Unforgiveable Sinner

Chapter Two: Long Forgotten

"I see you just couldn't help but come back," drawled Draco, as he perched himself lazily in one of the aluminum chairs. The sunlight sprawling into the room from the large barred window bared the trademark signs of dawn, which had just broken.

Hermione had awoken early that morning, deciding that she wouldn't wait around for the inevitable. Harry hadn't come to bed that night and in her final bout of frustration, she had decided to work over Draco's case file. There were most of the facts she already knew about the captive. His years at Hogwarts, his parents and their roles in his life, the crimes that he had been admitted to Azkaban for...

And then, as dawn had broken, she had taken advantage of the fact she could interview her prisoner at any time she wished and checked into Azkaban. She felt more confident this time, more prepared: after all, she knew what he was capable of and after their previous meeting, she knew just what he had in store for her.

"I have a job to do and I intend to complete it," she muttered, sitting herself down and taking out her quill, ink pot and notebook. Draco reached over and placed a hand on the crisp white paper, causing Hermione took look up at him in surprise.

"If you want a proper interview, I believe it may work better when you don't write down every word I say," he said lightly.

She wasn't quite sure how to react. Should she play along with him? Or show that she was the one in charge? The small glimmer in his eyes spoke for him and she promptly closed the notebook and slid it into her bag.

"Fine, let's begi-"

"That's a rather nice ring you have," he drawled, glancing towards her left hand. Hermione ran her thumb over the golden band, which was encrusted with a large ruby, surrounded by small pint-sized diamonds. "It's definitely something out of Weasley's price range, so I'm guessing Potter ended up walking down the aisle?"

Hermione drew her hand back and placed in on her lap, thumbing the ring absentmindedly. "Yes, it's from Harry. But we're not here to discuss him, we're here to discuss you."

Draco smirked. "And here I was thinking you didn't fancy the tall dark Slytherin in his angsty little corner?"

"You're hardly tall and dark. You're more of the tall and pasty kind, perhaps even rodent-like at times."

"Temper, temper Hermione," he murmured teasingly. "The way I see it, we can either sit here and shoot nasty little comments back and forth for however long it takes for you to complete these interviews, or we can have a little chat. Just you, our dark little room and I. Don't you want to reminisce?"

"There's nothing to reminisce about," she shot darkly, but Draco sneered.

"Oh, but there is," his voice rasped softly. "Come on Hermione, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

It took every cell in Hermione's body to stop her from shooting up and leaving that room at once. She could hear her head screaming at her that this was dangerous and that Draco probably had some ulterior motive for allowing this interview to run smoothly so far. But she had to stay; she couldn't help but stay plastered in that seat. There were too many unanswered questions and she was just dying for answers.

"Fine," she croaked. "What do you want to know?"

And with a satisfied smirk, Draco folded his arms and rested them upon the table in front of him. His silver-blonde hair fell in front of his eyes as he observed her even more closely. But there was no warmth there. There was nothing there, no spark and no malice. There was just nothing.

"What have you, Weasley and Wonderboy been doing since Hogwarts?" he asked lazily. Surprise once again lit up Hermione's eyes, but she didn't say anything to imply it.

"Harry's fighting the war, Ron's off playing Quidditch, he and Luna are engaged and I... well, I joined the Ministry."

"Even Sybil Trewalney could have predicted that," he muttered and Hermione held back a scowl.

"Fine, you've had a question, now it's my turn."

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. "By all means, fire away."

She pondered over the first question she could ask him, the ones from the previous day barraging her as she wished so desperately to ask them. But how could she now? Not when she had a shot at gaining his trust and forming some kind of understanding between the two. If they were going to both survive these three months and come out sane, the best thing she could do was to find some mutual ground.

"How do you really feel about your mother's death?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised by her courage to ask such a question. But nonetheless, his calm and collected manner didn't seem deterred in anyway. "Truth be told, I feel some pity for her. She didn't deserve to die like that; even I believe it was harsh. Other than that I feel remorse, for she was my mother and what kind of son would I be if I didn't?"

"You'd be a Malfoy."

He considered this, nodding slightly. "Yes, I guess so."

Hermione silently wished she had the quill in her hand once more, so she would have something to do other than stare back at the man in front of her. His cool and guarded gaze, fueled by an unreadable and self-content demeanor only seemed to add to the chilling atmosphere Azkaban possessed. That he also possessed.

"My turn. What exactly do you do at the Ministry?" he asked.

"Well, if I were to be honest, I'm in training to become an Auror," Hermione said plainly.

Draco's lips curled and he lazily leant his chin on his folded arms, watching her flinch slightly as he leant in closer. Hermione gripped the side of her chair, hoping to give herself something to do other than rummage for her wand, which was tucked away somewhere inside her mass of robes.

He didn't seem surprised at all though. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have been expecting the answer as he sighed deeply and said, "Well, we all make mistakes."

"You may consider it a mistake, I consider it a wise career move."

"Why? Because if you have the scores, let them be used to aid the ever existent war of the worlds?"

"Yes, and because there are things worth fighting for," she began. "Though of course, you wouldn't understand that."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the cruel heartless bastard you presume me to be," he muttered, indignantly.

"Oh right, you're the saint in wolf's clothing. I see that now," said Hermione, sarcasm dripping from her words. She almost went as far to roll her eyes, but restrained herself, noting the displeased look on Draco's face.

"If memory serves me correctly, angel," breathed Draco, "there was a time when you claimed all you ever yearned for was to be near me, to feel me, to hear me whisper your name into your hair as you fell asleep-"

"That was a long time ago," she choked, but he shook his head.

"Not that long," he insisted, his voice almost a soft growl. "Don't tell me you don't remember the days, where you would lay in my arms and tell me every little detail of your life. Where you would cry and reveal to me all the little secrets that you never dreamed Potter or Weasley would be able to understand."

"Those days are gone," she said sternly, but he slammed his fist down onto the table.

"Don't tell me they're gone Hermione, because I'm not so stupid as to believe that! Tell me, why did you come back here? Why did you not leave and not give this place a second glance, when I gave you an able opportunity to do so?"

Hermione blinked, shocked at Draco's daring to delve so fast into these matters. What had happened to change his mind? Why had he been so cooperative all of a sudden? And why was he dismissing that collected attitude?

"I came back here because I have a job to do Draco! If I don't finish interviewing you, I won't be able to graduate as an Auror. You see, you don't know me as well as you think you do, because I always finish what I begin and this case is no exception!"

"You finish what you begin?" he sneered. "You lie, my angel. You lie, even to yourself."

And having endured enough emotional torture for one day; Hermione abruptly stood up and knocked on the door, her back to Draco as she waited impatiently for a guard to arrive. She could feel his cold gray eyes on her back and she suppressed a shudder, which only made a satisfied smirk claim his mouth.

"It finished a long time ago Draco. I've moved on, it's not my fault if you dwell on the past. The truth is that you are trying to blame me for your actions. But you can go ahead and try, because I'm not about to take the blame for your own cowardice."

Draco stood up, knocking his chair down behind him and as quickly as he had done so; he was standing in front of Hermione. His eyes were cold and deep, his expression was unmoving as he gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. She knocked harder and faster on the door, calling for the guard before hurriedly searching with one hand through her robes for her wand.

"It was hardly cowardice," he hissed, gripping a hold of her free wrist and slamming it against the door. Hermione winced slightly, her hand suddenly jolting with pain before she turned to face him, a look of deep contempt on her face. "It was for you!"

"You did it for yourself!" she barked. "You did it all for yourself!"

And suddenly, the door flew open, sending them both tumbling to the ground. A tall, sandy haired man was standing at the entrance, his wand was pointed directly at Draco as he helped Hermione to her feet.

"Are you OK, Miss?" he asked, scowling at the prisoner. Hermione nodded, glancing back at Draco who was sitting on the dusty stone floor glaring right back at the Auror.

"I'm fine," she said, just above a whisper.

She snatched up her handbag, avoiding any further eye contact with Draco before hurrying out of the room and into the long white corridor. She could hear the guard muttering nasty things at the prisoner as the door closed behind her. The other Aurors who had been guarding other rooms in the hallway glanced curiously at her ruffled and unruly appearance, but turned away as she stormed out of the building and ran outside.

She ran until she reached the sandy part of the island, where she stood there in the sun attempting to hold back tears, which she felt had been long forgotten. Her insides seemed to be caving in and her body soon gave out. Hermione soon found herself kneeling in the wet sand, her body wracking with invisible sobs before she took a deep breath to calm herself.

She had let him get to her. She had played right into his little trap and allowed him to get the better of her. How could she have been so stupid? This had all happened before. He always knew which buttons to press; he had always known how to hurt her...

~FLASHBACK~

"Tell me, what do you expect me to do, Hermione?" Draco bellowed, stalking across the room and glaring at the young girl. "He's family. Do you expect me to just turn away from him?"

"I expect nothing from you except to do what's right!"

Hermione bit her lip as the scowl on his face grew deeper.

"Since when the hell do I have to do what's right? I'm not some Gryffindor!"

She grabbed a hold of his hand as he made to turn away. "No, but you're someone who knows right from wrong. How do you know that this is just not some trap? That if you go to your father, he won't just attempt to turn you over to Voldemort's side?"

"Do you really consider me to be that stupid?" he hissed. "My father knows I'm not joining with Voldemort and as much as he wants me to, he also knows that I'm not easily swayed. I've made my decision. I promised you and if you really think so lowly of me that I'll just leave you, then I don't know why you fucking bother!"

"I don't think that at all, and don't turn this situation on me!" she ordered, fury sparking in her eyes. "I'm trying to protect you Draco!"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

~END FLASHBACK~

A few minutes passed and she soon felt herself calming down. Standing, she decided that the outskirts of Azkaban Island were not the place to have a mental breakdown, so she slung her bag over her shoulder and apparated back to her solitary flat. No one would be home at this time of day and that's what upset her even more.

~*~*~*~

The day drew on, though Harry was oblivious to the world outside of Grimmauld Place. He sat around the large map-laden table inside Sirius' old Estate, his eyes scanning maps upon maps and skimming through different books. There had been many sightings of Death Eaters all across England: most of which had bared curses he was unfamiliar with.

"Hey Harry," called Tonks, strolling into the spacious kitchen and sitting down opposite of him. Lupin followed soon after, giving Harry a slight nod as greeting. Both of them had been collecting information in York that day and had tiredly returned as the sun began to set.

Harry smiled at them both, before burying himself in the maps once more. Remus observed him from across the room, his brown eyes filled with concern. Tonks must have realized why as she suddenly pulled a large map out from under the young man's nose. Harry grunted in protest, making to pull it back but she threw it to Remus (missing the target of course).

"Go home Harry, you've not slept in days," she said gently.

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine, really. And I did have a nice little nap yesterday afternoon, but I am rather busy right now."

He readjusted his glasses, rubbing the bags under his eyes absentmindedly. True, it had been quite awhile since he'd had a good night's rest but there was so much to do and he doubted any of it could get done if he were dozing off. Voldemort had been active as of late and if there were any chance of Harry catching up with him or avoiding another incident, he needed to have his wits about him.

"This can wait until tomorrow Harry. These maps aren't going anywhere and there's nothing you can do right now that will change anything," Lupin insisted. "You're married, go spend some time with your wife and get some rest."

Glancing down at his watch, Harry realized that it was already ten to eleven. He wondered whether it was day or night, but the fact that Tonks was openly suppressing a yawn answered his question. He sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the bottom of his jumper before standing up and shoving the other maps on the table into a messy bundle.

"You're probably right," he muttered. "I just hope Hermione'll understand why I haven't been home for so long."

"She'll understand, she knows that you've been busy. Mind you, so has she. She checked into Azkaban at around five this morning," Tonks mumbled, leaning back in her chair. Harry wasn't a bit surprised though. It wasn't uncommon for Hermione to take her job seriously.

"Very well then, I'll be off I guess," Harry yawned, muffling a good-bye with his hand.

"Rest well Harry," said Lupin, giving him a slight wave as he sat down at the large wooden table.

Harry grinned at them both, before pulling on his large black cloak and heading out the front door. He closed it behind him firmly, which was hard considering it had no doorknob and he turned away from the building. Heading down the street, he came to a dark, foreboding alleyway, where he promptly checked that no one was looking, before he apparated home.

~*~*~*~

Hermione had become accustomed to Harry not coming home and hadn't bothered to fix him any dinner, but he did manage to piece together a sandwich before heading upstairs, showering and sliding under the covers of their large four poster bed. Hermione was sleeping sounding, her long brown hair framed her face and he brushed a few strands out of her eyes. She opened her eyes upon feeling his fingers brush her cold skin.

"Welcome home," she yawned.

Harry kissed her forehead, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be gone so long."

"It's OK," she said drowsily, forcing a small smile. "You should have owled, I'd have made you something to eat."

"No no, it's fine. How have you been anyway? Tonks has been telling me you've been working a bit hard as of late," he asked, his fingers tracing along her jaw lovingly. Hermione bit her lip, forcing her smile to stay in place before she scooted over and leant her head on Harry's chest. In the dead of the night, she could hear his heart beating and the warmth of his body caused her to almost shudder.

She felt so cold.

"I'm good. I'm just working on this prisoner at Azkaban at the moment, it's a long story."

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head.

"Who's the prisoner?" he asked. Hermione wasn't sure whether she should answer him, but she found herself unable to speak any other words.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered exhaustedly.

She could hear Harry asking another question, but she couldn't bring herself to listen. She was too tired and too confused to answer anything else. She closed her eyes, feeling sleep come to capture her as Harry's voice faded out and all that was left was darkness.

~ENDCHAPTER2~