione's waist and was now staring fixedly at the green fire in his hand. His shoulders were shaking violently, but Hermione could not read his facial expression. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Don't...dont tell anyone that...happened."

Hermione furiously shook her head, only semi-aware that she was showering Draco with water droplets. The rain around them was still falling as heavily as ever as she replied, "Never."

Now, Hermione suddenly turned on her heel and began to run away. She slipped on the wet roof, but quickly regained her balance and began climbing down the rope ladder Draco had made without looking back. As Hermione descended the ladder, her insides ablaze with conflicting emotions, she happened to look up. There, in a window in the attic that overlooked the rooftop Hermione had just been standing on, was Pansy's pale face marked with what was unmistakably a look of pure shock.